Octomander-part 1

It’s very likely that you’ve been to Lucky-on-Sea, you probably enjoyed sugar-coated donuts and bubble-gum ice-cream. When you came, it would have been summer, you would have come with your family. You and your Grandma would have explored the rockpools and would have run away after a territorial hermit crab came running out of the pools. I bet you enjoyed it. I know you enjoyed it.

It’s a wonderful place…until it is winter. In the winter, you wouldn’t have visited: cold winds would have lashed your cheeks; the water would almost grab at your feet; and you wouldn’t have needed any sun-cream. The rockpools, frozen. The ice-cream shop, battered .The beach, derelict. Thick, impenetrable fog will blur your vision and nothing can be seen.

Chapter 1
My name is Rebecca Wren (Most people call me Becca or Becky)and I am the apprentice at my local bookshop, A New Chapter, located on Billlane Road. Someone once told me that I wasn’t making anything out of my job, but I really enjoy recommending stories to young children. I’m loving this job, no matter what other people say.

I sleep, eat, entertain myself up in my little linen cupboard room of mine. There is a window so I can see every person that enters. Most of the time, I am recommending books to children and adults. Our busier times are during the summer when everyone decides to visit Lucky-on-Sea. During the winter, barely anyone visits.

About ten minutes later, (when I have exited my “hobbit hole”) a boy shoves himself into the front door . Then he mouths ‘Let me in!’. I undo the lock. He barges through the front door and the bell rings out. He curses under his breath. ‘Where… where can I hide?’ He splutters. By now, it is late evening and Mr. Lark isn’t here, the bookshop has already closed. I stare at him in disgust, ‘Oi! What are you doing at this time of night?’ I hiss. Immediately, he splutters , ‘Hide me, now!’

Now, I’ll let you in on a small secret of a local legend, for this is a tale of foe and murder. a slimy creature with eyes like black holes . It’s tentacles have grips like a bird on your hand. Its deep purple skin leaves trails of slime and grime across the pale sand.​ This is a species of mander,. On dark, wet, stormy nights, the octomander wanders the Lucky-on-Sea streets. Locals have been known to close the curtains, search for hideouts and keep the lights off on ‘octo nights’. It has been know to patrol the streets every few weeks, but no-one knows its hunting routine. Scientists have said that it smells like rotten eggs, seaweed at vomit. I’ve experienced a few ‘octo nights’ in my life, but I’ve never seen it.

He scrambles through the shelves and hides under the front desk. Thud! Thud! Thud! Books tumble to the ground. ‘Why do you need to hide? What’s the matter?’ I ask.
‘You won’t believe me! I’ve seen it!’ he replies.
‘I’ll draw the curtains and lock the door!’ I whispered.

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