I’m in Year 8 and I have write a story for school. Here is the beginning. What do you think? Thank you in advance!
The boy was sinking further and further into the black abyss of water swirling around him. He drew long ragged breaths, each one scraping painfully against his throat. As seagulls screeched menacingly above him, he laid his head back on top of the water. It was if they were announcing his death for the entire world to hear. True, he was not dead yet, but he very soon would be and he knew it. This knowledge hung over him like a deadly veil. The panicking and struggling was done and it had taken its toll, for he desperately told his legs to move, yet they disobeyed him. Feet weighing him down like lead blocks, the cold water gnawed at his bones with ravenous, icy teeth. He begged and begged god to spare him, but in his heart of hearts he knew it was too late.
Otto awoke suddenly. That dream again. It kept on coming back. He hated nightmares. Now he was all alone, there was no one but the drunks that swaggered out of the numerous pubs to hear him scream. No one but them and the rats. But he’d rather not think of that; it was morning now. Watery sunlight seeped through the wispy clouds. Extending each limb slowly, Otto slowly arose, the wing swiping his face. He had barely taken a few steps when he heard a shout of “’ere, you boy! You listen to me.”
Otto looked up at him slowly. It was a bitterly cold February morning and he shivered as he uncoiled from his huddled position. Otto was a scrawny boy, with tousled brown hair and ragged clothes which hung loosely from his skeletal form. The enormous man towered far above Otto, so his instinct was to run, but as he began to take a few steps, the man seized Otto.
“Come ‘ere you skinny little rat!” he shouted.
Otto stayed put without resistance this time.
“How old are you?”
“Just 14, sir” replied Otto apprehensively.
“Hmm… You hungry, I guess? No home?”
With a gulp, Otto said “Aye, sir”.
Otto had lost all his family, so he had been forced onto the unforgiving backstreets and alleyways of Portsmouth. He did not even know of any elbow relations, who he could go to. So Otto was all alone in the world and it hardened; he had built a wall around himself. It blocked his emotions and conscience, for it was necessary, you see, for him to steal and scavenge sometimes and this was not in Otto’s nature. He was a sensitive boy, quiet and loving, so when he had been torn from his family it had hurt him more than he would care to admit. This was the reason for his Wall, but still sometimes a brick came loose.
“Perchance you need a job, then? To feed you – you need fattening up – and earn you some money”
“I suppose sir… But it would depend what the work was” he said uneasily.
“How d’you fancy being a cabin boy? It would be on a ship in Nelson’s fleet – the HMS Triumphant. She’s just a small one, a frigate. What do you say?”
“But they’re about to go into battle, aren’t they? I’m not sure – a ship…”
The man’s face transformed from mock-friendliness into a slightly meaner expression. That was when Otto knew: he didn’t have much choice in the matter. It was an agreement or die situation.
“If you would be willing to offer me the place, I would be more than happy to take it, sir!”
“That’s more like it, lad. Come to the dockyard Wednesday of next week and report to me. Make sure it’s me, mind: Mr Luther. You’ll notice the Triumphant straight away. She’s a beauty – the grandest there by far.”
A week later Otto was there, at the dockyard. He dared not disobey the man – Mr Luther – and was secretly wondering whether it could be a good idea to go and work on the ship. For, as Mr Luther had said, he would earn money and he wouldn’t go hungry! Otto’s tummy rumbled. Thinking of food had reminded him: he was starving.
He walked further into the dockyard, dodging the sailors ambling around, polished buttons sparkling in the sunlight. It had warmed up considerably, and Otto was now walking around perfectly comfortably in his tattered clothes. He soon noticed the Triumphant, whose name was flamboyantly painted onto the port side of her hull. Swaying gently on the rippling waves, she seemed eager to leave, as though it was only the thick, plaited ropes restraining her. 0
Otto looked for any sign of Mr Luther, but he could not see him. Better wait for a while, thought Otto, it is quite early. Glancing around uncertainly, he felt a bit awkward, unsure of what to do with himself. Otto glimpsed a man that was not in uniform – he was very short and stood near the Triumphant. However he was not a man, as Otto realised whilst walking nearer, he was not a man, but a boy. He seems about my age, Otto thought, maybe he’s friendly. After deliberating for a while, he decided to approach the boy.
Being a shy boy, Otto uttered a nervous “Hello”.
‘Who is this timid little creature?’ thought the boy, not unkindly.
“Hello!” said the boy, beaming, “Reuben, my name’
