The Beast under the Wizard's Bridge

The Beast under the Wizard's Bridge

New Zebedee's bridge is falling down....

What is it about the old Wilder Creek Bridge? Even after it's torn down -- especially after it's torn down -- why does it continue to exude a sense of deadly menace that arouses Lewis Barnavelt's curiosity... and his deepest fears? Unable to resist the lure of its mysteries, Lewis and his best friend, Rose Rita Pottinger, discover both shocking secrets and a monster so terrible that even the efforts of Lewis, Rose Rita, Uncle Jonathan, and the magical Mrs. Zimmermann may not be enough to save themselves -- and all humankind -- from its ferocious grasp!


"The destruction of an old bridge releases a malevolent force – the legacy of an evil, long-dead magician – but all ends happily despite the menace in this entertaining tale."
Horn Books

About!

About the book

Publishing Facts

The Beast under the Wizard's Bridge, by Brad Strickland, is the eighth book in the Lewis Barnavelt series, and was originally published in September, 2000, by Dial Books for Young Readers.

Did You Know?

Inside the book

Lewis knew Rose Rita's suffocating fear of tight spaces was overpowering her. He dropped the wooden box and thrust his hands down to her again. He felt her grab his wrists, and he hauled back. Rose Rita's head and shoulders popped out of the hole. She let go with her left hand and pushed down against the ground. With her shoving and Lewis pulling, somehow they hoisted her free.

Rose Rita could not stop shivering. "Ugh! It was so d-dark down th-there, and it smelled like it had been closed off for a h-hundred years!"

Lewis heard something behind him. A dry, rustling sound, like crackly old paper being slowly crunched. A hoarse, wheezing hhaahhhh sound, as if something were breathing its last. Rose Rita looked over his shoulder toward the barn. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with terror.

Feeling as if his heart were climbing right into his mouth, Lewis forced himself to turn.

Something was trying to walk from the ruined old barn.

Something big and gray and lurching.

Once it might have been a horse.

Now it was a lumpy, dry, silvery shape. As its misshapen forleg tried to take a step, chunks of grainy flesh fell away in a shower of flakes. The smooth brittle bones splintered. The mouth parted and horrible moaning sounds came out. The eye sockets were empty, but to Lewis they seemed to plead for an ending -- for death.

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