Oceanna , livre ebook

Les éditions Pixel d'Étoile - Alain Lessard ,
traduit par Susan Ouriou

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86 pages

English

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Description

Discover the fabulous story of a girl who can neither hear nor speak and who must, against all odds, discover her true nature.
A funny, touching tale to remind us that we all possess a special something inside.
Oceanna has cried never-ending tears ever since the day she was born.
She cries so much that her tears risk flooding the whole village of St. Overthere.
A mysterious music box is the only thing that can console her.
Is that where her fate lies?
Fortunately, Oceanna has a friend to help her understand the magic she has hidden inside.

Sujets

Fiction Jeunesse

Juvenilee Fiction

Contes

Informations

Publié par	Les éditions Pixel d'Étoile
Date de parution	29 mai 2023
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9782925209379
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	24 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0224€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

By
Alain Lessard
Translated by
Susan Ouriou
Illustrated by
Myriam Roy
Visual conception by
Joël Proulx Bouffard
Cataloguing in Publication (Canada)
Les Éditions Pixel d’étoile
Collection : St. Overthere
Oceanna
ISBN PDF : 978-2-925209-36-2
ISBN ePUB : 978-2-925209-37-9
Originally published by Les Éditions Origo in 2018
ISBN : 978-2-923499-90-1
Graphism : Alain Lessard, Joël Proulx Bouffard
Revision : Bernard Proulx
St. Overthere : an original idea by Alain Lessard
Legal Deposit :
Bibliothèque nationale du Québec, 2023
Library and Archives Canada, 2023
© All rights reserved for all countries
Les Éditions Pixel d’étoile
65, 151 e Rue, Saint-Georges (Québec) G5Y 5J4
Tel. : 418 222-2174 • info@pixeldetoile.com
Once upon a time there was a strange village called St. Overthere.
From what people say, it’s a place where magic exists. Not the magic that comes from a wand, but the magic found in every one of its villagers’ smiles.
One day in St. Overthere a child was born whose parents gave her the name Oceanna. She was magnificent.
Ten fingers.
Ten toes.
A perfectly-centred belly button.
Skin the rosy hue of the setting sun.
Eyes that were mother-of-pearl turquoise blue with coral hues.
But also...
A look of infinite sorrow.
2

And tears.
As big as lakes.
Streaming like rivers.
Oceanna cried.
And cried.
She was inconsolable. It was as though each of her eyes had a leak in it.
Yet no sound escaped her lips.
"What’s going on with our child?" asked Noah, increasingly panic-stricken.
Unable to bear the distressed look in Oceanna’s father’s eyes when she had no solution to offer, the midwife turned away from his gaze.
"I’m so sorry. I have no idea. I don’t understand…"
4

Firefly asked to hold her daughter. Noah handed their child over awkwardly, slipping on the floor flooded with their daughter’s tears.
She laid the baby on her stomach and stared long and hard at her. She was beautiful. So beautiful… Why couldn’t everything be perfect? What did fate have in store for her?
Born feet first, Firefly had inherited her mother’s gift, only backwards. Firefly read the past instead of the future. In the village, people kept saying her gift was useless, but she always countered with you can only tell the future by seeing into the past . Whenever she looked into her crystal ball, the meaning of the strange phrase she would murmur to the person across from her never made sense… until it was too late.
Firefly racked her brain to understand why her child cried so much.
6
In a sudden fever, she uttered a prophecy, "This child’s heart is made of water and salt."
"What does that mean?" asked Noah.
Firefly had no idea.
It remained to be seen.
The minute the gossip, an old wrinkled woman, heard of Oceanna’s birth, she set out to pass the news on to the rest of the village. "Hear ye, everyone," she screeched. "Firefly and Noah have given birth to little Oceanna!"
Drifteye, St. Overthere’s watchman, walked over, yawning. "Must you wake us up so early with that bat shriek of yours?"
"How dare you, Drifteye?" she retorted, outraged. "If my voice sounds like a bat’s shriek, well you sound like a worm that’s just swallowed a flute!"
The mayor could be heard well before he actually showed up. His love of food did not mesh with being in shape. Downing anything he could get his hands on, his shape was that of… a pear, a watermelon, a pineapple.
Any shape but one that was tip-top.
8