Published writing

Do not come after me. Because death awaits you in this world. The nib of the pen scratched against the parchment as I spent my last moments at the writing desk. “Quintalline, stop fretting!” The little glass man had been pacing the shelves for days after the news of my awaiting end. “Your new master will be just as good! So long you do your job properly!” Quintalline grumbled over his shoulder as he climbed up the desk to scatter some sand onto the fresh ink. “They definitely won’t feed me enough!" With a mutter he settled into sleep, his glass joints clicking with a crystalline ring. I stretched my arms and relished the last night I would have. Steadily, I creased the letter into a small crane and whispered a few words under my breath. A tear began to appear in the air, the seams ripping to create a portal. “I hope you get this in time.” With my last wishes said, I gently pushed the crane into the wormhole and waited for my end. She waited. She waited every single day for him to come back. To hear the sound of the doorbell ringing. To see the large stack of books he always took back for her. To feel his embrace again. But he didn’t come. Cora picked on others. She wasn’t genuinely mean, but something had to fill up the vast void of loneliness in her heart. Every day she sat alone. After he left, Cora became hollow. So, she took it out on others. She wasn’t particularly big so she used her words to attack. Oh words. The one thing her father had loved most. He would sit at his desk for hours, conjuring up lands of fairies and trolls, forests with prowling beasts that could kill you in seconds. And Cora could only sit in amazement as her father typed away these magical words, the lulling click of the typewriter filling all her senses. But now, now things were different. She lived all alone still waiting for him to come back. Until she found the crane. Since her father left her, Cora had always neatened up his study in vain of his reunion with her. But then one day, she saw something out of place. The shelf on top of his desk was always filled with little glass animals, collected from his travels. Cora knew them off by heart. An elephant from India, a white tiger from Nepal (one of his rarest), a phoenix from Greece and a red – crowned crane from Japan. Except…it wasn’t a crane. In place of the delicate glass bird, a roughly folded paper crane sat innocently amid it all. Cora blinked. She reached for the parchment and slowly unfolded it. Dear Cora, You may have wondered where I’ve been – I hope you haven’t been worried sick. You may not believe what I am about to say, but I trust you with this information. You know that book I always loved? What was that it called? The Seas of Tarronia? Well anyways, I’m in the book. I’ve been researching in the Royal institute here and I’ve found what this is called. A ‘book warp’ is what happens when readers get sucked into the very lines they were on. And yes, I am enjoying it here though I am trying to figure out how to come back. But I warn you. Do NOT come after me because death awaits you in this world. Father The last line smudged as one tear fell onto the page. That was all it took. One tear and Cora disappeared. Later she wouldn’t even believe how such a fuss grew from a tear. But it was inevitable. She just didn’t know what was waiting for her in the printed world beneath the pages… Cora gasped. It was all she could do for that moment. Everything around her seemed to be frozen in eternal beauty. A luscious canopy of leaves surrounded her and sweet-smelling flowers adorned bushes. The hypnotising smell of the flowers clouded Cora’s mind, and without thinking, she grabbed a sweet berry from the branches and ate it. The syrupy flesh melted in her mouth but when she turned to look around her, the forest revealed its true form. The tree she was leaning against was just a blackened stump and all the bushes were burnt. Tendrils of smoke calmly rose from the scene. Now the flowers weren’t sweet, but they were intoxicating, the smell rising from the plants and curling around Cora’s throat until she choked on herself. The leaves were not the luscious green, but they were dark silver, and the veins were skeletal. The trees were reaching limbs now, the branches not surrounding her, but trapping her. The woods were ebony black, and shadows seemed to fill the place where light was. But the thing that scared her most was not the forest. It was the looming figure that now stooped over Cora. A woman gazed over her. A white cloak billowed around her and the edges of her dress was tattered, leaving wisps of delicate fabric in the air. A light veil covered her face and she seemed to radiate with warmth but Cora could sense something. The lady smiled at her and whispered something into the air. Come with me. Her voice was soft and gentle and Cora reached out as if in a trance. The world spun and the last thing she felt was a sharp pain in her head. “Wake up! The Queen’s soldiers can’t see me here!” Cora opened her eyes and saw someone looking back at her. “You’re finally awake! Don’t you know anything? You almost got taken by the White Women!” A girl stared back at her in disbelief. She had fiery red hair and a pair of aviator goggles rested on her head. Cora sat up. “Where am I?” The girl rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know anything?” Cora shook her head. “You really won’t understand