Young Writers Society

IcyFlame wrote:Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner. The night air was cool and crisp and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair, sending it cascading down my back like a waterfall. I approached the tunnel slowly, its old brick walls had been crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel that I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end. About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and looked as if a single gust would blow her over. Although she turned her head back to check behind her she showed no signs of recognition. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost, she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot. There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was twisted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on. The only reason I was sure she was alive were her eyes, although they were sunken into her. I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling mischievously behind the enormous spectacles that she attached to her person by means of a long silver chain, hung precariously around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was.

Checking her watch, she seemed to discover she was late. She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night once more. The light flickered and went out. I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway, I found that I could not see her anywhere. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had. Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this hag I don't know if hag is the right word.. I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so deeply entrancing. I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever.

I shook my head. I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight, the memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them down. Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently, I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking.

As I rounded the bend I was met by a beautiful sight. The bright coloured lights of the city I knew so well. The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river.

The buildings had become a theatre of lights, illuminating the waters with its glow. If it had been any other day, any other situation, I would have felt obliged to retrieve my brick of a mobile phone from my thick woollen jumper to capture this picturesque scene forever, but it wasn’t different.

As I passed the lonely trees on the side of the riverbank, the last of the evening winds disturbed the few leaves on the concrete ground and whipped them up, into a final frenzy of swirling green. They fell, moments later, resting once more on the solid ground, waiting to be kicked by the busy crowds on the bustling streets the next day.

The river meandered along slowly now like a snake lingering in the long grass, murmuring softly. It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the centre of city life with its loud atmosphere. Usually the place was teeming with crowds of people, ceaselessly fighting their way through the throng, dressed in colourful attire. The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want. The sound was deafening as the music blaring from speakers around the various parks added to the din.

Now that velvet had been laid over the sky, peacock blue and covered with sparkling gems, it was hard to picture the cloudy, wet London days. I had only passed one person so far tonight, and if I was lucky, she would be the only one. This area of town was often empty at night. Few cars drove by and once through the park it was as quiet as death. Or quieter, maybe I would know that soon.

Looking up, I could see the reflection of the moon on the surface of the river, clear as a crystal and as pure as a blanket of white snow. Dark, grey clouds loomed over the moon ominously like a murderous figure, cloaked in black robes, and the river was perished and brought to despair and darkness once again. A symbol of the way this night would be remembered.

This was a night nobody, nobody I knew anyway, would ever forget, no matter how hard they tried. I tried desperately not to picture the headlines the next day combined with the face of my sister. She would be so… No. It was too painful. I couldn’t think of her anymore, not of anyone. If I did I wouldn’t be able to help her, to maybe save her tonight.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating and that too much stress could push me over the edge. I couldn't think who had said this to me, but it was too late. There was just no way my life could avoid stress.

I drew near the menacing bridge; cautiously peering around to check that there was nobody around. The street was empty. The coast was clear.

New ParagraphThis was my chance. I had to take it.

New ParagraphForcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other I advanced along the tightrope like bridge. The elderly crone appeared to have taken all my courage. Once at the edge, next to the water, I stared, as though deeply entranced, into the depths of the sinister looking river.

I couldn’t backtrack now[color=#BF0000.][/color] I had come too far. If turning back had been an option before, it certainly wasn’t now. I had to do this. I had to. For her. For all of them.

Slipping through the cold metal railings I stripped off the warm beige jumper that hung like a blanket draped over my shivering body and hung it over the rust covered railings. What was the use of it now?

For all of two minutes I teetered dangerously on the edge between life and death. This should all be one sentence.

Suddenly a worried shout alerted me to the presence of a middle aged man whose face reminded me of a worried parent, eye brows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out to my terror stricken body, His feet firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

‘HEY!’ he bellowed.’ Get off there!’

That was all the encouragement I needed. Yelling my best hopes to the heavens, I leaned forward and plunged off the side of the bridge. The night air streamed past me and whipped my hair into a whirlwind as I plummeted rapidly toward the water. The fall was exhilarating. I forced my eyes to remain open, to see my beautiful world for the last time. Then, I hit. The impact was tremendous. The water filled my lungs as ruthlessly as a storm, angry and fierce. I was drifting as I sank and my sister’s face settled in my mind, she was my last thought. Everything was for her.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel, that I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine as the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.

