Hidden by a boulder

Read Chapter 1 here


Chapter 2

Space And Time Don’t Matter


Spinning. Spinning. When will it stop. My head. Ow. My head. When will it stop. Stop .stop! how old would I be when we got there. Where? Where?

 The answer came with a face full of mud and dung I looked at myself, I was wearing clothes, but not my clothes, they we were strange, and itchy, but they looked amazing. Covering the ruff interior were fine colourful silks, embroided with rich threads and beads. Jewels of all shapes and colour were embodied in the bodice, glimmering in the cold winter sun. I appeared to be about 16 at the most, older than I had ever been before. Glancing across at jack I could see that he was wearing a smart suit hardly spoiled by the unfortunate landing. He also looked about 16, or maybe 17. Smiling amusedly at my uncharacteristic clothing his older face looked strange, for it was not an image of him from my memories, though my memories were strange, because I’d lived so many lives, even if just for a short amount of time. Somewhere nearby, some names were being called. The names stirred a part of me. No. Not me. Her. It was her name. Jack seemed to be thinking the same thing. Get off this poo heap now or be found. Something told me that a young woman of this status should not be here. When I tried to climb down I found the dress heavy and stiff, for by the time Jack had got to the frosted yellowing grass below I had only managed to stand. I knew I needed to get down from this poo heap, but how would I do it in time!? And then I had the answer: I slipped on a mouldy piece of straw and, wheeeeeeeeeeeeee, I was at the bottom in an awkward, unruly heap. I got up just time before a woman appeared before me, dressed in even finer garments then I was. ‘’Hilda?’’ she said, attentive at first, for I had rolled up into a small ball with my eyes squeezed tightly shut. Hilda. It would take me a long time for me to get used to that name. ‘’Hilda,’’ harsher now, ‘’what are you doing. I now you are wild but this, this is the last straw. Go to your father’s office and explain yourself, insolent child.’’ With that she smacked me across the face, grabbed my arm and marched me off to a great oversized mansion in the distants.   


Before Nim/Hilda, was ‘captured’ I had managed to escape behind the large waste pile in the grounds of a house that Nim had unfortunately been marched off to by, presumably, are hosts mother. Wondering around I managed to get lost in the carpet of colour, organised flower beds were everywhere, and some of the bushes seemed imposing and the size of skyscrapers, probably designed to keep the peasants and commoners out, for this family was obviously of a high status. Then I heard it. That noise. The one I never wanted to hear again.

Then I remembered…

Clattering hooves, loud neighing, people shouting. Flames exploded through the door I was standing by and not 2 seconds later a stampede of horses burst through the flame. The last, but certainly not least when it comes to size, gave me a painful kick in the shins, sending me flailing back into the intense heat of that rampaging death trap. I heard Nims unmistakable cries of despair through the penetrating pain…

 I took the first path I saw leading away from those horrible beasts; it was small, almost too small to walk down. Panting heavily from the sudden attack of the overwhelming memories, I stumbled into a humble gardeners shed. Gasping, for breath I leant against the rotting wall and closed my eyes, and fell to the muddy ground, threaded with several wheel barrow tracks. That is how the wizened with age, kind old gardener found me 5 minutes later. “Bye jove sonny, what would you be doing ‘round ‘ere? You’d best be getting ready for that wedding of yours, now, make yourself scarce while I finish tied’ying up ‘ere, are… are you okay lad?” I suddenly realized the reason of his concern; my jaw had dropped and I was staring at him with a look of shear and utter surprise. “I… I’m fine thanks… um…” I managed to stutter before running off down one of the twisting paths leading in the direction of the mansion.


by Jenny Nelly Susie

Comments that people have made about this blog post

Comment 1 Comment by Mr Ryan on 27 Jan 14 at 11:58am | Quote this comment

Ambitious writing! I love the style that you adopt and the gardener's dialect is well written. This does feel as though it could be developed into something big. I keenly await a third chapter!

My one piece of advice would be to read it aloud to one another. You'll probably then pick up on some missing punctuation: full stops and commas, mainly.

Keep up the great storytelling! 8)
Comment 2 Comment by Mr Ryan on 27 Jan 14 at 12:02pm | Quote this comment
I've also linked in Chapter 1 so that interested readers can read the build up!
Comment 3 Comment by Lucy D on 27 Jan 14 at 12:46pm | Quote this comment
very good language used it really draws the reader in! 8)

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