I hated Mr Lawn, he made history so dull. As I started daydreaming, his voice disappeared… Grey met my eyes, it took the shape of a castle. It was almost dusk. Men were fleeing from the castle to the village down the hill that the castle was perched on. As I wandered in the ancient fortress, a feeling haunted the corridors but why? Sorrow and death.
‘Beowulf, he will be here.’
‘Yes, Your Grace. Leave for your quarters, Grendel will arrive and die for what he has done!’
Then everything was gone. Suddenly, I was back in the classroom.
by Emily Corr (10)
Valley Invicta Primary School At Aylesford, Kent
Competition - Time-Travelling Tales
Copyright remains with the author.