Otterpool Park Short Story Competition Book

Hello and welcome to our collection of stories, created by young writers for Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition as part of National Storytelling Week 2023.

We held the competition in winter 2022/23, inviting young people aged 8 –14 to write a 500-word story inspired by Westenhanger Castle, which is on the Otterpool Park site.

So why would a garden town developer run a story writing competition?

Storytelling has a powerful role to play in building communities; bringing people together to entertain each other, learn morals and lessons, reinforce values and traditions and sharing stories of the past.

Storytelling is also a way to record and pass on our history through generations; we want to connect people to the rich local history surrounding Otterpool Park, that might otherwise be lost.

It’s part of our aim to involve people and build a community from the earliest days of Otterpool Park, encouraging creativity and learning for people of all ages. Storytelling-based activities have been held regularly at Westenhanger Castle which have included National Storytelling Week events, theatre performances and school holiday events and we look forward to hosting more of these in the future.

The competition received more than 40 entries and we loved reading every story. The judging panel and I were amazed at what a talented and imaginative bunch all the competition entrants were! The stories were of such high-quality that we created this book as a record of their creativity and achievements.

We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did.

Tamasin Jarrett, Community Services & Events Manager Otterpool Park LLP

Cover image shows (left to right): Cllr Jenny Hollingsbee, first prize winner Evie Pau, third prize winner Clementine Forsyth, Tamasin Jarrett and Emily Hanna-Grazebrook at the awards presentation and story coaching session.

Second prize winner Jasmine Wales and Diane Dever joined in virtually.

About Otterpool Park

Otterpool Park is a new garden town that’s being created in the Kent countryside.

It will have everything that a new community needs – plenty of green space, homes, schools, community facilities, shops and work spaces. It will be a place to lead an active, healthy, sustainable lifestyle in a creative, inclusive and vibrant community.

Otterpool Park is set around the historic Westenhanger Castle and has been designed to be in harmony with the local landscape and the heritage of the area. The site’s history will be protected and celebrated.

Otterpool Park is close to the Kent coast and the creative town of Folkestone.

Introducing Our Competition Judges

Diane Dever

Diane is an artist and curator and she leads the Folkestone Fringe, an arts development agency that seeks to involve people in the place they live through creative projects. As Otterpool Park’s artist-in-residence she is supporting us in embedding creativity throughout the project.

Emily HannaGrazebrook

Emily is a professional storyteller and performer who has performed at schools, libraries, theatres and music festivals for more than 10 years. She has run many events at Westenhanger Castle for Otterpool Park, from spooky storytelling for Halloween to half term workshops for children!

Cllr Jenny Hollingsbee

Jenny lives locally to Otterpool Park and sits on our Board of Directors. She represents Folkestone & Hythe District Council’s North Downs West Ward and is Deputy Leader of the Council, as well as holding the portfolio for Cabinet Member for Communities.

Kerry Ryan

Kerry Ryan is an awardwinning writer, editor and teacher, whose creative writing courses are taught all over the world. She is contributing editor of ‘So Long as You Write‘ (Dear Damsels) 2022 and the Write like a Grrrl anthology.

Martin Latham

Martin Latham is a published author and former lecturer at London University. He also manages Waterstones in Canterbury and is the longest serving Waterstones Branch Manager!

Tamasin Jarrett

Tamasin is responsible for delivering the education, health, creative and cultural services for Otterpool Park. With over 20 years’ experience working in community development and events management her focus is on creating healthy, inclusive and happy communities.

Kent, the UK and even

Tamasin Jarrett said:

We have loved reading every story and are amazed at what a talented and imaginative bunch all the competition entrants were! We want to encourage and enable creativity and learning as much as possible at Otterpool Park and through initiatives like this we have been able to encourage young people to use their imaginations and be inspired by local heritage.

Martin Latham said:

The stories were exhilarating in their range and fiery imagination. I loved reading them but agonised over the judging. The scene setting of all was especially vivid; cinematic in some cases!

Competition judge

Competition judge

We received more than 40 entries from across

some international entries!

Story Themes

Competition entrants chose from three suggested prompts to inspire their story – all based around the setting of Westenhanger Castle, the jewel in the crown of the Otterpool Park site. See if you can work out which prompt is used for each story!

Queen Elizabeth I discovers a ghost at Westenhanger Castle

A forgotten item is found in the Tower at Westenhanger Castle

It’s 1542 and the sun rises on Westenhanger Castle

Competition judge Cllr Jenny

Hollingsbee said: What imagination and descriptive language these young people demonstrated in the wonderful stories on Westenhanger Castlethey were a joy to read and showed real creative talent.

FIRST PRIZE WINNER... Evie Pau from New Romney!

Evie’s winning story impressed the judges with its descriptive content and how it painted a clear picture, taking the reader on a journey imagining the grounds of Westenhanger Castle. Judges commented that the winning entry also finished with an open ending which was playful and left the reader hungry for more!

I am absolutely over the moon to have won!

Evie, aged 12, said, “I am absolutely over the moon to have won!”

Evie’s mum said, “Evie has always loved books and she always keeps a notebook in her bag to scribble down anything that inspires her, so she is absolutely thrilled about visiting Westenhanger Castle!”

Evie received a storytelling coaching session at Westenhanger Castle and was presented with her prize by Jenny Hollingsbee and Emily Hanna-Grazebrook

Queen of the Castle

A golden dawn was breaking over Westenhanger Castle, the familiar glow brightened the pale, white-washed walls, birds started to sing from outside the window and trees whispered secrets into the wind as they did each morning. ‘How many more mornings shall I wake to the same jobs and the same day?’ thought Queen Elizabeth I to herself as she wandered down the stairs, already dressed and ready for the day in a flowing red gown and a faded white cloak. But this day would not be as ordinary as she would find on any other day. The spirits of the castle were restless. Craving change, the Queen decided to skip breakfast and explore her gardens. She gave the door a shove and it opened, she ran into the maze full of roses and lavender. She ran holding her skirts, barefoot on the grass, the wind whipping her hair behind her, and the butterflies flying alongside. Queen Elizabeth I stopped in her tracks, how long had she run for? Which direction had she come from? She didn’t know. She didn’t know how to get home, she walked for a while, searching for any clues as to which way to go. The Queen slumped on the grass, the garden falling quiet, and tried to remember. Suddenly it turned cold, the Queen pulled her cloak around her shoulders and covered her grazed knees with the folds of her dress, she massaged the cuts on her ankles from running barefoot. Whistling wind

BY EVIE PAU, AGED 12

blew leaves at her face, the castle’s spirits had awoken once more. She cautiously rose to her sore feet and sent a silent plea for help, ‘Hello? Spirits of ancestors? Please, help me if you can. If you can hear this, I’m lost in the maze at Westenhanger Castle. Please, guide me safely.” The walls of the maze suddenly started shaking, the leaves screamed directions and Queen Elizabeth I tried to memorise them all. She, unfortunately, could not decide on which way to go and took all the wrong turns, she ran her hand along the walls and cried into the soil at her pained feet. Her whimpers turned to gasps as the bushes parted to let her through. She ran through the gaps towards the mahogany doors to the castle. Before she entered, she delivered a thank you to the ghosts, ‘I am now safe, thank you for your help, I shall never forget.’ She slipped through the doors and when she got to her bedroom she said to her lady’s maid, “I am never skipping breakfast again! I think it’s a safer option to just do the usual.” They both agreed, and as promised, Queen Elizabeth I never did forget about the help given to her that day, she wrote every detail in her journal and buried it when it was finished under the old oak tree, the one with the secret passageway leading down to the basement. Maybe it’s still there now, maybe it’ll be you who finds it?

SECOND PRIZE WINNER...

Jasmine Wales, aged 12, from Ely, Cambridgeshire!

Sailor’s Revenge

The night Queen Elizabeth I’s golden carriage rolled into the drive of Castle Westenhanger was dark and stormy. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed.

Once in the royal chambers, Her Majesty could not get to sleep. The sounds of the storm troubled her and despite the finery and comfort that surrounded her, something made her feel increasingly uneasy…

THE NEXT DAY

In the morning, servants scuttled obediently and silently around, preparing a feast for Her Majesty’s breakfast. She rose happily, having forgotten the irrational fear of the night. The large banquet hall was splendid, the aromas of spices filled the air as the Queen and her courtiers ate. The sky outside, however, remained as sombre as if the night had not lifted. The recently magnificent grounds lay ravaged by the ferocious winds.

When Her Majesty returned to her magnificent chambers, the wind had whipped up once more. She put the storm out of her mind and turned to some important paperwork when, despite all the windows being closed, the said paperwork floated up from her mahogany desk and began

tearing itself to pieces! Surely she wasn’t seeing things, thought the Queen, shocked.

Then a voice from nowhere spoke: “I am the spirit of a shipwrecked sailor, unable to rest at the thought of you, the enemy queen still at large, building weapons, bigger warships, sharper swords! What battle strategies were in those parchments?”

The spectre materialized. It wore a sodden rag and had an outraged, accusing face as it looked the furious Queen in the eyes. The chambers smelt salty and tangy, like the sea breeze. Outside, the storm raged on.

“How dare you show such impertinence to the Queen of England? It is I who rules the seven seas. Go far away, feeble excuse for a ghost, and bother me no more!” Her Majesty shouted. “Do you expect me, the daughter of Henry VIII, to shudder at shadows?”

The sailor’s spirit was now afraid of her, it quaked, its image blurred. Seawater dripped onto the finely polished flagstones.

Her cutting words echoed around the room and the precious jewels on her silk gown glittered. Faced with her irate imperious figure, the spectre slunk silently out of the room.

The storm crashed once more, and then it abated. Vanished, like the ghost who dared defy the wrath of the Queen.

THIRD PRIZE WINNER... Clementine Forsyth, aged 10, from Hawkinge!

It is 1542 and the sunrises over Westenhanger Castle, January 23rd. Catherine Howard (5th wife of Henry VII) woke to a glorious red beam shining through her bedroom window and the cold winter’s air whistling through a crack in the wall. The great big stone fireplace stood proudly and the ashes were as cold as ice.

The maid came rushing into the room chivvying her out of the bed.

“Catherine, get out of bed it’s 9 o’clock and you’re still not dressed and ready.” said the maid quickly.

Reluctantly Catherine peeled back the bed covers and allowed herself to exit the bed. Maybe she did sleep too much? What else is she supposed to do, she doesn’t want to be listening to Henry’s complaints on not having a male heir. Her thoughts were stopped abruptly by the maid. “What dress do you want dear? Look, this one is lovely,” she showed Catherine a beautiful pink silk dress with blue embroidered stars and silver ones as well, the silver shone in the light flooding into the room. It might have been cold but it sure was bright and the thawing ice over the lake just set the scene.

The sun slowly rose from the Downs cutting the darkness and birds sung to say morning to all. The beautiful boats bobbed up and down on the wondrous waters, as the bare tree’s ice-cold branches swayed back and forth in the wind, its golden leaves dancing towards the ground. It was a lovely, peaceful morning.

After a breakfast, of chicken, swan, and hog roast, Henry strangely went off to the drawing room to discuss matters with some people. This was curious, Henry never did things like this, usually, he was just complaining that he never had a male heir and that he ought to execute me for it. Was he discussing that with those strange people? Who knew?

Catherine was too worried she had to go to the drawing room. Was she going to die? The drawing room was only a few staircases away. He wouldn’t do anything like that to her would he? Too much worry. Maybe tomorrow could be her death day? No that wouldn’t happen, they’d have to arrange everything but still! Down the stairs. She didn’t know any of this, worrying about something she didn’t even know about. It was ridiculous.

Down another staircase.