what I’m saying, but I think I come from a different world.” The girl looked shocked. “The other side? You’re from there?” As they were walking back to her house, the girl explained to Cora. “My name is Cecilia. My father left me 2 years ago for an expedition but he never came back.” Cora was surprised at how close Cecilia’s story was to her own. “This kingdom is ruled by the High queen and all her witches. Do not get in her way.” Cecilia’s eyes hardened at the thought. “My mother was taken by the queen and now all she wants is revenge.” They walked in silence until they crossed a familiar looking face printed on a poster. It couldn’t be. She glanced at the poster again. “Who is that?” Her voice shook as she asked Cecilia. “Oh, that’s John Fa- wait. Cora, what did you say your name was again?” Her eyes widened as everything started to click together. Cora took a breath. “Farrow. Cora Farrow.” Cecilia looked in disbelief. “John Farrow is your father?” Cora nodded, her heart turning cold. “He’s getting executed next week.” “We have to stop it!” “But how?” Cecilia looked back sadly. “Can’t you just break into the prison?” Suddenly, an idea came to mind. “We have to find the enchantress.” Cecilia was sceptical to tell Cora her idea but it was the only way. “We have to pack.” She led her into a small room filled with random pieces of clockwork, metal, and glass. At the end of the room was a small wardrobe. Cecilia rummaged for some clothes and grabbed some food for the journey. Cora stood silent next to her and traced her fingers along the map of the kingdom. “It will take us three days to get there. Just hope that nothing gets in our way.” And so, they set off. The outskirts of the town was bordered by the Blackwood forest, a divide between the elves’ city and the village. “Let’s go.” Cecilia took a breath and pushed past the first few branches of the dipping trees. “Why are you willing to help me?” Cora stopped in the middle of the thick tree trunks. “Firstly, because I love a good adventure,” a smile crept across Cecilia’s face, “but also because your story is so similar to mine.” They walked in silence until they reached the heart of the forest. “Can you hear that?” Cora stopped suddenly. The faint sound of someone playing the flute could be heard in the distance. Cecilia stopped walking. “Don’t make a sound. She walked quietly forward until she could see a figure sitting on a rock. It was a hermit. The old man looked calm but Cecilia knew of his intentions. Before she could even say anything, Cecilia could sense that the hermit and disappeared but now left an obstacle in the way. When they tried to walk to the other side of the river, an invisible boundary held them back. Cecilia, with no hope pulled a feathered arrow and slung it onto the bow. In a swift movement she punctured the boundary and the wall shattered, pieces of iridescent glass falling onto the ground.

The sharp blinding light searing through my house. A pale figure grabbing, twisting and a scream. The water hit my skin like bullets as I sat all alone in the rain on my seventh birthday. The slam of the door still lingered in the air, the echo filling the room. Through the small circular window, I admired the picturesque view of the sea. The lighthouse stood at the edge of the rocks, faded red and white painted onto the cylindrical building. The small beam of light shining from the light house reflected off the water. I turned my back onto the view too hurt to look at the sight. My room was on the highest floor making it freezing in winter. The drafts howled against the slate roof, and at night the wind hollered against the closed shutters. My window was the smallest of all of them in the shop. The pensmith workshop had wide double-glass windows that showed a beautiful view of all the Christmas stalls. Coloured lights were twined all over the street lamps and people were getting ready for Christmas by making fruit cakes, treacle puddings and hams. The workshop was the one place I wasn't allowed in but of course, I didn't care about that. On the morning of Christmas Eve, I snuck downstairs before my grandparents woke up. It wasn't my first time down here, but the shop looked much different. Stockings and Christmas decorations were hung around the room and new pens were put in front of the glass display boxes. The mahogany desk was littered with peculiar objects. The first one was an old rustic typewriter that my grandfather kept. The second was a golden tipped feather quill that was half dipped in fresh ink. The last was a little velvet bag which I of course had to open. Inside contained a small brass pocket watch that was encrusted with little quartz diamonds that shimmered in the sun. The hands of the clock were very peculiar as they swung in the opposite direction and instead of two hands there were three. I widened my eyes as I heard footsteps down the stairs and quickly slipped the watch into my pocket. I quietly ran to the back door and winced as the bells jingled subtly. