Fey Bell Was What We Called Her
By Izzie Thomas, Year 7, Sawston Village College

You would only ever see her at night, a shadow of a girl, dancing along the rooftops and melting into the darkness. It was enticing the way she leapt across the crumbling stone walls and battered stone archways like an acrobat. A little golden bell hung around her neck that would glint in the moonlight and sparkle on starry nights. She was enchanting. However, once you left our city, your memories of her would begin to fade, and the idea that she was just an illusion cast by the flickering lanterns that adorned shop windows would steadily creep into your head. She was definitely real, as real as the moon in the sky. However, no one knew anything about her. No one even knew what she properly looked like, for no one had ever got close enough to see her. The stories that surrounded her were nothing more than myths, for some people say she has been here for thousands of years, but that’s not possible, right? It was as if she were a ghost. 

The night was hot, too hot. I lay sprawled in an awkward fashion across my bed. I ran a clammy hand through my hair and closed my eyes, listening to the crickets chirping outside my bedroom window. In the end I gave up. I slipped out of bed, the floorboards creaking gently as I crept across the room and into the hallway. I stopped outside my grandma’s bedroom. The door was open a crack, and moonlight spilled into the room casting eerie shadows onto the bare walls. I could hear her breathing, short and shallow. She had not been well lately, and age had already taken its toll. I had heard mum talking about her in the kitchen. I couldn’t make out any actual words but the tone of her voice gave it all away. Mum was hardly ever serious. I shook off the thought of it, and looked back into grandma’s room one last time.

Something moved. I stood stock still. There it was again. A shadow. It was ever so slowly creeping through the room, towards the sleeping shape of grandma. I wanted to run but I was frozen in fear to the spot. I wanted to scream and shout, but no sound came out of my mouth. The silence was deafening. I stood there for what felt like hours, too scared to move a muscle. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me, and I took a short, shaky breath. I reached a trembling hand towards the door, and it swung slowly open. I stifled a scream. There, crouched over grandma was a figure swathed in black. Hazelnut brown hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Around her neck was a tiny golden bell that glinted in the moonlight. Suddenly, her head snapped up and her piercing green eyes met mine, just for a second, before everything went black.