Don't Forget...

....school term ends on Friday 15th December at 2.30pm

Tuesday at 3:42pm

Cautiously I crept down the bone-dry gravel pathway, taking care with every step: I didn’t want to alert Taylor, or the other one for that matter. She could be as fatal as him. The door opened and I swivelled to one side as a glinting blade sliced the air where I was standing only moments ago. Oh well. Obviously that hadn’t worked. Taylor – the person I was looking for – stood in the arched doorway, breathing steady, poised: ready.

In an ever sly tone I said, “Brother”. The word hung there as my brother stood stock still, motionless. Staring into each other’s hardened eyes, neither of us made any move to attack. However, the girl did. Realising too late, the girl, (I think her name is Cleo) with a look of anger on her face, pounced. Hands clasped firmly over my eyes.

“Brother”, the reply echoed…

                                                             *                *               *

“What do you want, brother?” Taylor Rasped for the 7th or 8th time.

“Help, like I said before,” Marvo growled the reply, getting impatient. “That’s all you are going to get from me until you agree to cooperate. Something very bad is going to transpire.” With a pained face Marvo said, “I need your help to prevent it from happening.” He hid his face in pain, obviously not being able to believe what he had said. I couldn’t either.

Meanwhile Taylor stood there, stunned. So did I. What had he just said? That couldn’t be true. Did I have hearing difficulties? Shaking his head, confused, Taylor started undoing the knotted ropes, freezing every now and then to rethink what he was doing. However, he still carried on unravelling it. I rushed over, desperate to stop him from doing the impossible: he was mad. Calm as the ocean on a composed day, he raised one of his hands pacifying me. Hesitantly, I receded, hoping he had made the right decision. Like he always did.

After untying him Taylor offered Marvo a hand, which he took thankfully. He showed Marvo into the kitchen (even though this was his own house), eyes brimming with memory-filled tears, although still wary, keeping a close eye on him. I had an uncanny feeling that Marvo, of all people, was telling the truth and something terrible really was going to happen…

Settling down with a cup of steaming coffee, Marvo laid out the charred blueprints; all depicting the fall of the British Empire. Slowly I realised its fate was in our hands…

 

Comments that people have made about this blog post

Comment 1 Comment by Mr Ryan on 28 Jun 13 at 9:34am | Quote this comment
Quote:
Shaking his head, confused, Taylor started undoing the knotted ropes, freezing every now and then to rethink what he was doing.
Some really effective sentence construction coming from you boys now. This is effortless: like painting with a brush, you're using words perfectly as the paint for your canvas. *Big pat on the back*

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from Mr Ryan

Well done, Key Stage 2 - a brilliant celebration of Christmas!

Thursday at 2:51pm

km6