Howls moving castle novel pdf download

The twists and turns are a delight, yet the writing is so clever that every little thing ties back together so, so cleverly in the end. The mastery over characterizations, worldbuilding, and hints reads like a amazing mystery. Even if you've seen Ghibli's movie, I say that you'll enjoy this ride!

Reviewer: nuemaria - favorite favorite favorite - December 7, Subject: Howl's Moving Castle The inspiration behind a largely successful Studio Ghibli anime film, Howl's moving CAstle tells the tale of a young hatter named Sophie, who is one day cursed by the Wicked Witch of the Waste to become an old lady nearly three times her actual age. She seeks refuge in the magical home of wizard Howl where she comes across several interesting charcaters like the vain but not-all-that-he-seems Howl, the fire demon Calcifer, the young apprentice Michael and many others.

This tale is a simple read revealing many truths about human life while keeping the essential magic alive. Books for People with Print Disabilities. Some of the techniques listed in House of Many Ways may require a sound knowledge of Hypnosis, users are advised to either leave those sections or must have a basic understanding of the subject before practicing them. DMCA and Copyright : The book is not hosted on our servers, to remove the file please contact the source url.

That's one comfort. The wind was also sharper. Sophie's panting and the creaking of her limbs were so loud in her ears that it took her a while to notice that some of the grinding and puffing was not coming from herself at all.

She looked up blurrily. Wizard Howl's castle was rumbling and bumping toward her across the moorland. Black smoke was blowing up in clouds from behind its black battlements.

It looked tall and thin and heavy and ugly and very sinister indeed. Sophie leaned on her stick and watched it. She was not particularly frightened.

She wondered how it moved. But the main thing in her mind was that all that smoke must mean a large fireside somewhere inside those tall black walls. He only takes young girls. The castle obediently came to a rumbling, grinding halt about fifty feet uphill from her.

Sophie felt rather gratified as she hobbled toward it. The castle was uglier that ever close to. It was far too tall for its height and not a very regular shape. As far as Sophie could see in the growing darkness, it as built of huge black blocks, like coal, and, like coal, these blocks were all different shapes and sizes. Chill breathed off these blocks as she got closer, but that failed to frighten Sophie at all.

She just thought of chairs and firesides and stretched her hand out eagerly to the door. Her hand could not come near it. Some invisible wall stopped her hand about a foot from the door. Sophie prodded at it with an irritable finger. When that made no difference, she prodded with her stick. The wall seemed to be all over the door from as high as her stick could reach, and right down to the heather sticking out from under the doorstep.

That made no difference to the wall. But she could not get around the corner. The invisible wall stopped her again as soon as she was level with the irregular black cornerstones. At this, Sophie said a word she had learned from Martha, that neither old ladies nor young girls are supposed to know, and stumped uphill and anti-clockwise to the castle's righthand corner. There was no barrier there. She turned that corner and came hobbling eagerly towards the second big black door in the middle of that side of the castle.

There was a barrier over that door too. Sophie glowered at it. Black smoke blew down form the battlements in clouds. Sophie coughed. Now she was angry. She was old, frail, chilly, and aching all over. Night was coming on and the castle just sat and blew smoke at her. There was not barrier there-evidently you had to go around the castle clockwise-but there, bit sideways in the next wall, was a third door. This one was much smaller and shabbier.

The castle started to move again as Sophie got near the back door. The ground shook. The wall shuddered and creaked, and the door started to travel sideways from her. She ran after the door and hit it violently with her stick. The door sprang open inward, still moving sideways. Sophie, by hobbling furiously, managed to get one foot up on its doorstep. Then she hopped and scrambled and hopped again, while the great black blocks round the door jolted and crunched as the castle gathered speed over the uneven hillside.

Sophie did not wonder the castle had a lopsided look. The marvel was that it did not fall apart on the spot. She had to drop her stick and hang on to the open door in order not to be jolted straight out again. When she began to get her breath, she realized there was a person standing in front of her, holding the door too. He was a head taller than Sophie, but she could see he was the merest child, only a little older than Martha.

And he seemed to be trying to shut the door on her and push her out of the warm, lamplit, low-beamed room beyond him, into the night again. There were a number of probably wizardly things hanging from the beams- strings of onions, bunches of herbs, and bundles of Page 13 Jones, Diana Wynne - Howl's Moving Castle.

