MANSION FOR SALE Amelia Tudor ‐ James, Year 8
As I neared the gates of the mansion, ominous fog shrouded my view. This was it. This mansion, no ma tt er how many people had tried before me, I would sell. The front of the house was in a ruined state, but I knew people who’d easily fi x this mess. The door was much like a dungeon’s, as I pushed its heavy wooden frame aside. The fog was in here too. Perhaps it was just a lack of ligh ti ng, although my pace quickened as darkness dawned on the house. The pillars didn’t seem sturdy, I no ti ced, running my hand along its ancient carvings. I was inspec ti ng them when I no ti ced all the candles were dimly lit. Who could’ve done this? Holding those candles were small, winged children carved into the stone, eyes hollowed out in a harsh and vicious manner. I marked the walls with some chalk to fi nd my way in this labyrinth of haun ti ng halls, fearing ge tti ng lost even for a second in here. I’d just found the garden when I saw specks of red. Then there was a scratching. Pa tt ering, scraping, scratching in the earth and in dead foliage. It jumped from the bushes. A big, black rat, large for its size, looked ti midly to the inside of the mansion. I was again inside this maze of corridors, although I somehow found my chalk marks again. This ti me I heard footsteps and whispers calling me in, ‘Lydia’, again and again. I turned around to run and scream… but she’d found me. Her old Victorian dress was catching in the blood that was coming from a rat. A headless rat. She held it close to her, as if it was a teddy bear, and li ft ed her head. Her eyes. They stared through my soul and met my eyes, but hers were hollow pits of malicious villainy with no eyeballs le ft in them.
I had a brief feeling of invisibility, as if I were only viewing a show that she was the killer in. Her blood ‐ stained, straw ‐ like hair was once again covering her eyes, as she placed the rat on the ground. A pool of blood was soaking the fl oor, as she laughed as innocently as possible. I found myself following her to a corner, stepping around the rat. Around the corner, I expected her to keep skipping. But she was gone. Why had I followed her? My curiosity to know more was most likely above my fear, yet s ti ll I was stuck asking myself why. The trail of blood was gone, but the beheaded rat was s ti ll there. I had witnessed true macabre tonight. The thought of her made me turn around 360 degrees each ti me, but she was never there. Was she even a ‘she’ or a demon? I was slightly irritated that it was me, an innocent being, haunted by that devilish look on her young, doll ‐ like face. It was in the form of an innocent ‐ seeming girl, so I wondered if it was really true. Surely, I was just imagining something to get myself to leave. By the ti me I was snapped awake by reality’s fi rm grasp, I was at the exit. Why had I le ft ? My chalk marks were carefully drawn and followed, but when I heard my name whispered once more, I bolted for the street to carry me out of there. Before I le ft , an image fl ashed in my eyes of the girl, black liquid seeping out of her empty eye sockets, and she whispered one thing. “I’m coming. Coming for them.”
Beneath the Surface Cecilia Pond, Year 10
Suddenly, in the periphery of her vision, Isla saw a dark fi n gliding through the water. Her heart immediately thudded against her ribcage and she shouted urgently to Louis, who has turned to swim away. But, before she had ti me to even think about swimming back towards the catamaran, she heard a loud splash from behind her. A dolphin leapt and dived back into the water playfully, swimming away. Isla breathed in relief, as she watched the graceful animal glide smoothly and sleekly through the crystal clear water beneath her. But, as she turned back towards Louis and the coral, she caught sight of another tall, black fi n gliding streamlined and cu tti ng through the water sharply like a knife. The creature suddenly changed course, as if it sensed Isla’s presence, and headed at an increasing rate towards her. As it got closer and closer, Isla could see through the clear water a huge, dark shape. A shark. Her head felt dizzy, she thrashed through the water, scrambling desperately to get back to the boat. She swam as fast as she possibly could, and blood thumped in her ears; her body suddenly feeling ten ti mes heavier as she hauled herself through the water. Isla could hear mu ffl ed shou ti ng from Louis and from the instructors on the catamaran, but she couldn’t make out words – on the urgency and confusion. But then she was dragged underwater by a great force, and felt immense pain like never before, as if being impaled by a million knives all at once. Then there came a noise. An otherworldly noise, like the screams of a thousand sha tt ered souls, li ft ing skywards from tortured bodies. This horri fi c noise consumed her and fi lled her ears un ti l there was silence. From her smudged, blackening vision, all she could see was he beau ti fully clear, blue ‐ green water being infected by a thick, red substance.
The vast ocean, the surface so clear that almost every grain of sand beneath the boat was visible, stretched endlessly into the distant horizon. Upon the horizon lay jagged and irregular mountain peaks, standing tall and stark against the brilliant blue sky. The hot humid air was full of blissful silence, apart from the steady push and pull of the ti de, like a breathing being, as it slowly crept up the sandy dunes. Standing on the catamaran, Isla pulled the salty sea air deep into her lungs, feeling the power of the scorching sun behind her. Arrows of molten ‐ hold sunlight pierced her skin. She dived gracefully, like a seal, into the deep, clear waters – her skin happily shocked by the sudden cool and crisp plunge. Beneath the surface was like somewhere from a fairytale: the so ft white sand, illuminated by sha ft s of golden sunlight, and the coral, beau ti ful and vibrant, swaying gently in the rippling ti de. A haven of peace and tranquillity. Isla gazed in complete awe and wonder; she knew then that she had captured one perfect moment, and it could never be taken away from her. Past her swam a huge school of tropical fi sh, interrup ti ng her dreamlike trance, their shiny, iridescent scales catching the light – like a great sheet of silver sequins blinking in the breeze. To her le ft , she could see Louis had no ti ced her dive and was slowly catching up with her. He signalled to her to swim around the coral reef. Up close, the reef was thriving with life: Isla could see clams, sponges, lobsters and even seahorses. It was a breathtaking view. Isla and Louis swam upwards and emerged, gasping and laughing as they bobbed on the surface catching their breath. “This is incredible.”
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