A beam of light flashed indignantly at Julian’s eyes arousing his spirits and ceasing his sleep and causing him to wake up. He sprang out of his bed like an elastic, stifled a yawn and investigated the smelly bunks and the dark room, shuddering. He had got quite used to it now, without a doubt, but the chatter of rats scuttling about in the dark and the foul sewage that released a gruesome odour gave him the creeps.
Nearby, his mum lit the wick of a candle and the flame emerged reluctantly, rising each second and causing shadows to flicker around on the wall. She tossed an orange onto his lap and much to Julian’s dread, he realised that today was the day that he was leaving home to the evacuation camps; a dangerous war had struck between England and Germany and all children were forced to be evacuated.
The sight of the fruit caused Julian to feel sick. He noticed his mum’s bewildered and worried expression as she walked away, her great overcoat trailed behind, weighing Mrs. Bradley down. Julian was aware that he had hurt her feelings, so he swallowed the fruit down like medicine, knowing this would be his last orange.
The train was at 6.30am. As Julian walked behind his mum, he let out a sob of misery. He glanced at Jane’s house which had been struck with a bomb and set ablaze. His mother hastened her gait and wrapped a protective arm over Julian.
“Now there,” his mother said with a kind but sharp voice. “You never did see your father cry, did you? Your father was a brave one. He never wept himself away, Julian. Don’t be such a baby, dear.”
Julian desperately wanted to order the clock to turn to a happier time, but he knew there was no chance of that, so he meekly clutched his mother’s hand that smelled distinctively of roses and resumed his walk.
Before long, Julian was hauled aboard on the huge blue train along with many weeping boys, clinging to the little windows that had rods crossing each other like bars of a prison cell. Julian felt horrible and wanted to puke and howl and kick, but his arms and legs stayed were they were, seeming to have a mind of their own. But somehow, seeing so many boys crying bitterly made Julian recover from his tears and made him feel better. Julian had nothing to remember his mum by but with the exception of the embrace he shared before he was heaved on the train. He waved at his departing mum, took a last glimpse of her before she disappeared out of sight. Suddenly, Julian began to feel really sleepy and in spite of the sad chain of events, he eventually fell asleep.
Nearby, his mum lit the wick of a candle and the flame emerged reluctantly, rising each second and causing shadows to flicker around on the wall. She tossed an orange onto his lap and much to Julian’s dread, he realised that today was the day that he was leaving home to the evacuation camps; a dangerous war had struck between England and Germany and all children were forced to be evacuated.
The sight of the fruit caused Julian to feel sick. He noticed his mum’s bewildered and worried expression as she walked away, her great overcoat trailed behind, weighing Mrs. Bradley down. Julian was aware that he had hurt her feelings, so he swallowed the fruit down like medicine, knowing this would be his last orange.
“Now there,” his mother said with a kind but sharp voice. “You never did see your father cry, did you? Your father was a brave one. He never wept himself away, Julian. Don’t be such a baby, dear.”Julian desperately wanted to order the clock to turn to a happier time, but he knew there was no chance of that, so he meekly clutched his mother’s hand that smelled distinctively of roses and resumed his walk.
Before long, Julian was hauled aboard on the huge blue train along with many weeping boys, clinging to the little windows that had rods crossing each other like bars of a prison cell. Julian felt horrible and wanted to puke and howl and kick, but his arms and legs stayed were they were, seeming to have a mind of their own. But somehow, seeing so many boys crying bitterly made Julian recover from his tears and made him feel better. Julian had nothing to remember his mum by but with the exception of the embrace he shared before he was heaved on the train. He waved at his departing mum, took a last glimpse of her before she disappeared out of sight. Suddenly, Julian began to feel really sleepy and in spite of the sad chain of events, he eventually fell asleep.
**********
When Julian woke up from his deep slumber, he found himself staring impudently into a stern, severe, strict, scowling face of a teacher called Mrs. Cameron, her beady eyes burning and glowering into his like burning coals.
“How dare you?” she bellowed. “How dare you snore in MY train? When I taught at boarding schools, there was a punishment for anybody who dared to snort a snore. I must ask Mrs.Peters about that. You are a very ignorant boy, I must say.”
Julian just grinned gallantly. Mrs. Peters had a reserved soft spot for him, so Mrs. Cameron better not let her tongue run away with her.