Although she turned her head back to check behind her, she showed no signs of recognition.

...each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was twisted into...

...each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was contorted into...

The only reason I was sure she was alive was her eyes, although they were sunken into her, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling mischievously behind the enormous spectacles that she attached to her person by means of a long silver chain, hung precariously around her wasted neck.

The only reason I was sure she was alive was her eyes. Although they were sunken into her face, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling, almost mischievously, behind the enormous spectacles. She had attached them to her person by a long precariously hung silver chain around her wasted neck.

I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

I ran passed it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the center of city life with its loud atmosphere.

I shook my head. I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight. The memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape.

The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want.

The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want to go.

Or quieter, maybe I would know that soon.

Or quieter, maybe I would know that difference soon.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating and that too much stress could

Forcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other, I advanced along the tightrope like bridge.

Suddenly a worried shout alerted me to the presence of a middle aged man whose face reminded me of a worried parent, eye brows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out to my terror stricken body. His feet firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner Corner...of what? . The night air was cool and crisp, and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair sending, it cascading down my back like a waterfall Okay, this description gives me a warmer feeling, whereas the rest of the chapter focuses mainly on darker description. These feeling are contradictory. Try to standardize the emotion throughout any shorter piece of writing. . I approached the tunnel slowly; its old brick walls were crumbling crumbled and...(dilapidated? Something. When you use a helping verb in this context, it usually demands two adjectives.)slowly throughout the decades (If something is crumbling, one can pretty much assume this much.) and the disintegrating Not the right word. "Disintegrating is hardly a synonym of "crumbling;" "disintegrating" tends to have the connotation of rapidity. "Crumbling" can mean this, but obviously that is not how it is being used here. roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds. Lots of adjectives in these last few sentences.

It was as I stepped into the dangerousdarkness of the tunnel that I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine, that the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and looked as if a single gust would blow it away. [Although she turned her head back to check behind her, she showed no signs of recognition.] You really are going to have to rework this sentence. I had no idea that she was facing away from the main character. And why would she be "checking" behind her? Is she on some sort of secret spy mission thing? Is she doing something illegal? And how does the main character know all this, enough to label the glance behind her as "checking?" This is everything that's going through my mind as I read this. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost* This makes it sound as if she is still staggering when she reaches the lamppost. she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot The old lady is frozen to the spot? Why would that be? I'm assuming you mean that the main character is frozen to the spot, in which case the wording needs to be tweaked a bit. . There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me my body with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes I (First of all, for reasons beyond me, you're just complicating things with this, and secondly, I think you would be bragging a bit to call your own eyes "sharp." caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the She is not being lit by the warmth of the light. She is being lit by the light. Think of a different adjective to place here. I would suggest "placid." light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was contorted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on Both of these last sentences are structured the exact same way. Fix this. . The only reason I was sure feature by which I could be sure she was alive was her eyes. Although they were sunken into her face, I was sure Using "sure" too much. I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling, almost mischievously behind the enormous spectacles The "fire behind eyes" metaphor is just that, a metaphor. You're acting as if there really is, literally, a fire behind her eyes. The comment in the parentheses is the biggest contributor to this. . She had attached them to her personbody bywith a long precariously hung (Not sure what to picture with this. How can something be "precariously hung?" Also, the adverb is dangerous. silver chain around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was. The whole "I recognize that person but I can't really remember exactly who they are" is used best late, or at least later, in stories. It has absolutely no meaning, from the readers point of view, this early. And I was under the impression that she did know the lady, since you never say that she is a stranger, and your descriptions of her use "the," which implies familiarity. Also, there is no reference to any sense of surprise, so I was assuming that the main character was expecting the old lady.


