by Becket
“Is it a bad book?” asked Meredith.
“Quite the opposite in fact,” Mr. Fuddlebee said. “It is the most delicious book I’ve ever had. I keep gobbling it all up before I can read the last pages.”
“They must be easy to swallow,” said Meredith.
“I have never stomached tastier plots,” the elderly ghost replied, “nor have I ever digested better prose.”
The three of them moved on down the Cronumpet Corridor. They passed many more strangely shaped doors. And they saw many more sections with peculiar names.
A little farther down was one called Passing The Time Section. It had books that made time go faster as you read them.
Farther down was another section called Read While Driving Section. It had books that told you the story of your drive while you were driving it so that you could read and drive at the same time and never get into an accident, unless it was written into the story for more drama.
Next they passed the Horrible History Section and the Monstrous Mystery Section.
They passed the Fictional Fact Section and the Factual Fiction Section.
And they even passed the Creepy Classic Section guarded by Roman centurions on one side of the corridor, while on the other side was the Jittery Jurassic Section guarded by two nervous tyrannosaurus rexes. It was a good thing that Mr. Fuddlebee, Meredith, and Peter Butterpig went by when they did because the next moment the centurions picked a fight with the dinosaurs.
“Oh look,” exclaimed Mr. Fuddlebee, pointing ahead with his onbrella. “There is one of my favorite sections. Come on. Let’s go take a peek inside.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Metamorphosis Section & Caterpiggles
Mr. Fuddlebee hurriedly floated down the Cronumpet Corridor until they came to another door shaped like a butterfly with its wings spread wide. It was called the Metamorphosis Section.
That was a rather large word. Peter Butterpig had never heard it before. He grunted in confusion.
“The word section means—” Mr. Fuddlebee began explaining to him when Meredith interrupted.
“No, he is asking about metamorphosis. And in fact,” she added, “I’m not sure if I know what it means either.”
“Ah,” the elderly ghost said brightly. “Let’s look it up in my ictionary.”
He pulled out a small book from his ghostly breast pocket.
Opening it, he kindly said into its pages, “Ictionary, would you please tell me the not-meaning of the word metamorphosis.”
The little book thought for a second or two.
Then it suddenly leaped out of his ghostly hands, hung in the air, and shouted at the top of its voice.
“FLAPDOODLE! FLIBBERTIGIBBET! FUDDY-DUDDY!”
The ictionary then closed itself up and waddled away.
“Oh, dear,” Mr. Fuddlebee remarked.
“Is that a bad not-definition?” asked Meredith.
“It’s not that,” the elderly ghost said. “Why, just last week, when I asked it to not-define me as a ghost, it said those exact same words. I wonder if it’s broken.”
“Now that we know what metamorphosis does not mean,” Meredith said, “how else can we define it?”
“If I recall correctly,” Mr. Fuddlebee said, “the word metamorphosis comes from two very old words from a very old language. The first word is meta and that means change. The second word is morph and that means form. So to have a metamorphosis is to change form.”
“Then this room,” Meredith said, trying to understand, “has to do with change.”
“Keep in mind,” the elderly ghost cautioned, “this room should not be confused with the Change Room. That room is filled with books that jangle like the change in your pocket. If you are very lucky and happen to find a book titled Jackpot, it will spit out all its change and you will have to swim through the coins to find your way out.”
He pointed his onbrella at the butterfly door.
“The Metamorphosis Section has books about two kinds of change. One kind is the way a book can change someone’s life. The other kind is the way these books change form in your hands. Sometimes it happens right when you are reading them. One day you might be reading a book about rainbows when suddenly it changes into an actual rainbow right above your head. Or you might be reading a book about bees when it suddenly changes into a great big honeybee with a long pointy stinger. That happened to my Aunt Petunia once. Poor thing. She could not sit for a week afterward and even to this day she cannot stand the taste of honey.”
Mr. Fuddlebee then started to open the door, but he paused and looked at Peter Butterpig.
“I am surprised that you do not know what metamorphosis means. After all, you underwent one, did you not?”
Peter Butterpig gave him a confused look.
“My dear fellow,” the elderly ghost went on, “you were not born a butterpig. You were a caterpiggle. Didn’t you know that?”
“A caterpiggle?” asked Meredith, trying to hide a smile at this funny-sounding word. “Don’t you mean caterpillar?”
“Not at all. I mean caterpiggle.”
Peter Butterpig squealed. He had no idea what that meant.
“Yes, you were born a caterpiggle,” the elderly ghost said. “Then one day, when you decided that you’d had enough of that, you wrapped yourself up in a pig-pink cocoon and metamorphosed. Do you not recall bursting from it for the first time, newly changed from a slinking caterpiggle into a butterpig with brightly beautiful wings?”
Peter Butterpig shook his head a little sorrowfully. He wished he could recall. It sounded like a wonderful experience. The only thing he could remember was growing up alone and lonely in the pigsty, rejected by the pigs because he was so different.