Before long Julian stepped off the train with a sea of familiar faces, Mrs. Cameron seemed to be picking on a little boy called Timmy. Timmy’s lip jutted down, his knees wobbled and tears gathered in his deep blue eyes that were bound to trickle down his pale and stricken face.
“Dear me!” Mrs. Cameron announced with a smug expression. “What a cowardice Timmy is! He howls as much as he likes and I am sure that he will become an awful cry baby when he grows up!”
Timmy let out a howl of outrage like a solider pronouncing war and Mrs. Cameron sauntered off, looking pleased with her.Julian wisely chose not to interfere with the conversation, but like Timmy, he cheered up immensely when Mrs. Peters arranged an inviting bowl of tomato soup followed by bread.There was a minute of silence with the exception of the occasional sound of bread ripped apart when the boys tucked in. After a while, people took them to the evacuation camps and introduced themselves. They signed out on the desk where Mrs. Cameron sat. Timmy bade a farewell to Julian just as he was snatched by an old lady.
All of a sudden, a vicious looking man with an icy cold hand gripped Julian’s arm.
Where was he going? Strange questions roamed about in Julian’s head, but how ever many times he ransacked the answer in his brain, there just wasn’t a solution. Little did he know all
As it came of time, Julian and his unknown companion reached their destination; a magnificent cottage that was as green as grass. Julian was hauled into a room lit up with a bulb that seldom revealed its brightness. A pile of sacks lay in the corner of the room, and Julian went up to investigate, as nosy as a curious child. Furthermore, there was a resounding shriek and Julian noticed a pair of red inhuman eyes glaring at him from the door ajar. Then the door was flung wide open and a furious faced woman with straight brown hair and fingers as thin as pin appeared at the door growling like a dog.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked the woman. “Trying to inherit my gold? Prying mortals like you deserve a larruping; when I tell Mr. Clobster of your behaviour, you’ll be in for it! ”
Julian’s heart pounded profoundly against his chest as he thought. Why? Clobster’s my surname! My ears must have been deceiving me.’“Pardon my inconvenient question, but surely you didn’t mention the surname Clobster, did you?” Julian demanded, curiously.
“Have you recently notified any hearing problems with you?” replied the dame, at the height of rudeness. And with her impolite statement, she quietly exited the room and there was a‘click!’ as she locked the door behind her. Flakes of cement from one of the sides of the wall had started to peel off like the golden hue of withered autumn leaves. Julian walked over to examine, like a detective investigating a puzzling case. A wild thought sprung into Julian’s mind and without stopping to think of the consequences, Julian performed a crazy act; he picked up an old broomstick from the corner of the room and held it over his head like a soldier preparing to kill a dying enemy before swinging it against the wall in order to attempt an escape.
What occurred the next second was completely unexpected. The wall crashed down like a sudden downpour of sleet, particles of cement landing upon Julian’s hair that was as brown as the trunk of a tree. To his astonishment, he now realised that wall now revealed a hidden doorway, covered with cobwebs. He was transfixed and mesmerised at his triumphant discovery, nevertheless a foul aroma that the door consisted of drifted freely into Julian’s flaring nostrils and he coughed in dismay.
His mind screamed, ‘ESCAPE!’ ‘Your last chance lingers before you!’ Julian required no telling twice and he fled as prompt as a child overeating fat bars of sensational chocolate. However, trouble was right behind him on swift wings of an angel; the woman whom he had seen previously with alighted eyes had unlocked the door, stood at him, confused at the sight of the hidden doorway. Then she raced across the width of the room, almost grabbing Julian’s lapel and pinning him against the wall. However, with a deft move, Julian kicked and squirmed out of her reach and pulled at the handle of his discovered hidden door and fled inside through the narrow gap that separated him from the vile woman.
All of a sudden, he found himself staring at an endless tunnel, lit with occasional candles fixed on either side. The dame looked shocked and she compressed her thin lips with sheer horror and hastened back towards the door she had just emerged from.
“I beg of you,” She muttered, “Do not walk another step further, boy. I have dwelt in this house for around the time it was constructed, yet I am unknown to this passageway. I warn
Julian’s mind was in a state of flurry and he pondered as to what to do next. His conscious seemed to reluctantly agree with the dame. However, he dismissed the thought and decided to resume his journey. The time that lapsed between Julian’s start and his destination seemed to be of an era (though the candles seemed to last eternally). When he finally reached his destination, he found himself staring at a similar door from what he had started. He tried the handle, to which the door solemnly responded by swinging open. Julian took a step inside, nervously, and to his horror, he found himself falling through a cleverly set trapdoor.