Checking her watch, she seemed to discover she was late Uh, to what? And how on Earth, if in fact the main character doesn't know her, would he/she know that the woman is going somewhere and is apparently late to it? Perhaps you mean "it was late." . She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body (Context makes it sound like the main character is in her decaying body, which makes absolutely no sense. Wording issue.) , up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night I don't like "crisp" here. Not quite the right word. I usually do not tend to associate "crispness" with "nighttime." once more Okay, I really need more clarification on how the setting is laid out. You never took the time to clearly explain this. I had no idea the lady was ever even in the tunnel. . The light flickered and went out. I ran past it Huh? What is "it?" The context implies that "it" is referring to the light, but that can't be right, since this light apparently just went out. If you mean the lamppost, the wording needs to be fixed up, since the last time you directly mention the lamppost was all the way back here*., my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not tobe left in the darkness. I would rework this last part. Sounds somewhat odd.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway tunnel (Please. Don't make things more complicated than they have to be just because you can.) , I found that I could not see her anywhere she had disappeared. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had. (Are you trying to be symbolic? Sorry, it's not working. Not only can I not relate to this at all, the only time this kind of metaphor works is during post-action scenarios, and certainly not thrown in right in the beginning of a story like this.) Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this woman who had intrigued me to the point of distraction. I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so deeply entrancing. I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever. See my comment in the review on the earlier version of the chapter on this.

I shook my head. I had to remind myself ofwhy I was out tonight; the memory Uh, of what? Clarification is needed here, if only a minimal amount. almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them down. Okay, I really have no clue what you are trying to mean by this. Are you talking about the sobs? Well, that doesn't work, as you apparently are trying to keep them down. Are you talking about some nebulous group of individuals who are completely unrelatable to the reader? That doesn't work either, since it took me way too long to figure that out and, frankly, is completely irrelevant to the current story. Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently the street (Eyes focus on nouns. Not verbs. An eye that is able to focus on a verb is one that defies the laws of grammar. , I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking. So, hang on. Are there both streets and paths here? I'm confused. Again, you need to give the reader a nice, clear explanation of the setting.

As I rounded the bend Suddenly there's a "bend?" I was met by a beautiful sight: the bright coloured(I've never seen coloured city lights before. Usually they're white.) lights of the city I knew so well. The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river. (I like the imagery. But, frankly, it's irrelevant, unnecessary, and incorrectly placed. Save it, though. You may find another place to insert it later.)

The buildings had become were a theatre of lights, illuminating the waters of the river with itstheirglow. If it had been any other day, any other situation, I would have felt obliged to retrieve my brick of a mobile phone from my thick woollen jumper to capture this picturesque scene forever Way too many adjectives. , but it wasn’t different.

As I passed the lonely trees on the side ofthe street by the riverbank, the last of the evening winds disturbed the few leaves on the concrete ground and whipped themup the leaves that lay on the concrete, churning them into a final frenzy of swirling green The only time leaves are ever on the ground is during fall, in which case the leaves would not be green; they would be brown, yellow, or something of that nature. . They fell, moments later, resting once more on upon the solid Well, I find it pretty obvious that the ground is solid; you don't have to point it out for me. ground, waiting to be kicked by the busycrowds "Kick" and "crowd" next to each other form an alliteration, which is something you desperately want to avoid. on the bustling streets the next day.

The river meandered along slowly now, like a snake lingering in the long grass, murmuring softly This metaphor is weird for many reasons: the fact that the slowness of rivers is nothing like a snake, the fact that "snake" kills the atmosphere, the fact that you're using symbolism either unknowingly or for some other reason beyond me, and the fact that snakes do not "murmur." . It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the centre of a city, with its loud Loudness does not automatically mean urbanity. atmosphere. Usually the place was teeming with crowds of people, ceaselessly fighting their way through the throng, dressed in colourful attire. The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want. The sound was deafeningas the music blaring from speakers around the various parks added to the din.

Now that velvet had been laid over the sky, peacock blue If it's as late as you're saying it is, the sky would be black, not blue. and covered with sparkling gems, it was hard to picture the cloudy, wet London days. I had only passed one person so far tonight, and if I was lucky, she would be the only one. This area of town was often empty at night. Few cars drove by and once through the park it was as quiet as death. Or quieter, maybe I would know that difference soon. (Elaborate in a different way. This doesn't work.)

Looking up; I could see the reflection of the moon on the surface of the river, clear as a crystal Very cliched comparison. and as pure as a blanket of whitesnow. Dark grey clouds loomed over the moon, ominous, like a murderous shadowy figure, cloaked in black robes, and the river wasperished and was brought to despair and darkness once again more. A symbol of the way this night would be remembered.

This was a night nobody, nobody I knew, anyway, would ever forget, no matter how hard they tried. I tried desperately not to picture the headlines the next day. combined withAnd the face of my sister. She would be so… No. It was too painful. I couldn’tcan't think of her anymore, not of anyone. If I did I wouldn’t be able to help her, to maybe save her tonight.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating Brains don't overheat. If someone told the main character that, then they must not have been too knowledgeable. and that too much stress could push me over the edge. I couldn't think who had said this to me, but it was too late Too late to think of the person who told her that her brain was overheating? I would think "too late" is used in more important contexts. . There was just no way my life could avoid stress.