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pulled over my fur hood and proceeded up to the attic. When I was sure I couldn't hear anybody, I slowly took the watch out of my fur lined jacket. On closer inspection I saw very small engraved symbols on the face of the clock. On the back, there was a very faint outline of two words: The 'Chronometer'. I looked curiously at the brass hands that seem to have no control. Suddenly, I saw a small corner of parchment sticking out of the watch face. I peeled off my gloves and slowly twisted the glass dome on top of the clock. Inside was a very thin piece of parchment. It read, 'Perditus factus est non inveni'. Underneath these words was a giant blot of ink concealing the writer's identity. I looked in wonder as I experimented with the dials. I twisted one to a clock, one to a tree and the final to a fox. I heard a small click and I heard the sound of gears whirring inside the watch. A bright light engulfed the room and when it faded, all that was left was an abandoned pair of peacock blue leather gloves. The sharp jades, limes and emeralds swam before my eyes revealing a thick foliage of shimmering gold fireflies. All I could do was stand in awe. This magical coven was perfect and yet there was not a single person in sight. This secret hideaway seemed frozen in time. The only thing in sight was a spark of rich reds and golds. A fire fox kept out of the iridescent sunlight and sparks flew. Something was wrong. This fire fox was not any normal creature. It could speak and it had a very important message for me. The inhabitants of Elysium are in grave danger from a power that is ever thirsty from ambition. The future of Elysium is in your hands. In the misty distance, a towering forest stood stealing the sunlight. The only sound heard was ticking. Ticking from clocks. I reached back into my pocket to grab my pocket watch with pale shaking hands. I slowly headed into the direction of the forest until I heard a deep rumbling sound. "Who dares to disturb the great guardian," I revealed myself to the great clockwork giant . He was created with twisting vines, gnarled roots and knotted trees. This was no ordinary forest warden. "May I enter your forest?" I fumbled hoping the warden hadn't seen the watch. " Foolish children think they can enter at their own will, if you can clear all the leaf litter in the forest by sundown you are free to enter." I knelt down before the earth and apologized to the forest nymphs hoping they would help protect the trees. Lighting a match, I watched the flames creep against the fallen leaves. It was almost sundown and I had completed the task. I had the feeling that perhaps I needed to be nice to get out of here alive. This was only one of the difficult tasks to come. I listened to the forest and let it play me its song.

Do not come after me. Because death awaits you in this world. The nib of the pen scratched against the parchment as I spent my last moments at the writing desk. “Quintalline, stop fretting!” The little glass man had been pacing the shelves for days after the news of my awaiting end. “Your new master will be just as good! So long you do your job properly!” Quintalline grumbled over his shoulder as he climbed up the desk to scatter some sand onto the fresh ink. “They definitely won’t feed me enough!”With a mutter he settled into sleep, his glass joints clicking with a crystalline ring. I stretched my arms and relished the last night I would have. Steadily, I creased the letter into a small crane and whispered a few words under my breath. A tear began to appear in the air, the seams ripping to create a portal. “I hope you get this in time.” With my last wishes said, I gently pushed the crane into the wormhole and waited for my end. She waited. She waited every single day for him to come back. To hear the sound of the doorbell ringing. To see the large stack of books he always took back for her. To feel his embrace again. But he didn’t come. Cora picked on others. She wasn’t genuinely mean but something had to fill up the vast void of loneliness in her heart. Everyday she sat alone. After he left, Cora became hollow. So she took it out on others. She wasn’t particularly big so she used her words to attack. Oh words. The one thing her father had loved most. He would sit at his desk for hours, conjuring up lands of fairies and trolls, forests with prowling beasts that could kill you in seconds. And Cora could only sit in amazement as her father typed away these magical words, the lulling click of the typewriter filling all her senses. But now, now things were different. She lived all alone still waiting for him to come back. Until she found the crane. Since her father left her, Cora had always neatened up his study in vain of his reunion with her. But then one day, she saw something out of place. The shelf on top of his desk was always filled with little glass animals, collected from his travels. Cora knew them off by heart. An elephant from India, a white tiger from Nepal (one of his rarest), a phoenix from Greece and a red – crowned crane from Japan. Except…it wasn’t a crane. In place of the delicate glass bird, a roughly folded paper crane sat innocently in the midst of it all. Cora blinked. She reached for the parchment and slowly unfolded it. Dear Cora, You may have wondered where I’ve been – I hope you haven’t been worried sick. You may not believe what I am about to say, but I trust you with this information. You know that book I always loved? What was that it called? The Seas of Tarronia? Well anyways, I’m in the book. I’ve been researching in the Royal institute here and I’ve found what this is called. A ‘book warp’ is what happens when readers get sucked into the very lines they were on. And yes, I am enjoying it here though I am trying to figure out how to