Julian could feel himself tear through the air that raced past him and he was breathless for the next few seconds. He expected to land on something terribly hard, probably costing him a life, but instead, something soft greeted his fall. To his astonishment, he found himself comfortably lying on a hammock, respiring heavily. A pot-bellied shadow advanced towards him and Julian took a secret peep at his surroundings. A cauldron as black as the night with a thick rim lay not more than a yard from him, decorated with suspicious human bones around it.
Julian’s heart hammered and seemed to break free any second as he thought, ‘I hope the cold-blooded male who is approaching me will not commit the deed of eating me alive!’
“A miracle has surely commenced! I have never experienced the joy of enjoying juicy food, all tantalizing in my await, rain before me as abundant as heaven!” cried the beastly dwarf, licking his lips that were cracked with dryness.
Julian trembled, goose bumps appearing on his arm with ease as the man flashed him a toothless grin. Julian had a fleeting glance of bleeding gums savagely pulling away from teeth that were coated with a tint as yellow as a lit candle. They appeared to be as sharp as needles, capable of tearing through Julian’s English scent. A foul scent produced from the man who had not a leaf in his way with the exception of a thin strip of loin cloth, resulted in Julian coughing with disapproval.
“Strangers,” he bellowed his breath stale and warm “are not welcome in these restricted bonds. Having mentioned that, I shall have to devour you. I follow the faith of cannibalism; I slaughter mortals that dare stand in my way.”
He walked over to a shrine that Julian hadn't been aware of – a shrine of sacred knifes. The man reached out for a knife and tested its sharpness by pressing the knife against his thumb. A cut immediately formed on his skin and a pearl of blood trickled down the length of the man’s hand and advanced Julian like a predator pouncing toward its prey. Julian (the prey) leapt off the hammock and headed toward a door. He forced the ragged exit to budge and it responded by following its command.
Julian tore down the length of a vast corridor until he halted at a door. He stared at his predator that had refused to chase him another step past the door. Julian rapped politely like a boy entering a headmaster’s office and forced himself to enter.
All of a sudden, Julian found himself keenly observing a familiar face – eyebrows ferociously combed upwards and deep lines embossed on the forehead. Julian gawped like a fish and felt his knees buckle beneath him. The world was fading before him, and before Julian could revive himself, he was drowning in a pool of darkness.
When Julian was conscious and had returned to his senses, he was aware that he had fainted but most importantly – he had met his father. The familiar face of his father came in view, and Julian forced questions out of his dry mouth.
“Whatever are you doing here, father? Surely you don’t dwell in this murky lodging? Explain yourself further.”
Julian’s father stared at him tersely before he spoke. “Facts unknown need to be aware to you, lad. As soon as I had left for war, I had decided to walk to refugee camps. Alas, when I arrived, the camp had been reduced to ashes and realisation struck me; the Germans were planning to swipe down England in a swoop. I was miles away from families and friends – so I fled from the site. Eventually, I bought a horse with all the money your darling mother had sent me and rode off into the night. I was without a shelter for weeks after – I lost track of the dates. Soon after, I found this house and since dwelt in here. But now, here you are before me!”
A resounding shriek from the corridor then concluded Julian’s father’s speech. The door was swung open with a whine of hinges and the lady with red inhuman eyes that had previously treated Julian now stood in his way. Julian’s father stared at her questioningly.
“Have you heard the news?” she yelled. “England is victorious and has won!”
Julian’s father, however, had not a second to react to this startling information as the lady had clutched Julian’s fathers hand and passed away.
A few years later, after Julian had grew up and his dad had sadly passed away, he inherited the little house in the moor. And as he drank a sip of refreshing milk, wisps of memories came back to him – about experiencing England triumphant over Germany.
When Julian woke up from his deep slumber, he found himself staring impudently into a stern, severe, strict, scowling face of a teacher called Mrs. Cameron, her beady eyes burning and glowering into his like burning coals.
“How dare you?” she bellowed. “How dare you snore in MY train? When I taught at boarding schools, there was a punishment for anybody who dared to snort a snore. I must ask Mrs.Peters about that. You are a very ignorant boy, I must say.”
Julian just grinned gallantly. Mrs. Peters had a reserved soft spot for him, so Mrs. Cameron better not let her tongue run away with her.
