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In the remote village of Dedham a old myth about a man hanging himself on a tree in unusual circumstances is popular amongst the village. On Halloween 1902, Alice and her friend Alexis are late to the church, they see a shadow thinking it's just an adult running home to get something. But was it? Strange things happen and it seems as the myth is playing out in front of them. Will this kill them bboth? or not.....


3. Sleep

When one of the men were chucked out of the window, I felt slightly relived. It was like something had been done, something that I had to finish for a long time. Something that I could've stopped.


I was faced towards the open window, in which was blowing in cold air. I gulped. I shut my turqoise blue eyes, really hard. I rubbed my cold hands together, fingers inter twining with the other hand. I prayed to jesus hoping for the best, to tell him to protect us. I did this, filling myself up with some kind of courage as well as realising this could be some kind of emergency that Alexis was in. Though Alexis could be in a emergency, the other un-wellcome guest. The man who was wearing the blue turtle kneck jumper and the striped pitbull type creature.

I felt my face go deathly cold. It was like I was standing in the carrebean one minute. The next it was like being plunged into a deathly, icey, cold pool.

I turned nervously to my left, my long ginger hair swung from my left shoulder to my right. Two things I noticed was that the tall ,rugid man wasn't there and that Alexis was sprawled over the small space that lay between the put-up bed and my wardrobe.

Her eyes was completely white, the iriuses were gone.

"Oh no." I said.

My dad was still standing next to the window. Normally, his skin was quite tanned; allmost like a orange. But, he seemed quite ill and panicky. His expression wasn't normall.

Around his eyes small particles of sweat started to appear. Lines which covered his middle-aged face, seemed deeper and more prominate.

He was still looking out of the window. His hands trembleing by his side.

I turned back to Alexis. Her skinny little body was shaking on the hard cold floor. I knelt down to her level, placing my warm hand against her pale, cold face.

Her face was cold and she generally felt cold, so I picked her up and placed her into her bed. I gently tucked her up. After this, I turned back to my dad.

"Will we be going in today." I questioned.

He was turned away from me. I could feel the panic that must be filling up inside him. What would he tell Alison?

After a few minutes of silence, I relised that he probabally didn't hear me. So I decided to try and repeat, hoping that he could hear me, replying to the question that I felt most important.

"The time is coming," he said bluntly "Danger is on the horizon. Be carefull. Get into your bed and sleep."

He gave me a worried expression. Then he turned on his heel and walked, calmly out of my door. He shut it behined him. I could hear him rushing quickly down the stairs, mumbleing some words of comfort to mum. I could hear some sobbing and guessed mum was sobbing. A little ping sounded throughout the house. Mum must be ringing either the school or Allison, probabally Allison first.

I immediently pulled down the previously opened window, streching up my skinny pale arms. The top of the wooden bit was covered with a thick layer of dust and mold. I brushed it down, letting it fall down beside me like snow.

After I closed the window, I turned back to my bed and jumped in. A little moan escaped from Alexis's lips.

"She must be asleep allready." I thought to myself.

I pulled the covers over the top of me, my warm body getting warmer by the second. I shut my aching eyes and thought about the nice, relaxing day in bed I would have.

My favourate poem, filled my head with happiness. It's called : To heaven by bus by Hardiman Scott :

I dreamt I was on my way to heven, not in my car, but in a London bus. The conductor, schooled by Flanders and Swann, was shouting : " Hold very tight please" and that was surprising, since the bus was not full and no one was standing. Perhaps he meant that bewilldering collection of thoughts and things that ornament a life and that you cling onto for security; perhaps he was thinking of those ragged belifes that make do and hang in life like tattered flags in churches, and there's no certainty about the victories they represent. Or maybe he was referring to faith. I haven't any of that to hold tight. Come to think of it , he asked for no fare.

I  don't remember much of the journey. There were no other passengers I knew. I don't suppose I would have known heaven but for seeing you , my father, smiling  just as I remember you- which itself prompts questions about ageing, and whether paraside is anaspic which preserves the best recallection of a person. You resisted ssaying: "I told you so". That was generous, or it would have been if this were not a dream; but before we could disscuss the meaning of this meeting, or mark the nature of reality, even dispose the problem of death. I woke up, feeling hot, needing a pee.

If dreams have a meaning, then I'd advise : think before boarding a London Transport bus.

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