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The Sealamander Henry SWW

Chapter 3
The next day, we are lazily sat on my blanketed floor. We slowly sip our warm hot chocolate( my favorite drink) as the comfort of the the warm room hugs me tight. Outside the moaning wind sails through the air. Inside the heat creeps to my feet nipping at our bitter toes. Slouching upon the heater, Hannah stares out of the tinted window. Her eyes slowly fix upon the sea; the waves crash onto the crumbling sea wall. “I’ve got a plan,” she exclaimed,” do you want to hear it?”
I sigh, “fine!”

Apparently, Hannah has been out and about- without me. She has snuck behind my back, collecting evidence. I begged Hannah for her to stay in my cozy cubby: I was so terrified of the sealamander that I locked myself in the bathroom. Finally, Hannah managed to drag me out of their. We were going to its hide-out- the musty cave in the corner of the beach. Near the cliffs.

Battling against the ferocious wind, I try to remember if I’d locked the grand front doors. Seagulls’ waste flies down and lands on my brand new puffer coat. Quietly, I curse under my breath. Hannah races on: the marram grass dances elegantly, beckoning for us to come. The mist wraps round me as my hair encounters the biting wind. Trying to make my voice audible, I look on. Hannah’s footprints are barely visible, let alone her own body. I call out to her, “Wait, Hannah stop for a minute. What’s that?” She turns round to see me pointing to something in the distance; emerging out of the salty water.

I had absolutely no idea of what it was. I was shocked by what I was seeing: pancake colored drool; fin shaped footprints leading to the cliffs; and shedded skin abandoned, floating in the sea. I grab Hannah’s wet hand. “I…I…I think we should go right away!” I stammered slowly.

The thing, whatever it is, has gone. We creep into the cliff( in the cliffs) and look around. We are met by nothing but silence. Nothing. Suddenly, we find something. We stare in awe.
An egg. One single egg, asleep in its cozy nest. Deep blue with lightning patterns covering the perimeter of it. But I slowly realize that their is a small crack in it. Luckily, nothing has escaped and you can’t see inside. Whatever is inside, is, fortunately, is still in there.

At that moment, a stab of guilt pierces my skin. “We shouldn’t be here,” I pronounce, looking back towards the cave entrance. We see it. I step back into the moonlit gloom; Hannah steps forward, reaching out towards the creature. ” The sealamander,” she gasps.
“We’re trapped,” I cry, looking at Hannah. She stares back. We are stuck.

Henry SWW Chapter 2 The Sealamander

I stare at the girl in front of me. I question her, “What have you seen, what’s the matter?” Outside, the wicked waves lap upon the mud-like sand. Before she answers me, I have a vague idea of what she’s going to tell me. The girl claims she’s seen the old legend: the slimy, horrible sealamander.

Twenty minutes later, we are stood like a pair of penguins on the damp sand. My hair whips into my face as my new friend, so called Hannah, looks out over the choppy waves. A distant rumble rings through my ears as a single crack of lightning licks the fishy air. When I left my comforting room, I was brave, but now the thunder mimics my fretting discomfort. Wishing I was asleep, my heavy eyelids creep closer together. My warm candle singes my clothes. I curse quietly under my breath.

We set of through the most unwelcoming town. Havoc- on- Sea stands alone as the driving rain floods the deserted streets. Today is not the day for fish and chips on the beach: Emma’s arcade has rejected the outside world: Mr. Andy Irons surf shop is locked tight; and the abandoned school, at the edge of street, has boarded up its secrets from inside. The deck chairs outside Bob’s brownie stand have danced all the way down the town.

As we head back down the misty street, something, or someone catches my eye. Hannah grabs my hand and pulls me towards the pier. Suddenly, the smell hits my nose. Something emerges out from the swallowing mist: a creature with stick- like legs; slimy seaweed trickles down its scaly back. It creeps towards us. Maybe I am just imagining this creature like I do other stuff; perhaps I am bewitched by the carpeting mist that hugs my ankles.