Before long Julian stepped off the train with a sea of familiar faces, Mrs. Cameron seemed to be picking on a little boy called Timmy. Timmy’s lip jutted down, his knees wobbled and tears gathered in his deep blue eyes that were bound to trickle down his pale and stricken face.
“Dear me!” Mrs. Cameron announced with a smug expression. “What a cowardice Timmy is! He howls as much as he likes and I am sure that he will become an awful cry baby when he grows up!”
Timmy let out a howl of outrage like a solider pronouncing war and Mrs. Cameron sauntered off, looking pleased with her.Julian wisely chose not to interfere with the conversation, but like Timmy, he cheered up immensely when Mrs. Peters arranged an inviting bowl of tomato soup followed by bread.There was a minute of silence with the exception of the occasional sound of bread ripped apart when the boys tucked in. After a while, people took them to the evacuation camps and introduced themselves. They signed out on the desk where Mrs. Cameron sat. Timmy bade a farewell to Julian just as he was snatched by an old lady.
All of a sudden, a vicious looking man with an icy cold hand gripped Julian’s arm.
“I’ll have the li’l runt,” Sneering nastily, he steered him towards a beauty of a horse, obviously used for transportation and thrust Julian on the horse’s back, unmerciful as he laid the whip on the startled creature.
Where was he going? Strange questions roamed about in Julian’s head, but how ever many times he ransacked the answer in his brain, there just wasn’t a solution. Little did he know all
these strange questions would be revealed to him. If he ever found out who this person really was.
**********
As it came of time, Julian and his unknown companion reached their destination; a magnificent cottage that was as green as grass. Julian was hauled into a room lit up with a bulb that seldom revealed its brightness. A pile of sacks lay in the corner of the room, and Julian went up to investigate, as nosy as a curious child. Furthermore, there was a resounding shriek and Julian noticed a pair of red inhuman eyes glaring at him from the door ajar. Then the door was flung wide open and a furious faced woman with straight brown hair and fingers as thin as pin appeared at the door growling like a dog.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked the woman. “Trying to inherit my gold? Prying mortals like you deserve a larruping; when I tell Mr. Clobster of your behaviour, you’ll be in for it! ”
Julian’s heart pounded profoundly against his chest as he thought. Why? Clobster’s my surname! My ears must have been deceiving me.’“Pardon my inconvenient question, but surely you didn’t mention the surname Clobster, did you?” Julian demanded, curiously.
“Have you recently notified any hearing problems with you?” replied the dame, at the height of rudeness. And with her impolite statement, she quietly exited the room and there was a‘click!’ as she locked the door behind her. Flakes of cement from one of the sides of the wall had started to peel off like the golden hue of withered autumn leaves. Julian walked over to examine, like a detective investigating a puzzling case. A wild thought sprung into Julian’s mind and without stopping to think of the consequences, Julian performed a crazy act; he picked up an old broomstick from the corner of the room and held it over his head like a soldier preparing to kill a dying enemy before swinging it against the wall in order to attempt an escape.
What occurred the next second was completely unexpected. The wall crashed down like a sudden downpour of sleet, particles of cement landing upon Julian’s hair that was as brown as the trunk of a tree. To his astonishment, he now realised that wall now revealed a hidden doorway, covered with cobwebs. He was transfixed and mesmerised at his triumphant discovery, nevertheless a foul aroma that the door consisted of drifted freely into Julian’s flaring nostrils and he coughed in dismay.
His mind screamed, ‘ESCAPE!’ ‘Your last chance lingers before you!’ Julian required no telling twice and he fled as prompt as a child overeating fat bars of sensational chocolate. However, trouble was right behind him on swift wings of an angel; the woman whom he had seen previously with alighted eyes had unlocked the door, stood at him, confused at the sight of the hidden doorway. Then she raced across the width of the room, almost grabbing Julian’s lapel and pinning him against the wall. However, with a deft move, Julian kicked and squirmed out of her reach and pulled at the handle of his discovered hidden door and fled inside through the narrow gap that separated him from the vile woman.
All of a sudden, he found himself staring at an endless tunnel, lit with occasional candles fixed on either side. The dame looked shocked and she compressed her thin lips with sheer horror and hastened back towards the door she had just emerged from.
“I beg of you,” She muttered, “Do not walk another step further, boy. I have dwelt in this house for around the time it was constructed, yet I am unknown to this passageway. I warn
you, there’s no knowing to where this leads!”
