Lily Bennett – 10 years old
The coldness of the wood spiked my neck, and my wrists were still sore from the rope. The top part of the guillotine lowered on the back of my neck, and I had never been more scared in my life. The large man beside the lever, my father's close friend, Adrien, had a jet black mask covering his face, and a dark brown beard poked out the bottom. He was incredibly tall, and intimidating to say the least. We made eye contact, and his eyes were filled with remorse. It wasn't hard to tell that he didn't want to do this. Not to his darling Sara. Yes, my name is Sara Chevrulet, and this is the story of how I died.
A tear welled in Adrien's brown eyes, but he quickly blinked it away. That's when it happened. He pulled the rope. I blacked out. For a moment, I could still see. It was like my eyes had turned into vhs cameras. I could make out shapes and sound, but I was distracted by the fact that I was in pain. So much pain. It was unbearable.
I woke up. A loud gasp escaped my mouth. Was it a nightmare? I wasn't sure. I lifted my hand to my face, and noticed how pale it was. My mind was flooding with questions, and my head pounded. I unsteadily hopped out of my bed, and almost immediately collapsed on the floor. Then I realised what was happening. I was a ghost. A literal ghost. I stumbled to the door, and I grabbed the handle. My hand fell right through. A look of panic spread across my pale face, but then I realised I could use this strength to my advantage. I walked right through the door, and squealed in excitement. I couldn't wait to get back at those wretched barons. I elegantly walked through the hall of the castle, and stopped in front of the barons' room. Lord Lucien. I despised him more than anything, considering he had sent thousands of families overseas and separated them. I lightly knocked on his door, and the reply was a booming voice shouting,
I cleared my throat and replied in a high singsong voice. "Your lovely wife, my dear!"
I giggled hearing my silly voice out loud.
"Ah! My darling Fleur. I haven't heard from you all day! Come in, come in!" came his reply. My knees were wobbling at the suspense as I pushed the door open. All the colour drained from Lucien's face as I smiled at him from the hall.
"Good afternoon, Baron," I smirked.
"F-Fleur?" he managed to stutter.
"No" I whispered. "Sara."
I rushed at him, hands open and my smile growing wider. I grabbed his neck and screamed, louder than a banshee. Once his face was filled with pure terror, I strutted out of the room and slammed the door closed on him.
That was how I got revenge.
5th of June, 1746
Ursula Moray Williams Creative Writing Competition Years 4-6 winner (run by Timaru District Libraries)