I SEE A DRAGON Harriet Oliver, Year 7
He replied. “Alright, alright, what do you want me to do?” “I have an idea, but I believe you won’t like it.” Back to present… My brother swi ft ly fi nds out and enters my room. He asks for the crowds to disperse. As soon everyone has le ft , his face breaks into a smile. “What did I pull this stunt repeatedly, stopping only when word reaches my almost ‐ betrothed’s family that I am ‘delusional’ and they withdraw him from the arrangement. My brother pretends to agree, but really, he does not. I am free!!! Feeling be tt er than ever, I run wild, so lost in excitement that I do not no ti ce him un ti l it is too late. We collide and I stumble on the plush carpet. Looking up, I can see that he has eyes that twinkle with a mischief. I like him immediately. I begin, “Oh dear, I am deeply sorry. You must be one of our guests! How are you enjoying the palace so far?” “It’s lovely. I haven’t been here long. I planned to meet my betrothed – Princess Hazel – but everyone has started to say she is mad.” My heart stops. “Have you ever met her?” So this is my ‘future husband.’ My situa ti on was bad before, but the worst thing is… I actually like him… you tell them?” He teases. I giggle and he joins me.
I scream at the top of my lungs. “GUARDS! I SEE A DRAGON! HELP!” It’s not long before many guards have gathered around me. Perfect.
You see, I want them to believe I am mad. You may be wondering why, and I can explain. Earlier…
Silken robes weighing me down, I sprinted out of the betrothal ceremony. Past the lake and through the rose gardens I ran, desperately running from my fate. I could not throw away my life for a man that I only knew from an looking pre tt y. I shot into one of the many outbuildings that punctuated the palace grounds. I took in my surroundings. In my haste, I had not observed that I was in the guest quarters, where I would get into who knows how much trouble if found in. I sighed. I needed a plan. My brain worked through any possibili ti es like a machine sor ti ng through products at a factory. None of my ideas were any good. Suddenly, my embroidered skirts rustled as the door swung open. Heart in my mouth, I dove behind a bookcase. My brother knows I am here. “You caused quite a spectacle earlier, Hazel.” Oliver, who is also my best friend, is trying hard not to laugh. “Care to explain?” I emerge sheepishly, dus ti ng down my creased and stained robes, the result of my run earlier. “Oh, Oliver, you scared me! You know I cannot marry that man. I’m convinced my life is worth more than that.” I’d prac ti ced this speech in my head many ti mes. “Will you help me? Please?” Never Again Anna Leung, Year 8 Whenever there are glossy surfaces, it’s easy to tell that it’s a wet surface; most likely to be from the rain. However, this stone path on the bridge with ancient railings has a permanent wet surface. No one knows how, and no one knows why. Theories say the statue of an angel that stands there with its unwavering gaze, was the cause. The so ft glow emi tt ed from the rusty lamps lit up the small area re fl ec ti ng the wet surfaces of the bridge, and below the angel, wri ti ngs were engraved on stone. ‘Those who shall speak upon this bridge will be silenced.’ Was read. It is not a curse or threat, but rather a vow to protect the peace and tranquillity of the bridge. Maybe the moist surface of the cobblestone path was wet from the unfortunate lives that disturbed the peace, their blood absorbed into the stones; mixed with ichor that leaked from the statue that loomed upon the bridge… No, statues aren’t supposed to bleed. They never were.
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