Chapter 2

Goliath stared at Winnie, her eyes as bright as the sun’s shadow; Goliath’s fur ruffled in the occasional breeze as the moonlight threw shadows upon her back. She purred in the moonlight as Winnie took a step closer to the innocent tiger, Goliath’s claws peaked out of ginger paws as they padded back a step. The tiger’s fangs were as sharp as a stolen sabre and it’s nose was as black as the midnight moon. However, Winnie was not frightened by all this, she remained calm and kept taking small steps towards the innocent animal as it purred against the gentle breeze.

“I think Galioth likes you, she doesn’t often like refugees, you know. But she seems pretty calm except that her claws are out, but she usually does that with new people,” Mr Lakely said to Winnie as they headed back to the lighthouse. Winnie grinned, her first actual friend. She knew Galioth was a tiger but at least she wouldn’t judge her and her thoughts. As Winnie and Mr Lakely made their way to the edge of town, the breeze had suddenly transformed into a gruesome wind as the trees whispered into the evening air.
“Bit chilly, ain’t it?” Mr Lakley smiled as he buttoned up his coat.
“Is that Goliath?” Winnie whispered as she saw some marigold eyes staring at her through the bristling trees and suddenly heard a gentle roar.

“Yes, she’s always watching; so be careful!”
“Why would I need to be careful, she’s an innocent creature,” Winnie explained, smiling.
“I know, but not always. You can’t tell anyone about Goliath, she’s our secret, people would shoot her and use her for clothing purposes, which isn’t right. So, tell no one.”

That evening, Winnie sat on her bed, reading her favourite novel as Goliath pounced into her mind. She thought of the innocent creature being killed and people wearing her flesh, it wasn’t fair. Goliath did nothing wrong, sometimes she may seem intimidating but really she was just scared. Winnie sighed and put down her book, Goliath was friendly: she was different from mean humans that could actually act like a threatening animal. After all these thoughts, Winnie had an idea.

Every night, Winnie would now sneak to the forest as quiet as a criminal undercover. But first, she would slink off to the cabinets downstairs and take some pork for Goliath, it was only fair if Winnie treated her nicely. She would head into the deepest parts of the forest and search for Goliath with the meat in her pockets. Goliath would follow her back to the lighthouse and they would sleep together: Winnie under the covers and Goliath snoozing on the end.

Winnie and Goliath had, over the autumnal months, formed a bond so strong it was unbreakable. Every day after school, Winnie would head to the forest with some leftover ham sandwiches and play with Goliath until it was time for supper. Winnie and Goliath would sleep together every night and Goliath hadn’t hurt her once. Tigers are innocent.

Dear Mum, 

Sorry that this letter may be a bit late but that’s probably mainly due to the fact that the train journey was very long and slow and that the post is quite slow at the moment. However, I am missing you from the moon and back and all I’m doing right now is praying that Dad will be okay. We can’t lose another loved one, can we? 

When the train finally pulled up at the station in Truro all I could see was a blur of kind faces and smiles, all welcoming us 90 children into their humble homes. I stepped off the platform cautiously, my small luggage case trailing behind like a rickety boat. As the other children stepped off, I waited patiently to be picked by the kind people in their nice coats and shoes. Eventually, I was picked by a couple, about  the age of 47, and I followed them to their small cottage. 

When we reached their little hut of a house, they happily showed me to my room. IT had a nice hand-made wooden bed, a small night-stand, some storage space for clothing and a tall, gargantuan bookshelf. I grinned at the sight  of the book shelf for what I mostly packed were piles of books as you know.

The next day, I woke up to the fresh smell of bacon and eggs in the frying pan downstairs, steam drifting through the rickety floorboards. I woke up and shoved on a small jumper to keep me cosy in the cold and rushed downstairs as I was starving at the time.

“Morning!” Mr Lakely said as he placed two pieces of bacon and a fried egg on my plate.

“Wow, thank you; I thought you’d only have rations!” I said, shocked that they were able to have fresh food. It’s amazing here, Mum, maybe you can come and visit?

“Ha, we live on a farm, remember! We’re always getting sausages, pork, bacon and eggs!” He grinned at me and I finally felt at home.

Since I’m new here I decided to explore since school doesn’t start for another day and I thought it would be handy to get to know the area! I pulled on the trousers you packed that I thought I wouldn’t need and the knitted jumper Dad got me for Christmas.

After I was ready, I chose to head down the beach as small bumps for waves lapped the shoreline! Yes, I know, Mum, they have the sea here unlike our home by Piccadilly Circus! I ran across the sand until I noticed a girl sat on a rock all alone, watching the dolphins dive in the distance. We had a small conversation and I finally sked her what her name was. You would never guess what she said: ‘Rose ******’. I almost died, I ran and ran away from her. She was a Natzi. 

I’m praying you don’t have any drama like this at home, but I will be staying away from that girl as much as possible. Apart from that, Truro is an amazing place. I love it  here, apart from the fact that I can’t see Louise, Karen, Jo and Jenny.

I will write soon,
Love Jane.

The train of enchantments.

The floors are filled with sorcery,
They wobble like a rickety deck on an ever-dying ship.
Moonlight shimmers down against the glistening roof,
Fragments of imagination dancing like a life of memories.

The wheels clamp onto the mysterious tracks,
Leading into a lifetime of witchcraft and magic.
The people onboard drowning in a pool of their own nerves,
As sparks of enchantments drift down the ever-lasting corridors.

The sense of difference and mystery lingers in the atmosphere,
And a warm draft follows you with every step you take.
The steam flying into the clouds like a gathering of gulls,
It twists and turns like starlings in their mini formation. 

The soft leather seats are filled with ancient usage and mystical means,
As people take a seat and relax into a world of their own.
The train of enchantments releasing them into their destiny,
Into a universe of magic and what lies within.