He already has a male heir, why did he want another one? That one she did not know. Eventually, she’d reached the room she had been looking for, the drawing room.

She could already hear snippets of conversation such as male and heir. However, as she got closer, longer sentences were unearthed “I agree, Catherine should be executed for the crime of adultery,” some man said.

“Hear, hear,” said most, including Henry.

“What an awful crime,” said a man in the crowd.

“So then, are we all set? The 13th of February? Perfect, 13th of February it is then.” Henry had crossed the lines, the 13th is unlucky for some but certainly unlucky for Catherine…

HONOURABLE MENTION... Oscar Boult AGED 12

Westenhanger Castle

It’s 1542 and the sun is rising on Westenhanger Castle. It is a bright morning, as mornings go, and the birds are chirping away merrily in the trees. Ha! I WISH.

It’s 1542 and the sun is rising on Westenhanger Castle. The day is hot and humid, the trees are all dead and there’s not a sound of wildlife. You see, the scientist on earth, well, our earth, believed that there were multiple different alternate universes in which something had happened earlier. Here, WWI broke out in 1273AD. We are currently halfway through WWXV, which is not very comforting as our computers say that our Earth hasn’t even begun WWIII yet. We wanted to know that we only had to look forward to 14 more international wars, and not 15. That’s where we came in. That is, of course, until things started to go wrong…

As we stepped into the IPDV (Interdimensional Paradox Distortion Vehicle), there was a groaning sound. Me and the boys agreed it was probably nothing. We remained in that state of mind right up until the moment that we tilted sideways in the IPDV and the boxes flew off the shelves. Then, it all went dark.

When I woke up, I was lying on the ground in the middle of a wasteland. It looked like a WWII film set, all barbed wire and shell craters. Like we were

in the middle of no man’s land. Unbeknownst to me, we were. To the left were the ancient ruins of a castle, and to the right was absolutely nothing. Tons and tons of nothing for as far as the eye could see. Then, one by one, the others awoke. I helped them onto their feet and we decided to hobble over to the castle ruins for some shelter.

But that was a long time ago. We use the castle as our base now, like a secret hideout. Once a week, James holds a meeting with the rest of the group. Noah is always giving us some random information about this earth, and William is the morale holder. Without him, I don’t think any of us would be alive. That just leaves me. Elijah James. The nobody. Yes, I know all the children think all adults are supermen and don’t need friends, but life outside school is just like life in school. You have to have your own thing that you do, or else you don’t get noticed. Also, the thing that you do has - I mean HAS - to be cool, or you find yourself on your own.

But none of that matters at the moment. Nothing matters at the moment. I can hear the whistle of a falling shell, only much louder. And if it’s louder it must be closer! I look up, and there it is, falling, falling, falling out of the sky towards me.

It’s 1542 and the sun is rising on Westenhanger Castle. Or, it was. It is currently rising over nothingness. Nothingness in both directions.

HONOURABLE MENTION... Madison Baxter-Smith

AGED 8

A Forgotten Item is Found in the Tower at Westenhanger Castle

It is 1468 and I have lived at Westenhanger Castle all my life. It was my 18th birthday last month and at my coming-of-age ball, I bumped into the handsome prince Jacques as I turned the corner in the long dark passageway. As I gazed up at him, I saw his army with drawn swords behind him and I gasped with fear for my life. He kindly bent down to pick me up and said, “I was coming here to invade your country but now I have seen you, I can no longer bear a life without you in it.”

I cried back at him,

“How could you do that!!”

“I have no cares to invade England, I was following my father’s plan.”

He picked me up and asked if I would take a walk into the courtyard, commanding his soldiers to stand by for his orders. I was afraid for my family and so I agreed.

We meandered through the lavender patch over to the biggest oak tree and he sat down on the marble bench and asked if I would sit down beside him. I dutifully obeyed, still worried what this stranger wanted. He asked me what my favourite flower was and to my delight, he guessed correctly that it is a ruby red rose. I politely asked in return what his favourite hobby was and I guessed fighting. Of course I was right! He told me tales of

the delightful food and parties that his family held. I wanted to hear the laughter and play the games that he spoke about. His accent was charming and I smiled in spite of my worry. We talked for hours on end and he gave me his enamel brooch with gems inlaid in it. His army came and said that it is time to go because the King’s Army had found them and they were chasing them. So he said goodbye and promised to be back soon.

I ran off to my room, feeling confused and wanting to know if we might be able to have a future together.

The next morning, for safety, in I hid the brooch in a dove cote in the Tower.

At breakfast I nervously, asked my father if Prince Jacques and I could marry each other. Daddy slammed his fists down on the table, sent his chair flying out of the stained-glass window and threw his gold goblet across the room. He shouted, “Over my dead body.” His anger was terrifying so I ran to my bedroom and flung myself on my bed. I sobbed my heart out until I fell asleep.

Later that day, my handmaid came and gave me a note, it said to meet Prince Jacques in the Lavender Garden. With fear in my heart, I ran into his arms and begged him to leave now and start a new future with laughter, hope and games, together in France.

HONOURABLE MENTION... Ira Dhargalkar AGED 8

The Unexpected Visitor of Westenhanger Castle

On a tall, majestic hill, there stood an ancient castle. Surrounding the castle was a lot of lush greenery. There were bouquets of tulips, bluebells, lilacs, irises, peonies, snowdrops and daffodils.

I, Elizabeth, owned this magnificent castle. On the night of the discovery, I had invited two of my closet advisors, William Cecil and Thomas Dudley to have dinner with me at one of the royal castles, Westenhanger Castle.

We were all having an incredible feast with roasted chicken and potatoes. We were deeply involved in our heated conversation. All of a sudden, a loud noise interrupted our discussion.

“I shall myself check what is the sound about,” I told my guests. I set off for my journey to explore the sound. I was very worried as I had never heard his sound in Westenhanger Castle.

“Who could it be? It couldn’t possibly be a rat?” A million questions like these whizzed through my mind like a rocket. When I had finally pondered all of these incredible ideas, I came face-to-face with a familiar face at the corner of the basement.

It was my mother. For a moment, I was shocked to see her. “Why are you sobbing mother?” I asked. My mother, Anne, looked at me, “I am sobbing because I was executed when you were very young and I never got the chance to see you. The king of the heavens sent me down to fulfil my last hope. It was to see you as Queen,” her mother replied.

“I wish you could stay with me forever but can you?” I asked. My mother shook her head.

“I knew you were coming as I overheard your conversation with Mr Dudley and Mr Cecil. As I have now completed my last hope, seeing you, I have to go now,” she explained. And with that, Mother vanished into thin air.

I headed back to the dining room to complete my dinner. I was amazed that my mother’s last wish was to see me as Queen. I now knew that my mother cared a lot about me.

“What was making that noise?” Mr Dudley asked. “It was just a rat,” I replied, knowing that I never should mention my mother’s spirit.

HONOURABLE MENTION... Aisha Faisal Riaz

AGED 14

A Vanishing Spirit

I hurriedly fixed my uniform before stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of breakfast for the Queen. I bit my lip as I walked along the many hallways adorned with treasures I had never even dreamt of, like vases with twinkling stones of ruby, emerald, jade, amber and sapphire which winked at me as I passed. I walked slowly, wanting to admire the numerous intriguing wonders.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed through the hallway and I froze, my mind blank, my body rigid like a corpse. The tray fell to the floor with a deafening clatter, sending a shock through my spine and I jumped, terrified. My thoughts were cluttered; I stood there for a few moments before realising what had happened. I ran to the Queen’s room at once, stumbling several times over my own feet. The blood drained from my face when I saw her door was open. Nervously, I walked inside, trembling from head to toe, my limbs stiff. It was dark as night, despite the numerous candles lit around the room, and the open curtains - it was as though the sun had vanished, leaving me to struggle to see anything…the room was empty. Panic crept through my veins and my breathing quickened, a cold sweat on my forehead. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

All at once, a strong gust of wind blew and the flames vanished, plunging me into eternal darkness. A spine-chilling scream resonated in

my ears, forcing me to fall to my knees, the cold surrounding me, waiting, eager to swallow me whole. My eyes widened in horror; a tall, pale woman with hair whiter than snow stood in front of me. She wore a long, tattered, white dress with splashes of red on it. A crimson red. Blood. Her pallid, pointed features were beautiful yet horrifying, and her long hair draped over her shoulders, somehow melting disturbingly into her dress. She stared at me with her dark, dark eyes, eyes darker than shadows, darker than the darkest of nights, and I wanted so much to break my gaze and look away, to look at anything but her, yet, for some reason, I couldn’t; I was frozen, my body like a puppet, obeying the will of someone else. My head was spinning like a tornado, and suddenly everything vanished, the world turned black, and I fell seamlessly, helplessly and uncontrollably into the void of obscurity.

I awoke in the Queen’s room. I sat up gingerly, blinking hard; the room was full of light. Had it all been a dream? The sound of footsteps interrupted my thoughts and I hastened back to the kitchen. Hours later, the headlines “Queen Elizabeth discovers a ghost at Westenhanger Castle” were everywhere. However, the Queen later withdrew her statements, and within an hour the headlines had been changed and nobody whispered a word about them. It seemed I wasn’t going mad after all - but who had I seen?

HONOURABLE MENTION...

Vaughan

Sister to Sister

I wonder how they will kill me. Will they hang me, or will they not have time for such formalities, preferring to run slits down my back, until the courtyard is awash with my blood. It’s hard to stop thinking about death, when you start, but I try. I have more important things to dwell upon tonight.

At first, I was simply doing my job. Straightening up a few lopsided portraits, so that the noses of the subjects looked straighter - only a little straighter, genetics can’t be helped. I got a bit too much into adjusting the paintings, and knocked one sharply. I thanked heavens that it didn’t fall off the wall. Instead, a letter, with, may I say, the most offensive handwriting that I have ever laid my eyes upon, flopped on to the floor.

I have spent many years in the households of gentry folk, and I can remark upon the many things they all have. The number of big rooms and unpolishable spoons. The thing that none of them have, no matter how much wealth and power they can throw around, is family. How can you, when your mother, or your sister could stab you in the back at any moment. Did I feel sorry for Queen Mary? No, but I did feel sorry for her sister Mary.

The house is finally quiet, and I feel safe enough to open the letter. What with the few letters bestowed on me by my brother, the obscure moonlight, and the terrible, terrible handwriting, it’s a challenge to be sure, but I read it. I wonder how Mary felt - she knew she would die. There’s a little anger, the anger of a fallen queen, but she seems almost reconciled to her fate. And she’s leaving a gift, not to a queen, but to a sister.

I wonder how they will kill me. Out of my bed, following the final words of a Queen to a Queen. ‘Under the tree.’ What a helpful direction, it could be any tree. Then I see it, it is not just any tree. Only the grandest tree, of course. I feel its roots with my hand, searching for some clue, almost laughing at the stupidity of myself, fumbling in this semi-dark. I think of turning to leave, when my hands latch upon a small cross, carved into the wood. I dig, shovelling dry earth in this strange quest to what? A box. It is buried near the surface, thank the heavens, and I prise it open with trembling hands. It is empty, a realisation that fills me with strange joy. Those black pearls were not meant for me, they were meant as an accepted forgiveness sister to sister.

HONOURABLE MENTION... Annie Gage AGE 10

The Day That Changed Her Life

As the sun climbed from the murky, misty depths of the night, it shone light and joy over the vast landscape of Westenhanger Castle. The peace of the early morning was interrupted; the sound of trumpets blared in the distance, introducing a very important guest.

He strode into the castle, the drawbridge laid beneath his royal feet like a red carpet. Prince Edward entered Westenhanger Castle, and all the pleasures of a young four-year-old prince were at his feet. Jugglers, musicians, singers and dancers pranced around him like puppets on strings.