come back. But I warn you. Do NOT come after me because death awaits you in this world. Father The last line smudged as one tear fell onto the page. That was all it took. One tear and Cora disappeared. Later she wouldn’t even believe how such a fuss grew from a tear. But it was inevitable. She just didn’t know what was waiting for her in the printed world beneath the pages… Cora gasped. It was all she could do for that moment. Everything around her seemed to be frozen in eternal beauty. A luscious canopy of leaves surrounded her and sweet-smelling flowers adorned bushes. The hypnotising smell of the flowers clouded Cora’s mind, and without thinking, she grabbed a sweet berry from the branches and ate it. The syrupy flesh melted in her mouth but when she turned to look around her, the forest revealed its true form. The tree she was leaning against was just a blackened stump and all the bushes were burnt. Tendrils of smoke calmly rose from the scene. Now the flowers weren’t sweet, but they were intoxicating, the smell rising from the plants and curling around Cora’s throat until she choked on herself. The leaves were not the luscious green, but they were dark silver and the veins were skeletal. The trees were reaching limbs now, the branches not surrounding her, but trapping her. The woods were ebony black and shadows seemed to fill the place where light was. But the thing that scared her most was not the forest. It was the looming figure that now stooped over Cora.

The sharp blinding light searing through my house. A pale figure grabbing, twisting and a scream. The water hit my skin like bullets as I sat all alone in the rain on my seventh birthday. The slam of the door still lingered in the air, the echo filling the room. Through the small circular window, I admired the picturesque view of the sea. The lighthouse stood at the edge of the rocks, faded red and white painted onto the cylindrical building. The small beam of light shining from the light house reflected off the water. I turned my back onto the view too hurt to look at the sight. My room was on the highest floor making it freezing in winter. The drafts howled against the slate roof, and at night the wind hollered against the closed shutters. My window was the smallest of all of them in the shop. The pensmith workshop had wide double-glass windows that showed a beautiful view of all the Christmas stalls. Coloured lights were twined all over the street lamps and people were getting ready for Christmas by making fruit cakes, treacle puddings and hams. The workshop was the one place I wasn't allowed in but of course, I didn't care about that. On the morning of Christmas Eve, I snuck downstairs before my grandparents woke up. It wasn't my first time down here, but the shop looked much different. Stockings and Christmas decorations were hung around the room and new pens were put in front of the glass display boxes. The mahogany desk was littered with peculiar objects. The first one was an old rustic typewriter that my grandfather kept. The second was a golden tipped feather quill that was half dipped in fresh ink. The last was a little velvet bag which I of course had to open. Inside contained a small brass pocket watch that was encrusted with little quartz diamonds that shimmered in the sun. The hands of the clock were very peculiar as they swung in the opposite direction and instead of two hands there were three. I widened my eyes as I heard footsteps down the stairs and quickly slipped the watch into my pocket. I quietly ran to the back door and winced as the bells jingled subtly. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pulled over my fur hood and proceeded up to the attic. When I was sure I couldn't hear anybody, I slowly took the watch out of my fur lined jacket. On closer inspection I saw very small engraved symbols on the face of the clock. On the back, there was a very faint outline of two words: The 'Chronometer'. I looked curiously at the brass hands that seem to have no control. Suddenly, I saw a small corner of parchment sticking out of the watch face. I peeled off my gloves and slowly twisted the glass dome on top of the clock. Inside was a very thin piece of parchment. It read, 'Perditus factus est non inveni'. Underneath these words was a giant blot of ink concealing the writer's identity. I looked in wonder as I experimented with the dials. I twisted one to a clock, one to a tree and the final to a fox. I heard a small click and I heard the sound of gears whirring inside the watch. A bright light engulfed the room and when it faded, all that was left was an abandoned pair of peacock blue leather gloves. The sharp jades, limes and emeralds swam before my eyes revealing a thick foliage of shimmering gold fireflies. All I could do was stand in awe. This magical coven was perfect and yet there was not a single person in sight. This secret hideaway seemed frozen in time. The only thing in sight was a spark of rich reds and golds. A fire fox kept out of the irridescent sunlight and sparks flew. Something was wrong. This fire fox was not any normal creature. It could speak and it had a very important message for me. The inhabitants of Elysium are in grave danger from a power that is ever thirsty from ambition. The future of Elysium is in your hands. In the misty distance, a towereng forest stood stealing the sunlight. The only sound heard was ticking. Ticking from clocks.

