The art of dirty deeds
English Coursework Robert Horsley
Another cupboard smashed onto the heavy oak table as the maelstrom of debris continued to swirl, fuelled by the vicious wind from the broken windows. There was a resounding crack as a chair was hurled at the table.
“You left me to rot, you are no son of mine,” wailed the lady of the house. He couldn’t see her, she was invisible, but he knew all too well she was there as he cowered under the table.
The rain continued to pound down, its staccato beat all too loud through the broken windows. Lightning flashed as he made a break for the door that was banging against the wall in the wind. An inhuman shriek came from behind him. He raced through the door as the table he had been taking refuge hurtled after him into the doorway in a shower of plaster and splinters. The main hallway he was now in was dominated by a huge glittering chandelier. He paused for a moment to catch his breath as he heard his mother howling in rage.
With a groan the chandelier above him ripped away from the ceiling. It fell onto him with a crash, landing in an explosion of glittering glass like a frenzied rave of fireflies. He had barely enough time to think as it knocked him cold. As he flitted in and out of consciousness he remembered how he came to be in that current predicament. *********
“Please don’t go daddy,” said his daughter.
“We want you to be here for Christmas daddy,” whined his son.
“Of course I’ll be back for Christmas; I’m just off for a week to get granny’s old stuff from her house in the Yorkshire Dales. It’ll only be a week you know that and I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring extra Christmas presents.”
“Do be careful Mr Jerome,” said the nursemaid as she ushered the children onto the pavement.
“I will,” Mr Jerome said as the children chorused goodbyes , he climbed into the carriage and with a flick of the driver’s reins the carriage picked up speed down the
Another cupboard smashed onto the heavy oak table as the maelstrom of debris continued to swirl, fuelled by the vicious wind from the broken windows. There was a resounding crack as a chair was hurled at the table.
“You left me to rot, you are no son of mine,” wailed the lady of the house. He couldn’t see her, she was invisible, but he knew all too well she was there as he cowered under the table.
The rain continued to pound down, its staccato beat all too loud through the broken windows. Lightning flashed as he made a break for the door that was banging against the wall in the wind. An inhuman shriek came from behind him. He raced through the door as the table he had been taking refuge hurtled after him into the doorway in a shower of plaster and splinters. The main hallway he was now in was dominated by a huge glittering chandelier. He paused for a moment to catch his breath as he heard his mother howling in rage.
With a groan the chandelier above him ripped away from the ceiling. It fell onto him with a crash, landing in an explosion of glittering glass like a frenzied rave of fireflies. He had barely enough time to think as it knocked him cold. As he flitted in and out of consciousness he remembered how he came to be in that current predicament. *********
“Please don’t go daddy,” said his daughter.
“We want you to be here for Christmas daddy,” whined his son.
“Of course I’ll be back for Christmas; I’m just off for a week to get granny’s old stuff from her house in the Yorkshire Dales. It’ll only be a week you know that and I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring extra Christmas presents.”
“Do be careful Mr Jerome,” said the nursemaid as she ushered the children onto the pavement.
“I will,” Mr Jerome said as the children chorused goodbyes , he climbed into the carriage and with a flick of the driver’s reins the carriage picked up speed down the