Let me tell you about the things she saw before she slept.Īs you know, the space between here and the moon - and we call it 'space' - is blue, a beautiful color blue, somewhere between navy and royal. At about halfway down, in order to manage the arrival on earth, the people working in the Moonbeam Transport Company lull the traveler into a deep sleep, which they fill with dreams. I myself have never done it but I have met many people who have. Riding a moonbeam is like sliding down a very, very smooth mountain - it's like having a wonderful slide for a long time, except that everything is warm, not hot, but a kind of gentle warmth, that makes one a little sleepy. This short story also includes the first chapter from Delaney's latest novel The Last Storyteller.Īn excerpt from The Girl Who Lived on The Moon: if a child should ask whether the story is true, Delaney's answer is just as it should be: 'Well, of course it's true if I believed otherwise, why would I trouble to invent it?'

The novels trace the myths and legends of Folklore collector, Ben McCarthy, and thirty years of changes, troubles and growth in the middle of Twentieth Century Ireland.Īs to the Girl on the Moon. The Storytellers series of short stories heralds the launch of Frank Delaney's The Last Storyteller (February 2012), the third in the trilogy of the Novels of Ireland. Beginning with The Druid, Storytellers celebrates a craft, that while recognized as Irish, finds within it elements that transcend borders and time. 'A good story, well told, makes children of us all.' Bestselling author Frank Delaney's second installment of Storytellers continues the tradition of the great traveling storytellers, who practiced their skills across so many lands since before the invention of time. 'Once upon a time there was a girl who lived on the moon.' And when she comes to earth on a moonbeam, and grants the human race insights that would delight a Jungian and calm a six-year-old to sleep, we must wonder if times were different then, when 'fish danced the polka on the surface of the sea and the birds said their prayers out loud.'

The last storyteller by frank delaney