It was February 1542 and there was Elizabeth, an eight-year-old princess, the outcast of the family and a thorn in her father’s side. Trailing behind Edward’s royal procession, she became aware hat no one was paying any attention to her. A million thoughts raced through her mind: could she escape her brother’s household without getting caught? Could she meet the same fate as her mother? Or was a life of serving her arrogant half-brother inevitable?

Setting off to investigate the castle, Elizabeth made sure to stick to the shadows and gloom of the surrounding walls. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed an old, rusted door, squeezed in between the bricks of Westenhanger Castle. Inching towards the doorway, Elizabeth opened it with great care. On the other side, a whole other world was

unveiled. Pots and pans of all different shapes and sizes and a variety of herbs and spices lay spread on the table. Bustling through the kitchen door came a friendly-looking lady; a large bowl sat in the woman’s arms, it was laden with apples.

“Are you hungry my lady? Is that why you’ve ended up in here?” The Cook smiled passing Elizabeth an apple.

“How rude! You do not address a princess in that way!” Elizabeth retorted.

“You’re a fiery one, aren’t you? Just like your mother,” laughed the Cook glancing up at Elizabeth’s blazing hair. “She left you something – your mother – she always knew you’d find your way in here.”

Then kneeling down, the Cook foraged behind the fire pit and produced a piece of paper with Elizabeth’s name on it. Unrolling the scroll, she saw beautiful writing, unlike any she had ever seen before. Her eyes then focused on the words themselves:

My dear darling, I am writing to tell you that last night I was visited by a castle angel. She came to tell me that though my days might be numbered, one day you will be Queen of England. So do not give up hope, I believe in you.

From your loving mother.

Rushing out of the kitchen, Elizabeth dashed to the shelter of the castle nooks. She stood, gasping for breath; in pure shock, she burst into tears. It was too much for her young mind to consume. Unsure when her reign would start, she resolved to learn all she could about what it would take to rule a nation before the lifechanging day presented itself.

Uncle’s Secret

Now I’m not really sure how to start this story but I’ll give it a go. I live in Westenhanger Castle with my uncle.

My parents died when I was a baby but I’m not sure how as no one has actually told me, you see I stay on the castle grounds. My uncle always tells me under no circumstances was I ever allowed to leave the castle grounds; I have no clue why though.

Sometimes I wish I could leave and maybe talk to people my own age and maybe even go to school. Anyways enough of my boring sob story. The other day I was heading out to the tower to do some reading. I love reading, by the way, it’s my favourite hobby, well it’s my only hobby but still. I was looking around the tower for a new book to read and whilst looking I came across an old wooden box. I probably shouldn’t have but I opened it and inside was something wrapped in a napkin. I think it was some sort of weapon, like a dagger maybe. I’m not really sure what it was for though but it was kind of hidden, I started to overthink it, maybe it was a murder weapon. But I came to the conclusion that it probably meant nothing, I mean I’m not exactly an expert on daggers and weapons so it was

probably just a kitchen knife or something. I went to sleep that night thinking nothing of it but then suddenly I woke up and felt something wasn’t right. I went back to the tower. Why would a kitchen knife be wrapped up in a napkin and hidden in a random old box? I started rummaging around trying to find something else maybe linked with the dagger/knife thing. I found a couple of old papers that were useless but I didn’t give up. Soon I discovered something I had never seen before. My parents’ death certificate. Murdered? Who on earth would murder my parents? I read more and more, I couldn’t stop myself. They’d been stabbed. It must just be some kind of coincidence, they wouldn’t have been stabbed by a dagger. Would they? Surely my own uncle wouldn’t have killed his own sister and brother-in-law. No of course not, he would be in prison by now. I’m just being silly and overdramatic, it’s all just some kind of strange coincidence. I went back to bed but I just couldn’t sleep. Something didn’t feel right. Killed by stabbing. Me, always locked away, never leaving. Something’s odd. I had to leave, but how?

Ella Aser AGED 13

There Was Once a Boy Named Jack

Jack was always scared of everything. People would often tease him and call him names like chicken and scaredy-cat. He was always sad and had no friends.

One day he went to take a walk and sat on a bench near a river. As he was enjoying his relaxation, he heard a cry for help and ran towards the river. He saw a girl crying for help. He went to her and asked her what the problem was.

She said that her dog was drowning in the river and then pointed to a dog over there. He told her not to worry as he would get her dog. Though he was really scared he knew that he had to be brave because the girl really needed his help.

He dived in the river and saved the dog. He gave the dog back to the girl. The girl thanked him and asked him what his name was. He said he was

Jack. She then told him that he was brave. His smile turned into a sad face. He then said that he isn’t brave. He said all about himself and how he was bullied. The girl told him that he should ignore them. The boy felt happy and smiled, he then asked her what her name was and why she was there all alone.

She said she was Hannah, the daughter of a businessman. She told him for saving her dog he would be rewarded.

Jack was posted all over the news for his good deeds and from that day on he was no longer called names for being scared ever again.

Mariam Moseni

When Jade found the carving in the attic of Westenhanger Castle, she could tell it was going to be trouble. It wasn’t so much the eerily amazing –almost inhuman – detail. It was more the feeling of danger and mystery that seemed to cocoon it and seep into her fingers and body. The carving was of a tawny lion’s head and body and another head – a silvery goat – besides it. Instead of a tail, there was an emerald and azure serpent that curled in an aggressive position, fangs bared. It didn’t seem to be a statue – in fact, it seemed like a moment frozen in time. You could see every glistening scale and strand of hair; every hint of hate and loathing in their stance. And as she stared at it, it seemed to grow. Jade stepped back…

And dropped the carving.

She was glad she had, for it started moving, then growing until it was taller that the colossal stack of boxes next to her.

The beast leaped upon her, and she barely managed to roll clumsily between its legs, despite many hours of vigorous gymnastics training. She scrambled past and tumbled down the ladder steps to land with a thump on the floor.

She dashed away to the gardens, where a small cottage (which was actually a weapon-collector’s house) lay. John and Gregory were out with their mother. She hurriedly picked up the first weapon-like thing that she could see – a wooden spear with a large, rectangular, rather pillow-like spearhead. Jade wasn’t sure how it would assist in the least, but maybe it would help her ward

the beast off and call for help. She ran back out of the hut and came face to face with the terrific monster before her.

She wondered if it used mouthwash, because its breath was very minty.

Then its goat mouth opened and let loose a tornado of flames and smoke.

She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything. Her last thought was for her mother and was happy.

As the second bolt of fire flew towards her, she instinctively raised the spear in a futile attempt at self-defence. She thrust it hard then the streak of fire cut off as soon as it started. The wooden handle disintegrated in her hands. It gagged, the soft metal blocking its throat, then she could feel herself rising to heaven, to be with dear father.

When Jade woke, she felt like an overworn cardigan; weary, ragged, and so, so tired. A very familiar carving stood nearby on an oak bedside table. Her mother stood, watching her wake. She ran over to Jade and hugged her hard, silent tears streaming down her face. Then she realised.

All she needed was love, and she could defeat anything. Any monster, any creature, anything.

All she needed was love.

Iona Zhang AGED 10

The ‘Ghost’ of Westenhanger Castle

On April 1st, 1543, just as ‘Queen Elizabeth I’ finished her supper, she furtively slid away from the palace dining room in Westenhanger Castle. Shrouded behind the airy clouds, the alabasterwhite moon shone as bright as the World Cup. The queen was fond of the elegant taste of the castle with luxurious rooms: chandeliers with crystals dangling down like blackberries on a bush as well as the finest most lavish leather sofas and dainty pillows with intricate, ornate patterns.

Just as Queen Elizabeth was running upstairs to the bedrooms, she saw an actual ghost in the living room. Instantaneously, she put her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from letting out an ear-piercing scream. She pinched herself to check that she was not dreaming. How had this happened? How would she get help? A billion questions bombarded her brain as she hadn’t the slightest inkling of what she was going to do. Beads of sweat trickled down her temples as her mouth became as dry as the Saharan Desert as she wiped her clammy palms onto her dress. She was so petrified to even move and felt that she was rooted to the spot.

“Who is this? Is this one of my ancestors rising from the dead?” Queen Elizabeth contemplated.

Shivering with fear, she walked ever so slowly as though she had gravel in her shoes. Gulping, she was looking out of the window, desperately hoping that someone would see and rescue her from the ghost. She had never been so worried in all her born days. She was going to have to do something, and fast.

Mustering all of the courage she had, she edged way closer, and now she could see how the ghost looked. It had a pearl-white sheet draped

on itself like tinsel on a Christmas tree. It was just hovering in mid-air. The Queen was now incredibly discombobulated. How was it hanging? Clutching her pearl necklace, she walked further on and investigated it.

“I CAN DO THIS. Don’t let the ghost get the better of me,” Queen Elizabeth reassured herself.

As if without a care in the world, she stroked the sheet.

The penny dropped…

It wasn’t a ghost; it was a laundry sheet draped over a white helium balloon. It all made sense for her - it was April Fool’s Day, and she was pranked.

“Silly me! Of course!” She chuckled to herself.

A tidal wave of relief swept over her body as tension had escaped her. Well, that was a mystery of a night!

Sairithvika Mallina AGED 11

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

The Ghost of Westenhanger Castle

The grounds outside the Westenhanger Castle were engulfed by the midnight darkness, which filled the sky like how the raging sea fills our oceans. Coal-black branches twisted and turned like the limbs of a silent beast lurking behind the impenetrable dark bars that make up the gates of the palace. Coming from the north, brutal winds imposed their strength, whipping the clouds into shape, while the rain poured down, attacking the vegetation below.

Inside, sheltered from the elements, Queen Elizabeth l lay in a deep slumber. In her grand bedroom, the lights flickered, and the curtains flew open, creating loud rustling noises, and disturbing the queen. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open; she was covered in a cold sweat, as she sat there, shivering in her bed. Her room was a whirlwind of noise, but in her mind, everything was silent, as her eyes fell on the windows, which were slowly opening to let the wrath of winter in. The windows opened further and developed small cracks from the brutality of the winds. Violently shaking,

the previously beautiful golden window frames succumbed to the strength of the elements, as large cracks spread across the window and frame, crumbling to the ground and causing immense distress to Queen Elizabeth. Similar to a bass drum, her heart pounded powerfully; her muscles tensed while she tried to steady her breathing. From the remains of her shattered windows, a translucent fog emerged, bewildering the terrified Queen, as the sounds of whispers grew louder, driving the Queen to grip her sceptre and take heavy steps backwards. Rising slowly from the window fragments on the scarlet-patterned carpet, the fog approached her. She trembled, paralysed on the spot, repeatedly stuttering to herself that there’s no such thing as ghosts, yet her eyes couldn’t be deceiving her. Heat burned through her skull, as her fear became more tangible, engulfing her as the fog made its way up her neck. It threw her against the wall, in a quick violent action, tightening its grip on her fragile neck, beneath her dishevelled rusty orange hair. Her pale face was moist with tears, eyes were swollen as she clawed at the fog, attempting to snatch it off her throat, but it was no use. Choking back tears, she let out a quiet whimper, similar to the sound of a dog dying, in her last breath, as her soulless body fell to the ground. The ghastly fog, satisfied with its actions, returned to the broken window and vanished.

Finally, dawn had come, as sunlight poured through the now unglazed window holes, casting a rose hue across the room. The golden rays of light eventually settled upon the queen’s lifeless body, illuminating her cold face as the door slowly creaked open, and the fog entered…

The Phantom of the Towers and the Queen

It was later: the grandfather clock had just struck four, yet the queen was still awake. In the middle of the bedchamber of Westenhanger Castle was a grand four-poster bed, draped with velvet curtains. As tired as she was, the queen simply could not sleep and reluctantly, she slipped out of bed, clutching a candle in a brass candle holder.