There were also definitely wizardly things, like leather books, crooked bottles, and an old, brown, grinning human skull. On the other side of the boy was a fireplace with a small fire burning in the grate. It was a much smaller fire than all the smoke outside suggested, but then this was obviously only a back room in the castle.

Much more important to Sophie, this fire had reached the glowing rosy stage, with little blue flames dancing on the logs, and placed beside it in the warmest position was a low chair with a cushion on it. Sophie pushed the boy aside and dived for that chair. My fortune! It was bliss. The fire warmed her aches and the chair supported her back and she knew that if anyone wanted to turn her out now, they were going to have to use extreme and violent magic to do it.

The boy shut the door. Then he picked up Sophie's stick and politely leaned it against the chair for her. Sophie realized that there was now no sign at all that the castle was moving across the hillside: not even the ghost of a rumble or the tiniest shaking.

How odd! Can I help you instead? I'm Howl's apprentice, Michael. It was probably true too. He hovered over her a little helplessly. To make it plain to him that she had no intention of being turned out by a mere boy apprentice, Sophie closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep. Since this was exactly what Sophie wanted, she pretended not to hear. In fact, she almost certainly fell into a swift doze. She was so tired from all that walking. After a moment Michael gave her up and went back to the work he was doing at the workbench where the lamp stood.

So she would have a whole night's shelter, even if it was on slightly false pretenses, Sophie thought drowsily. Since Howl was such a wicked man, it probably served him right to be imposed upon. But she intended to be well away from here by the time Howl came back and raised objections.

She looked sleepily and slyly across at the apprentice. It rather surprised her to find him such a nice, polite boy. After all, she had forced her way in quite rudely and Michael had not complained at all. Perhaps Howl kept him in abject servility. But Michael did not look servile. He was a tall, dark boy with a pleasant, open sort of face, and he was most respectably dressed. In fact, if Sophie had not seen him at that moment carefully pouring green fluid out of a crooked flask onto black powder in a bent glass jar, she would have taken him for the son of a prosperous farmer.

Still, things were bound to be odd where wizards were concerned, Sophie thought. And this kitchen, or workshop, was beautifully cozy and very peaceful. Sophie went properly to sleep and snored. She did not wake up when there came a flash and a muted bang form the workbench, followed by a hurriedly bitten-off swear word from Michael.

She did not wake when Michael, sucking his burned fingers, put the spell aside for the night and fetched bread and cheese out of the closet. She did not stir when Michael knocked her stick down with a clatter, reaching over her for a log to put on the fire, or when Michael, looking down into Sophie's open mouth, remarked to the fireplace, "She's got all her teeth.

She's not the Witch of the Waste, is she? Michael shrugged and picked Sophie's stick politely up again. Then he put a log on the fire with equal politeness and went away to bed somewhere In the middle of the night Sophie was woken by someone snoring. She jumped upright, rather irritated to discover that she was the one who had been snoring. It seemed to her that she had only dropped off for a second or so, but Michael seemed to have vanished in those seconds, taking the light with him.

No doubt a wizard's apprentice learned to do that kind of thing in his first week. And he had left the fire very low. It was giving out irritating hissings and poppings. A cold draft blew on Sophie's back. Sophie recalled that she was in a wizard's castle, and also, with unpleasant distinctness, that there was a human skull on a workbench somewhere behind her. She shivered and cranked her stiff old neck around, but there was only darkness behind her.

Her cracked voice seemed to make no more noise than the crackling of the fire. Sophie was surprised. She had expected it to echo through the vaults of the castle.

Still, there was a basket of logs beside her. She stretched out a creaking arm and heaved a log on the fire, which sent a spray of green and blue sparks flying through the chimney. She heaved on a second log and sat back, not without a nervous look or so behind her, where the blue-purple light form the fire was dancing over the polished brown bone of the skull. The room was quite small.

There was no one in it but Sophie and the skull. She turned back to the fire, which was now flaring up into blue and green flames. She settled herself more comfortably, putting her knobby feet on the fender and her head into a corner of the chair, where she could stare into the colored flames, and began dreamily considering what she ought to do in the morning.

But she was sidetracked a little by imagining a face in the flames. But those curly green flames on top are most definitely your hair. Suppose I didn't go until Howl gets back?

Wizards can lift spells, I suppose. And those purple flames near the bottom make the mouth- you have savage teeth, my friend. You have two green tufts of flame for eyebrows It was definitely the fire that spoke.

