James And The Sacred Pearl

• Ella Dwyer, Grade 5, Gabbinbar State School
• Short Story
• 2013

Finalist in the 'Dream Big 2013' competition

James lay awake. The moon light flooded in through his window and an owl sat in the gum tree hooting rhythmically. Suddenly, the moon disappeared and a blinding light filled the room.
James remembered being lifted off the ground. The sharp pain of claws still haunted his confused brain. Where was he? Wherever he was, the floor was soft. Silky. Almost as soft as a cloud, not that he had ever felt one. James managed to sit himself up, still howling from the stinging pain of fresh bruises and cuts. “Welcome, you have been chosen to save Legaria’s fading pearl,” said a voice. “The keeper has died. Bartok is taking over. Our land is dying!”
Pearl? Legaria? Was that where he was? Get a grip of yourself, James thought to himself. Sight slowly returned to his hazel eyes. There, standing before him was a great grey owl.
“Where am I? Who are you? Why have I been chosen? WHY!!” His shrill voice rose in panic.
“Come,” the owl commanded. “I will show you.” And with that, James rose again. But this time, he realised he was flying! He saw tree houses, owls, lanterns and numerous stars sweeping across the night sky. “Here we are. A place I like to call home.” His wise voice settled James’ uncertainty but increased his curiosity. In one night, James had managed to be teleported into a tram. And this is where the journey begins.

***
“Here I am. The temple of Miserk. The place where only the great Jon Whert Alazoni survived.” Chills ran down his spine. This was a life or death situation. He punched in the secret code. He waited. Nothing happened. James fell. Down he went, until he landed in the one and only… Sacred room of the Keeper’s Pearl. Its faint glow gave enough light to make everything visible. James saw a figure, trudging toward the pearl. “Stop in the name of Legaria!”
“Well, the owl’s sent another one of you non-legarians to save their dying pearl.” The man drew his sword and signalled for a fight. James drew his sword and replied to his request with a nod. A normal adventure would have a sword fight but this turned out to be a war of words.
“If only my words were as sharp as my blade, in a watery grave James McSmallter, you’d be laid!” his voice was clear but no match for James.
“If all the worlds treasure were offered to me, still your death my greatest joy would be.” James stood proud as the man called Bartok realised the Sacred pearl was neatly positioned in the palm of James’ hand. And with that, the wise grey owl swooped him up and Bartok was locked in the temple of Miserk forever.
James lay awake flipping through the adventure word by word in his head.
THE END