The queen ventured out to one of the lowers, shuddering slightly, she pushed a sturdy, oak door open. It was cluttered with crates, and unfamiliar portraits and filled with curtains of thick dust. Cobwebs hung from corners and the scampering of feet was caused by little mice. The queen would not have liked to admit the fact she was trembling and wobbling like blancmange, hence she put on an imperious scowl.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement took the queen by surprise, and she stumbled back. A silver person stood, her skin pale as the moon, eyes full of pain and hair wispy, strands escaping her bun. Clad in servants’ robes and scruffy-looking shoes, the girl looked rather peculiar.

“Who are you?” the figure asked, a note of curiosity in her voice.

“I am Queen Elizabeth the first,” replied the queen, drawing herself up haughtily, all air of fear gone. Or so she hoped.

“A royal no doubt....” murmured the ghost, her eyes skimming sceptically over the queen’s lacy nightgown.

The queen felt herself flush; she had never actually felt embarrassed, always maintaining a stern, stiff look. Attempting to change the subject she asked, “Who are you, then?”

“I am the phantom of the towers. I was a servant here centuries ago. When I was alive, my name was Ellie. My life came to an end as I was executed for apparently conspiring with a traitor. It was not true; the traitor – who was once a merchant – wanted me to become his partner-in-crime. I refused and in less than a week, I was thrown into scandal. Rumours about me and the traitor quickly reached the King’s ears thus I was sent to death,” the ghost said with a grim smile.

The queen gasped, enthralled: why she had never so much as listened to ghosts. Ellie was indeed proving an exception.

“So, what do you do nowadays?” the queen asked unable to contain her curiosity.

“I have roamed the castle and its grounds. Centuries after I have died, I still hear the whispers from other servants mocking the tale of the phantom of the towers.”

As she spoke, light was dawning. “I cannot stay, my spirit never ceases to wander and when dawn approaches, I must flee,” the phantom said sorrowfully.

The silver figure seemed to fade as a smile appeared. It was full of yearning for justice. Hastily, the ghost dropped a silver button into the queen’s hand, and disappeared...

Descending down the stairs to her bedroom, the queen heard the echo of the ghost’s words and felt light-hearted, singing softly to herself she climbed back to bed.

Charis Chan AGED

The Ghost Beneath the Floorboards

She never believed in supernatural creatures; their lifeless murmurs, shrieking whispers. But it was ghosts, in particular, who simply never stood right with her…

Ever since her first visit to Westenhanger Castle, nothing was standing right for her.

She found herself, the next morning, waking up to an avalanche of hail cascading down the brick walls of the castle and into her room. The two doors to the balcony had been forced open by the violent winds of the night before. Her eyes narrowed, and she later gave a simple shrug, as she carelessly tilted her head to the other side of her pillow. For just a second, she felt hesitant arms embracing her. Turns out, it was just a jumble of her blankets and pillows strangling her chest.

Carefully, she pulled the light switch, situated on top of her bedside table, whilst she began untangling herself from the layers of blankets, like a butterfly crawling out of its cocoon. The dusty chandeliers above her head fluttered on and off before eventually reaching a dim level, leaving a pile of dust on her tattered bed sheets. She thought she heard a distant whisper, scraping the back of her mind, but she figured it was only the murmuring of soldiers situated next door. A few minutes passed, and by now, the murmuring of soldiers lowered to silence, as the final of the Spanish opponents retrieved.

The sound of the creaking wooden floorboards interrupted the previous continuous silence of the room. The lights fluttered off. A screeching voice cackled in the distance.

It was a ghost.

Masra Yassin AGED 14

A Ghostly Encounter

Queen Elizabeth I walked through the endless maze of crumbling walls, searching for the precious gem. Rumours have spread that a priceless stone was hidden here at Westenhanger Castle. The people said this gem was a sight to behold – it glistened brighter than the sun, it would light up your eyes with delight, and they said that it is the most valuable thing in the world. People also said that this azure stone has supernatural powers, able to summon people from the dead.

Queen Elizabeth wasn’t accompanied by her guards anymore, as she thought they could turn greedy and take the stone for themselves. After searching for what felt like years, she slunk down to the floor and leant against the decaying walls. Was this just a joke? She started to fill up with rage. It was then she saw something dart past the door of the room she was in. It was transparent, she was still able to see the walls outside. It seemed like they were wearing a cloak, which draped around their whole body. It didn’t seem to touch the ground, it seemed to hover.

Queen Elizabeth wasn’t furious now – but frightened. Who was this person? Whatever it was, the petrified Queen Elizabeth sat there, her mouth gaped open. She didn’t want to move; in case it heard her. After taking some deep breaths, she decided to follow this creature and see who it was. She remembered it went left and, being cautious of everything that moved, she followed the passageway going left. It led to a dead end. She

then thought that her eyes fooled her and made her believe that somebody was there. She tried to bang her fist on the wall, but it went straight through. It was a secret entrance – there was no wall, it was there to stop people from finding the stone.

She walked in, mesmerised but also frightened. When she was young, she thought magic was real. Now it turns out she was right. The room she walked into didn’t seem crumbled or decayed, it was well-kept and beautiful. Nobody would believe this place was centuries old. As she continued, she heard some sort of cackle. It sent a chill down her spine. As she slowly turned behind her, her face turned pale. Her body froze with terror. She couldn’t breathe.

A ghost. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. She had only one thing left that she could do – run. She dashed out and ran for her life, begging that she wouldn’t be caught. She was going so fast, she nearly smashed herself into a wall. She reached a dead end, and she closed her eyes and knew It was over. “I am so sorry,” the ghost said unexpectedly. “I only wanted to be your friend.” Queen Elizabeth spluttered nonsense – she was lost for words. Then she ran straight through the ghost, to the door and dashed out. That was an encounter of a lifetime that she couldn’t forget.

Preesh Gandhi AGED 10

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

Once Upon a Westenhanger Past

Today I was most excited about my mother’s wedding! I climbed into the car, and we drove all the way to Westenhanger castle. As we passed the main gardens, I saw a blur of lively trees with healthy green grass that dazzled my eyes, I could not look away. I tried to take in as much wonderful foliage as possible. It was finally spring, and the candy floss pink petals drifted down to the ground sleepily.

A tall man in a smart blazer ushered us inside the building.

“And you must be the bride?” he questioned.

“Yes,” answered my mum gleefully with a wide smile that revealed her dimples.

“Let me guide you to the bridal suite. You can get changed there… and for this little...”

“I am NOT little I am nine years old!” I corrected him.

“Yes, yes anyway, you can wander around the castle for a little bit,” he said dismissing me.

“Oooooooookkkkkkkkkk,” I drawled, making sure he knew I wouldn’t be staying out of the way to please him.

I was off. I went to where no one else would be… the tower. I spotted an emerald necklace that lay there, so solitary. I reached out my hand to touch it and a flash of blinding light swallowed me up and imprisoned me. Suddenly, I woke up in the exact place I was before, the tower, but something was peculiar…. the faint hubbub of the guests downstairs had disappeared. I went to see my mum but instead I saw Henry VIII getting ready!

No one seemed to hear, see or feel me. I was in the wrong timeline. Suddenly, I saw a girl the same age as me. It was Elizabeth, the future queen, and she could see me! She held out her hand and said, “Come.”

“How can I get back to the modern day?” I pleaded.

“You need to find the necklace of pure gold and emeralds that you touched. To get it you need a magnet called the Westenhanger magical magnet. I have it tucked in my pocket somewhere.”

Her hand, which had a pale and deathly pallor to it, rummaged around in the finest silk pocket. All of a sudden, her face showed a triumphant grin, and she held a bright pink circle in her hand. It looked as if it had been cut out of a painting or a cardboard box. I took it and I was off on a caper to uncover the necklace. It was lying on Henry VIII’s neck! I attracted the carefully bejewelled necklace and was instantly transported back to the wedding.

“I just want to say thank you to everyone for coming today,” I heard my mum say.

I walked into the room and quietly sat down next to my family. I thought what a beautiful, luxurious place to get married and I knew better than most, of the extraordinary history lying within these walls.

Darwin Mannion AGED 9

The Barrel

What was I doing? That thought was drumming through my head as I reached out my hand for the doorknob. That doorknob belonged to my old home, Westenhanger Castle. The place had been a wonder to behold back when my father, King Henry the 8th, was alive, but ever since his death, it had slowly been constricted by the green. Although it was now a mess, I had decided to return and fix the place up. My father loved it so much and I loved attending his parties, especially the ones that involved hunting. I guess the reason I had returned is that I couldn’t let this loved place be destroyed.

I pushed open the door. The place was empty apart from a large, wooden barrel in the corner. I gulped remembering the grim tale behind it. “I drowned a man in that barrel,” my father had always said with a chuckle. I had always found it revolting, so didn’t question why he had drowned the man, although now the question was bubbling up and I had no-one to answer it.

“This is going to take longer than I thought,” I said to myself. The sun was already setting, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to work at night. The wolves would get me. I decided to lay down on the stone floor and tried to sleep. I felt like a prisoner but eventually nodded off.

I awoke in the night to the sound of music. I sat up confused. It sounded like one of my father’s parties. No, it couldn’t be. I was obviously experiencing a nightmare, yet it felt so real. I looked around for the source of the music, but just as the day before, it was empty. Well apart from the... I walked towards the barrel. It was full of water. Questions clouded my mind. I figured it must not be there and reached out to touch it.

As my fingers came into contact with the water, my stomach lurched. I jumped back and the water began to swirl. I ran for the door. This wasn’t a dream. This was an attempted murder. I cursed Satan as I discovered the door was locked. At that moment, a hand grabbed the side of the barrel pulling out a man. He did not speak but ran at me, raising a knife from his pocket. I ducked and the knife slammed into the wall. I then punched the man in the cheek. He fell back and spat blood onto the floor. “Your father drowned me, you will pay for his mistake,” he yelled. He then pulled out another knife that was strapped to his boot.

He ran again but this time was more direct. My vision clouded as the pain in my chest began. I was stabbed. The knife was then removed, and I fell to the ground. Later that night I died of bleeding. Well, now you know how a ghost killed me, not Dr Lopez’s poison.

Frank Crocker AGED

The Pursuit to Richness

In the Rosamund Tower lived a King, Queen and a Butler. The Butler is great at cooking and cleaning, but he does not have a great memory and keeps notes to remind himself of jobs he needs to do. The Butler was busy because the tower had 11 rooms that needed cleaning. As he enters room 10, his eye catches something sparkling: a big sparkling diamond jewel. He picks it up and uses his white cloth and polishes it, he asks himself “if I take this, I will be rich and no longer a butler,” so he puts it in his pocket and carries on cleaning.

The next morning, the Queen rushes downstairs in panic screaming, “Someone has taken my jewel!” There is no one but the butler in the Tower and he responds, “are you sure it is missing, did you not take it for your ceremony with the King?” She replies, “no, as it needed polishing.” The butler reassures the queen she will find it. Twelve hours pass and no jewel is to be found. The queen is frantically panicking and rings the local news reporter and says, “anyone who finds this jewel will get a £10,000 reward.’’

Two days pass and everyone is searching for this Jewel but it cannot be found. The Butler carries on with his normal tasks and it gets to the evening when he does his own jobs and as he is folding his trousers. He feels something solid and there it was, the jewel. He did not recall taking this with his memory. But as everyone is searching for the Jewel he informs the Queen, he has found it. He suddenly gets a flashback of how he has behaved and how he had taken the Jewel and forgotten all about it

She thanks him and grabs the jewel. He responds, “can I have my reward?” The Queen replies, “it should never have been lost in the first place; your job is to keep things organised.” The butler was upset and walked back to his cabin room. He slowly said to himself, “I should never have been greedy. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” After that day, the butler never stole again and stayed a loyal butler. Not only that, his memory started working absolutely fine and nothing was ever forgotten.

