30/09/2014 Dawn Finch

He thought that he knew exactly where it was, but places look so different in the dark. It had been a long time since he'd been there and three years is more than enough time to forget those tiny but vital details. It didn't help that his memory had not been quite right since the accident.

Climbing in was easy enough, especially as he had grown a lot stronger since he was last here. Even carrying the spade had not slowed him down and he didn't hear any alarms as he jumped down from the fence. It would have been easier with some moonlight, but at least the pitch-black darkness meant that it was unlikely that anyone would see him run across the lawns.

Behind the house the sheds had been removed leaving only a brick footprint to show where they had once stood. Their absence confused him momentarily and he stood in the icy darkness with his breath pluming around him. Then it came back to him in sharp detail; that last night, the noise, the blood, the night that everything changed forever. He knew what to do. He ran to the yew trees where the path wound its way down to the lake, and he started to dig.

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Comment by Adam Lancaster on September 30, 2014 at 9:43

Dig like he was possessed. Like it wasn't really him that was digging. As each spade drove through the ground he couldn't even feel the thud of it hitting the loose stones. He was numb to it, numb to everything. But was the only way it could be. He had to be numb, to be unthinking. If he were to allow the thoughts that were slapping against his conscience to wash over him then it would all be over. He wouldn't be able to do what was needed of him. He wouldn't be able to complete the task that had been given to him. So he batted them aside, set up a damn in his mind that was impervious to the thoughts and he dug. Dug with a frenzy a frenzy that he never knew he had until last night. Daisy Monk's Walk

Comment by Jayne Davidson, WHHS, UK on September 30, 2014 at 10:49

Bang! His shovel hit rock bottom, or so he thought. Deviously, he rubbed his mud coated, blister covered hands together. With a grin on his face and spring in his step, he leaped down into the murky hole. Using his hands like a pair of heavy metal claws he dug the dirt around the metal box and heaved it near a tree. He ripped the key off his ebony lace necklace and fumbled with it; turning it through the key hole, he anxiously lifted the lid. A tornado of dust rampaged through his throat making him violently cough. His face screwed up with disgust. As he wiped off the dirt from his mackintosh he opened his eyes and saw… a letter. Only a measly, ink ridden letter? It was screwed up into an irregular sphere -disappointment filled his heart. Hundreds of questions were hammering in his head. No treasure? No, no gold? No jewels, no diamonds, no money, no, no nothing! This was all a lie. Great grandpa Reginald had weaved a long woeful lie throughout the Edison family, and the needle punctured his heart.
The accident that made me lose a limb, the lies, the terrors my family and I went through…. Nothing.

BY: Avesta Saule,Mariyah, West Hatch

Comment by N Francis on September 30, 2014 at 11:51

I was more disapointed in myself than I was in the letter,wondering  how could I have been so brainless thinking there would be some sort of a treasure behind the thick layers of dust.

The accident made me realize that not everything’s what you imagine life to be like. Grandpa tried to show me the magnificent and worthy things aren’t always the biggest wonders in life.

As I crumpled up the letter, I forced it aggressively inside my pocket and started to head back towards the building I once called home.  I was walking through the woods when I heard leaves scrunching up behind me. I heard whispers calling my name. I was terrified to say anything so I kept walking thinking it was all in my head from this tiredness. “Run” I heard behind me a number amount of times that was enough for me to sprint for as long as my legs can take me.

I had to stop. As I looked at my surroundings the only thing I could see is the little lake across from me.

I needed to call grandpa to tell him to come and find me.  I was petrified.

The only thing stopping me from getting free was the massive lake.

Everything would be alright I kept repeating to myself but I wasn’t so sure anymore…

Izabela & Denisa. St Bennedict Catholic school

Comment by Paula Ward on September 30, 2014 at 12:53

I heard it again – that sound, the sound like pure death, the ringing of bells, the screaming terror- coming in through the twisted forest. The rest of the world seemed to be enveloped in a barrier of sheer darkness. Then I saw it. A shadow loomed in front of me.

 I ran back to the treasure chest and it was filled with slugs, horrible slimy slugs, I screamed and shouted:

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Then I saw it again; a jester, with blood red eyes like a dagger, piecing straight through me.  I stood still, too petrified to move, to petrified to think then one thought hit me,                                

“Am I going to die?”

The jester walked towards me, his icy stare fixed me to the spot. But then I heard a petrifying scream causing the jester to change into a run towards me. When the gruesome creature was barely centimeters away he whispered in my soul,

“I want to be your friend”

The jester’s stony hand grabbed me, so I struggled to force my hand out of his. I tripped, and fell into the pit of slugs…

By Lucy and Fay, Robert Mays school

Comment by Lorraine French on September 30, 2014 at 13:57

As I lay in the filthy slug pit, the slugs were slithering all over me as if it was my method of death. The slugs left a trail of wet, soggy slime whenever they moved. The jester loomed over the edge of the pit, holding the treasure chest in one hand and the screwed up piece of paper in the other. I still failed to find out the secrets on that very piece of paper. Suddenly, the jester took out his colossal hand and grabbed me on my now ruined jacket. Seconds later I found myself dangling in the arms of the jester. I looked up at his blood red eyes, as he stormed over to the nearest tree. He hung me up on the tree getting ready to perform the action that he dared to do all night long. I suspected that this was going to be the dying seconds of my life. He threw his hand towards my face. I suddenly managed to duck beneath the massive power of the jester’s fist. His fist hit one of the sharp branches and he fell to the floor in agony. I managed to pull myself off of the tree and showed the jester that I was not frightened whatsoever. Moments later, the jester cried out the words that he had said less than ten minutes before.

“I want to be your friend!” he said.

I stood up straight and got ready to pounce.

“That’s what you think!” I said, followed by a powerful kick in the face, which sent him rolling into the slug pit. It hurt him so bad that he would never wake up again. He was gone for good. Seconds after the unpleasant death of the jester, I went over to the piece of paper which lay on the wet grass. I unscrewed the paper. It was a will from my great-grandpa Reginald. In it I discovered that he left me the slugs and a hopeful death from a spooky monster known to the public as, the Jester. So, my great grandpa Reginald betrayed me. OK so he hated me for being his granddaughter’s first son. He did hate my dad as well. But I never thought that he would’ve taken it this far. He attempted to have me killed.

“Well, I’ve got news for you Reginald; you have failed your very last plan! Ha Ha Ha!”


By Theo and Sean, Trinity School

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