Read Online Hollow Earth by John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman - Free Book Online
Authors: John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
drawings come alive,’ Em blurted out. ‘But we have to draw the same picture, and we have to really concentrate together.’
‘So it’s important that you’re drawing together, is it?’
‘Yes,’ lied Em. She knew she should probably tell him the whole truth, but she trusted Matt more, and her brother had insisted, for now anyway, they should keep some of their secrets. And besides, it had only been yesterday in the flat that the twins had discovered that if they could share the image telepathically then only one of them needed to draw to make the picture real. The jellyfish on the truck had been their second attempt; the doorless wall at the flat their first.
‘So what happened at the National Gallery?’ their grandfather asked. ‘Have you ever crossed into a painting before?’
‘Well … only once,’ Em said, telling the truth this time. ‘But then yesterday we were hot and mad at our mum. We were both thinking about swimming as we were drawing and then … splash! We were in the water.’
‘When we draw,’ Matt explained, getting tired of listening to his sister answer every question, ‘it’s weird and kind of cool because we can see beyond the paper and our pencils. Like we see what’s underneath the colours and the shapes and the lines and … and—’
‘Light,’ Em jumped in. ‘And we always see light.’
‘And then,’ said Matt, frowning at Em’s interruption, ‘the thing we’re drawing creates itself around us.’ He looked directly at Renard. ‘It’s like watching one of those films where they’ve speeded up the time and you see a flower grow in sixty seconds. I can sense Em drawing the picture in my head, and she can sense me in hers.’
Their grandfather’s stare felt like a pin pricking the edge of Matt’s brain. It was not a pleasant sensation, and he wanted it to stop.
‘Are you like us?’ Matt asked, turning away from Renard’s gaze. ‘Is that why Mum brought us here? Can you make your drawings real, too?’
‘My dear children,’ said their grandfather, ‘hasn’t your mother explained any of this to you?’
The twins shook their heads. Renard took a deep breath.
‘You are both quite different to me. You see, like your mother, you are both Animare. But, like your father, you are developing a Guardian’s abilities too. You are unique, my dears. Quite extraordinary, in fact. Have you heard the expressions before?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know,’ said Em, racking her brains. Matt scuffed his Nikes into the dirt as if he wasn’t that interested, although Em could tell he wanted to know everything as much as she did – especially the part about their dad.
‘An Animare,’ continued their grandfather, stretching his legs out in front of him and tilting his head back to catch the warm afternoon sun, ‘is a supernaturally gifted artist who has such a powerful imagination that they can alter reality when they paint or draw. Simply put, if they choose to do so, an Animare can animate their own art.’
Em sat silently, the word Animare rolling around in her head. It was the strangest thing she’d ever heard, and yet she wasn’t frightened or shocked. Somehow the knowledge made perfect sense.
‘Now,’ Renard went on, ‘because of the damage an Animare might do in the world—’
‘We’d never do anything bad,’ Matt interrupted indignantly.
‘Let me finish,’ said their grandfather. ‘Think about what might happen to you and your sister if the TV or the newspapers learned that you had the ability to bring your drawings to life.’
‘They might want us to use our drawings to help people, and they would never leave us alone,’ said Matt, thinking.
‘Or hurt people, if you got into the wrong hands …’ Renard let the words linger in the air.
Em thought about what they’d done to the man in their flat and the lorry driver.
The man in the flat was trying to hurt us, Em. That’s different.
And the lorry driver?
That was a bit of
‘So it’s important that you’re drawing together, is it?’
‘Yes,’ lied Em. She knew she should probably tell him the whole truth, but she trusted Matt more, and her brother had insisted, for now anyway, they should keep some of their secrets. And besides, it had only been yesterday in the flat that the twins had discovered that if they could share the image telepathically then only one of them needed to draw to make the picture real. The jellyfish on the truck had been their second attempt; the doorless wall at the flat their first.
‘So what happened at the National Gallery?’ their grandfather asked. ‘Have you ever crossed into a painting before?’
‘Well … only once,’ Em said, telling the truth this time. ‘But then yesterday we were hot and mad at our mum. We were both thinking about swimming as we were drawing and then … splash! We were in the water.’
‘When we draw,’ Matt explained, getting tired of listening to his sister answer every question, ‘it’s weird and kind of cool because we can see beyond the paper and our pencils. Like we see what’s underneath the colours and the shapes and the lines and … and—’
‘Light,’ Em jumped in. ‘And we always see light.’
‘And then,’ said Matt, frowning at Em’s interruption, ‘the thing we’re drawing creates itself around us.’ He looked directly at Renard. ‘It’s like watching one of those films where they’ve speeded up the time and you see a flower grow in sixty seconds. I can sense Em drawing the picture in my head, and she can sense me in hers.’
Their grandfather’s stare felt like a pin pricking the edge of Matt’s brain. It was not a pleasant sensation, and he wanted it to stop.
‘Are you like us?’ Matt asked, turning away from Renard’s gaze. ‘Is that why Mum brought us here? Can you make your drawings real, too?’
‘My dear children,’ said their grandfather, ‘hasn’t your mother explained any of this to you?’
The twins shook their heads. Renard took a deep breath.
‘You are both quite different to me. You see, like your mother, you are both Animare. But, like your father, you are developing a Guardian’s abilities too. You are unique, my dears. Quite extraordinary, in fact. Have you heard the expressions before?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know,’ said Em, racking her brains. Matt scuffed his Nikes into the dirt as if he wasn’t that interested, although Em could tell he wanted to know everything as much as she did – especially the part about their dad.
‘An Animare,’ continued their grandfather, stretching his legs out in front of him and tilting his head back to catch the warm afternoon sun, ‘is a supernaturally gifted artist who has such a powerful imagination that they can alter reality when they paint or draw. Simply put, if they choose to do so, an Animare can animate their own art.’
Em sat silently, the word Animare rolling around in her head. It was the strangest thing she’d ever heard, and yet she wasn’t frightened or shocked. Somehow the knowledge made perfect sense.
‘Now,’ Renard went on, ‘because of the damage an Animare might do in the world—’
‘We’d never do anything bad,’ Matt interrupted indignantly.
‘Let me finish,’ said their grandfather. ‘Think about what might happen to you and your sister if the TV or the newspapers learned that you had the ability to bring your drawings to life.’
‘They might want us to use our drawings to help people, and they would never leave us alone,’ said Matt, thinking.
‘Or hurt people, if you got into the wrong hands …’ Renard let the words linger in the air.
Em thought about what they’d done to the man in their flat and the lorry driver.
The man in the flat was trying to hurt us, Em. That’s different.
And the lorry driver?
That was a bit of
Similar Books