A massive wave saturates me as we slowly step back. I wipe the salty substance from my wiry hair. I glare through the sticky mess. Hannah looks at me. I try to seize the chance to form a sentence but my voice won’t find the words. The tangy smell of fish billows into the air as the buffeting wind carries it away. Shaking, Hannah reaches into her pocket, revealing a knife-like stone. She fumbles, trips, then it’s like a lost memory falling down the drain. We freeze. It purposefully lunges towards us, an unforgivable stench rising from its midnight black mouth, its slobbery teeth craving more food.

Outside, the lightning strikes tear open the dark sky. Inside, we are petrified by the demon before us. crouching low to the sodden ground, the mander reveals it needle teeth. With a single bound, it leaps towards us, but with a swift movement, it smashes into the abandoned schools boarded up windows. Staring at us, its feet pound on the shingle roadside. With a small leap, it’s devoured by the raging sea.

The Sealamander Henry SWW

The Sealamander

It’s certainly likely that you’ve had a summer visit at Havoc-on-sea. In the summer, I do expect that you’ve dug your feet into the sun-kissed tickling sand. You probably bought a fish nd chips then take them down to the seas edge: the annoying seagull nipping at your chips as you look away. I bet theirs been times when you have feasted on a dripping ice cream as it turns in to slippery sludge. Your brothers and parents might of gone rock pooling as you dip your feet in the refreshing waters.

But in the winter, it’s a whole different aspect: the moaning wind whipping up the lapping waves; the only type of ice would be knife-like icicles pointing to the floor; or a blanket of fog hugging round your frozen ankles. The rock pools would freeze over, the driving rain would flood the streets and the dark clouds would hide the sun. Lamp posts would flicker like a dying candle as the drum of the hail drums on the roofs.

Chapter 1
My name is Marcus Wood( my sister calls me Marcie but most people call me Marcus or Marc) and I work at the seaside museum in Havoc-on-sea. It is not the best job in the town but I like it. In addition to the job, me and my sister get a little cozy cubby whole where we entertain ourselves in the winter and where we sleep. I do lots of things for the manager: I polish cabinets to make them ***** and span; mop the floors; and I have to tidy up at the end of the day. Some people say that it must be horrible, but I actually think it’s fun. I also get a good salary.

Suddenly, their is a small tap on the window. I lazily get up and look out of the window. Amazed I withdraw myself from the glass. Deep midnight black eyes stare at me as a girls voice hisses “Let me in, and if your going to do it, hurry up!”
The girl looks terrified and cold, so I find myself walking up to the window and letting her in. “Who are you and what are you even doing here?”
She doesn’t answer me. Instead she looks around. Right then, her eyes lock up upon my large oak box. She dives in.

Before you fall asleep from hearing me boast about Marcus, I need to let you in on a big secret. Do not tell anyone.
Legends tell, there was a type of mander that patrolled the streets, only on stormy nights when everyone was inside. If you listen carefully, you might still hear the cry of the sealamander, as it emerges out from the salty water; slimy seaweed trickling down its wet skin. No one has seen the sealamander for around a decade, it happened so long ago that their is no records about it and everyone’s memories have been wiped clean for ages. Apparently, the sealamander is becoming under immediate threat and has started come to land more than they often should and eating different things: they might even feast little babies.​ Their favourite food is pancakes so if you don’t want to lose your child, chuck some pancakes on you doorstep.
This creature is way to elusive to capture or photograph it, so don’t bother.

“Why on earth did you just climb through my window,” I say, as the girl peeked through the gap in the box.
Her face goes as pale as a banana with no skin. “I’ve seen it!”
“Well your safe hear, from whatever you saw,” I say
“Good,” he smiles and climbs out the box. Then he holds out a filth, black hand for me to shake.

As a result of the World

As a result of the World.