Julian’s mind was in a state of flurry and he pondered as to what to do next. His conscious seemed to reluctantly agree with the dame. However, he dismissed the thought and decided to resume his journey. The time that lapsed between Julian’s start and his destination seemed to be of an era (though the candles seemed to last eternally). When he finally reached his destination, he found himself staring at a similar door from what he had started. He tried the handle, to which the door solemnly responded by swinging open. Julian took a step inside, nervously, and to his horror, he found himself falling through a cleverly set trapdoor.
**********
Julian could feel himself tear through the air that raced past him and he was breathless for the next few seconds. He expected to land on something terribly hard, probably costing him a life, but instead, something soft greeted his fall. To his astonishment, he found himself comfortably lying on a hammock, respiring heavily. A pot-bellied shadow advanced towards him and Julian took a secret peep at his surroundings. A cauldron as black as the night with a thick rim lay not more than a yard from him, decorated with suspicious human bones around it.
Julian’s heart hammered and seemed to break free any second as he thought, ‘I hope the cold-blooded male who is approaching me will not commit the deed of eating me alive!’
Thoughts of cannibalism exposed themselves to Julian and he shuddered at the very thought of them. But when the shadows owner revealed himself to Julian, he grimaced as the face was half contorted and purely hideous containing an expression of pleasure.
“A miracle has surely commenced! I have never experienced the joy of enjoying juicy food, all tantalizing in my await, rain before me as abundant as heaven!” cried the beastly dwarf, licking his lips that were cracked with dryness.
Julian trembled, goose bumps appearing on his arm with ease as the man flashed him a toothless grin. Julian had a fleeting glance of bleeding gums savagely pulling away from teeth that were coated with a tint as yellow as a lit candle. They appeared to be as sharp as needles, capable of tearing through Julian’s English scent. A foul scent produced from the man who had not a leaf in his way with the exception of a thin strip of loin cloth, resulted in Julian coughing with disapproval.
“Strangers,” he bellowed his breath stale and warm “are not welcome in these restricted bonds. Having mentioned that, I shall have to devour you. I follow the faith of cannibalism; I slaughter mortals that dare stand in my way.”
He walked over to a shrine that Julian hadn't been aware of – a shrine of sacred knifes. The man reached out for a knife and tested its sharpness by pressing the knife against his thumb. A cut immediately formed on his skin and a pearl of blood trickled down the length of the man’s hand and advanced Julian like a predator pouncing toward its prey. Julian (the prey) leapt off the hammock and headed toward a door. He forced the ragged exit to budge and it responded by following its command.
Julian tore down the length of a vast corridor until he halted at a door. He stared at his predator that had refused to chase him another step past the door. Julian rapped politely like a boy entering a headmaster’s office and forced himself to enter.
All of a sudden, Julian found himself keenly observing a familiar face – eyebrows ferociously combed upwards and deep lines embossed on the forehead. Julian gawped like a fish and felt his knees buckle beneath him. The world was fading before him, and before Julian could revive himself, he was drowning in a pool of darkness.
**********
When Julian was conscious and had returned to his senses, he was aware that he had fainted but most importantly – he had met his father. The familiar face of his father came in view, and Julian forced questions out of his dry mouth.
“Whatever are you doing here, father? Surely you don’t dwell in this murky lodging? Explain yourself further.”
Julian’s father stared at him tersely before he spoke. “Facts unknown need to be aware to you, lad. As soon as I had left for war, I had decided to walk to refugee camps. Alas, when I arrived, the camp had been reduced to ashes and realisation struck me; the Germans were planning to swipe down England in a swoop. I was miles away from families and friends – so I fled from the site. Eventually, I bought a horse with all the money your darling mother had sent me and rode off into the night. I was without a shelter for weeks after – I lost track of the dates. Soon after, I found this house and since dwelt in here. But now, here you are before me!”
A resounding shriek from the corridor then concluded Julian’s father’s speech. The door was swung open with a whine of hinges and the lady with red inhuman eyes that had previously treated Julian now stood in his way. Julian’s father stared at her questioningly.
“Have you heard the news?” she yelled. “England is victorious and has won!”
Julian’s father, however, had not a second to react to this startling information as the lady had clutched Julian’s fathers hand and passed away.
**********
A few years later, after Julian had grew up and his dad had sadly passed away, he inherited the little house in the moor. And as he drank a sip of refreshing milk, wisps of memories came back to him – about experiencing England triumphant over Germany.
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