Do not come after me. Because death awaits you in this world. The nib of the pen scratched against the parchment as I spent my last moments at the writing desk. “Quintalline, stop fretting!” The little glass man had been pacing the shelves for days after the news of my awaiting end. “Your new master will be just as good! So long you do your job properly!” Quintalline grumbled over his shoulder as he climbed up the desk to scatter some sand onto the fresh ink. “They definitely won’t feed me enough!”With a mutter he settled into sleep, his glass joints clicking with a crystalline ring. I stretched my arms and relished the last night I would have. Steadily, I creased the letter into a small crane and whispered a few words under my breath. A tear began to appear in the air, the seams ripping to create a portal. “I hope you get this in time.” With my last wishes said, I gently pushed the crane into the wormhole and waited for my end. She waited. She waited every single day for him to come back. To hear the sound of the doorbell ringing. To see the large stack of books he always took back for her. To feel his embrace again. But he didn’t come. Cora picked on others. She wasn’t genuinely mean but something had to fill up the vast void of loneliness in her heart. Everyday she sat alone. After he left, Cora became hollow. So she took it out on others. She wasn’t particularly big so she used her words to attack. Oh words. The one thing her father had loved most. He would sit at his desk for hours, conjuring up lands of fairies and trolls, forests with prowling beasts that could kill you in seconds. And Cora could only sit in amazement as her father typed away these magical words, the lulling click of the typewriter filling all her senses. But now, now things were different. She lived all alone still waiting for him to come back. Until she found the crane. Since her father left her, Cora had always neatened up his study in vain of his reunion with her. But then one day, she saw something out of place. The shelf on top of his desk was always filled with little glass animals, collected from his travels. Cora knew them off by heart. An elephant from India, a white tiger from Nepal (one of his rarest), a phoenix from Greece and a red – crowned crane from Japan. Except…it wasn’t a crane. In place of the delicate glass bird, a roughly folded paper crane sat innocently in the midst of it all. Cora blinked. She reached for the parchment and slowly unfolded it. Dear Cora, You may have wondered where I’ve been – I hope you haven’t been worried sick. You may not believe what I am about to say, but I trust you with this information.You know that book I always loved? What was that it called? The Seas of Tarronia? Well anyways, I’m in the book. I’ve been researching in the Royal institute here and I’ve found what this is called. A ‘book warp’ is what happens when readers get sucked into the very lines they were on. And yes, I am enjoying it here though I am trying to figure out how to come back. But I warn you. Do NOT come after me because death awaits you in this world. Father The last line smudged as one tear fell onto the page. That was all it took. One tear and Cora disappeared. Later she wouldn’t even believe how such a fuss grew from a tear. But it was inevitable. She just didn’t know what was waiting for her in the printed world beneath the pages…

The sharp blinding light searing through my house. A pale figure grabbing, twisting and a scream. The water hit my skin like bullets as I sat all alone in the rain on my seventh birthday. The thick smog of London choked me as I scrambled helplessly in the sea of coats. I tightened my pristine braids strangled by my whalebone corset. Sauntering into the room, I received commands from my grandparents which were constant reminders of the things that I lost. " Lyrya do your laundry!" Shouted grandma. " Make me!" I retorted. Whenever I was forced to do something, that was my escape. Everyone resented me and I loved it. Escalating the stairs to my room, I hovered around taking in the warm glow and ringing bells of the shop. Both were unknown to me. Slamming the door behind me, I savoured the lingering echo. Pulling out my bows and unloading my shoes, I scowled. All my grandparents wanted me to do is help out with the dusting in the pen shop. Except now it was my turn to show them what I was capable of. Staring out of my framed window, I pinpointed my guiding light the lighthouse. Looking down at my retro typewriter, I started my journey.

