Fall Of The Red Devil
Teerth Chauhan, Grade 6, Willetton Primary School -
It had been over a decade since he had last seen the place. As the snow fell faster and the howling wind bit his cheeks, memories flooded over him. He narrowed his stinging, red eyes and clenched his teeth.
“The Red Devil,” he said cursing under his breath.
The Red Devil was a giant, bloodthirsty dragon that had taken over the kingdom several years ago. Only he could stop it. Citizens of the kingdom had taken refuge underground. The knight hopped onto his sepia brown stallion and galloped away to the secret location of the camp.
The troubled citizens mood in their dark gloomy cave lit up as the knight entered.
“Sir Francis is here!” the words spread like wildfire.
“Citizens of Britania!” he announced taking off his helmet to reveal his hazel brown hair and azure blue eyes. “Tomorrow we shall start the rebellion. Tomorrow is when we’ll get our beloved kingdom back!” his deep voice echoed through the cave.
Cheers erupted from the citizens. They would get their kingdom back. The night followed by festivities and dancing. The rebellion was up at 4 o’clock in the morning when the air was cold and crisp. As they got into shining metal armour words of luck came from the crowd.
The men on horseback lead the attack, destroying everything like berserkers. The Red Devil heaved itself into the air and lead the counter-attack. Dragons perched on rooftops spat flames everywhere but the rebellion was determined to win the kingdom back. The armies grew smaller and smaller until it was only brave Sir Francis and The Red Devil.
The Red Devil lunged at Sir Francis. His life flashed before his eyes as he dodged it. Sir Francis stabbed the weak part of The Red Devil’s tail. The spot all dragons are vulnerable to. The Red Devil was now wounded and weary with more blood trickling out by the second. With a flicker of its tongue, it retreated into the forest only to be shot in the chest. It tried to spit fire at its attacker but all that came out was blood. Dark, bubbling blood.
Cheers came from the citizens, but only briefly. The joyous crowd quickly became stricken with grief and sorrow as they realised their loved ones were lost.
“This moment every year we shall have one-minute silence to remember the sacrifice of life our people made for the rebellion,” announced Sir Francis. Now every year in the seventh of April, Britania has one-minute silence to remember the ones lost in the rebellion.