D'autres livres qui pourraient vous intéresser

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  Frog in a Fog

  Marielle Bayliss

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  A groovy frog is forced to cut short his boogie session as a foul fog engulfs his swamp. Dusting himself off, he soon breaks out the hippity-hop in the fen, only to find the wetlands awash in stinky sewage. As Frog keeps bounding from place to place hoping to find somewhere to call home, he starts to feel hopeless. Will Frog ever find a home away from all the fumes, litter and sewage?

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  Trouble with Children The...

  Katie Weaver

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  With the pawfect blend of humor and heart, celebrate the wacky and wonderful things about life with children in THE TROUBLE WITH CHILDREN (ACCORDING TO DOG)!The family dog has a LOT to get off his chest. Life with children can be . . . challenging. Between their loud shrieks, too-tight squeezes, and dress-up games, he can’t take any more of these little ones!Except . . . he might have overlooked a few things, like head scratches, treats, and belly rubs. Is it possible they're not so bad after all?From award-winning, bestselling duo Katie Weaver and Caner Soylu comes a hilarious, must-have audiobook that celebrates the joyful chaos of kids.A Macmillan Audio production from Roaring Brook Press

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  Return to Bethlehem

  Lesley Barklay

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  'Dear God,' Joshua prayed. 'I wish I knew the real story about when the wise men visited Jesus...'  
  When Joshua prays on Christmas Eve, he doesn't expect to wake up in the palace of an angry king. With the help of a new friend, Joshua and Hannah uncover Herod's plot to find and destroy the saviour of the world. Can Joshua and Hannah get to Jesus in time to save the babies of Bethlehem? And will their faith be strong enough to carry them through? 
  A delightful story for everyone who's ever questioned the nativity scene.

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  12 Asian Folktales S01E02

  Aryaa Naik

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  An enthusiastic beetle builds a magnificent home for himself and soon becomes popular among the insects of the forest who come to him for help. The overnight fame makes the beetle demanding and unreasonable, but he soon learns a lesson in humility.

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  The Red Room - Skepticism Meets...

  H. G. Wells

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  The Red Room by H. G. Wells - He was told the brightly colored red room in Lorraine Castle was haunted. Despite vague warnings from the three custodians who reside in the castle, he is not a believer in such things and ascends to "the Red Room" to begin his night's vigil. 
  “I can assure you,” said I, “that it will take a very tangible ghost to frighten me.” And I stood up before the fire with my glass in my hand. 
  “It is your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm, and glanced at me askance. 
  “Eight-and-twenty years,” said I, “I have lived, and never a ghost have I seen as yet.” 
  The old woman sat staring hard into the fire, her pale eyes wide open. “Ay,” she broke in; “and eight-and-twenty years you have lived and never seen the likes of this house, I reckon. There’s a many things to see, when one’s still but eight-and-twenty.” She swayed her head slowly from side to side. “A many things to see and sorrow for.” 
  I half suspected the old people were trying to enhance the spiritual terrors of their house by their droning insistence. I put down my empty glass on the table and looked about the room, and caught a glimpse of myself, abbreviated and broadened to an impossible sturdiness, in the queer old mirror at the end of the room. “Well,” I said, “if I see anything to-night, I shall be so much the wiser. For I come to the business with an open mind.” 
  “It’s your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm once more. 
  I heard the faint sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in the passage outside. The door creaked on its hinges as a second old man entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He supported himself by the help of a crutch, his eyes were covered by a shade, and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his decaying yellow teeth.

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  Gun For Hire - Hired Hands Cold...

  Mack Reynolds

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  Gun For Hire by Mack Reynolds - A gun is an interesting weapon; it can be hired, of course, and naturally doesn't care who hires it. Something much the same can be said of the gunman, too... 
  Joe Prantera called softly, "Al." The pleasurable, comfortable, warm feeling began spreading over him, the way it always did. 
  The older man stopped and squinted, but not suspiciously, even now. 
  The evening was dark, it was unlikely that the other even saw the circle of steel that was the mouth of the shotgun barrel, now resting on the car's window ledge. 
  "Who's it?" he growled. 
  Joe Prantera said softly, "Big Louis sent me, Al." 
  And he pressed the trigger. 
  And at that moment, the universe caved inward upon Joseph Marie Prantera. 
  There was nausea and nausea upon nausea. 
  There was a falling through all space and through all time. There was doubling and twisting and twitching of every muscle and nerve. 
  There was pain, horror and tumultuous fear. 
  And he came out of it as quickly and completely as he'd gone in. 
  He was in, he thought, a hospital and his first reaction was to think, This here California. Everything different. Then his second thought was Something went wrong. Big Louis, he ain't going to like this. 
  He brought his thinking to the present. So far as he could remember, he hadn't completely pulled the trigger. That at least meant that whatever the rap was it wouldn't be too tough. With luck, the syndicate would get him off with a couple of years at Quentin. 
  A door slid open in the wall in a way that Joe had never seen a door operate before. This here California. 
  The clothes on the newcomer were wrong, too. For the first time, Joe Prantera began to sense an alienness—a something that was awfully wrong.

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