Naima Abbas AGED 12

Boleyn’s Arrow

Westenhanger Castle 1538

The Lady Wilhelmina of Westenhanger Castle had ordered that the Tower be cleaned; her order was followed. The castle was of stone and brick, redroof-tiled, and squat. It was more of a manor than a castle, as the Lady herself had admitted to various visitors over the years. But we shall say that, on the date of the cleaning of the tower, Harriet, one of her Lady’s maids was of the curious nature and could not help noticing one very distinctive sculpture among the dust.

“Lady Wilhelmina, what’s this?”

The thing Harriet was so querying was a little golden cupid, hands curled over the tail of an arrow.

“Annie Boulder...”

“What? Who? Lady Wilhelmina!”

For at that moment, having alighted her eyes upon the sculpture, Wilhelmina emitted a piercing shriek, after which she toppled away from a fireplace, by whose side she had been standing upon Harriet’s entrance.

In her place, there was a small green vine, curling slightly at the top and pointing towards the fireplace.

Heart pounding, Harriet ran to Wilhelmina’s side. As she stood in the place where her mistress had stood only a few moments before, Harriet felt a tug at her ankle. The cupid was still clutched in her hand, its surface, slick with Harriet’s sweat, was cold, even though Harriet had been holding it for a while.

Another tug.

Harriet looked down, and seeing the little green vine, marvelled.

“All right, littl’ feller,” attempting to loosen herself, anticipating another jolt.

And up she was jerked!

Up, up through the fireplace’s sooty fumes. Up, through a multitude of bricked passageways. Up, through a smokestack and onto the roofHarriet caught her breath. She blinked.

Lady Wilhelmina, upright, but wearing – was that a courtier’s dress? Golden thread, brown heavy velvet, pearl necklace. There, on the roof, when only minutes earlier she had lain prostrate beneath Westenhanger’s vermilion vaulting. It was as if she were dressing up as the previous queen, the witchqueen, the one who had been unfaithful...

“Anne Boleyn?”

Harriet breathed. But no; it couldn’t be - Anne had been executed years ago.

Those eyes... they studied Harriet, reading her as one might a picture book. Harriet shifted on her feet. Her eyes caught the slight inclination of that long neck.

“Turn the arrow.”

Harriet froze. “T-turn what arrow?” But she knew already. She did twist the arrow somehow, her hand a traitorous vessel, the cupid’s arrow. One turn.

Westenhanger Castle, Present

It was the same castle, but there was as a... a metal thing, vrooming, roaring past. There was another. And another. They were so sleek and alien that Harriet had to force down tears.

“2023, Westenhanger,” Anne’s voice flowed from her seamlessly, without a single movement of her lips. It was very strange indeed that Anne began to disintegrate, then and there, with no prompting at all.

“Anne! Wait!”

Harriet caught a glimpse of fluent brown hair, then nothing more. This time, she could not stop the tears from flowing.

Amber Wang

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

Storm at Sea

December 1606

It was a wonderful day to be by the sea. As snow fell, everyone fell silent as Nathaniel Peacock’s father stepped forward to christen Master Thomas Smythe’s ship, Discovery. “God bless ye, and all who sail within ye!” Nathaniel’s father prayed. While The Lord’s Prayer was said, nine-year-old Nathaniel noticed his naughty cat, Storm, edging closer to the ship. The mouse Storm was chasing leapt aboard, and Storm followed. In a panic, Nathaniel jumped aboard to retrieve Storm.

“Storm, stop!” Nathaniel cried out as he pursued Storm down to the hold. Suddenly, he heard the trap door close, the shrill sound of a bosun’s whistle and the command, “Hoist the main sail.” Alone in the dark, Nathaniel felt lonely and helpless. Storm came close and fell to sleep on Nathaniel’s lap. After a frustrating week in the hold, the trap door finally re-opened, and someone came in. Nathaniel jumped to his feet. “What’s this?” the sailor bellowed. Nathaniel and Storm were taken to the captain. “Stowaways,” the captain said. “John Smith,” he extended his hand. “Nathaniel Peacock and Storm, Sir. We didn’t mean to go to sea.” Nathaniel explained. “Well, you’re headed to America now,” Captain Smith beamed.

It took 5 months to get across the rough Atlantic Ocean. When they arrived, they were all relieved, starving and ill. Kindness came to them in the form of a little Native girl called Pocahontas. She brought food and provisions for them every day. They all wished they had something to give her in return to say, “Thank you.”

Pocahontas had never seen a cat before and fell in love with Storm. Watching her with Storm, Nathaniel knew what he should do. He decided

to give Pocahontas his precious cat. Smiling, she gave Nathaniel Storm’s silver collar, as a reminder.

July 1607

Nathaniel returned to England on Susan Constant, it returned with a load of timber from the new world.

As Nathaniel stood outside the gates of Westenhanger Castle, he was so happy to be back. He ran swiftly to the Vicarage to find his parents. He found them in the garden. His mother ran to hug him as she burst into tears. “Nathaniel!” shouted his father.

The next day was a dull, misty morning. Nathaniel silently tiptoed into Westenhanger Castle, and climbed the wet steps of the Tower, drips of water fell to the ground and echoed around him. He clambered on, up the steep steps. Suddenly, he saw a dull light up ahead. He saw a door, stepped through it and spied a gap in the wall. He looked through it to make sure it wasn’t hollow.

Thoughtfully, he pulled an old telescope that Captain Smith had given him from his pocket. Inside it, he put his ship’s papers and the tiny, silver collar that had once belonged to Storm.

He carefully placed it inside the gap between the stones, hoping that one day it might be a forgotten item found in Westenhanger Castle’s Tower.

Miles Timmis

Mayhem at Westenhanger

Cold was the night, frozen in winter’s bitterly harsh grip. The seasonal change carried an icy trail along England’s cobbled streets which were occupied by the begging poor. But the palace wall contained a comforting warmth. A blazing fire created a blanket among the once cold halls, where the Queen was planning a grand party. A party addressed to the lords and ladies of England as a celebration of Elizabeth’s reign. Despite the cold and harsh weather, the castle of Westenhanger was busy with preparations for the Queen’s party.

And so, when the day finally came, Elizabeth was ready and impatient to start. White pearls hung round her pale neck; a long white gown flowed onto the pebbled ground. Compliments flooded the room eager to catch Elizabeth’s liking.

The castle of Westenhanger filled with laughter as Elizabeth bragged of her jewels. But despite the distractions of music, the guests struggled to stay amused. Everybody patiently waited for the food, something exciting to brighten the disappointing night. Looking smart and confident, a waiter strode in with a platter for the Queen. Elizabeth smiled, her favourite dish. The waiter bent down, ready to serve, all was perfect. Until he slipped.

Flying off the plate, meat, sauce, peas and more landed in Elizabeth’s lap. It sploshed down her gown, creating a pile of unappealing food. The room fell silent, all eyes focused on Elizabeth.

Bursting with laughter, the guests made a joke of the embarrassing situation. Elizabeth sat still and quiet as a mouse. Her embarrassment bubbled up into a tight balloon. Until it popped. Exploding through her emotions, she tried to escape her living nightmare. Heading for the exit, the Queen pushed past the audience of people, who were still laughing at her food-covered gown. The room spilled with shock and surprise. What would the people think of her? A queen that was made a fool at her own party?

Concealing herself in an empty room, Elizabeth wept. But anger soon turned into a spark of curiosity. Laying alone and isolated, a large sceptre twinkled in the moon’s light, its beauty drew in Elizabeth like a magnet. Rain thrashed against the window, casting a shadow upon the miserable grey wall, but after Elizabeth held the sceptre in her hand everything stopped. The rain froze in its place, followed by the party guests like they were under a spell.

Intrigued by this power, Elizabeth began to plan her revenge. With ideas bubbling in her mind, the Queen entered the once lively room. She observed the guests, hands at their stomachs, faces full of laughter. Time to get experimenting. Splashing drinks on skirts, taking men’s shoes off, rearranging people into awkward positions. Once Elizabeth was done causing mayhem, she dropped the sceptre, breaking the enchantment. The guests unfroze, horrified at the scene in front of them. They screamed, they shouted, they gasped. The women cried at their dresses; the men panicked with no shoes. Everything had gone perfectly. Perfectly for Elizabeth that is.

Dita Monroe Aris AGED

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

The Ghost at Westenhanger Castle

The parlour maid Agnes entered the drawing room of Westenhanger Castle with her face as white as a sheet and shaking violently. She bobbed a curtsey to the woman sitting in the high-backed armchair. “The master wants you to step into the library ma’am. He looks like the departed ma’am. You best prepare yourself for the worst ma’am.” She bowed again and shuffled out of the room. Queen Elizabeth I briskly strode out of the room and into the library. The walls were covered in heavy volumes and noises circulated the room with the constant scratching of pen on paper and the incessant flick of a book. The willowpatterned grandfather clock seemed to chime twelve million times. There was lots of talking between the Queen and her father. Her father said that he had heard the sound of feet in the walls and a chill breeze seemed to ripple through the velvety blackness of the night.

Queen Elizabeth walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Frown lines had appeared on her face that weren’t there before. As she strained her face it seemed to contort like the operation of melting glass. She gave a countenance expression. Now the colour of her face resembled one’s porridge that has been left out for days. The days that followed were bleak and seemed to be filled with nothing short of misery.

Once, Queen Elizabeth fainted after seeing a pen floating at her desk. Her lady-in-waiting rang the tasselled bell hanging next to the window. Within minutes, Agnes came with a small fiasco glass with smelling salts, a pitcher filled with cold water and a flannel.

One dreary night, Queen Elizabeth crept out of her room and tiptoed along the corridor. She was glad of the thick velvety carpet that muffled her footsteps. She entered the foyer. It was pitch black except for an average shaped silhouette moving about. She held the dim flickering light of the candle above her head. Some of the warm candle wax dripped down to her hand. There was the rustling of clothes and the click of a latch that could be heard in the listless silence of the night. Queen Elizabeth saw the hooded silhouette of Agnes. It was covered in coal dust and her cheeks were pink. She seemed flustered and her hands were cold and damp. Her eyes turned to the size of ping-pong balls. In her hand she clutched a chatelaine, a tiara inlaid with emeralds, as well as a torque and a feather pendant brooch. Before Queen Elizabeth could open her mouth, Agnes had stuffed everything in an old and tatty carpenter’s bag and ran into the courtyard. The bag looked luminous in the half darkness.

In the newspaper the next day the headline read: Agnes Hensley arrested for theft and sentence to three years penal servitude

As Queen Elizabeth read the newspaper, she thought well that’s our ghost.

Isabelle O. Nnaji AGED 9

Was It A Phantom Or...?

It was a Sunday morning and Queen Elizabeth was roaming and exploring her home of Westenhanger Castle. The Queen had been through a lot; her mother lady Anne Boleyn’s passing had surely affected her. It was a dangerous time in her life as there were several plots to murder her, each attempt causing her more worry.

One day, she heard a whispering voice coming from the North staircase. She was a curious monarch and decided to investigate. She walked cautiously up the winding staircase, biding her time in case it was yet another murderous plan in an attempt to steal the throne. She stuck her head around the corner and to her surprise, no one was there.

“I must have heard something.” She thought to herself. Whoosh. A cold, harsh chill slid over her and she immediately jumped in alarm. Suddenly, she heard something. Quiet but it got louder as each second passed. Footsteps. Approaching.