Autumn arrived without a change. The golden brown leaves crunched beneath my feet as I stood in front of our new house.It was a bleached white, ironically reflecting the age of the neighbourhood. A verandah framed the wooden structure of our two story house. A small breeze whipped some leaves onto our doorstep. I crouched down as I suddenly saw a letter on the gate. It was a flyer for a sewing workshop. I picked it up curiously and headed back inside. The shop was not that far from our house. I pinned it onto the fridge secretly hoping that Mum would notice it. A voice called from my bedroom. "Ari! Look there's a new neighbour!" I hurried inside to see my twin sister staring out the window. The house in front of us had been put up for sale for a very long time. I wondered how desperate the agent was to have found such an odd client. The man was old and frail but his wrinkles told times of adventure. I looked at him and racked my brains to where I'd seen that face before. And then I lit up when I recognised him to be the man on the sewing flyer. His arrival was not acknowledged by anyone. It was only when the snipping started did people start to realise. Mrs Beekman lived next door and she was the perfect stereotypical grandma. She was the first person who welcomed us and she left baked goods at our doorstep. Mrs Beekman was also the first person who was troubled by the snipping noises. They started getting louder through the days and moaning could be heard. I didn't really pay attention to it and many other neighbours swatted it away as well. It was the day of the sewing workshop and I was very excited. My Mum agreed to take me and my sister to it. When we got there, I walked inside and immediately recognised the person in the shop. Sure enough, it was the man who had just moved in. He introduced himself as Mr Hockelm. He seemed to be a flower fanatic because everywhere in his studio were posters and books about the language of flowers. In a corner of the room was a glass box of highly crafted delicate scissors. After Mr Hockelm had finished explained the embroidery lesson, he went into a room upstairs. Then I heard the snipping again. I got out of my seat and excused myself to the bathroom. I crept up the stairs, the dusty railings making my palms sweaty. When I reached the top of the winding steps, I saw a room filled with a green glow. A deep voice boomed from inside. "Find the girl. I sent you here for a reason!" The figure inside shrunk in shame as the voice continued to talk. "If she is not here by midnight I will dispose of you Hemlock." My heat skipped a beat. Hemlock? letters jumbled in my head as I replaced the letters in my mind. H, O, C, K, E, L, M. Mr Hockelm. I quickly ran back down the stairs when something caught my eye. A small watercolour card was dropped on the step and I reached to pick it up. A green flower was embroidered onto the paper. Underneath read 'Hemlock. A poisonous plant symbolising death'. When we got home, I was surprised to see our Mum burst through the door in shock. "Quick! You have to come! The news says that the city is being contaminated!" I ran inside with my sister and together we sat at the rounded, wooden table of the kitchen. "The neighbourhood of Green Haven will be plagued with acid rain for the next 24 hours. Authorities will come with safety equipment for those in need." The report stopped suddenly as the screen turned static. I looked in horror at my Mum as the dangerous rain started falling from the skies. A lockdown was ensued for the whole town as the droplets of acid terrorised the nearby forests. We listened to the radio every day but the rain showed no hope of stopping. On the third day, people in protective jackets came in with helicopters and buckets of lime. They instructed everyone to pour the buckets into the lake near the town. As we walked towards the river bank, I looked around in pride to see everyone in the neighbourhood laboriously throwing the lime into the water. I felt that today stronger ties were made between neighbours. Even Mr Hockelm. 2 months after... Spring was approaching. The neighbourhood was abuzz with sprouting flowers. I was surprised how quickly Mr Hockelm revealed everything. All was well now. The town was a safe haven. For now.

Limping lies The salty air stung my eyes and the sea breeze whipped my hair. People hurried along paveways, their black cloaks like birds desperate to go with the wind. The stagnant air of the museum was stifling and I greeted the fresh air with pleasure. Grey clouds blanketed the sky and a thin fog started to gather. The sea was alive with waves that tossed sea foam onto the sand. I stared at the rickety houses and waved to our neighbours. Iris and Harold were frequent visitors of Addison's Hall of Quirks and Wonders. Iris would often bring us freshly baked goods and Harold would donate us interesting pieces of glass and shells he found at sea. I shook my head trying to get the thought out of my head. Something was happening. I could feel it. I squinted into the thick sea of people and I saw a limping man. A small silver box poked out of his pocket and I knew exactly who he was. Inside the box was a key. A key to the house in front of us. The new tenant had a sharp cane and a proud limp. Everyone in the whole of Sardine harbour knew that to have a limp was nothing to be proud of. You wouldn't be able to work