I drew near the menacing bridge, cautiously peering around Around what? to check that there was nobody around Second time you've used "around" in this sentence. . The street was empty. The coast was clear.
(space here)
This was my chance. I had to take it.

Forcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other, I advanced along the tightrope-like bridge What? Bridges are nothing like tightropes; if this one was indeed like a tightrope, then it is not a bridge. Why would anyone build a bridge as thin as a tightrope? . The elderly crone appeared to have taken all my courage So now you're scared of her? Please, decide on what you feel. Switching around like this is confusing for the reader. . Once at the edge, next to the water, I stared, as though deeply entranced Second time you've used "deeply entranced." , into the depths of the sinister looking river.

I couldn’t backtrack now. I had come too far. If turning back had been an option before, it certainly wasn’t now. I had to do this. I had to. For her. For all of them.

Slipping through the cold metal railings, I stripped off the warm beige jumper that hung like a blanket drapedover my shivering body and hung "Hung..." again? it over the rust covered railings. What was the use of it now?

For all of two minutes I teetered dangerously on the edge borderline between life and death.
(space here)
Suddenly a worriedshout alerted me to the presence of a middle- aged man whose face reminded me of a worried parent, eyebrows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out totoward my terror stricken body. His feet were firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

‘Hey!’ he bellowed. 'Get off there!’

That was all the encouragement I needed. Yelling my best hopes to the heavens I leantleaned forward and plunged off the side of the bridge. The night air streamed past me and whipped my hair into a whirlwind as I plummeted rapidly toward the water. The fall was exhilarating. I forced my eyes to remain open, to see my beautiful world for the last time. Then, I hit. The impact was tremendous. The water filled my lungs as ruthlessly as a storm, angry and fierce. I was drifting as Isank and my sister’s face settled in my mind. She was my last thought. Everything was for her.

Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner. The night air was cool and crisp and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair sending it cascading down my back like a waterfall. I approached the tunnel slowly, its old brick walls were crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous (Do you really need this word? I think saying darkness is enough.) darkness of the tunnel, that I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine as the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.single gust About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and looked as if a single gust would blow her over. (You just said that you could only see her hair!) Although she turned her head back to check behind her, she showed no signs of recognition. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot. There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was contorted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on. The only reason I was sure she was alive was her eyes. Although they were sunken into her face, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling, almost mischievously behind the enormous spectacles. She had attached them to her person by a long precariously hung silver chain around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was.

Checking her watch, she seemed to discover she was late. She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body, up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night once more. The light flickered and went out. I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway, I found that I could not see her anywhere. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had. Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this woman who had intrigued me to the point of distraction. I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so deeply entrancing. I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever.

I shook my head. I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight, the memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them down. Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently, I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking.

As I rounded the bend I was met by a beautiful sight. The bright coloured lights of the city I knew so well. The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river.

The buildings had become a theatre of lights, illuminating the waters with its glow. If it had been any other day, any other situation, I would have felt obliged to retrieve my brick of a mobile phone from my thick woollen jumper to capture this picturesque scene forever, but it wasn’t different.

As I passed the lonely trees on the side of the riverbank, the last of the evening winds disturbed the few leaves on the concrete ground and whipped them up, into a final frenzy of swirling green. They fell, moments later, resting once more on the solid ground, waiting to be kicked by the busy crowds on the bustling streets the next day.

The river meandered along slowly now like a snake lingering in the long grass, murmuring softly. It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the centre of city life with its loud atmosphere. Usually the place was teeming with crowds of people, ceaselessly fighting their way through the throng, dressed in colourful attire. The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want. The sound was deafening as the music blaring from speakers around the various parks added to the din.

Now that velvet had been laid over the sky, peacock blue and covered with sparkling gems, it was hard to picture the cloudy, wet, London days. I had only passed one person so far tonight, and if I was lucky, she would be the only one. This area of town was often empty at night. Few cars drove by and once through the park it was as quiet as death. Or quieter, maybe I would know that difference soon.