Sophie saw its purple mouth move as the words came. Its voice was nearly as cracked as her own, full of the spitting and whining of burning wood. There was more whine than spit to its voice as it said, "I'm bound to this hearth by contract. I can't move from this spot. And of course you won't be able to tell anyone about it unless they know already.

And it added in a soft persuasive flicker, "How about making a bargain with me? I'll break your spell if you agree to break this contract I'm under. It had a distinctly cunning look as it made this proposal. Everything she had read showed the extreme danger of making a bargain with a demon. And there was no doubt that this one did look extraordinarily evil. Those long purple teeth. That spell had shortened your life by about sixty years, if I am any judge of such things.

It made quite a difference. Its voice took on a bit of a whine again. I'm forced to do most of the magic around here. I have to maintain the castle and keep it moving and do all the special effects that scare people off, as well as anything else Howl wants. Howl's quite heartless, you know. On the other hand, the demon was probably quite as wicked. I'm being exploited. She thought of herself making hats for Fanny while Fanny went gadding. How do I break it? The orange eyes glinted at her and looked away.

Part of the contract is that neither the Wizard nor I can say what the main clause is. She opened her mouth to tell the demon that it could sit in the fireplace until Doomsday in that case.

The demon realized she was going to. I implore you to try. The contract isn't doing either of us any good in the long run.

And I do keep my word. The fact that I'm stuck here shows that I keep it! Sophie again felt a great deal of sympathy. Remember, I have to study your spell too," the demon pleaded. Howl's pretty useless at most things. In fact," the demon said, venomously hissing, "he's too wrapped up in himself to see beyond his nose half the time. Now find an excuse. It thought aloud, in a little crackling, flickering murmur, which reminded Sophie rather of the way she had talked to her stick when she walked here.

And it blazed while it thought with such a glad powerful roaring that she dozed again. She thought the demon did make a few suggestions. She remembered shaking her head to the notion that she should pretend to be Howl's long- lost great- aunt, and to two other ones even more farfetched, but she did not remember very clearly.

The demon at length fell to singing a gentle, flickering little song. It was not in any language Sophie knew- or she thought not, until she distinctly heard the word "saucepan" in it several times- and it was very sleepy- sounding.

Sophie fell into a deep sleep, with a slight suspicion that she was being bewitched now, as well as beguiled, but it did not bother her particularly. She would be free of the spell soon Since Sophie remembered no windows a t all in the castle, her first notion was that she had fallen asleep trimming hats and dreamed of leaving home.

The fire in front of her had sunk to rosy charcoal and white ash, which convinced her that she had certainly dreamed there was a fire demon. But her very first movements told her that there were some things she had not dreamed. There were sharp cracks from all over her body.

She put her knobby hands to her face and felt wrinkles. At that, she discovered she had been in a state of shock all yesterday. She was very angry indeed with the Witch of the Waste for doing this to her, hugely, enormously angry. It was above the workbench. To her utter astonishment, the view from it was a view of a dockside town.

She could see a sloping, unpaved street, lined with small, rather poor-looking houses, and masts sticking up beyond the roofs. Beyond the masts she caught a glimmer of the sea, which was something she had never seen in her life before. It was quite a small room, with heavy black beams in the ceiling. By daylight it was amazingly dirty. The stones of the floor were stained and greasy, ash was piled within the fender, and cobwebs hung in dusty droops from the beams.

There was a layer of dust on the skull. Sophie absently wiped it off as she went to peer into the sink beside the workbench. She shuddered at the pink-and-gray slime in it and the white slime dripping from the pump above it.

Howl obviously did not care what squalor his servants lived in. The rest of the castle seemed to be beyond one or the other of the four low black doors around the room. Sophie opened the nearest, in the end wall beyond the bench. There was a large bathroom beyond it. In some ways it was a bathroom you might find normally only in a palace, full of luxuries such as an indoor toilet, a shower stall, an immense bath with clawed feet, and mirrors on every wall.

But it was even dirtier than the other room. Sophie winced form the toilet, flinched at the color of the bath, recoiled form the green weed growing in the shower, and quite easily avoided looking at her shriveled shape in the mirrors because the glass was plastered with blobs and runnels of nameless substances.

The nameless substances themselves were crowded onto a very large shelf over the bath. The biggest jar had a name. Sophie was not sure whether there should be a D in that or not. She picked up a packet at random. It had SKIN scrawled on it, and she put it back hurriedly.

