The Revenge: The Bane of Immortality

The previous installment of Chloe Bradshaw’s pirate saga can be found here.

While I thought about my brother and contemplated my undead state, Luke sat nearby, eyes closed.

“I am ready to leave.” I told him when the thinking got to be too much.

“Alright.”

I followed his lead as we both walked to the edge of the rock and jumped in. I was expecting the water to be cold, even after Luke said it wouldn’t be. I didn’t even feel wet. The current moved me up and down. The birds stayed away from us and wouldn’t come near.

“Animals are nervous around us, for we are not entirely human now,” Luke explained.

Swimming felt effortless, like I wasn’t even moving my arms and legs. Land seemed to be bearing closer, faster then possible. I felt the wind in my hair, but not the cold.

We reached Land’s End and its port. When we we climbed onto the wooden dock, I looked down at my clothes. They were bone dry. I glanced at Luke and noticed that he too had come up dry.

We started walking. Silence filled the air like a plague. The hills were breathtaking, heather covered most of them, making the hills look purple. I saw horses grazing in the nearby fields, as well as sheep. People were wrapped up warm and the leaves blew in the wind, the only sign that it was cold. As before, we came upon Sennen at record speed.

I was so content just walking through the cobbled streets of my home town. The sensation of being back really was wonderful. It felt like I had been gone for a life time. I saw Luke looking around and I had the feeling that he had not been here before.

“No,” he said when I asked him. “I never saw the point, I favoured going to places far away from home, and Sennen is too close to home.”

I felt great sympathy for Luke. It must have been grim, spending so many years alone. And I was also grateful that I would not spend years alone without anyone to talk to. Read More »

The Revenge: The Drowned

The previous installment of Chloe Bradshaw’s pirate saga can be found here.

Floating in the sea I looked around in search for the other members of my doomed crew.

I couldn’t see through the sheet of rain. I did manage to glimpse Mr Williams’ figure, head bobbing up and down over the waves. With the last ounce of strength I had I swam towards him. When I arrived, he looked in pretty bad shape

He couldn’t stay afloat and I couldn’t keep him at the surface. Tears came to my eyes. I still feel responsible for his death, and as I am writing this, the same tears are forming again. I couldn’t save no matter how much I wanted to. He looked at me, eyes wide with fear. His expression froze before he sank to the sea bed.

I glanced around in hope that I would see someone else. Alas, no one was in sight. I looked around desperately once more, before I started to swim towards Long Ships. The water was freezing and my heartbeat was slowing. I was running out of hope.

The rain was still pounding and the storm still taunting. I wasn’t that far away from Long Ships, when I realized I couldn’t go any further. It was painful when I breathed in, like someone was pounding upon my ribcage with fists of steel.

My eyes were shutting. I felt numb, the coldness didn’t reach me now. I wasn’t in pain just awfully tired. I stopped panicking, there was no point. I let my eyes close and the current took me. Read More »

The Revenge: The Ship’s Death

Chloe Bradshaw is 13. The previous installment of her pirate saga can be found here.

The man who stood before me was supposed to be dead, and yet he wasn’t.

“How?” I said in a gasp.

“I cannot answer that, for I don’t know either.”

“How old are you?”

“I have been around for about a century.”

“Have you ever died?” Mr Williams interrupted.

“Yes, once, …” Luke’s mind seemed to wander. “It was awful.”

My face must have betrayed a rush of sympathy toward him.

“Do not feel sorry for me, I have seen many things in my time.” He insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure you have but haven’t you ever wished that you could die?” I asked.

“Most of the time. However, I have learned to live with immortality. One has to, after a while.”

I wanted him to meet my crew, deciding to keep mum about his amazing abilities for a while.

Up the stairs we went, the steps creaking underfoot as they had before, seemingly a million years ago. I noticed that Luke’s feet made no sound, as though he was walking on air. Read More »

The Revenge: Witness to a Murder

Chloe Bradshaw is 13. She counts Darren Shan as one of her main writing influences. Her favourite subjects at school are Drama, History, and English. This is the first installment of “The Revenge,” one of her many stories.