Looking up; I could see the reflection of the moon on the surface of the river, clear as a crystal and as pure as a blanket of white snow. Dark, grey clouds loomed over the moon ominously like a murderous figure, cloaked in black robes, and the river was perished and brought to despair and darkness once again. A symbol of the way this night would be remembered.

This was a night nobody, nobody I knew anyway, would ever forget, no matter how hard they tried. I tried desperately not to picture the headlines the next day combined with the face of my sister. She would be so… No. It was too painful. I couldn’t think of her anymore, not of anyone. If I did I wouldn’t be able to help her, to maybe save her tonight.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating and that too much stress could push me over the edge. I couldn't think who had said this to me, but it was too late. There was just no way my life could avoid stress.

I drew near the menacing bridge; cautiously peering around to check that there was nobody around. The street was empty. The coast was clear.
This was my chance. I had to take it.

Forcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other, I advanced along the tightrope like bridge. The elderly crone appeared to have taken all my courage. Once at the edge, next to the water, I stared, as though deeply entranced, into the depths of the sinister looking river.

I couldn’t backtrack now. I had come too far. If turning back had been an option before, it certainly wasn’t now. I had to do this. I had to. For her. For all of them.

Slipping through the cold metal railings I stripped off the warm beige jumper that hung like a blanket draped over my shivering body and hung it over the rust covered railings. What was the use of it now?

For all of two minutes I teetered dangerously on the edge between life and death.
Suddenly a worried shout alerted me to the presence of a middle aged man whose face reminded me of a worried (You alreay said worried in this sentance, my english teacher would cut half your grade if you had turned this into her. The word "startled" or "shocked" might be better.) parent, eye brows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out to my terror stricken body. His feet firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

‘HEY!’ he bellowed.’ Get off there!’

That was all the encouragement I needed. Yelling my best hopes to the heavens I leant forward and plunged off the side of the bridge. The night air streamed past me and whipped my hair into a whirlwind as I plummeted rapidly toward the water. The fall was exhilarating. I forced my eyes to remain open, to see my beautiful world for the last time. Then, I hit. The impact was tremendous. The water filled my lungs as ruthlessly as a storm, angry and fierce. I was drifting as I sank and my sister’s face settled in my mind, she was my last thought. Everything was for her.

I approached the tunnel slowly, its old brick walls were crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel, that I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine as the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.

In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot.

Although they were sunken into her face, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling, almost mischievously behind the enormous spectacles.

I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

The light flickered and went out.
But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway, I found that I could not see her anywhere.

Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this woman who had intrigued me to the point of distraction.

I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight, the memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape.

Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently, I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking.

The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river.

The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want.

Or quieter, maybe I would know that difference soon.

I drew near the menacing bridge; cautiously peering around to check that there was nobody around.

– Chapter One –

Ignoring my shaking feet I descended upon the swinging rope bridge, trying not to look down. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been the best idea to pack practically everything I owned into this bag before going on this journey. Admittedly, I didn't have much that was only mine but it didn't stop it weighing a tonne. The backpack I had slung over my shoulders was probably heavier or at least equal to my own weight and I had no idea how much this bridge would hold.

I stopped after the first step, the wooden slats still leaning on the grassy cliff edge. This was not a good idea as it allowed me to think, and once I started I could go on for hours. I had been over this in my head so many times that I was almost sick of the subject. Had I really done the right thing by leaving everyone to head off on this quest by myself? After all, I had no idea what or who I would find when I eventually reached the end, and there were still plenty of treacherous obstacles on the way.

If it weren't for the serious situation I would have laughed at the irony of it all. The simple town girl who was fighting for her life and her freedom was now about to run away from a bridge.

Of course, I wasn’t in the best position to contemplate my life choices whilst up three hundred feet in the air and holding on to strands of woven thread for dear life. Nevertheless, I was a thinker. I couldn’t help but worry what Megan would think if she heard of her sister, plummeting to her death. Or worse still, being brutally murdered by a man I despised. Then again, I reasoned, rather me than her.

This was the one thought that always deterred me when I considered backtracking; I would prefer to die than only save myself, others were not allowed to die for me. Not anymore. I wrenched my foot firmly from its stationary position on firm ground, placing it into the realms of the unknown. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the fall. But it never came.