Mr. Fuddlebee smiled on him with great compassion.
“Well then,” he said in a kind tone, “I think you might enjoy this room most of all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Butterpiglets
Mr. Fuddlebee opened the door and let Peter Butterpig go in first, followed next by little Meredith Pocket. The elderly ghost closed the door behind them so that nothing could get out.
The look on Peter Butterpig’s face was one of complete astonishment. His eyes were wide. His snout was gaping.
The room was filled with books. Most were sitting on the shelves, quiet and still for the present. Yet many were changing forms with a little pop. One book changed into a toy train. Another book changed into a rabbit. Another changed into a shooting star. And another changed into a watch.
But those were not the sights that made Peter Butterpig stare in awe. No, he was dumbstruck at a different sight altogether.
Tiny little piglets with large bright butterfly wings were fluttering all over the room.
“Those are your librarian aids,” Mr. Fuddlebee told him. “They are here to help you in every way.”
Some fluttering piglets were organizing the quiet books on the shelves. Others were corralling the books that were changing form.
“They are just like you,” Mr. Fuddlebee said, “only they are called butterpiglets.”
Tears of joy pooled in Peter Butterpig’s large eyes. He smiled the happiest smile that Meredith had ever seen on his handsome snout.
The butterpiglets all turned at the same time and saw Peter Butterpig looking up at them from the floor below. Their eyes brightened and their snouts widened in delighted smiles. Then in a rush, they all swooped down to get a better look at him.
They swarmed all around Peter Butterpig, twirling and grunting and spinning and squealing. They swarmed under his legs, beneath his belly, and between his big bright wings. He snorted with laughter. Being friends with Sir Copperpot and Uncle Glitch had made him happy. Being friends with Meredith Pocket had made him even happier. But finding out that he was no longer alone, and that there were others like him in this amazingly crazy world, it made him feel super-extraordinarily joyful. He thought his chest might swell up and burst open from all the happiness he was fee
ling.
He fluttered his bright butterfly wings and lifted off into the air.
The butterpiglets fluttered all around him. Some were squealing that they were very glad to see him. Others were snorting their names. And several more were grunting about all the wonderful work they did in the library. But all of them were just as happy as Peter to have one more in the bunch.
A group of butterpiglets flew him up to the bookcases and showed him how neat and orderly they had made everything. They were very proud of their work and Peter nodded at them with approval.
Another group of butterpiglets flew him over to the book pen where they kept all the books that had changed into other things. It was filled with all sorts of items you might never group together—like gowns and fish sticks, clowns and tea trays, carousels and clouds and cookie dough.
The butterpiglets carried all these little things out of the room, taking them to other rooms in the library where they would be happiest. Some things were too big and had to be carried out by several butterpiglets and a harness. And occasionally there were things so enormously large, like the jack-o-lantern house in the corner, that it took over five hundred butterpiglets just to lift it off the ground.
Peter Butterpig squealed delightedly. He had never felt more at home than he did here in this section of the Magic Library. As much as he was excited to see these butterpiglets, he was also excited to start working with them. He did not know much about changing form, from a caterpiggle into a butterpig, or from a book into something else, but he now knew an awful lot about change because this was the best change that had ever happened to him. He had changed from one lonely butterpig to one happy pig with butterfly wings among many happy piglets with butterfly wings too.
He was so happy that he almost forgot about Meredith and Mr. Fuddlebee. But when he finally did recall his dearest friend, who had been with him during his loneliest days, he flew back down to the ground and gave her a great big pig kiss on her cheek—which was more like snorting and snuffling all over her face.
It tickled her and made her giggle.
She threw her arms around him and hugged him.
“You should stay here for a while,” she told him.
He gave a soft squeal.
“Of course I’m sure,” she replied. “You stay here and spend time with your new friends.”
Peter Butterpig’s eyes twinkled merrily. And with a sudden burst of excitement, he leaped around in circles, squealing and flapping his wings like never before. Then he flew up into the air and joined the butterpiglets, who were watching eagerly, their snouts drooling, as another book changed form into a heavenly sight—a great big mound of mashed potatoes covered in ketchup.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Magic Lantern
Mr. Fuddlebee led little Meredith Pocket out of the room and down the long Cronumpet Corridor. She was the only librarian left now.
The elderly ghost paused and looked at the other doors to the other sections of the Magic Library.
“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, stroking his ghostly goatee, “where shall we go next? There is so much to see, so many sections, so many more books… how many of you remain?”
Meredith drew a little closer to him. All of her friends had seen something meaningful for them on their journey through the Magic Library, all except her.
“Mr. Fuddlebee,” she said a little timidly, “I’m the only one left.”
The elderly ghost blinked at her in bewilderment. He looked up and down the corridor for the others. When he saw none else, his ghostly face beamed with delight.