As a result of robins- another bath for your window.​
As a result of thunder- dogs whimper under a table.​
As a result of pot holes- broken ankles cover the country.​
As a result of summer- ice creams become a sticky puddle of sugary sludge.​
As a result of Friday- children squeal in delight. No school for two days!​
As a result of homework announcement- children moan like the wind in a storm.
As a result of the A38- parents moan as they drive lazily to work.
As a result of hay- a clump full of sticks asleep on the ground.
As a result of fish n chip Friday- vinegar lingers like smoke billowing into the sky,
As a result lemonade- trips to the dentist countless of times.
As a result of winter- fingers grasp for pockets as ice carpets car windows.
Due to weekends- breakfast at 10 in the morning.
Due to Monday- dreams funnel into the classroom.
Due to nature- pancakes and glue like honey for breakfast.
Due to farmers- boys ignore lessons as a tractor goes by.

As a result of the World Henry SWW

As a result of the World.

As a result of robins- another bath for your window.​
As a result of thunder- dogs whimper under a table.​
As a result of pot holes- broken ankles cover the country.​
As a result of summer- ice creams become a sticky puddle of sugary sludge.​
As a result of Friday- children squeal in delight. No school for two days!​
As a result of homework announcement- children moan like the wind in a storm.
As a result of the A38- parents fall asleep at the traffic lights.
As a result of hay- a clump full of sticks asleep on the ground.
As a result of fish n chip Friday- vinegar lingers like smoke billowing into the sky,
As a result lemonade- trips to the dentist countless of times.
As a result of winter- fingers grasp for pockets.
Due to weekends- breakfast at 10 in the morning.
Due to Monday- dreams funnel into the classroom.
Due to nature- pancakes and glue like honey for breakfast.
Due to farmers- boys ignore lessons as a tractor goes by.

Chapter 4cogheartadventure

trio searched from top to bottom of the upmarket sky ship.

Suddenly, a roar came out from the stairs. Bolting past the wheel, the Professor bellowed,” get back here you rapscallions, pick- pockets, ram -raiders, thieves, scoundrel’s, bounders.”
Rushing towards us at a high speed for a man his size, the trio ran on. Having an idea, Tom sprinted toward an air vent. They jumped in.

Immediately, they were in the ship’s basement. Still tied to the ground, the sky ship boobed like a boat on the sea. The musty smell of cider and moldy bread and cheese suffocated the whip of the wind. Seeing his dad stuffed up like a turkey, Max ran up to him and severed the inch thick rope with her penknife.

Leaping out of the safe hatch, the four friends landed safely on the ground. “When we get back home,” said Max’s father,” I’m going straight to the bobbies.”
“They better put the biggest price on his head as they can,” exclaimed Tom, looking out for the skyship.
Hugging her dad close, Max gestured for Tom to join.

Walking back home, they all chatted and talked together. The sun was slowly sinking towards the floor, and the cows were grazing, getting ready for bed. ” I’m so glad we live in the country,” said Max.
“Same” protested Tom. Max’s dad just smiled, and walked along beside them. The wind gingerly kissed their cheeks and the chorus of bird settled into single chirps.

Chapter three

For hours on end, Tom sat, staring at the misty, damp floor of the coal shed. On the other hand, Max, prowled round through the darkness, looking for escape routes. Unfortunately, most of Max’s time was spent thumping and kicking at the proven strong walls. Spending some time looking out of the cat flap, Max eventually slumped onto a pile of rotting coal. Fed up, Tom huffed angrily, creating a hurricane of steam rushing towards through the air.

Every now and then, Max would fire comments at Tom, ” Why don’t you get off your bum, stop looking like a lonely old women and actually try and help me for once!” Still, Tom would just moan to himself, or mope around cursing under his breath. Max wondered if he could squeeze through the cat flap then find the key but after endless attempts it was getting harder and harder. On his last attempt, he slowly realized he was stuck. Around ten minutes later, he was finally free. Brushing off the dust from his t-shirt, Max closed his eyes and breathed in the dust, leaving him painfully wheezing and coughing.