I peeked through my eyelids; my hands were still glued to the sides and I wasn’t letting go anytime soon. I was still alive. If Megan had been with me she would have laughed at how melodramatic I was being. As far as I was concerned being this high up wasn’t something to laugh about, yet it made me smile to picture her face, green eyes twinkling as she wound me up about the way I was making this seem like an action scene in a movie. It gave me only a small amount of comfort, yet it was enough to push me gradually along the fine line between life and death.

I couldn’t help thinking that this was all very well for someone who walked a tightrope in a circus; at least they had a safety net below them just in case they missed a step and plummeted downwards. I couldn’t afford to place a single foot in the wrong place as instead of a net that would catch me safely; I was high above a rocky ravine where the water rushed along at many miles an hour and where the rapids would drag me under instantly. And that was if I didn’t die from the shock of falling, or from the impact.

I wasn’t usually a morbid person; I didn’t spend my days thinking about what songs I wanted at my funeral and who would cry there. I wasn’t bothered about what would be on the other side; I knew I would get to it when it came. The thing about being three hundred feet up, holding on to a precarious bit of rope is that it doesn’t give you a whole lot of confidence that you’ll reach the other side without ending up hideously deformed. I wasn’t going back, that was certain, but I wasn’t going very far forward either.

It might have been the sound of the water crashing against the rocks that distracted me, or it might have been the realization that I had in fact, not picked a song for my funeral (probably the first one). Whatever it was, it was enough to make me suddenly have two left feet and lose my balance on the beam.

Screaming, I fell to the depths of the icy water below…

Or rather, I would have, had it not been for the great lump of a backpack that hung on to the planks of wood, dangling over the other side like it and I were a set of balance weighing scales. I was hanging, literally between life and death now, with no idea of how to get back up again.

Just my luck.

I tried to twist myself around in the straps but soon found that if I did, I would untwist myself from the saviour that was my backpack and drop into the air. This was ridiculous! It would be me, wouldn’t it? It always was; the one who had the crazy near death experiences any freak accidents. I just seemed to attract trouble. There was usually someone who was able to pull me out of them but not now. I was on my own.

To be fair, I thought, at least this time I had brought it all upon myself. There's nothing quite like being flung into the middle of an adventure you haven't been prepared for; this I knew all too well by now.

The bridge wobbled dangerously as I swung my left leg up to balance precariously on the wooden slats. I lifted my right leg quickly to meet it and hauled myself up through the gap to sit, panting at the top.

In the past year I had gone from being perhaps the least adventurous person on this side of the sun to attempting to defeat the world’s most dangerous man, not to mention his army of hundreds.

I’d gone mad.

Adventures were for those who jumped at the chance to see something new, to see the sun rising and falling through the sapphire sky, to travel the oceans far and wide in search of buried treasure.

But that wasn’t me.

I almost ran the last few steps in my eagerness to get my feet back onto solid ground; dew ridden grass had never looked so appealing to me. I placed my feet in side by side in satisfaction and looked up at the rocky surface that loomed in front of me ominously, like a murderous giant, cloaked in black robes. The elation I had felt at reaching this side vanished in an instant and the wind whipped my hair into a whirlwind with its icy breath.

I sighed deeply and headed toward the mountain, looking closely for any crevice that I could use as a starting point. Of course, there were hundreds of them. The surface was completely covered in them, snaking their way up to the sky where the top was not in view. It was going to be a long journey.

I planted my foot neatly into the first gap, I couldn’t delay any longer. Gradually, I began to pull myself up; never stopping to look down because I knew if I did that would be the end.

Mist clung to the mountain around me as I clung, but I could see no further up than from when I had been stood on solid ground and there was no possible way of telling how far I had left to go.

Suddenly, my foot slipped in one of the smaller holes and I grazed the palms of my hands as I struggled to hold on. I panicked, grasping tight of anything that I could and waving my free leg wildly. I wedged my foot in another gap and tried to take a deep breath to calm myself. But it was too late.

I looked down.

Rocks cascaded down the cliff side below me, crumbling into oblivion by the time they reached the bottom. Gulping, I tore my eyes away from the ground and returned my gaze upwards and kept on climbing.

Climbing to meet my destiny.

Screaming, I fell to the depths of the icy water below…

This was not a good idea as it allowed me to think

I couldn’t afford to place a single foot in the wrong place

It always was; the one who had the crazy near death experiences any freak accidents

I placed my feet in side by side in satisfaction

Mist clung to the mountain around me as I clung,