Illustrated by - De Eenhoorn

Fiction
Age: 8+
24,5 x 17,5 cm
96 pages + end papers
Illustrated
The Blue Bird
Maurice Maeterlinck | Adaptation by
Do Van Ranst | Illustrated by Carll Cneut
A fairy calls for the help of Tyltyl and Mytyl. She is looking
for the Blue Bird. The bird has to save her daughter. Tyltyl
and Mytyl want to find the bird for her. Together with Dog,
Cat, Water, Fire, Sugar and Bread, they first pass through the
Land of Remembrance…
A modern adaptation of the worldwide known, magical
story by Nobel-prizewinner Maurice Maeterlinck.
Themes: fairy, bird, fairy tale
1.
‘In fact, we are suppose to be in bed,’ Mytyl says. ‘No, we
are suppose to sleep,’ Tyltyl smiles. Brother and sister have
crawled out of bed. Because outside there is light. Light and
sound. It comes from across the street. Rich people are living
there. They are having a party. Why, Mytyl and Tyltyl
don’t know. Any reason is good for a party. But they never
have one.
Tyltyl and Mytyl are sitting on their knees on a little stool
near the window. They are looking at how the neighbours
are dancing and at the shiny, sugary cookies on the table.
Carriages, pulled by white horses, stop right in front of the
door. People in beautiful clothes get out. Children are wearing
ribbons in their hair. ‘Aren’t they suppose to be in bed?’
Mytyl asks. ‘Rich people sleep less,’ Tyltyl says. ‘Why?’ ‘You
can see, can’t you,’ Tyltyl says. He can’t imagine going to
sleep when there are so many delicious things on the table.
‘You want a piece, sis?’ In Tyltyls hand there is an imaginary
cookie. ‘Hmm,’ Mytyl goes. She takes the invisible cookie,
puts it in her mouth and chews on nothing. ‘Delicious!’
‘Hush!’ Tyltyl holds his finger in front of his mouth. ‘Quiet.
When daddy hears us…’ He shows the palm of his hand. ‘I
want more!’ Mytyl says. ‘Beating?’ Tyltyl asks. ‘No, cookies!’
‘I have gotten twelve, sis,’ Tyltyl says. ‘There is only one left.’
He gives her half. ‘Hurray!’ Mytyl yells. ‘Hush!’
Then they hear knocking on the door of the cabin. Brother
and sister are holding their breath. Mytyl is the first who
dares to say something. ‘It is probably daddy.’ ‘Hush.’ The
door opens ajar. The opening of the door is filled by somebody
in a dark, long robe. Mytyl grabs her brother’s shirt.
As if the light from the neighbours is turned brighter, the
figure in the door’s opening becomes more and more clear.
Mytyl quietly brings out a soft cry. The hairs on Tyltyls arms
go stand up straight. A green dress, a red hood. A lump,
one eye, a pointy chin, a crooked nose with a wart on it. A
knotty stick.
A fairy. ‘A fairy!’ Mytyl yells. ‘Hush!’
17