and feed the harbour.This man clearly didn't know his Sardinian ways. Part two "Does the new tenant mow his lawn?" "I do hope so Barbara." "They better not get up at five in the morning to mow it though." "You are very right Mary." "I hope they'll give us fresh jam for our toast!" "Seriously Anna is that all you care about?!" I stared at the gossiping ladies wondering what rumours they were going to spread. I glanced at the old house when I noticed tightly drawn blinds. When the man came out he was wearing old fishermen's clothes. I took a walk by the sea to clear my thoughts. I knew something was up, he was secretive and private. Too private. He hadn't spoken to any of our neighbours and he seemed to know his way around already. Part 3 I snuck around the gate in my ragged clothes. I was exposed. Exposed to all the dangers. Calm down I said to myself. This is an ordinary town. With ordinary houses and a not so ordinary girl. With a spatter of freckles, a mop of brown hair and frost coloured eyes. She stared at me so I ran. I ran as fast as I could. "Darling, can you tell me why the man was behaving ever so strangely?" "How would I know Barbara?" "I bet he has some bad business going with the kid." "Mary you are being so obnoxious." "He is just trying to befriend her." "A middle aged man befriending a girl like Adele!" "No way Anna." I stared behind a prickly bush looking for the hunched figure. I saw a man with the same scar, the same gaunt face and hollow eyes. Except, he had no limp and no cane. That was strange. He was wearing beach clothes and thick sunglasses. Had I made a mistake and intercepted the wrong code? Begonia Lavender 88 Astilbe Water Lily Send me Iris. Daffodil must Chrysanthemum. This was definitely the right person. I quietly headed down the curving road lost in my thoughts. Behind me, I heard a rusty sharp screech. Turning around to hide behind the fence, I saw a thin blade of silver come out from under the man's jacket. A glimpse was enough. A thin chuckle escaped from under his breath. I listened straining my ears and he said I shall get rid of that girl and no one will know my secret. Next full blood moon. In two weeks, I will have unimaginable power in my hands. Now there was an expiry date on my life. What a great way to add stress to my already growing problems. I would save my community if I defeated him or lose everyone I loved to his wrath. I needed to find out more about this suspicious man. Late at night, I crept out of my house guided by only the fingernail scratch of moonlight. Peeking through the window, I saw rows of weapons and detective gear. A shining crest glittered in the light. I couldn't trace the source of it, so I crept back to bed in the unearthly rising sun. Later in the day, the alarm bell was rung. Multiple storms had been tracked right of the coast and a big tsunami was forcast. "Listen up every one!" "We must build barriers to protect ourselves!" "We're going to fail nothing can save us now!" "We will die!!!" Despare resonated across the crowd. "We must be positive and stay strong!" I frailed against the wave of people and I ran into my mysterious neighbour. We locked eyes and I wondered if he could save my neighbourhood. I grabbed his coat sleeve and dragged him to a corner. "Who are you?" I didn't need a single reply. I dropped a single yellow rose at his feet and spun on my heel. I didn't need answers to all his secrets but I believed he was not all rotten and he might have the power to manipulate the storm. Two years later... My new neighbour Waltor has been acting unusually for the past few weeks. He seems to have a case of the jitters like the police chasing him. My birthday is in two days and so far it seems the tsunami has no interest in coming back. I handed out invitations to my neighbourhood on a warm and clear sunny day spreading joy. The day of my celebration... Waltor gave me the heart stopping information at twelve noon. This is what he said to me. " I am your father."

Limping lies The salty air stung my eyes and the sea breeze whipped by hair. People hurried along paveways, their black cloaks like birds desperate to go with the wind. The stagnant air of the museum was stifling and I greeted the fresh air with pleasure. Grey clouds blanketed the sky and a thin fog started to gather. The sea was alive with waves that tossed sea foam onto the sand. I stared at the rickety houses and waved to our neighbours. Iris and Harold were frequent visitors of Addison's Hall of Quirks and Wonders. Iris would often bring us freshly baked goods and Harold would donate us interesting pieces of glass and shells he found at sea. I shook my head trying to get the thought out of my head. Something was happening. I could feel it. I squinted into the thick sea of people and I saw a limping man. A small silver box poked out of his pocket and I knew exactly who he was. Inside the box was a key. A key to the house in front of us. The new tenant had a sharp cane and a proud limp. Everyone in the whole of Sardine harbour knew that to have a limp was nothing to be proud of. You wouldn't be able to work and feed the harbour.This man clearly didn't know his Sardinian ways. Part two Does the new tenant mow his lawn? I do hope so Barbara. They better not get up at five in the morning to mow it though. You are very right Mary. I hope they'll give us fresh jam for our toast! Seriously