“That settles it,” he said brightly. “I thought it was going to be a struggle to decide who would be the head librarian. But since you are the only one left, I suppose that means you are the right one for the job! Congratulations, my dear girl. Congratulations indeed! The work of the head librarian is to make sure all the other librarians are happy with their work and working with happiness. That also means you will have to be in many places at once, going from one side of the library to the other with the speed of light. But do not worry. No, no, do not worry one bit because the speed of light is exactly the means by which you will now be traveling! You see, the head librarian not only looks after the Magic Library, but is also in charge of the Magic Lantern. What is a Magic Lantern, you ask with that questioning expression on your face? Well, I am about to answer all your doubts right now right down the corridor. Come on, follow me. And hurry! We haven’t a moment to lose.”
The elderly ghost whirled around and floated farther down the Cronumpet Corridor.
Meredith ran after him as fast as she could go.
They passed many more rooms with many more sections of the library. She knew she would one day explore them all, but at the moment she felt that something truly wonderful was about to happen, and she could hardly wait to find out what that might be.
Finally they came to a door along the corridor. It was tall and thin and white.
Mr. Fuddlebee floated through it, beckoning Meredith to follow.
The name on the door looked familiar to her.
THE MAGIC LANTERN ROOM
Inside, the room was completely white and completely empty, all except for a pedestal in the middle. On top of it was a brass device. It was cylindrical, about the size of a loaf of bread standing on its end. Its base was wider than the rest. Its top had a wide ring for a handle. And its middle was a sheet of brass that wrapped all the way around it. Cut into this brass sheet were small shapes.
Meredith, dizzy with the sense that she had been in this strange room before, drew nearer to get a better look at this even stranger device.
No two cutout shapes were the same. In the brass, one cutout showed a witch riding a broomstick, another cutout showed a jack-o-lantern, another showed a skeleton, and several more showed a gravestone or an amulet, a bat or a scythe, a cauldron, a mummy, a goblin, a troll, a sun, a moon, a star, a snake, a maze, a labyrinth, a headless horseman, a raven, and many, many more. These cutouts were so tiny and so numerous that it would take Meredith days to count them all.
She walked around the Magic Lantern, looking with great fascination at all the wonderful shapes. She noticed a button on top, right at the base of the handle-ring. She placed her finger on it.
Mr. Fuddlebee nodded at her. “Go on, my dear. Press it. That gets it going. And there’s no knowing what will happen next once it gets going.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Magic Light Show
The instant Meredith pressed the brass button on top of the Magic Lantern, the lights in the room went out.
Music came from the Magic Lantern too. It was the tinkling pretty tones of a music box, like the dance of a little ballerina.
A strange feeling came over Meredith. She knew she had heard this music before. But she did not know how or why it was so familiar.
A second later, candlelight shone out of the Magic Lantern in bright beams, projecting the shapes of the cutouts onto the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Like all the other strange feelings of familiarity that she had been having ever since she came into this room—“No, ever since I came into the Magic Library,” she said to herself—she also felt she had seen these images before. But once more she had no idea how that was possible.
Had she really been in the library before? Had she been in this room before?
The brass cylinder slowly spun around on its base.
She stepped closer to the walls and watched in fascination as the projections of the cutouts slowly twirled around her.
Each projection was like a television image. Each showed a different section of the Magic Library. And each looked more and more marvelous.
The projection of a skull with crossing flowers was a view inside a section called Flora and Fauna of the Underworld.
The image of a mountain with an open book on top was a view inside a section called Book Mountain.
The image of a house beneath a balloon was a view ins
ide a section called Floating Mansions.
The image of a book with a pocket watch was a view inside a section called Slow Reading, Speed Reading, & Reading While Sleeping.
The Magic Lantern was projecting so many images of the brass cutouts, showing views into so many sections of the Magic Library on the walls and floor and ceiling, that Meredith could hardly believe her eyes.
One image showed a view into the room where Sir Copperpot was dancing with other robots. While they danced, they shelved some books and searched for others. After they waltzed and worked to their mechanical heart’s delight, they all sat down together to have a nice cup of tea oil.
Another image showed another view into the room where Uncle Glitch was landing his zeppeloach. He opened another book, read its instructions, and then he invented a way to fold and hardwire paper into robots that would become his little helpers. When he had finished, he showed his troupe of paper robots how to organize encyclopedias.
And another view showed the room where Peter Butterpig was flapping his big bright beautiful butterfly wings. He was surrounded by numerous butterpiglets, flapping their butterfly wings all around him too. They worked together to organize the books in such a way that the color of their spines made the room look like a rainbow.
Meredith had never seen her three friends happier in their lives. She was glad that they had finally found a home in the Magic Library. And she hoped she might find a home here too.
Mr. Fuddlebee smiled at her. “Have you ever traveled by magic lantern before?”
“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know it could be done.”
The elderly ghost chuckled. “Oh, my dear girl, one of the marvels about a library is that it always has a surprise or two in store. All you have to do is leap into one of the images being projected. The Magic Lantern will get you to that room by the speed of its light.”
