Recently we’ve been reading ‘The Northern Lights’ as part of our guided reading sessions and our English lessons. We wrote some short narratives based on a section of the book and here they are for you to read and enjoy.
The Blog of Cathedral Primary School's Class 6.
Recently we’ve been reading ‘The Northern Lights’ as part of our guided reading sessions and our English lessons. We wrote some short narratives based on a section of the book and here they are for you to read and enjoy.
Engulfed by the darkness of the cellar, Lyra and Roger crept down the rickety staircase. A sheet of thick dust covered the floor while cobwebs layered the corners. Ancient stone arches, rose above them with pillars as thick as ten trees on either side. Strong musky smells crawled up their noses. The wine bottles, catching what little light there was, filled most of the room, making you feel rather claustrophobic. After Lyra had undone the latch, light poured in filling the cellar with golden threads of light. Intricate designs filled the walls; Lyra ran her fingers over the designs. Like a dog on a lead, Roger followed Lyra.
She screamed. The deafening sound flowed through every room: Roger quivered with anxiety. Usually Roger was the one getting himself into a pickle, but this time it was Lyra. Her leg was imprisoned between loose planks. “Roger can you give me a hand?” Lyra asked in a desperate tone. Yanking at Lyra’s leg, Roger had an expression of desperation – how were they supposed to get out. “Lyra… what will we do if we are stuck here” Roger said, still pulling at Lyra’s leg.
After pulling and tugging at Lyra’s leg, it slid out. She had begun to glance around inquisitively while taking tentative small steps. Roger was scrambling around, trying to put the planks into place. Under the planks lay a slab of marble with an arrow pointing towards the slit of light coming from the fortress-like window. “Lyra, come ’ere, you need to see this” Roger exclaimed. Both staring at the blue skyscape; simultaneously through the cloven skies, dust started to fall.
Roger, shaking with great anxiety,stretched his hand, wondering what was in there; wondering if anyone was lurking around behind them.
Suddenly, he unlocked the shiny, silver door. After,when they opened the door,they saw bits of dust running around. After the filth had jumped of the ram-shackled shelf, they noticed numerous chocolate bars. “Lyra, how many are there?” questioned Roger.
“I don’t know, but should we eat all of them?”Lyra whispered with greed.
As Lyra dashed towards the door, flying cobwebs landed on her scruffy, brown hair.As she fought with the drenched webs all sticky and slippery crisscrossed webs.As she carried on fighting with the webs, Roger was peacefully waiting for her. Then Lyra shouted out, “I’ve found something, nearer and nearer Lyra got;the more Roger saw what was in her hand. When she was just in front of Roger, they both noticed what she was holding: It was a dead man. ”Hold this,” Lyra told Roger. Instantly, he dropped the man because he was panic stricken only because it looked like it was staring at him.
As she set a foot in she heard Roger whisper; “hurry up, we’re not meant to be here.” As the disobedient girl she was, she walked away. Soon Roger was so freaked out that he ran into the cellar and reached up to Lyra.
Suddenly, as Lyra was about to take her golden chance; sounds of guns filled their ears and they soon felt all worried. After a few minutes Lyra decided to gobble down half of the chocolate,-well in her eyes it was a few-. Soon after Roger screams out, “ run!”
After that they ran out of the dark, damp underground store. Soon after they were kidnapped by two men in cloaks. They were blindfolded with their hands tied and they did not know what to do…
With anxious thoughts, Lyra crept through the deserted cellar, sure to get into trouble, rubbing her fingers along the worn cardboard containers filled with bottles of strong liquor; her fingers turned black with dust and dirt that had fallen from the ceiling which was blanketed in cobwebs. This place has obviously been forgotten a long time ago.
This unusual netherland had been used to store precious and rare wines that Jordan College had purchased. As soon as the great friends were in there, both children were amazed at the amount of drinks collected by the College on their many trips to absurd places, especially Lyra.
“This is an incredible sighting, Roger! Look, I knew they had the normal 1889 Tokay,” exclaimed Lyra with amazement, “ but not Madagascan Tokay, Polish Tokay and…everything else.”
Roger, a sheepish, obedient and astute little fellow, examined the ancient, forgotten bottles, that had crumbled and frozen corks, with curiosity that showed in his beaming hazelnut eyes matching his shaggy hair. Giggles and confused faces are seen and heard from the only snug, lit corner in the whole cellar (where the two children were nesting) while trying to read the neat calligraphed writing printed on the glass bottle.
Gradually becoming tired, Lyra and Roger began to talk. Having an intelligent and scientific mind that can conjure up a plan in any situation, Lyra’s thoughts and speeches about what she would like to be when she is elder are truly descriptive, describing everything she would enjoy.
Since Lyra and Roger, the kitchen boy, had a week off- for there were no visitors or lessons- they slept in the underground room and awoke with a fright. It was the creak of the door echoing around the cellar and pushing the air thick with mist towards the two intruders waking them up from their restless sleep. Next, the unknown figure entering the creepy cellar staggered down the stairs as if it, she or he-which one?- was drunk streaming dust far and wide, high and low. Weirdly, being the ‘brave’ one, Lyra’s whole body was trembling with trepidation and dread of this creature finding them. By now, the shadow of the thing could be seen and Pantalaimon, Lyra’s daemon, nested in Lyra’s thick hair ready to protect himself and his beloved owner. Lyra heard a murmur, quite close. After opening her eyes from being so scared, Lyra could now see what it was. Lyra and Roger were surprised but relieved. It was Burgundy, the cat of Jordan College.