Mine is a hellish tale, one of treachery, bloodshed and piracy; life, death, and life after death. My story will haunt me forever.

It starts in my house at Sennen, two miles from Lands End, in 1720. I was only about fifteen when it began, but I still remember it as clear as day. I was with my twin brother Jay and my father. Father was explaining something about ships. He used to be a pirate and he carried a few grisly tales in his memory. We grew up knowing that he was banished from the ship when he stole a bottle of the captain’s favourite rum.

A loud rap at the door had interrupted our conversation.

“You two wait at the back, and do not let yourselves be seen,” our father told us. My brother Jay and I looked at each other uncertainly. “I just want you to be out of the way.”

I was frustrated, but also very curious. Never before had he asked us to leave the room when someone was at the door.

I stormed out of the room, Jay following behind me. I remember scanning the door, trying to find the hole which was caused by one of my Father’s guns (all I will say is that I managed to get hold of one when I was little). I found the bullet hole near the bottom of the door and crouched down. I had a perfect view of the room. After the incident was over, I wished that I had not found it.

“I don’t think you should be watching him.” Jay said.

“Eh,” I grunted, finishing the conversation off. I did like my brother, don’t get me wrong, but he could be such a brown nose!

I watched as my Father opened the door. A man stood in the doorway, he was tall, and wore a thick brown coat and a lot of jewellery. He had a presence about him which made you want to run for the hills. Although I had some doubts, I was fairly sure that we were being paid a visit by a pirate.

“It has been fifteen years, Lucian, it is time,” Read More »

London Rushing

The big city in nocturne light,
still not all cold this winter.
Our eyes pick up the melting night,
Streaming out time with our river.
For all those things that you forgot
are rushing back to the bank building
then stop.
A water-wall around my heart
that no bridge can link.
Stuck and unmoving,
in London rushing.

Madeleine McCann: A Mystery In Many Parts

Want to hear a joke about Madeleine McCann, the four-year-old British girl who vanished on holiday in Portugal?

Portuguese secrecy laws forbid police briefing the press. So instead of facts and official news we get speculation and watching the parents, Kate and Gerry McCann.

When the story first broke, we were invited to empathise. Their Madeleine became “our Maddie”. A family’s private grief was turned into public spectacle.

Star footballers were signed up, as were Hell’s Angels, MPs wearing yellow ribbons and ministers meeting deputations. It was as if the missing child were this year’s Make Poverty History campaign. And then the official Madeleine Wristband went on sale.

In the Houses of Parliament, MPs were revelling in mawkish sentimentality, wearing yellow ribbons with pride. They cared. And they wanted one and all to know it.

At the Vatican, we were the voyeurs at the biggest show in town. Pope meets McCanns. Or, to out it in order of newsworthiness, McCanns meet Pope. Read More »

An Inconvenient Princess

There is a strange truism at work in modern society: people who are capable of instigating real change, those who possess intellect and charisma as well as the circumstantial power to influence and motivate others on a massive scale, have a tendency to end up dead under suspicious circumstances. Read More »

The Day We Accused Ariel Sharon

As the world watches with trepidation the daily scenes of murder and outrage in the West Bank and Gaza strip, there is one thing we can all agree about. This particular escalation would not have taken place if it were not for good ole Ariel Sharon. His visit to the Holy Al-Aqsa compound on 28 September sparked the chain of tragic events that have claimed the lives of several hundred innocent civilians, almost all of whom have been Palestinian. It seems that Mr. Sharon was not happy to enter history merely for the war crimes he committed in Lebanon in 1982; he wanted to crown his record of disgrace with more innocent blood.

And quite remarkably, Sharon is now trying to run for the post of Prime Minister. There seems to be no limit to the audacity of this man! But I for one trust that the Israeli population will reject this war criminal at the polls, if he managed to get that far. I know first-hand that a substantial segment of Israeli society is as scathing about this man as all Arabs are. I witnessed this as a university student nine years ago. Read More »