“I can’t do this on my own you know,” exclaimed Max, gesturing to the shed. Once again, he launched his anger though towards Tom.
“It’s no good, he got us good and were trapped,” moaned Tom, head in hands.
“How would you know, you haven’t even tried,” retorted Max

The boys sat in silence. Tapping his foot on the floor, Max drummed his foot on the floor as Tom closed his eyes. Shadows drew across the floor as the moon slowly fell to the ground. The abyss of black was starting to drift away as the sun rose to the clouds.

Minutes before their eyes were were greeted by darkness, Max’s ears were met by a distant howl. Getting up, he poked his head out the cat flap. Suddenly, a familiar fac popped up behind a bush. “Ambus,” Max yelled, forgetting his head was poking out a cat flap. Once they were back in the shed, Ambus explainedwhat had happened. ” Chuck me a whizz whozz on the whizzy will you,” he yapped eying the winder.” Also, I think you’ll be needing this,” he explained dropping his pouch on the floor. Reaching into the pouch, Max reveiled and rusty, but precious key.

Sinking the key into the key hole, they swung the door open and bolted for the garden wall. Thankfully, there was little holes in the wall. Hauling himself over the wall, Tom called over for Max. Fiddling with his thumbs, Max slowly explained,” I’m afraid of heights.”
Tom stood there, mouth hanging wide open.” Just do it,” Tom wailed, looking over his shoulder..
Taking a deep breath, he bravely ascended then land safely back on the ground.

10 minutes later, they were safe in the shack. Slumping into a pile of hay, the escapees discussed over what had happened. Why did Max’s Fathers workmate want the Pocket watch? Where was Max’s Father? What were they going to do. Checking the pocket watch was safe, they rested their heads upon a haybail and went to sleep.

The Secret Box

The Secret Box

Pear Tree Manor stood lonely, planting itself in the thickest wood possible. Slowly, Max crept toward the door, as drowning fog carpeted the damp, mossy floor like sweet wrappers on your bedroom floor. The swallowing abyss of darkness gulped down the trees, towards midnight. Dancing across the ground, the Autumn leaves whisked elegantly through the forest of black. Jagged branches from dead trees were like lightning cracks revealing secrets in the sky. Amazed, Max reached into his pocket, retrieving some rusty keys tied to a matalic chain. Sinking it into the hole, he twisted it carefully. They were not introduced by the warm light of the lamps in the hallway but only by coldness.

“By all the ticky tocks, this place has changed” whined Ambus his hair standing on end. Tom hadn’t spoken the whole trip to get there and by now Tom’s eyes were slowly creeping down to meet the other as Max bolted up the rough wooden stairs towards the second floor. Following behind, Tom slowly came to a stop. Reaching out for the handle, Max stepped through the doorway. Leaping onto the bed, he sent a mount of dust into the air, leaving a both of them coughing and spluttering til it it eventually died down. With a sigh of huge relief, Max ran over to the bedside table, his eyes meeting the midnight black cover of the pocket watch.

Curious, Max handed it to Tom. It felt lighter than ausal. It’s black chain hung motionless on the crusty yellow, peeling wallpaper. Carefully, Tom examined the back of it, slowly realising there was a secret hatch. Opening it up, he saw a daigram glinting in the sun that was seeping through the curtains. Suddenly Max appeared behind Tom, instantly recognising the curly handwriting and distictive picture drawing. It was a picture of his father and mother and, inbetween them, was a matalic box with a a golen rimmed circle and the very top of the box. Resting on his Mother’s neck was the exact pocket watch that was sitting in there hand right now.” This pocket watch opens up that box, ” exclaimed Max ” But what do you reckon is inside,” whispered Tom.

“No one knows,” came an ice cold voice from the misty doorway of the bedroom. Stepping into the light, Max distinguished him at once. It was Papa’s old work partner. Mr Scolffield. Taking a frightened step back both the boys looked down to Ambus. “Stop that this ticking instant,” scowled Ambus. Combing his hand through his wheat coloured hair, Scollfield smiled, revealing his black manky teeth. “Hand over the whatch thing,” protested Scolffield,” I need to find that box.” Max looked at Tom then Tom looked at Max and then they both looked at Ambus.