The Queen put her back against the wall furthest from the ominous sound. “I’m just dreaming, surely.” She told herself. The footsteps were getting nearer, but as they reached the top of the staircase, they stopped abruptly.

Elizabeth gasped and sighed with relief. All she wanted was to lie down in her bed. But the staircase led to only one corridor which she was already standing in, which means that if you wanted to go anywhere you needed the mysterious staircase. She took a deep breath a tiptoed toward the top of the stairs, ready to face whatever dangerous, feisty creature was awaiting her. She was expecting company, but when she saw the face, she nearly fainted in shock, for it belonged to the ghost of her mother, Anne Boleyn.

Rumaysa Khalifa AGED 10

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

A Painful Truth

She sat down, trembling and shaking violently, anxious to read the diary of her deceased sister, which had finally been salvaged from the ruins.

‘Dear diary,

It’s 16th January 1542, and the sun is rising over Westenhanger Castle for the last time. I’m standing on the balcony, whilst the serene, still trees enjoy their last day. My long, black hair sways behind me as a gentle breeze is passing by, moving on beyond the castle boundaries. I watch, mesmerised, as the sun gradually rises, peeping at me with its bright, warming gaze. A smile lingers on my lips as I see it. It is truly…majestic, and full of wonder.

As I look around, old memories flood my mind, taunting me of the past I often hopelessly dwell on. All masks of pretence, happiness and hope will soon be snatched away. The past is sure to repeat itself. Today is the last day. The trees will be slaughtered and the ground trampled upon. Nature is always the victim; innocent with no interests in anything but peace, yet it suffers extortionately.

It is about to suffer more, and there is nothing anyone can do to help it. War has already been declared. Our people have fled to safety in other regions. War, the only force powerful enough to unite man. Why? I remember my mother telling me about the war when she was a child. The experience had harrowed her. I now understand why she rarely smiled and why her eyes had that dull look in them, almost as though her soul was

gone. She was left a barren shell. Will war have the same effect on me? I shiver remembering what it had done to her.

My head feels as though it’s being stabbed. I detest this place. Every inch of it is fake. It’s a prison where I have been trapped for years, forced to play my role of a princess to perfection like a puppet. I envy the freedom of warriors.

Hours are passing like seconds. The sun is already setting. I wave it a mournful goodbye as it hurries to seek shelter and hide. The candles and lanterns are being lit. Suddenly, a rustling sound is coming from the trees. They can feel what is about to happen. I’m freezing, petrified, my body stiff like a corpse. Nature itself is warning me. The distinct feeling of helplessness is sinking deeper into my soul and my stomach, making it churn in terror. The horn blows. Once. Twice. Thrice. It’s time for war. Below me, soldiers assume their positions all across the soon to be battlefield; patterned with blood and corpses. Each soldier carries with him a sword, a shield and memories. I open the balcony doors and walk back inside, my head spinning in agony. Soon, I will rest my head and sleep deeply, peacefully and eternally. It has begun. Goodbye.’

Her eyes flooded with tears and she wept uncontrollably, the diary falling to the floor with a thud.

Zainab Faisal Riaz AGED

The Lost Search

Excitement buzzed in the air for the celebration of the National Day of England. Festivities were held everywhere and streets were filled with colour and pompous celebrations. The functions were held at the magnificent Westenhanger Castle with all the royalty in presence and a grand party to be held. Later at night all of the sudden it started heavily raining so the royalty, with no option in place, decided to spend the night at the castle. During the stormy night, as expected, fear was amongst the children’s who won’t feel scared on such a unruly weather in a secluded place like the Westenhanger.

With a lots of efforts of the bedtime stories and lullabies, the children were put to sleep. A little later in the middle of the night, a cacophony struck waking up Elizabeth. While trying to comprehend of the place the noises were coming from, she came across the painting with a button.

Out of curiosity like any 9-year-old she pressed the button. “Ahhhh…Ahhh…What’s happening? Why am I falling. Help…Help”, started exclaiming Elizabeth. She landed in a dark room filled with webs and dusty things. Stumbling, she accidentally hit a lamp with it getting lit, a glimpse of the glittering sword fascinated her the most. As she went to grab it, a voice started coming. “The true owner has come. Our wait is over my friends.” Said the voice of an old man.

Shocked till the core, Elizabeth rushed towards the door to get out of the haunted room. Click.

“Ahhh…oh Lord Jesus, I do not want to come to you so soon. Please let me live. Help me!!” She kept murmuring under her breath.” Just then the room was illuminated, and she could see everything; an old man dressed in a suit, floating around her. Once again she screamed, “Ahhh”. The man then assured her, “Fear not. For I am the spirit of your great grandfather and for 300 years I was residing in this sword as it was my last memory. You must be Elizabeth.”. But in response Elizabeth still aghast stared blankly at her great grandfather.

Coming to her senses, she hesitantly asked him, “And how do I believe that you are the spirit of my great grandfather?”

“You are just as precocious as I imagined. Recollect when I said the true owner has come. This sword has been awaiting a true owner for centuries. Not one of my descendants has been able to come down here to get the legendary sword of Excalibur for none of them were worth of such a responsibility of great power. It was my last wish to pass on my greatest treasure to my descendants who had to pass a series of tests as easy as cake for her including a calm head, self control, kind heart, all of these found in young Elizabeth.”

It was decided that she was the rightful heir to the sword. And after her perhaps the true owner of Excalibur shall be found again.

Gazala Habibi AGED 12

The Helmet

Sighing heavily, the Queen snapped her immensely thick book shut. She gracefully rose, adjusted her unmanageably billowy dress, and strode out of her study. Unproductivity was infuriating, particularly with a significant battle mere weeks away. The refreshingly cool hallway was relieving, the crisp air freezing her concerns. Immaculate stained glass depicted idyllic flower gardens while golden light rained down, flooding the hallway with miniature rainbows and jewels.

Absent-mindedly, she entered a seldom-used alley in Westenhanger Tower. Peeking out of the windows was grey, miserable-tinted light. The plush hallway carpet became chipped floorboards. The alley was exceptionally claustrophobic, considering its location in the Queen’s residence: the ceiling barely accommodated her unimpressive height. A mildly damp scent lingered from the caramel-panelled walls. Suddenly, she stumbled. Peering behind, she noticed a helmet hiding by the wall. It covered the whole head, with a slit for the eyes, a metallic sail and protruding nose. Curious, she kneeled, gently grazing the smooth surface. The neglected corridor melted away.

Dazed, Elizabeth acknowledged the surroundings: the picturesque castle’s grounds. A strangled scream clawed her ears. Elizabeth whipped around, losing her footing and painting her famous features with bewilderment. A stealthy figure, carefully concealed in olive armour, aimed a lethally sharp spear at another figure cloaked in crimson and gold. Abruptly, she identified the uniform. It was the armour of the esteemed English Army. A muffled cry escaped her. Elizabeth dove unceremoniously behind an oak tree, its splayed branches bravely shielding her.

There was clearly a battle raging, but she could only see two figures. The olive soldier- from the barbaric Icelandic army- launched a spear, knocking the Englishman’s helmet off. Blood pounded in his ears frantically. He fumbled for his sword’s hilt, unsheathing it jerkily. The Icelander chuckled lightly. Trembling, the Englishman raised the sword above his head and slashed down with all the might he could muster. The Icelandic soldier easily sidestepped the blade. Dismayed, the Englishman repeated the manoeuvre, aiming for the vital organs. Tired of playing games, the Icelandic soldier exhaled slightly, aiming a ferociously curved dagger at him. Despair flooded him: his fate was sealed. The Icelander launched his dagger at astonishing speed. The Englishman stumbled and collapsed. Scarlet oozed around him, with the strategically aimed spear lodged in his neck.

His eyes fluttered shut.

Elizabeth’s face blanched as she fought the urge to be sick. A woman behind her tore through the trees towards the discarded body, tears streaming. She caught sight of Elizabeth and halted. “You! How could you do this?” she screeched, turning to her. “My son was killed for your gain. You monster!”

The woman wielded a blunt food knife and hurtled towards Elizabeth. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate as the soldier did.

A flash. Elizabeth opened her eyes. She was back in her study, with no sign of battle outside- just peace. An advisor strode through the doors.

“Your Majesty, the battle-”

“Cancel it.” she commanded, “I would like to discuss a peace treaty instead.”

A Sinister Shadow

I wandered amongst the many trees in the courtyard, admiring how firmly they stood; they had remained in place for hundreds of years, and yet their roots seemed to dig deeper every year, their leaves lush and green. Nature was incredible. Even the foundations of the castle had begun to decay - although they had been replaced some forty years ago. A smile stretched across my face as I looked around in awe. I wondered what had happened here in the past. Who had walked the same path I now tread? Perhaps a warrior, or a king? In a way, I was following in their footsteps.

Something flashed at me from the ground. I walked towards it, curiosity flooding my mind, perplexed. It was round and beautiful… was it a ring? Yes, it looked like one! It had magnificent gems, such as sparkling sapphires, which sat contently on its gorgeous golden band. My lips parted and a soft “Oh,” of awe escaped. My eyes twinkled, fixated on the wonder I now held in my hands. It looked grand - no doubt it had once belonged to a queen or a princess.

All at once, I began to shiver. My fingers closed automatically around the ring; protecting it from harm. A voice began to whisper in my ear. I spun around, horrified, but nobody was near me. The whispering was gradually growing louder and louder, and my head started to spin in agony. A dark shadow appeared on the ground, and my heart pounded in my chest, desperate to escape its prison. My eyes gazed up against my will; a hooded figure stood in front of me, a long, black cape draping behind it. It was tall, far too tall to be real. Its eyes were a blood red, and its gaze could probably pierce flesh. It had dull, grey skin, and filthy, pointed teeth. It seemed to drift closer to me, and I could feel the cold it brought with it seeping into my bones, sinking deep into my soul. I let out an

unearthly scream and dropped the ring onto the floor, clutching my head, my eyes shut.

The figure vanished. I slowly opened my eyes, blinking in the familiar daylight. The ring lay in front of me. What if… I thought for a moment before picking up the ring on a stick and carrying it inside the castle. I took it into my room before placing the ring in a small, square box and wrapping it with a gorgeous blue ribbon. Perfect. I took it to the queen’s room and placed it outside with a small note: A special thank you for your kindness. Feeling content, I slipped out of the castle, avoiding the guards. A forgotten item is found at Westenhanger castle at long last, I thought. The queen would finally regret sending my father to war. She had broken me, and now I would break her. Ever since that day, I saw a sinister shadow following her.

Aisha Faisal Riaz AGED 14

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

Finding Myself

I am writing this on my deathbed, to talk about the events that took place when I first took reign over the British crown. The way in which I inherited the British golden round was chaotic, haywire and you could even say anarchic .

My early life was full of uncertainties,I had only narrowly escaped execution in the wake of a failed rebellion against Queen Mary but luckily I succeeded the throne on her half-sister’s death . Although many think that inheriting the throne is a good thing, there were many problems that came in accordance with my taking over as the queen owing to the previous rulers not solving those same problems, religion, and poverty to name a few.

One fine day, too down with the surrounding pressures becoming too much for me to handle, I ran away, to a secluded place, known as Westenhanger castle . This place was not new to me with me finding solace there anytime I wanted to be away from the worldly affairs.

