Unwilling-Puppet on a string
English Coursework Story
Jamie Burrows 10D
The beach was cold, torn in a rift between light and dark, like two gods pulling at one last piece of heaven. A lone figure scuffed at the golden sand beneath his feet, silence hanging on his muscular shoulders as if a plug had been pulled on all the noise of the world. This was the only place he could come to think, without his conscience muttering noises in his ears that strained to try and hear the warnings.
It all started so long ago, when he had begun to contemplate his place in the universe. The island was small, with few people inhabiting it, but how and why had they ended up there? Certainly, it was a nice area to live, but they'd explored all there was to explore, played all the games there were to play, but now they were growing up. He had decided that it was time to get out and see what other places there were in the world. He longed for a crisp new beginning, to wake up with wonder at your new surroundings.
His friends seemed intrigued by the idea, but weren't as anxious to get away as he was. They liked it where they were, but didn't mind going with him. Yet he was desperate. Desperate to say goodbye to old ways: open up to new.
It was then he started having the dreams.
They started in shards at first, short glimpses of things he couldn't piece together.
The crash of lightning. A huge dark sphere in the sky. A raven cloak. A girl. A boy with a sword. A door. A key, and…. Blackness. He'd wake in a cold sweat in the dead of night; unable to sleep he would venture out and walk along the beach, feeling like someone had stuffed his head with cotton wool. This went on for weeks, without telling anybody and dreading the dusk. Then one night: the jigsaw pieces roaming his subconscious fell into place.
He was standing watching the sun cast its dying rays on the world. The wind tugged at his clothes with impatient hands, and the slate clouds rolled over. The thunder spoke its discomfort, and lightning flashed. It was the worst storm he'd ever seen. The rain drove down hard upon him, but his face was calm, tranquil, expecting. Then, a dark mist appeared above the turbulent sea. The ominous clouds seemed to mould into a huge black demon, ready to engulf anything it pleased. The shadows that hung from trees were moving towards him, pooling at his feet. Then they began to work their way up his legs…. His face remained unmoved. One of his friends was running towards him, shouting his name, fear and confusion etched across his features. He felt his arm outstretch towards the boy, and his lips move and say
"I'm not afraid of the darkness…."
As what happens in many dreams, everything twisted and changed. In its transition, he found himself standing at the sidelines, watching the friend he had just seen, battling the shadows that had engulfed him, killing them off one by one. This boy was not giving in to them. The teen was bound in chains by duty, and light was radiating from him like a candle in the darkest night. It was an ongoing battle, and with every shadow that turned to dust before his eyes the one who watched experienced a stab in his soul.
The scene changed again, and he saw her. His other friend, a young girl, lay motionless on the floor. He felt shock and anger course through his veins at an alarming rate. Misty garnet liquid surrounded her, but a small light flickered from her chest. It was only then that he looked to his side and found a sword in his hand, the same garnet tears dripping from it. He threw it from his fingers in shock. Then his hands started moving without his control. He suddenly realized he had been possessed. He tried to cry out in protest, but no sound came. He hears the voice of the possessor. Deep and unforgiving. Then the darkness overtook him, and everything started to move again….
It's still slightly light as he walks on the beach again. This time, it isn't a dream. He walks in silence, mulling over the situation in his mind. His eyes on the floor, kicking the sand in his path. The clouds roll over, evil grins twisting them into shape. The rain starts to fall on his weary eyes. He looks up, knowing what he will see. The thunder claps at his intelligence. The lightning highlights his anxious features. His sigh is pleading. The rain hides his tears that he cries for his friends. He sees his friend running along the sand towards him. His hand shoots out of its own accord towards his companion, his mouth opens and a deep and unforgiving voice says, "I'm not afraid of the darkness."
His friend grasps vainly for his hand. Then the shadows start to gather. Again.
English Coursework Story
Jamie Burrows 10D
The beach was cold, torn in a rift between light and dark, like two gods pulling at one last piece of heaven. A lone figure scuffed at the golden sand beneath his feet, silence hanging on his muscular shoulders as if a plug had been pulled on all the noise of the world. This was the only place he could come to think, without his conscience muttering noises in his ears that strained to try and hear the warnings.
It all started so long ago, when he had begun to contemplate his place in the universe. The island was small, with few people inhabiting it, but how and why had they ended up there? Certainly, it was a nice area to live, but they'd explored all there was to explore, played all the games there were to play, but now they were growing up. He had decided that it was time to get out and see what other places there were in the world. He longed for a crisp new beginning, to wake up with wonder at your new surroundings.
His friends seemed intrigued by the idea, but weren't as anxious to get away as he was. They liked it where they were, but didn't mind going with him. Yet he was desperate. Desperate to say goodbye to old ways: open up to new.
It was then he started having the dreams.
They started in shards at first, short glimpses of things he couldn't piece together.
The crash of lightning. A huge dark sphere in the sky. A raven cloak. A girl. A boy with a sword. A door. A key, and…. Blackness. He'd wake in a cold sweat in the dead of night; unable to sleep he would venture out and walk along the beach, feeling like someone had stuffed his head with cotton wool. This went on for weeks, without telling anybody and dreading the dusk. Then one night: the jigsaw pieces roaming his subconscious fell into place.
He was standing watching the sun cast its dying rays on the world. The wind tugged at his clothes with impatient hands, and the slate clouds rolled over. The thunder spoke its discomfort, and lightning flashed. It was the worst storm he'd ever seen. The rain drove down hard upon him, but his face was calm, tranquil, expecting. Then, a dark mist appeared above the turbulent sea. The ominous clouds seemed to mould into a huge black demon, ready to engulf anything it pleased. The shadows that hung from trees were moving towards him, pooling at his feet. Then they began to work their way up his legs…. His face remained unmoved. One of his friends was running towards him, shouting his name, fear and confusion etched across his features. He felt his arm outstretch towards the boy, and his lips move and say
"I'm not afraid of the darkness…."
As what happens in many dreams, everything twisted and changed. In its transition, he found himself standing at the sidelines, watching the friend he had just seen, battling the shadows that had engulfed him, killing them off one by one. This boy was not giving in to them. The teen was bound in chains by duty, and light was radiating from him like a candle in the darkest night. It was an ongoing battle, and with every shadow that turned to dust before his eyes the one who watched experienced a stab in his soul.
The scene changed again, and he saw her. His other friend, a young girl, lay motionless on the floor. He felt shock and anger course through his veins at an alarming rate. Misty garnet liquid surrounded her, but a small light flickered from her chest. It was only then that he looked to his side and found a sword in his hand, the same garnet tears dripping from it. He threw it from his fingers in shock. Then his hands started moving without his control. He suddenly realized he had been possessed. He tried to cry out in protest, but no sound came. He hears the voice of the possessor. Deep and unforgiving. Then the darkness overtook him, and everything started to move again….
It's still slightly light as he walks on the beach again. This time, it isn't a dream. He walks in silence, mulling over the situation in his mind. His eyes on the floor, kicking the sand in his path. The clouds roll over, evil grins twisting them into shape. The rain starts to fall on his weary eyes. He looks up, knowing what he will see. The thunder claps at his intelligence. The lightning highlights his anxious features. His sigh is pleading. The rain hides his tears that he cries for his friends. He sees his friend running along the sand towards him. His hand shoots out of its own accord towards his companion, his mouth opens and a deep and unforgiving voice says, "I'm not afraid of the darkness."
His friend grasps vainly for his hand. Then the shadows start to gather. Again.