A GOTHIC ENCOUNTER Elena Costambeys, Year 8
I walked along the woodchip covered path, enjoying their crunch under my feet. To my left was a pine forest, with the same dark wood chip floor. The trees were tall. They weren’t arranged neatly, as if planted by a man made machine. These trees, which had thick leaves like fur coats, had squirrels running up them. I noticed that they were unusually dark for grey squirrels, and a couple were pitch black. To my right was a meadow. There was a sturdy, wooden fence which cut me off from it. The flowers, which were bright yellow, glistened in the sun. I thought it must be rapeseed. There were no rain soaked woodchips in the woods beyond the field. Just trees, wilder than the ones I was walking past, as it was not a National Trust property. It was one of the few truly wild places in Britain. I frowned. Something was wrong. Storm clouds were gathering in the distance and threatening to cut off the sun. Storm clouds? I thought. That can’t be right. The forecast said there wouldn’t be any rain today, and there weren’t any clouds a second ago. I was considering heading for the woods when the rain starter, and when I heard a clap of thunder, I was sure I needed to go. I was turning to leave when I saw something. A child was standing in the path. She wasn’t much older than seven, and she was looking straight at me. She wasn’t blinking. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were even darker. They were the sort of eyes which were portals to the soul, but nothing could be seen in them. Her skin was deathly pale. She wore a dark green hoodie with white tassels, and flared jeans. She wasn’t moving. She was just standing
there. What is she doing here? I thought. And how did she get there? She wasn’t there before. “Hello?” I called, “Are you okay? Where do you come from? I can take you home if you’re lost.” But she didn’t answer. She just continued staring with her wide, sinister eyes. I suddenly realised how menacing the shadows of the trees looked. It was as if the whole area had turned into a ghostly, macabre dungeon. And this was my captor. Lightning struck somewhere on the field in the distance. The flowers of the rapeseed were barely visible now. As the lightning struck the crop, the girl walked towards me. Slowly, but surely, she came closer, and closer. I tried to run away, but my feet wouldn’t move. It was as if they were fixed to the ground! The girl was determined, and she carried on walking. She came closer and closer until, to my surprise, she stopped. She was a metre away from me. I let out a sigh of relief and opened my mouth to speak. But before I could get a word out, the girl flew as fast as a cheetah… through me. Lightning struck again. Instead of words, what came out of my mouth was a scream. When I dared to look, the girl was gone. No more lightning struck, nor did thunder clap. It was just raining very, very heavily. As I looked around, to make sure she was really gone, I realised I could move. I’ve had enough of this forest and that rapeseed field, I thought. I turned and ran for my life.
The Manor Nathalie Santana, Year 8
As the first light of dawn crept over the desolate moor of Cheshire, I found myself standing before the imposing silhouette of a manor house. Its jagged towers pierced the sullen sky, and the oval windows either side of the huge entrance door opened like vacant eyes staring out into the mist shrouded landscape. A sense of foreboding settled upon me as I approached the ancient manor, its oppressing grandeur casting a long shadow over the surrounding moorland. All my senses were telling me not to enter, but something unearthly magnetic drove me to enter. The manor’s interior was as gloomy as its exterior, its vast, echoing chambers filled with an aura of decay and neglect. Cobwebs draped the heavy velvet curtains, and dust lay thick on the antique furniture. The air was so heavy with the scent of dampness and decay that I couldn’t breathe, and a terrifying eerie silence hung over the house like a cloud. I was drawn deeper into the manor’s labyrinthine corridors, my footsteps echoing ominously in the stillness. The portraits lining the walls seemed to follow my every move, their stern expressions and watchful eyes sending shivers down my spine. I felt an overwhelming sense of fear, as if the manor itself was alive, watching me with an evil curiosity.
I stumbled upon a hidden chamber, its door creaking open on rusty hinges. The room was dimly lit by a single, flickering candle casting long distorted shadows that danced across the walls of the room. In the center of the room stood an ancient oak table, upon which lay a dusty book, its leather cover worn and cracked. With a trembling hand, I reached out and opened the book. Its pages were filled with faded ink and strange symbols, their meaning lost in time. As I turned the pages, a chill wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candle and plunging me into total darkness. A frightening image of an old woman appeared before me, her transparent form shimmering in the darkness. Her eyes like hollow sockets, and the mouth appeared as an entrance to a tunnel beckoning for me to enter. Her skin looking as if she was a dried up prune. A wave of pure terror washed over me, I was stuck in a trance of fear, frozen, staring at the woman before I let out a scream that echoed through the silent chambers of the manor. I turned around to run for my life but the woman was no longer there.
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