In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines
lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.
In two straight lines they broke their bread
and brushed their teeth
and went to bed.
They smiled at the good
and frowned at the bad
and sometimes
they were very sad.
They left the house
at half past nine
in two straight lines
in rain
or shine-
the smallest one
was Madeline.
She was not afraid
of mice-
(the other girls would scream and shriek)
she loved winter,
snow, and ice
(in summer Madeline would not speak)
The other girls were sweet and nice
(No one sat by Madeline twice.)
and nobody knew so well
how to frighten Miss Clavel.
In the middle of one night
Miss Clavel turned on the light
and said, “Something is not right!”
Little Madeline sat in bed,
perfectly still; her mouth was red.
And soon after Dr. Cohn
came, he rushed out to the phone
and he was sick. He dialed DANton-ten-six-
And then was sick again, and then he ran out
into the street, and the phone swung behind him.
No one made a single cry
The room was quiet, eyes were dry.
Madeline made a little sigh.
She smiled and made a little sigh.
In a car with a red light
they drove out into the night.
Madeline woke up two hours
later, in a room with flowers.
Madeline soon drank and ate.
She knew the girls would come. She’d wait.
The girls would have to come. She’d wait.
The girls still in the house would come.
On her bed there was a crank,
She kept her face quite still and blank
When doctors came, and asked her name
When doctors asked her to explain.
Behind her eyes she hid her brain.
Did they break their teeth and brush their bread?
Were there enough girls for two lines?
(How they jolted when they bled!)
(How their necks bent on their spines!)
Madeline could be very still.
She could wait and look quite ill.
Outside were birds, trees, and sky-
and so ten days passed quickly by.
One nice morning Miss Clavel said-
“Isn’t this a fine –
day to visit
Madeline.”
She put a smile on her mouth
And led the girls, reluctant, out.
VISITORS FROM TWO TO FOUR
read a sign outside her door.
Tiptoeing with solemn face,
with some flowers and a vase,
in they walked and then said, “Ahhh,”
Madeline sipped from a red straw.
She had toys and candy from Papa.
Her little hands were hidden claws.
But the biggest surprise by far-
by her mouth there was a scar.
When she smiled and waved adieu
The little scar — it smiled too.
“Good-by,” they said, “we’ll come again,”
and the little girls left in the rain.
The girls ran and fell and ran in pain
They would not go back there again.
They went home and broke their bread
brushed their teeth and went to bed.
They did not look at empty beds.
The closed their eyes and turned their heads.
In the middle of the night
Miss Clavel turned on her light
and said, “Something is not right!”
And afraid of disaster
Miss Clavel ran fast and faster,
and she said, “Please children do-
tell me what is troubling you?”
No voice made a single cry
The beds were empty, dark and dry.
She thought she heard a little sigh.
She swears to Christ, a little sigh.
There was no moon up in the sky.
No light, and not one pair of eyes.
And she turned out the light-
and closed the door-
and that’s all there is-
there isn’t any more.
Tags: books, children’s books, children’s stories made horrific, madeline
As someone who was repeatedly told that I looked like Madeline as a child – especially after the live action movie – I feel a peculiar sense of guilt at this horror story. Seriously though, that whole walking in line at the same pace stuff WAS a bit creepy.
Also, isn’t Miss Clavel a nun? Can’t she sense the evil in the house?
Wikipedia claims she’s a nurse. I dunno, though, she does look awfully nun-like.
The status of Miss Clavel is one that’s much debated. But apparently some young women in France at that time who were NOT in religious orders but who worked with children or as nurses dressed in what looks like a Catholic habit. Most nuns would, of course, have been called SISTER. But some of the young ones, or ones that hadn’t yet taken orders but were studying/apprenticing, were called miss. Just to be extra confusing.
Oh Brigid, I am horribly confused. I feel like Miss Clavel has been lying to me all these years.
Perfect! Madeline is the best!
No need for any other orphans. Plus they are nameless – and everyone knows nameless children are just disposable children.
YOU CAN’T GET ME THIS TIME, MALLORY!
This is awesome.
