Danger Lurking

• Daniel Watts, Grade 3
• Short Story
• 2007

The door creaked open and a trembling silence flooded through the house. Rook tilted his head to hear an agonizingly quiet voice which he could just make out, “destroy the town but bring the boy to me.” The warrior bowed his head then walked out of the room. Rook crept out the back door where a flame of light burst into his eyes.
That night he couldn’t get to sleep. He was too tense thinking about what had happened in the house but he knew that warriors were coming to destroy a town and that someone was going to be taken. Tiredness gripped Rook as he hobbled out of bed, pacing down the corridor like a puma in captivity. Looming into his room he heard an anguished shriek erupting.
“What was that?” he murmured to himself. AAAAAAHHH!!! He heard another shriek and a figure laughing with amusement close by. It was the warrior. Rook searched his room to thankfully find his weaponry and shield. Without hesitation he wielded his steel medallion sword with half a dozen knives and war hammers clipped to the belt. Rook crept out of the house silently unprepared for any attacks from behind.
Minutes later he found himself standing in a billowing mass of dark sky where a scream or roar would erupt every minute. AAAAAHHH!!! An echoing howl slid from Rook’s mouth as a burst of pain shot from his leg leaving him lying defenceless on the damp earth. Rook finally raised enough energy to gaze at his captor, a malevolent armed warrior with a plate body cared of pure gold. The warrior held the blood drenched scimitar that had slit Rook’s leg. This was the last image Rook saw before he fell back on the hard ground.
AAAAAGGG!!! A jet of pain shot through Rook’s leg as he woke up gasping for air. He looked about at his surroundings, a damp cell with sinister weapons hanging from each wall and a large boulder in the centre. HELPPP!! A desperate voice was coming from beyond the room. Gaining strength, Rook lifted himself up and sprinted to the edge of the cell. Looking out he saw a helpless body lying on the desolate floor… it was his brother… his only brother… Rook couldn’t bear the truth, his only brother, his loving brother.
“LONSTON!!!” He cried but it was too late. The looming figure held up his mace and plunged it into his brother’s heart. All he heard was a scream of pain, then nothing.
Breathless, Rook stepped out to the murderer, his eyes gazing at him with flaring resentment, “You killed my brother.” The figure turned on him, “and you’re next!”
“You killed my brother.” Rook shouted at him again ferociously. They circled each other, Rook bringing out every weapon possible when so suddenly, shattering glass fell everywhere. A hooded figure stood, two sinister swords aimed at both of them.