It's been a while since my last entry, so I thought I'd update you: Christmas was great. New Year? Not so much. Time over the holiday has slipped by, as it tends to do, and I've made little 'life' progress.
Fortunately, however, I've decided to share a short story that I "did writey that timey" (Millie B quote). In fact, this was the short story I submitted for my English in Year 10. Should be an exciting read for you - got an A* after all (bragbragbragbragbragbragnn hauhahahahaha u didn't do dat gud blad)
Enjoy! ...
Pursuits Of The Squire
'Dong!' I awoke.
It was the middle of the night when the rooster crowed. The sun had disappeared hours ago into a mass of clouds over the western hills. From the wind buffeting my broken body, I knew a storm had rolled off the North Sea. The sky would be as black as a lead mine, and even the earth, covered in snow as it was, would be invisible. The sun, when it rose – if it rose – would be masked in gloom.
Painfully, I opened my eyes. Greeted by blurred outlines of the night sky, I blinked rapidly. High above, the moon paraded around the dark abyss of twilight. I watched in vain despair, lying, confused, on cold, hard stone. A bell rang out again; jogging me to my senses.
My head rang out in pain. Cringing, I brought up my arm in search of damage. Looking back at my hand, it was now covered in blood. It was here that I remembered. Reluctantly, I recalled my recent moments... the plan... the screams... the struggle. It was all coming back to me now.
For the third time, the grand bell beside me resonated. I perished the moment when it would hit its twelfth chime. My mind was adrift. There was no use now... no use trying. Surely there could have been some sort of divine intervention? But no. I was condemned to my own demise. Another bell resounded.
I stood. Slowly, I drew the knife from its scabbard. Taunting in the moonlight, paved with dark, mindless blood, I dropped the knife into the darkness below.
I was being buffeted by wind; by darkness; by death. I looked out across my world, across my town, across acres of nothing. I was, however, able to distinguish the men below. They knew it was up here: their impetuous screams and curses of fury told me too much. These men had stayed up all night to witness an execution, and, from where I was standing, that was the only remaining outcome. Another chime resounded.
At least, I mused, my brother may have escaped. I saw little evidence of him in the gallows below. If tonight was going to plan – which it wasn't – then perhaps my loudmouth brother may have escaped. Chime.
Footsteps behind me rang out obtrusively; no doubt they had taken to ascending the stairs to reach me. Fortunately, the door was locked, and I was given yet further time to question my predicament.
Escape was useless. I knew that. From the start, when I formulated my plan, somehow I knew that I was going to die. And now there were only two ways off this belltower: neither of them pretty. Another chime... the seventh? Although you would would have thought of it as important, I found counting my remaining seconds to be inappropriate.
My body was badly battered. I could hear little; see little. The men below, the men behind, their shouts of vindictive, bloodthirsty rage, were almost silent. No, it was the wind that was most overpowering up here. I spread my arms wide and let it consume me. Chime.
The small, distinguishable, cogent door was now being ruthlessly shaken, and now kicked at in an attempt to get at me. I ignored it. Squinting my eyes, I noticed the torches below were burning out, and soon the only remaining light source became the moon. Chime. Its gaze. I felt as though the moon were directly looking at me: as though I were somehow important. Pitifully, I laughed at this, in spite of myself.
It was all coming now. Fast, but not too fast. I had taught myself to prepare for this, but, truth is, nobody wants to die. Chime.
For once in my life, I felt free. No laws. No restrictions. No limitations. I was unafraid. My endeavour had been successful, and now I was ready.
I calmly moved to the front of the belltower. My toes curled over the edge. The door behind me was being torn to pieces, but it did not matter. I was free now. Chime.
I felt as though time had stopped: as though I were alone in the world. My senses had numbed. I could hear, smell, taste, and feel nothing. Then came the final chime.
Breathless. That's the word I would use to describe it. Falling, I mean. Falling into death. Falling into life. Nothing was going to stop me from doing what I wanted to do now. I was fully, utterly, and complacently free. Like the sun, now curving in over the brink of the horizon.
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