Congratulations to Year 6 pupil, Faye Jessop, who won a short story competition launched by Michelle Donelan MP to mark 25 years of World Book Day. We were delighted to welcome Michelle to Heywood last week, where she gave an informative talk followed by a Q&A about how parliament works and democracy and presented Faye with her certificate.
We hope you enjoy reading Faye’s wonderfully imaginative story below:
Alex lived in the village of Cambia near the mighty mountains of Fuji. Sometimes she’d lie awake at night and imagine stories about the mountain. Like, how an evil sorcerer was trapped down in the dark depths underneath the mountain, plotting their revenge. Or sweet fairies with cherry-red wings and eyes as big as opals, flowering the earth’s plants and protecting its creatures.
One night Alex could no longer bear it, she had to explore the craggy sharp mountains. She slipped out of bed, packed a bag full of supplies, and fluffed up a pillow where her head would be. This was it; she was finally doing it. She shimmied down the drainpipe, dodging the spiky pine needle trees, looming over her like giants. She felt the wind in her banana-blonde hair. She felt free; she felt like she could do anything.
When Alex came before the mighty figure of the mountain, she felt a swirling pool of dread in her stomach, and a doubtful voice in her head; “there’s nothing there” it said, “you’re wasting your time.” She pushed the thought back into the deep abyss of her mind: she could do this.
Alex sleuthed around every crack and crevice of the mountain, until she found a tunnel. It seemed to lead to the heart of the mountain. Who knew what was lying there? With a big gulp of the smooth midnight air, she stepped into the tunnel. It was encrusted with coarse dirt and mangy twigs. For hours Alex trudged through the tunnel, scraping, and bruising her milk-white soft skin, until she came before a blinding light. She followed it. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was a den, a wolf den. But it was no ordinary wolf den, it had a canopy of lime-green leaves piled up on a wiry net, and bamboo huts scattered across the soft grassy ground. But the most extraordinary thing was that the wolves were not grey, black, white, or even brown: they were gold, silver, and bronze. Their fur was shiny and glossy, but from a distance it looked like metal. All the wolves turned their heads towards Alex and started to circle her like she was their prey; Alex felt a trickle of sweat down her back. Suddenly, the wolves lunged at her: she screamed.
She opened her eyes. She was no longer in the colossal cave with the strange wolves, she was back in her bed, with everything the way it was. “Was It all a dream?” she slipped out of bed and followed the same route she did before. She journeyed back to the mountain filled with doubt. She ran to where the tunnel has been, but it wasn’t there. It had been a dream. She was trudging back through the forest, angry at herself for being so stupid, when she saw a small silver wolf. She froze. It winked at her, then disappeared into the dusky night.