Artemisia's Worst Nightmare
School: Beauxbatons
Year: 1
Writing Technique: Hook, Line, & Sinker and Special Punctuation
Wordcount: 543
It was a scene from Artemisia's worst nightmares—her grandmother's scary stories of the dark years coming to life—silver-masked men, cloaked in a black shadow from head-to-toe, walking down the path in a single, silent line.
Artemisia ruffled her white feathers in agitation as she watched the line of humans pass. She knew the family lore well, and she knew nothing good would come from these men.
For hundreds of generations, their flock had lived on these grounds, adjacent to a human family's home (the humans called themselves the Malfoys, or so her brother Ares claimed). In those centuries, they had thrived and prospered, peacocks and peahens and the occasional human living in harmony.
That had all ended with the arrival of the silver-masked men—just like the ones who were currently walking down the path. Those were dark, dark years; her grandmother had told her that it hadn't been unusual for members of the flock to drop dead in a flash of green light or suddenly start screaming in pain.
Hopping down from her perch, Artemisia glided towards where she knew her father would be. He always had wise advice for everything; hopefully, this time would be no different.
Her father frowned as she finished explaining what she had seen. "I was just a wee lad when those men left, no older than you are now." He shivered, lost in his memories. "I'd hoped that I would never see them again."
"What should I do?"
Her father looked her directly in the eye. "I will tell you what my father once told me. Stay out of their way. Don't draw attention to yourself. If they don't see you, they can't kill you."
Artemisia frowned petulantly. "But this is our home! We shouldn't have to hide in our own home!"
Her father's eyes turned hard and fierce. "Do you want to die?"—he gestured towards the house where the humans lived—"Do you want those horrible, silver-masked men to kill you?"
Artemisia silently shook her head.
His tone softened. "I know it feels like cowardice. But sometimes, the smartest decision is to walk away to live another day."
Artemisia followed her father's advice. She repeated it to her friends and told them to tell their friends as well.
For two long years, the grounds were silent and still, except for the occasional cries of grief or pain. Each one wrenched Artemisia's heart, and each time, she hoped that no one whom she knew had died. For two long years, not a smile or a laugh was to be seen. For two long years, Artemisia hid from the world around her.
Finally, one night, all of the silver-masked men filed out of the gates, single-file, and they never returned.
As soon as the departure had been verified, a sigh of relief swept through the flock. Peacocks and peahens began to laugh and smile again. Artemisia slowly adjusted to the joyful atmosphere, after two years of hardly ever speaking to anyone.
Although many had died, they had survived. While it was a time of mourning, it was also a time of celebration. The grounds bustled in a hive of noise and cheer as the flock celebrated the departure of the cloaked men. Artemisia's worst nightmare was over at last.
Sentences for judging:
Semicolons:
Those were dark, dark years; her grandmother had told her that it hadn't been unusual for members of the flock to drop dead in a flash of green light or suddenly start screaming in pain.
He always had wise advice for everything; hopefully, this time would be no different.
Dashes:
It was a scene from Artemisia's worst nightmares—her grandmother's scary stories of the dark years coming to life—silver-masked men, cloaked in a black shadow from head-to-toe, walking down the path in a single, silent line.
"Do you want to die?"—he gestured towards the house where the humans lived—"Do you want those horrible, silver-masked men to kill you?"
Brackets:
For hundreds of generations, their flock had lived on these grounds, adjacent to a human family's home (the humans called themselves the Malfoys, or so her brother Ares claimed).