Another jar said EYES in the same scrawl. Water ran into the basin when she turned a blue-green knob that might have been brass and washed some of the decay away.

She dried the water with her skirt and then set off to the next black door. That one opened onto a flight of rickety wooden stairs, Sophie heard someone move up there and shut the door hurriedly. It seemed only to lead to a sort of loft anyway. She hobbled to the next door. By now she was moving quite easily.

She was a hale old woman, as she discovered yesterday. The third door opened onto a poky backyard with high brick walls. It contained a big stack of logs, and higgledy-piggledy heaps of what seemed to be scrap iron, wheels, buckets, metal sheeting, wire, mounded almost to the tops of the walls.

Sophie shut that door too, rather puzzled, because it did not seem to match the castle at all. There was no castle to be seen above the brick walls. They ended at the sky. Sophie could only think that this part was the round side where the invisible wall had stopped her the night before.

She opened the fourth door and it was just a broom cupboard, with two fine but dusty velvet cloaks hanging on the brooms. Sophie shut it again, slowly. The only other door was in the wall with the window, and that was the door she had come in by last night. She hobbled over and cautiously opened that. She stood for a moment looking out at a slowly moving view of the hills, watching heather slide past underneath the door, feeling the wind blow her wispy hair, and listening to the rumble and grind of the big black stones as the castle moved.

Then she shut the door and went to the window. And there was the seaport town again. It was no picture. A woman had opened a door opposite and was sweeping dust into the street. Behind that house a grayish canvas sail was going up a mast in brisk jerks, disturbing a flock of seagulls into flying round and round against the glimmering sea.

Then, because the fire looked almost out, she went and put on a couple of logs and raked away some of the ash. Green flames climbed between the logs, small and curly, and shot up into a long blue face with flaming green hair. Sophie was not much given to crying, but she said in the chair for quite a while staring at a blurred and sliding fire demon, and did not pay much attention to the sounds of Michael getting up, until she found him standing beside her, looking embarrassed and a little exasperated.

But it was just as the Witch had said and the fire demon had guessed. Michael said cheerfully, "Well, it comes to us all in time. Would you like some breakfast? After only bread and cheese at lunchtime yesterday, she was ravenous. Where's your kettle? He won't bend down his head to be cooked on for anyone but Howl. He flickered back at her wickedly. Bend down your head. Or I shall pick up the tongs and take away both your logs," she added, as she got herself creaking onto her knees by the hearth.

There she whispered, "Or I can go back on our bargain, or tell Howl about it, can't I? Sophie slapped slices of bacon into the pan. It was good and hot. The bacon sizzled, and she had to wrap her skirt round her hand to hold the handle.

The door opened, but she did not notice because of the sizzling. Sophie turned round at that, rather hurriedly. She stared. The tall young fellow in a flamboyant blue-and-silver suit who had just come in stopped in the act of leaning a guitar in the corner. He brushed the fair hair from his rather curious glass-green eyes and stared back.

His long, angular face was perplexed. After all, Howl had only met her long enough to call her a mouse before, so it was almost true. She ought to have been thanking her stars for the lucky escape she'd had then, she supposed, but in fact her main thought was, Good gracious!

Wizard Howl is only a child in his twenties, for all his wickedness! It made such a difference to be old, she thought as she turned the bacon over in the pan. And she would have died rather than let this overdressed boy know she was the girl he had pitied on May Day. Hearts and souls did not enter into it. Howl was not going to know. He popped his guitar in the corner and came over to the hearth. The smell of hyacinths mixed with the smell of bacon as he shoved Sophie firmly aside.

It was obvious after what she had seen of the castle. Michael was pulling them out to sit on and pushing aside all the things on top of it to make room for some knives and forks he had taken from the drawer in the side of it. Sophie went to help him. She had not expected Howl to welcome her, of course, but he had not even so far agreed to let her stay beyond breakfast. Since Michael did not seem to need help, Sophie shuffled over to her stick and put it slowly and showily in the broom cupboard.

When that did not seem to attract Howl's attention, she said, "You can take me on for a month's trial, if you like. DMCA and Copyright : The book is not hosted on our servers, to remove the file please contact the source url.

If you see a Google Drive link instead of source url, means that the file witch you will get after approval is just a summary of original book or the file has been already removed. Loved each and every part of this book. I will definitely recommend this book to fantasy, young adult lovers. Your Rating:.