*cries* MY POOR CHILDHOOD
wait, did she EAT one? And then … the rest were cursed? WHAT KIND OF EVIL IS THIS?
Does Madeleine have a Chelsea smile? *shiver*
Related:
Werner Herzog reads Madeline
Also, where’s Waldo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvWh6PMi9Ek
omg
Madeline arrived in my childhood pre-ruined, because by the time I was born my parents had already accumulated a collection of LPs* of children’s books, and they’d already wired stereo speakers to reach each child’s room, so they could just tuck us in, then pop a record on the turntable and play one bedtime story at a time.
Among those records: the Madeline stories as read by Carol Channing.
Look, I dunno how easily you can conjure up Carol Channing’s voice in your head, so I’ll just tell you: it sounds like your favorite, most familiar storybook being read by a flirtatious cartoon snake with false eyelashes who knocked back three vodka stingers just before she slithered into the recording booth and intends to have a couple more before the night is out.
*That’s right: LPs.
I did not know until this moment that all I needed in my life was a recording of Carol Channing reading Madeline. I can die now. Thank you, kind stranger.
It’s the awesomest. It’s also why I can never read the books without lapsing into a sexxxxxy hisssssssss. Wait ’til you hear her spit out “OH WHAT A HORROR WAS PEPITO!”
Best description of Carol Channing’s voice ever.
Now imagine you’re 3 years old, alone after lights-out on the old four-poster bed that is taller than you are. Mom and Dad have kissed you goodnight, then walked out of the room and pulled the door almost all the way shut. You hear them moving around the other rooms, some of them on the floor below you, saying goodnight to all the kids.
Then out of nowhere comes the hiss-pop of the needle drop and this voice starts susurrating in the dark off to your right, just below the bed, slinking out its amused stories of some little girl in Parisssssssssss.
THAT IS TERRIFYING
(Carol Channing reading Madeline that is, not LPs. I was born into the time of Cassette Tapes, and yet we had one LP of Mary Poppins, and one of Winne-the-Pooh that we had on repeat)
Vodka stingers!
(I’ll drink to that.)
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII’ll drink to that!
(Always upvote Sondheim references.)
We had David Bowie narrating Peter and the Wolf on tape. THE BEST
I totally grew up on that too!! It had Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra (which was why we had it – hometown loyalties), and my edition came with a pop-up paper doll/puppet theatre, which was pretty awesome.
It was definitely a strange and mind-blowing day when years later I realized who had been narrating my childhood memories.
Oh. Oh my GOD. HOW MUCH DID I NEED THIS?
Can there be a misandrist Madeline about the defeat of Pepito?
You can’t convince me that the Bad Hat didn’t have something to do with this.
We’re having thunderstorms here today, and in the middle of reading this, my power flickered off.
Coincidence? NOT LIKELY.
Also, after this passage:
“Little Madeline sat in bed,
perfectly still; her mouth was red.”
I couldn’t stop picturing Madeline as Dave Foley, a la the emergency room joker and/or mass murderer sketches. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRXWAkuEccU
I think it works pretty well.
And to the tigers in the zoo, Madeline just said, “Chop, chop.”![](http://i.imgur.com/fboBTqX.jpgalt="Chop%20chop"%20title="Tooltip"/)
Mallory why
no je refuse
“Behind her eyes, she hid her brain” is an oddly wonderful (sinister) line
This is sometimes how I feel when arguing with people I dislike.
ok, after Texts From you clearly need to talk your agent into letting you do a book of these.
I don’t want us to be the only ones whose minds and childhood memories are scarred.
ok, after Texts From you clearly need to talk your agent into letting you do a book of these.
I don't want us to be the only ones whose minds and childhood memories are scarred.
“Her little hands were hidden claws.”
I can’t tell if this is a metaphor… 🙁
This is just amazing and creepy. I love it. “Behind her eyes, she hid her brain” AMAZING
Mallory.
Mallory.
No no no I don’t want to read it
*can’t resist*
Nope nope my sister is named after Madeline forever nope at this one.
Nope nope my sister is named after Madeline forever nope at this one.