Anna is that all you care about?! I stared at the gossiping ladies wondering what rumours the were going to spread. I glanced at the old house when I noticed tightly drawn blinds. When the man came out he was wearing old fishermen's clothes. I took a walk by the sea to clear my thoughts. I knew something was up he was secretive and private. Too private. He hadn't spoken to any of our neighbours and he seemed to know his way around already. Part 3 I snuck around the gate in my ragged clothes. I was exposed. Exposed to all the dangers. Calm down. This is an ordinary town. With ordinary houses and a not so ordinary girl. With a spatter of freckles, a mop of brown hair and frost coloured eyes. She was staring at me so I ran. I ran as fast as I could. Darling, can you tell me why the man was behaving ever so strangely? How would I know Barbara. I bet he has some bad business going with the kid. Mary you are being so obnoxious. He is just trying to befriend her. A middle aged man befriending a girl like Adele! No way Anna. I stared behind a prickly bush looking for the hunched figure. I saw a man with the same scar, the same gaunt face and hollow eyes. Except, he had no limp and no cane. That was strange. He was wearing beach clothes and thick sunglasses. Had I made a mistake and intercepted the wrong code? Begonia Lavender 88 Astilbe Water Lily Send me Iris. Daffodil must Chrysanthemum. This was definitely the right person. I quietly headed down the curving road lost in my thoughts. Behind me, I heard a rusty sharp screech. Turning around to hide behind the fence, I saw a thin blade of silver come out from under the man's cane. A glimpse was enough. A thin chuckle escaped from under his breath I listened straining my ears and he said I shall get rid of that girl and no one will know my secret. Next full blood moon. In two weeks, I will have unimaginable power in my hands. Now there was an expiry date on my life. What a great way to add stress to my already growing problems. I will save my community if I defeat him or lose everyone I love to his wrath.

There was nowhere to hide. Snip. Snip. Snip. The blades came closer, reflecting the bright moonlight. I took a step back only feeling brick wall behind me. It was a dead end. Snip. Snip. Snip. Slowly, the man turned his green goggles at me and stopped abruptly. He peered curiously into my eyes like a fortune teller would. Then he took off his mask. 2 weeks earlier... Autumn arrived without a change. The golden brown leaves crunched beneath my feet as I stood in front of our new house.It was white, ironically reflecting the age of the neighbourhood. A verandah framed the wooden structure of our two story house. A small breeze whipped some leaves onto our doorstep. I crouched down as I suddenly saw a letter on the gate. It was a flyer for a sewing workshop. I picked it up curiously and headed back inside. The shop was not that far from our house. I pinned it onto the fridge secretly hoping that Mum would notice it. A voice called from my bedroom. "Ari! Look there's a new neighbour!" I hurried inside to see my twin sister staring out the window. The house in front of us had been put up for sale for a very long time. I wondered how desperate the agent was to have found such an odd client. The man was old and frail but his wrinkles told times of adventure. I looked at him and racked my brains to where I'd seen that face before. And then I lit up when I recognised him to be the man on the sewing flyer. His arrival was not acknowledged by anyone. It was only when the snipping started did people start to realise. Mrs Beekman lived next door and she was the perfect stereotypical grandma. She was the first person who welcomed us and she left baked muffins at our doorstep. Mrs Beekman was also the first person who was troubled by the snipping noises. They started getting louder through the days and moaning could be heard. I didn't really pay attention to it and many other neighbours swatted it away as well. It was the day of the sewing workshop and I was very excited. My Mum agreed to take me and my sister to it. When we got there, I walked inside and immediately recognised the person in the shop. Sure enough, it was the man who had just moved in. He introduced himself as Mr Hockelm. He seemed to be a flower fanatic because everywhere in his studio were posters and books about the language of flowers. In a corner of the room was a glass box of highly crafted delicate scissors. After Mr Hockelm had finshed explained the embroidery lesson, he went into a room upstairs. Then I heard the snipping again. I got out of my seat and excused myself to the bathroom. I crept up the stairs, the dusty railings making my palms sweaty. When I reached the top of the winding steps, I saw a room filled with a green glow. A deep voice boomed from inside. "Find the girl. I sent you here for a reason!" The figure inside shrunk in shame as the voice continued to talk. "If she is not here by midnight I will dispose of you Hemlock." My heat skipped a beat. Hemlock? letters jumbled in my head as I replaced the letters in my mind. H, O, C, K, E, L, M. Mr Hockelm. I quickly ran back down the stairs when something caught my eye. A small watercolour card was dropped on the step and I reached to pick it up. A green flower was embroidered onto the paper. Underneath read 'Hemlock. A poisonous plant symbolising death'.