I wake up on the 9th of August

Imogen Brewer

I wake up on the 9th of August on a Sunday morning and turn over to look at the clock hung on the wall. Hanging on the wall are the pictures I hung up last year: me and Phoebe riding the roller coaster that came to the village; my mum helping me ride my first bike when I was five; my dad and I on our bikes when we went to Portugal. The clock read 9:00, it should be light by now, but the clouds look full of rain. I hope that a storm doesn’t start. When I open my wardrobe I see my clothes and know what I want to wear. I pick out some denim shorts and the top my mum bought me for my birthday (a plain black crop top) and pair it with a zip up hoodie. After getting ready, I open my bedroom door and go downstairs. My mum bought a loaf of bread yesterday so I have toast for breakfast. I run outside to explore the garden. We have just moved into a farm. I stop in my tracks and see the clouds loom over the chicken coops and stables threatening to start a storm. I decide to go out anyway since it is our new house and I haven’t seen past the woods yet. Running down the wood chip path, I stare upwards towards the rain filled clouds, but they still look like they are about to burst. Something catches my eye. In the overgrown grass, a garden gnome sat next to a tree, but he was half the size of me. I walk over to him and see he is crying. I bend down, careful not to frighten him and ask “why are you crying?” He replies with a sniff “My home was-was d-d-destroyed by the t-trolls.” Confused, I ask again “The trolls?” He looks up and stops crying. “Miss, c-can you can help us? The pixies and the fairies all need help. We are in danger.” “I- I don’t know how to help, what do I do?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Follow me”. I follow him for a few minutes until he stops at a huge tree that is surprisingly taller than the other trees. Then I see him inspect the trunk and press his hand into a knot on the side of the tree. Moments later, a wooden door just big enough to crawl through appears on the tree. I’m stunned into silence. He opens the door and walks through. Since I am too big to walk through, I have to crawl through the small door. After getting up and brushing the wood chips off my clothes, I look up and my jaw drops. In front of me is a world full of fairies, gnomes, pixies and all other sorts of magical creatures. The grass is perfectly green and there are little hat shops for the fairies and cobblestone paths. However, it only takes a minute to see past the magic and see that there are trolls everywhere. The gnome looks up at me “They are trying to overthrow Queen Georgie, they have tried everything but have not yet managed to get inside her castle, she has magic spells that are so powerful, but the trolls want them.” “How can I help?” I ask. He replies in a whisper “we need to find a way to get rid of all of them” My eyes light up “I have an idea, do you have a library?” He replied “Yes, it’s just down the road follow me!” When we reach the library, I walk inside and go straight to the very back shelf, all of the oldest books are kept there. One immediately catches my eye, ‘A History of Trolls’. As I read the book, a paragraph catches my eye ‘Trolls are creatures who love powerful magic, in 1862 Margot Daunt got rid of the trolls by luring them to the dungeons. She made a fake treasure map and dropped it next to a troll, he picked it up and the ‘treasure’ was in the dungeon’ and that’s what I decide to do. We spend about half an hour making the map and then we drop it next to a troll. Carefully, we hide behind a bush and watch to see what happens. The troll immediately calls his friends over and after a while, all of the trolls are gathered in the town. They travel in a large group towards the castle. We carry on behind them and see them go down the steps to the dungeon. We run to catch up because once they realise there is no treasure they will be angry. As we run down the stairs, we see the trolls enter the huge room. “Quick where is the key!” I say. He passes it to me and I lock the door. Horrified, the trolls turn around to see us cheering because now the pixies and the Queen are safe. I walk home on my own, excited to tell my mother and father, but already knowing that they won’t believe me. When I have crawled through the door, I hear my mum shout me for dinner. Pizza and chips, I almost forget what happened. 

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