“Sammy! They’re here!” called Jill as an excited knock filled the air of the cosy room.
“Hello Grandad!” shouted Alice and Luke, charging carelessly into the lounge. Every Saturday morning, the children would visit their grandad begging for a story. Perched on the edge of the sofa, they listened intently to their grandfather as he told them fascinating tales…
“So then. In the depths of Timeouth, there was a young homeless boy living on the streets. He was searching frantically for scraps of food for supper. With little clothing, the boy was cold: blue lips; shaking hands; hunched over. Still adjusting to homeless life, it was difficult the young boy as it would be for anyone without a home. He trudged across a misty harbour with only the gleaming moon shining upon him to light his path to safety.
Suddenly, a peculiar-looking man grabbed the hungry boy’s arm firmly.
“Ya’ll don’t wanna be out ‘ere in the dark young lad. What’s ya name?”
James stuttered,
“Er, James, sir. I was just hoping to find food for the evening.”
The air seemed to get cold: trees swayed in the breeze; warm breath streamed up the air; frost, like a blanket, covered the town. The uneasy mood made the stubbly hairs on James’ neck stand on end. Then a haunted boat arose from the water. It smelt a bit fishy. Arora…”
“Sammy! Stop scaring them!” interrupted Jill furiously.
“I’m not.” chuckled Sammy.
“Please carry on Grandad. Honestly! We’re not scared!” exclaimed Luke.
“Anyway, where was I?” continued Sammy.
“Floating on top of the dark waters, the shop awaited its next victim. The curious boy was determined to explore. Escaping the man’s tight grip, James ran away without taking a glance behind him.
“Wait! Get back here now!” called the dazed man.
Cautiously taking a chance, James ran into the mysterious boat, hoping he’d lost his pursuer. Under the bed was James’ hiding place.
‘Bang!’ The door he’d left wide open was tightly shut. Not daring to breath, Hames watched as fresh footprints were made in the dust. But, no feet could be seen, After a while, the frightened boy’s eyes were closed; they weren’t going to open any time soon.
The light was bright through the shattered windows. Something wasn’t right. Then James realised the bed was tipped upside-down. He had been found by someone — or something.
Brave enough to look about, James followed the dusty footprints leading him to an ancient chest. He opened it. Inside was a book which was also very old: tattered seams; mountains of dust; worn leather. Feeling pressured to open the book, James delicately brushed its coat of dust away. Opening the book quietly, James read ‘Treasure hunters were on the seas during a terrible storm. They were all washed overboard. Now their spirits will remain on this ship forever and whoever enters shall never see the light of day again.’
James shut the book with an almighty thud. The words were stuck in his head.
“Is it true?” James asked himself, hoping for an answer.
“Yes. Unfortunately, every word is true I’m afraid.”
James had noticed a transparent figure, listening in.
“It happened to me twelve years ago.”
Just then, the boat shook and water was filling the room as the ship submerged onto the sea-bed.”
“Wait! What happened to James?” Alice cried, sounding confused.
“Well. Some say he died when the ship went back underwater; others think he’s still alive and stuck on the boat. Now, like the legend says, his ghost is trapped on the boat forever.”
The wind was blowing hard and an old newspaper became stuck on the window.
Its headline read, ‘Local homeless boy, James Smith, disappears!’…
I like the way you hint at the drama in your story to build the suspense and keep it going right to the end…