Edging silently backwards towards the window, the three had an idea. “On my count,” whispered Max, ” three, two, one, NOW” Leaping out of the window, the three, luckily, landed in a deep pile of leaves, which softened the landing a BIT. Minutes later, they huddled in a garden shed behind the house till they knew the coast was clear. Just then, out of nowhere, a distinctive voice was heard over the rustle of trees and leaves, ” I’ll get you eventually, I will, and I will find that box and hopefully kill you and your the remaining people in your family.”

Pocket watch past

Prologue Ambes gazed over the rough edge of the Devil’s Horn to see another sky ship soaring, silently towards them, leaving puffs of smoke trailing behind it. His eyes met deadly spears and harpoons pointing there way, like hyaena’s eyes darting towards their meal of the day. He heard the crack of gun fire like popping candy in the rotting mouth of a child as fire licked at the polished sign that once read BloodHound. The smell of burning wood from the Bloodhound’s deck carpeted the air like the sweets from your Halloween bag that covers the table. Leaping to his Master, Ambes Howled, ” By all the ticks we have, you go first Sam, it’s time for you to parachute of! Humans have to, and always will go before Mechanicals! Now GO.”

 

Chapter 1 Edging the door slowly open, Max Ford drew his eyes round the field. Quietly closing the door behind him, he crept across the damp, foggy field to the ancient Oak. He gripped a piece of bark and hauled himself towards the bombed like crater, then, retrieved a torch from his bag. Steadying himself at the top of the trunk, he shuffled on to branch, ready for the leap to his freedom. Dropping like a ton of bricks, Max buried himself in a thick bush. Carpeting his body in leaves, he gazed forward through the thick fog. Standing behind him was the prison like wall. Jumping up, he bolted up a cobble path towards the wreck. Max slowly came to a stop: reached into his pocket; revealed a ripped, crumpled piece of paper and then opened it.

Once again, he stared at the paper as the words sprang to life. His heart leapt to his dry as dirt throat as he thought how horrible it would of been to be his father at the moment of the crash. Also his Dad’s last words had been the most confusing things ever,” open your heart to the past.” What was that meant to mean. Most nights, Max would read the letter from moonlight and fall to sleep whilst trying to figure it out. Frustrated, he shoved it back in his damp pocket, then pulled out a half soft apple from his bag. Shoving the apple in his mouth, he whispered a silent prayer to his Dad’s life.

 

At that instant, a distant snuffle and howl, woke Max up from his day dreaming. Suddenly, familiar face popped up from behind a thorn bush and frightened him out of my skin. “By all the tocking ticks, you took age to get out of that dreadful place,” howled Ambus, leaping out from the thorny bush. “Chuck me a whizz whazz on the winder,” he snarled,” I wasted a lot of my precious energy escaping from them horrible scallywags.” Max wound him up then hooked the key back round Ambus’s neck. Amazed, Max fixed his eyes upon the singed dull grey coating of Ambus and the torn fur revealing the brass cogs. Standing up, Ambus walked over to Max, and resting his his head on him, fell asleep.

 

Hours later, Max and Ambus headed for the Horologist’s shop at the end of the street, amazingly meeting Tom taking out the rubbish round the back. “Max,” called out Tom, running over to him,” The letter means we need to keep your Mum’s pocket watch safe”. Max slowly lowered his head in sadness. Every night, Max would stay awake and gaze at the rusted chain of the pocket as the seconds hand ticked like the drum of a mechanical’s heart, as it skipped a beat as if it was caught in a grasp of fear. It was the shape of a heart and had a picture of his Mum and Dad standing together. He never liked talking about his Mum after what happened 7 years ago. ” I am so sorry,” whispered Tom, who was now looking down. “Of course,” yapped Ambus, breaking the what felt like hours silence.” We need to get to Pear Tree Manor right away so them rapscallions don’t lay their ticking greasy hand on that tocking clock. Now, lets go!”

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