As I landed at the castle I noticed something, something unusual with my gut feeling telling me something although I chose to ignore it. I got this feeling again about an hour later so this time I followed it and started to look around the castle for anything unusual . That’s when something caught my eye , a pot of flour knocked over and a trail of footsteps following close by . I thought about it for a second and decided to follow the trail. It led me up to the 126th room in the castle but

when I tried to open the door it was surprisingly locked . I tried to open it with all my might but it was impossible . For that moment I was scared, anxious and nervous but at the same time I wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery . I looked around and saw an axe just lying across the door as if waiting for me . Of course, I took the axe and broke down the door and inside I found myself.

It was like looking in the mirror but 40 years later. I was astonished and as I went to try to touch the body, my hand went right through it making me scream and ultimately faint.

I woke up to the sight of an older version of me putting a cotton pad on my forehead and a warm stuffed blanket on me. I thought that I was dreaming , something extremely surreal to me .

Suddenly it reminded me of a prophecy of this kind in an ancient book as a child , which stated that “ whosoever visits Westenhanger castle with a pure heart , will find a ghost from the future that will help them conquer their problems in their time of need.”

With a 1000 questions surrounding my mind that I wanted to ask , the ghost only said one thing and then vanished “run, run while you still can” and that gives me the chills to this day .

Ayaan Balani AGED 14

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

The Unknown Paradise

It was a spooky Halloween night and many people from the town came to the Westenhanger Castle for the most exciting Halloween in 1542. There were pumpkins, many tricks and treats and all were dressed as wizards and witches. They also had a scary and big cake for the spookiest day of the year.

As soon as the party got over, it started raining cats and dogs. So most of the people decided to stay over at the castle that night. Few people also went back to their homes as they were nearby. Elizabeth was usually scared of thunderstorms but that night she had come along with her best friend Olivia with their favorite soft toys, a rabbit and a horse. Next morning like everyday, Elizabeth and Olivia woke up early and went to the balcony to see the sunrise.

After the sunrise, while they were going to take breakfast, they saw that their favorite stuffed animals were missing. “Oh my, Where did our horse and the rabbit go”, exclaimed both of them together and became very sad as they really loved their soft toys. They were being called for the breakfast again and again so quickly they went for it and finished it in a jiffy rushing back to their rooms. They thought their toys had fallen under their bed so they peeped under it but alas! They were not there. Now they were getting anxious and curious.

While Olivia was checking under the bed, she felt the floor moving. Then the bed automatically came beside her and she fell into the hatch down, down, down. Oh what! Elizabeth saw Olivia sliding

down and quickly she too slid down the hatch. As Elizabeth went down, she saw many caves and didn’t find Olivia anywhere. She shouted out, “ Olivia, Olivia, Are you there down”. There were numbers written on the cave and Olivia called out to Elizabeth to come in Cave No. 5.

“Wow! What a playground”, exclaimed Elizabeth.

“ I know and look there, our toys”, said Olivia.

“Let’s take our toys and go back and Olivia, also I forgot wishing you happy birthday”,

It was Olivia’s birthday and in the confusion of the lost toys, it totally slipped out from both of their minds. They were super super excited and were jumping out of joy and bursting of laughters. Both really wished if they could stay there for a long time and enjoy the place. Suddenly there eyes caught the attention of a card that directed them to go to a hall. As soon as they reached there, all shouted “Surprise, Surprise”.

Mum and dad were there and told that they had hidden their toys and made a way out of their rooms but making a slide down in the secret playground. It was time to celebrate and since that day it became the epic place to celebrate birthday parties, a dream of every single child.

Ibraheem Habibi AGED 9

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

Ghost’s Glory

It was a dull, lifeless morning in mid-16th century England. Queen Elizabeth I woke up in her posh, four-poster bed, and shook the linen sheets off herself. As she walked down the endless stairs, she noticed her chief butler was outside the palace. She went outside the grand palace doors and saw her butler, and a carriage waiting for her.

Her butler exclaimed “Ah, your majesty, Edward VI wants to meet you at an ancestral castle: Westenhanger Castle - it’s an hour’s journey, so you’ll be there in no time at all, have a splendid time, your highness.”

Elizabeth wasn’t very fond of Edward, her halfbrother. She also had no clue whatsoever where Westenhanger Castle was. She just decided to go with it, since there was nothing important happening that day. When she arrived, it was about seven o’ clock and there wasn’t another carriage outside the castle for Edward VI. Elizabeth found that terribly suspicious. She slowly entered through the rustic, dusty, doors and inside it was like a nightmare. Broken chandeliers hung from the hardwood ceiling. Old paintings covered with cobwebs, broken glass scattered across the floor, and lots of smoke was moving around the castle. The doors shut behind her – Elizabeth ran to the door, calling for help! She knew she would be stuck in Westenhanger Castle for a while. Then Elizabeth knew she had to make the most of her stay, even if Edward VI was lost; she couldn’t care less about him. The petrifying paintings on the wall led her to the idea that she should take a

look at the castle’s library. She went up the curving stairway and heard the floorboard creaking like a chimpanzee screaming directly into her ear. Elizabeth got to the library (eventually) and found a tall bookshelf. She picked up a book called “Tudor Family History”. Behind it was an ancient scroll. As any good monarch would do, Elizabeth picked it up. Deep crumbling sounds rippled through her ears. A mysterious white smoky trail rippled around her. The ghost appeared in front of Elizabeth. The daylight washed out of her face and she turned as white as chalk. She passed out... Elizabeth woke up, the sun shone through the library window over Westenhanger Castle. The ancient scroll was gripped tight in her hand. As any good monarch would do, she opened it. It showed a design for a bridge and a tower with lots of royal jewels inside. On top read in big bold letters: Tower Bridge. Elizabeth picked up on the idea as it might be useful in future. She opened the rear castle doors and saw her carriage waiting to go home. When she arrived, she saw Edward stroking the royal dogs.

Edward said to her, “Did you like the idea, Elizabeth?” Elizabeth remembered the scroll (she noticed his signature at the bottom) and kept it amongst her treasures. The story would always be kept specially in her soul!

Lorenzo Winstanley AGED 9

Ghosts at Westenhanger Castle

Queen Elizabeth I was sitting on her throne at Westenhanger Castle when a guard came running toward her, Queen Elizabeth was quite used to this sort of thing. “My Queen,” he began, “A ferry is going to take you to Norway.”

“A fairy?” the Queen replied, “What is this nonsense about fairies!”

“Not a fairy your majesty, a ferry” the guard replied. “I know what I am saying perfectly well, I am not an imbecile, how dare you correct me, off with your head!”

And before he could say another word, the poor soldier man was taken away, beheaded, quartered and spread into the four corners of the country.

“I shall excuse myself to the lavatory,” Queen Elizabeth announced. So, she walked through the tall dense brick halls until she reached the horrible grotty bathrooms.

After she had finished her business, Queen Elizabeth walked down to the boat wreck to calm herself, but then she heard a voice calling her name. As she turned the corner, nearing the ship, she saw the man she had just beheaded and quartered staring at her, no, not him exactly, it was his ghost. Elizabeth’s skin as white as snow in usual circumstances somehow grew paler still.

“You must learn how to control your temper, you must correct your ways, your attitude must change or I shall haunt you forever,” spoke the spirit.

“How dare you!” the Queen replied in rage.

“This is precisely what I am talking about,” replied the ghost in a haunting manner.

“I shall not correct my ways, who are you? Some peasant guard, I am the Queen of England!” announced the Queen.

“I am the guard you beheaded,” spoke the guard in a gloomy voice.

Queen Elizabeth’s face grew paler still, “You are a figment of my imagination”.

“We will see about that,” the ghost replied in a blood curdling tone.

The ghost blasted her with all the spirits she had beheaded in the past, whipping around her head, howling, “Your wrong doings will haunt you forever, even after you are dead.”

Queen Elizabeth screamed as loud as she could, her lungs about to burst, the ghosts faded slowly away chanting, “Remember, remember, remember…”

Elizabeth, feeling as if she had just had the worst nightmare, walking slowly to her room, looked out across the beautiful fields and decided this place, this Westenhanger Castle had taught her something and she vowed to never chop people’s heads off for fun again!

Max Turner AGED 9

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

The Forgotten Sphere that Brings the Globe to Westenhanger

Everybody knows about Westenhanger Castle, but what did they not know? Were there secret rooms? Ghosts? Hidden jewellery? In fact, all of these guesses were wrong.

Lately, archaeologists discovered a mysterious glass sphere filled with blue gas in an old closet. What was this strange item? Rumours spread across the globe the next day, but nobody seemed to know the truth. Until this happened — one of the archaeologists forgot to wear gloves! Holding the sphere with his sweaty, trembling hands, the sphere slipped out of his grasp and shattered on the ground. Everyone froze with their jaws dropped. They fell on their knees and shouted, “What have you DONE?” The gas, in pure, royal blue colour, escaped from the sphere and started to expand. A few minutes later, the gas transformed into a skeleton shrivelled up in a corner. It slowly became conscious, but it was too late - everyone had already fled the scene.

This skeleton was Boenz, and he was wondering what was going on. A stunningly beautiful space, yet not a single person in sight. Was this going to be his future home? He wandered, then he found and settled in the very private Dovecote in Westenhanger Castle, where he could sleep peacefully, without being disturbed by anything.

It was early in the morning in Otterpool Park. The birds were chirping, the ducks were quacking and the fish were swimming peacefully in the lake. Boenz got out of the Castle and did his morning exercise routine in the garden. (Clatter Clatter) Today was a special day, because Boenz decided he would volunteer at the Caldecott Foundation and play with the children there. He was really

excited and thought, “This is going to be a thrilling experience!”

When Boenz stepped into the playroom, the children burst out laughing, and thought this was just a funny Halloween costume. Boenz had a really fun time with the children. When a little girl asked, “What is your name?” Boenz tried to answer her, but instead he replied with “Clatter clatter, click clatter click.” Everyone giggled with the happiest smiles. It was a fun experience!

The entire county found out that Boenz was a friendly skeleton that would always welcome all children with loving, open arms. Everyone adored Boenz, and he was even invited to participate in the council election! Boenz even learnt to communicate with humans across the world using Clatternese, “Clatter click clatter click clock.”

Colin Hui AGED 11

The Mysterious Tower

Katie Philips was a very curious girl who had a deep obsession with castles which is why she was thrilled that cousin Helen’s wedding was going to be at Westenhanger Castle. She had leapt into the air with joy that Tuesday evening when Mum had told her.

Katie slept four whole sleeps before waking up on the day of the wedding. Her eyes opened the same time the sun started to rise on Sunday morning. The room was filled with a rose-gold glow that illuminated the walls. The wedding was at one o’clock so maybe this wasn’t the right time to be awake. Two hours later, she was awakened again by her mum who hustled her out of bed and into the bathroom. It took a whole hour to get ready and all three of the Philips’ were in the car at nine o’clock. Katie managed to survive the restless two hours from Cambridge to Kent until finally the castle drifted into view.

It was a majestic building with a tall tower twice as high as the castle. As Mr Philips parked the car on an empty patch of grass, a young lady

with a white dress and rose bouquet in her hand sashayed over to the car. Katie stepped out and greeted Helen with a grin. Everyone strode over to the white tent and sat down in the chairs all except Katie. She glanced at the castle and took a deep breath, just as the remaining guests arrived. Once everyone was settled the buffet began. Katie went to the counter for roast duck which she ate silently although very quickly. Once finished, she decided to take her only chance to explore the castle and so, she snuck round the back of the tent and entered the castle.

Katie was in a large hall – it had fancy wallpaper, red carpets and gold adorned ornaments scattered everywhere. She tiptoed through the room until she spotted a door. It was slightly ajar, so she pushed it a bit more. It led to another hall but at the end was a staircase that had a tape covering the entrance. The tape said ‘out of bounds’, but Katie’s curiosity got to the best of her, and she crawled under the tape and up the circular stairs. What was waiting for Katie at the top of the tower was a shock to her. She had surprisingly stepped into a Tudor lounge room filled with grimy satin armchairs and dust sprinkled on every nook and cranny. What caught Katie’s attention was a wooden and gold engraved chest. Katie crouched down in front of it and pushed it open. It was filled with parchment paper and from the very bottom, Katie pulled out a small, dented sword that seemed to be forgotten. Henry Tudor was written on the handle. Just then her mum’s angry voice echoed up the stairs, “Katie!”. The girl shoved the treasure in her pocket as her flushed mum stormed into the room.

Mrinal Sapkota AGED 11

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

A Forgotten Item is Found at Westenhanger Castle!

Two young men in long, torn jackets waited on a deserted street in the middle of a dark, stormy night, scanning the area for a place to take cover. When it was dark, the lamps flickered and the winds howled like ravenous wolves. The nighttime sky is being pierced by the storm. Now the outcome of this terrifying night depended entirely on these men. Up until a massive stone-encircled ruin seized their attention, it was as they were walking along. It was a decaying building’s shell that appeared to be waiting for death to ensnare it. These men had heard rumours about a structure; was that the one? Was this the cause of the nightmares they had previously? Now it was up to them to determine if they would look into whether the rumours were real.

It was their only opportunity to endure the severe weather, so the two guys crept up to the fortress. But they had to deal with a small issue. The doors were closed and secured. They searched the entire area for an entrance by peeping through windows, keyholes, and doors, but all of them were locked. That is until one of the men discovered a key, which appeared very oddly buried in such an odd spot. Could it lead them inside? They frantically looked for the right door while their hands were restrained. They waited until they could eventually break into the abandoned fortress. It was vacant, covered with grit and dust as well as antiquated statues, and in the centre stood a box. The two men opened the mystery object, a ring, eager to discover what was inside. It sparkled with

brilliant diamonds and other gemstones, casting a comforting glow into the gloom. However, these two were not your average guys; they were both robbers. Their lives might be changed by this thing. Will it bring them wealth? There was just one way to learn the answer. They successfully took possession of the object and then hastily escaped, but they were halted. They were left in the dark alone after the doors and windows closed. However, a type of humming sound blew by them from behind, followed by a clever voice that caused their ears to explode.

“Who are you? You must not handle THE FORGOTTEN RING! No one has dared to enter this territory, and now I witness two ignorant guys robbing Queen Elizabeth of her ring. You two will receive severe punishment!” cried out the voice. However, this was still insufficient to deter the two thieves. “Let me tell you this RING’s history!

“This ring was stolen from Colchester hundreds of years ago and later presented to Queen Elizabeth I as a gift by a wealthy merchant. It is thought that her soul was in that ring, and she had always treated it as if it were her own child. When she passed away, the entire kingdom was devastated. Because of this, you two will suffer and ultimately…die.”

Harshil Sharma AGED

The Night Before My 13th Birthday

It was the 6th September 1546, the day before my 13th birthday. That year, I was celebrating at Westenhanger Castle. We were staying in a small part of the castle, in the East Wing. Anyway, it was nearly six in the evening when Mary Tudor, my half-sister, came to my room and knocked on the door.

‘Elizabeth?’ She called. ‘Are you ready for dinner?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, and came out. We walked to the dining hall together, talking about how exciting tomorrow would be. When we reached, we sat down and started to eat dinner: lamb pie. After we all finished, Mary asked me if I wanted to watch the sunset from the West Wing.

‘It’s really beautiful,’ she said, ‘And we’ll be back for supper too.’

‘Alright,’ I replied, ‘As long as we’re back before supper.’ We climbed up the stairs to reach the towers, and walked along the corridor that led to the West Wing. When we got there, we only caught a glimpse of the sun between two trees before it completely disappeared.

‘Oh, we just missed it!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Well, we better go back now.’

We turned around to go back, only to scream in terror. A ghost-like figure, almost transparent, had just materialized from nothing. Her face was oval and smooth, angelic almost. She was wearing a light blue dress that looked like it was spun from moonlight and her hair was chocolate brown, like my hair. Then she smiled a smile that I could never forget.

‘Mother!’ I cried. I went towards her to hug her, to feel her touch again, but my arms passed right through her. ‘What? How is this possible?’

My mother, Anne Boleyn, was in front of me! I had never thought that I would see her again. She explained to me how she was beheaded and now she was a ghost that roamed Westenhanger Castle at night. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say.

‘Mother, are you at peace?’

I was astounded. Thoughts whirled around my head violently, sending me into a state of confusion.

‘My time is coming soon, daughter. I wanted to see you one last time, before I pass on to the next world.’

‘Then we can spend one last night together!’ I cried desperately.

‘No, alas, we cannot. You must return to your future, as to be Queen of England. I am condemned to roam these hallowed halls until my calling comes... And you cannot stay with me. Promise me, Elizabeth, that you will remember me always, and be the strongest ruler in the land!’

My gaze settled on her ghostly figure. ‘I promise, mother. I love you.’

With that, she faded to transparency. My mother was gone.

‘I don’t know what to say, Elizabeth.’ said Mary. ‘Not a word of this to anyone,’ I hissed. ‘Let’s go back.’

Saanvi Raut AGED 11

Otterpool Park’s Short Story Writing Competition

Sunrise in Westenhanger Castle

The year was 1542. Looking up, above the spires of the majestic Westenhanger Castle, light was beginning to creep above the horizon as the sun radiated its glow throughout the sky, gradually bathing the castle in the bright morning sun. While nature began to come to life, elegant birds could be seen gracefully sweeping the skies, which were painted in streaks of a vibrant orange and fluffy clouds. The world was tranquil and calm, as the fluffy clouds serenely dragged their way across the skies.

As the country began bustling to life, Westenhanger Castle remained peaceful, interrupted only by the soothing chirping of the birds, who were cosily perched on the tall standing trees, which were dominantly standing over everything around them. The grand castle itself began to teem with activity, with the inside slowly beginning to bustle with life. Lights slowly flickered on in unison, while a soft, soothing breeze gently flowed through the skies and the open windows of the castle, coating people in the fresh morning air.

The layer of darkness which had draped the castle earlier was gradually engulfed and entrapped by a layer of shining morning light, however, the darkness remained, taking forms in the shadows of people, taking place around the only places which could conceal them until the night, when they would ruthlessly plunge the castle into complete darkness, furiously dominantly hanging over every last inch of the sunlight, to only rise up and conquer the darkness in the day.

Meanwhile, the sun continued to gracefully climb over the horizon, while the country continued to come to life. The fluffy clouds beautifully continued to sweep across the sky, where the vibrant orange streaks had been sneakily replaced by a striking, grand shade of blue like no other. Droplets of rain from the night before grandly dropped from the leaves, while, with the flowers rising up proudly, showing off their unbeatable colours.

However, this was all doomed to change. The beautiful blue was slowly dulled to a dark grey. The once fluffy clouds opened up, and began sobbing rain like a hungry baby. The rain rapidly began diving down through the skies, while nature quickly closed up, with animals frantically sprinting back to their homes. The sound of the pitter-patter of the heavy rain could be heard from the roof of the castle. The flashing blue thunderbolts of Zeus could be seen, while the lightning furiously teared apart anything it saw. The rain went to wherever it could find anyone uncovered, while the world abruptly came to a stop.

The majestic sunrise was nowhere to be seen, and all that was left was a gloomy storm. The day in Westenhanger had begun.

The Unimaginable

It was 1542 and Elizabeth woke up to a beautiful scenic morning. She was drowsy and sluggish. It was her dad’s birthday.

Elizabeth was not happy one bit because she hated morning as her father (Carlos) died in the morning and her mother Laura always had to wear black for the same reason. She used to eat breakfast with her dad, made her do exercise, help her in her studies and so on and she loved her immensely.

Life was not the same for Elizabeth after her father’s death and she was no more a happy and cheerful girl like before. She had a lavish life with a huge castle and all the best of things but she hated it as she could not live a normal life or cannot go outside or do other things like kids of her age.

Laura was Elizabeth’s mother yet she hated her as she felt that it was because of Elizabeth her husband had lost his life. He had drowned while saving Elizabeth from drowning in the river.

One night while Elizabeth was sleeping, Laura went in the kitchen, grabbed a knife, stepped to her daughter’s room and stabbed her to death.

Then she had a monstrous laugh, “You have lived enough, HA HA HA”.

Shanaya Balani AGED 10

It’s 1542 and the Sun Rises Over Westenhanger Castle

Elizabeth heard rumbling, she heard screams! The noises got louder every second, until she couldn’t handle it any more. Heart pounding, her self panting, ever so slowly she walked to the door. Rumble ‘not again’. Then she called her maid, “Stop it Heather!” she shouted furiously. Not a noise was heard. “I said stop… answer me”. There was silence (again) “aaarrrgghh” came a noise from the distance. Elizabeth frantically twisted the bronze door handle and fell out. Before you could say “Elizabeth look” the door slammed behind her.

Elizabeth sprinted north (I don’t know why). Creek! What Elizabeth didn’t know is that she was in tru danger. There was no turning back now. All of a sudden, a feint silhouette of a castle appeared. She walked closer for a better view. Unexpectedly the door opened.

The next step was to walk in the castle, the sun set. Five minutes later she was asleep. In the morning a white figure with gleaming eyes waited for her.

The sun started to rise.

That was the story of Elizabeth in 1542 where the sun rose that terrible morning at Westenhanger Castle.

Sophie Huish

AGED 8

The Lost Crown of Westenhanger Castle

Chaos swayed me as I hurried through the castle walls, my legs had given in, and my mind was dazed. Where had I put it? I questioned all sorts of staff, from the waiters to the servants to the cleaners and the assistants. Even the drivers. Nobody had seen it. As I struggled through the castle grounds- failing to miss any nook or cranny. I had given up. I had lost it. My prized amethyst tiara. Now whatever will I wear to the upcoming ball? I had been told that my good friend and potential love- interest, Benjamin Francisco was supposedly attending as well as his conceited, self-absorbed mother, Gertrude. Yes, she is as stuck up as her name sounds. She criticizes me for the most absurd things; but I tolerate it because my love for Benjamin prevails all else. This diadem was supposed to protect me from her unnecessary insults.

While my thoughts clouded my brain, I had failed to realise my mother had entered, just as frantic as I. “Ophelia, darling- where is your tiara,” I seriously did not want to admit that I had lost it. But my conscience interfered, and I began to rave and sob about my missing tiara. “Honey, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” my mother sweetly gestured as she comforted me. I sat up and looked at her with a befuddled expression and she wasted no time in grabbing my arm and leading me to the far end of the courtyard. Passed the statuettes, the ballroom, the golden gates and all else, into a dark lengthy hallway. It was dimly lit but I could just makeout a gigantic door embezzled in the freshest of roses.

She pulled out a diamond encrusted key as a I gawped at it. The lock clicked and the door opened to a brightly lit room with many jewels that I hadn’t seen before. “Wow!” I felt the word leave my mouth as I stared in awe at the glistening diamonds. I looked over to my mother, a pleasant smile written across her face. “I have been collecting these ever since you were a child, since my mother’s strange death, I no longer trusted the embassy with these jewels, so I hid them and claimed they were forgotten.”

She took my hand and led me down the room and there upon a pedestal was the most iridescent crown I had ever laid eyes upon. It scintillated amongst all else. I exclaimed pure excitement and took it in my hands and placed it on my head. “This one is the one.”

Come 8 o’clock, the waltz was playing and I had just walked into the room. All eyes had shifted to me and then my crown and everybody was in awe. Especially Benjamin. He took my hand and led me to the middle of the ballroom where we danced the night away, crazily in love.

Shammah Mirza

SCAN ME