With anxiety, Lyra crawled through the eerie cellar, her heart rapidly beating as she took every step. She could see nothing, just pitch black. While Lyra and Roger explored the dusty cellar, the rock solid floor vibrated as the pulse shook on the floor.
They both continued to crawl through the narrow walls; the ceiling was so unhygienic that it was rotting. Each step they took the ceiling creaked, just able to hold on. Lyra’s ears deafening,while she crept through, her claustrophobia was attacking. Without looking, suddenly appeared a word ‘beware’ engraved in the wall. Looking right at the wall, Roger was terrified. Bang! The sound piercing through their ears a man appeared. Lyra and Roger followed a dim of light flickering as they paced through the thick dust.
“Lyra where are we going?” exclaimed Roger as they paced through.
“I don’t know, just run!: replied Lyra. the mischievous man stared at the two trouble makers and peered through as if he was stalking them. While Roger and Lyra were running they heard a thunderous sound, however thy saw more spooky words’look behind you’ it said. “Who do you think is doing this?” Lyra asked thinking to herself. There laid a coffin sitting there, freaking them out. Lyra, who was always disobedient, opened the coffin but nothing was there.
While they thought about what happened, a mysterious key appeared. Lyra and Roger were trying to think about what it does. As the sound of their own thought echoed they finally knew what it would do. “Roger i think i know what the key does!” shouted Lyra as she took the key aggressively. But then the man, manhandled the two trouble makers and yanked them across the dusty cellar and they never got to escape…
Tense with worry, Lyra peered round the door and into the small office. In the middle of the room a desk lay wobbling on the crooked floor; atop of the desk a rusted key sat untouched. Suddenly Lyra burst into the office slamming the door closed as she ran, so as not to be seen, before grabbing the key and dashing out of the open window. Her partner in crime, Roger the servant, was waiting outside. “You shouldn’t have done it,” he whispered as loud as possible to her, “Put the key back now!” Lyra, being the reluctant girl she was, swaggered off holding the key high above her head as Roger scampered after her telling her what sorts of trouble they would suffer through.
The two children stopped at a worn wooden door (which was probably centuries old). Ignoring all dangers which could be lurking behind the door, Lyra swiftly slid the key into the hole and turned it. The door scraped across the brick floor making a deafening screeching sound as she tugged viciously on it.
Roger choked on what little air was in the room as Lyra violently brushed off the dust creeping up her legs. The troublesome two crept silently inside ascoop the melancholy air rushing from a vent warned them to turn back. The mistress of mischief slowly bolted the door closed and carelessly stomped through the dust which strangled them. Lyra knew where she was. It was the wine cellar! Lyra’s disobedient nature led her into dreaming of drinking wine, although she’d been told otherwise.
Knowing how much trouble she would get in if anyone found out, Lyra’s trembling hand sluggishly reached for the largest, twistiest green bottle and brought it back to the ground. The two children sat bewildered on the floor. Their eyes fixed on the bottle. Not having a bottle opener, Lyra snapped off the neck of the bottle, which fell to the floor layered with splinters of glass as if it were carpet. After numerous minutes, Lyra grabbed the bottle with great gusto and gulped it down as fast as possible. “We’re toast,” exclaimed Roger, “You’re always getting me into trouble!” Suddenly a weird urge surged through Lyra; and as if possessed she walked swiftly over to the corner of the room. Weirdly, the girl knocked loudly on the wall in a very exact sequence. A blaring click thundered through the room echoing through the damp. A trapdoor opened right underneath Roger. The sheepish boy screamed in terror as he fell into unknown territory. Worried for her friend, Lyra stared into the hole; her eyes were filled with darkness. Lyra couldn’t see the bottom. She didn’t know if her friend was still alive. She didn’t know what to do.
The girl, not concerned for her own safety, jumped in after Roger and plummeted down and down while the wind blew through her hazelnut locks. To Lyra’s surprise she landed with a soft thud, on a surface engulfed by darkness, a long way below where she was. The Queen of Adventures and her companion reached down to the ground simultaneously. As they looked into their hands their eyes filled with wonder.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” whispered Roger with a shaking voice.
“I know but I don’t care,” exclaimed Lyra,” when don’t I get in trouble though!” Roger nodded his head in agreement and had already started listing all the punishments they would endure. Lyra had started to read some books about what the posh college looked like a hundred or so years ago. As if by magic, she read about an old cellar door in the library (she was in the book filled room) and then she lifted her head and saw a big old rust door.
She walked up to it and saw Rogers eyes widening in warning. Lyra turned the great brass handle and peered into the dark damp room. The mischievous girl opened her eyes and jumped down the first step and dragged Roger down. Quickly Lyra slammed the door shut.
Courageously, Lyra and the kitchen boy crept down the damp steps to the silent cellar. There was no light to illuminate the dark room. There was a sound of howling wind filling the eerie underground room. Roger could here the scuttling of rats on the cold stone floor. Lyra looked around but couldn’t see anything as the room’s only possibilities of lighting up was stood in the center of the room. They could hear the sound of water dripping slowly and pooling on the cold surface. Roger’s tatty clothing was getting more and more dust as he stood stiffly.
With trembling hands, Lyra got out a wooden match stick and the sound of the wood striking the sand paper box echoed around the room. She tiptoed to the candle stick and lit it so they could vaguely see what was around them. Heat spread across the chilly room room and the huddled around the candle as if they were lost children. Roger recognized the empty bottles of forgotten liquor that he had once put in a clean room which was exactly the opposite of the filthy room.
Penetrating darkness spread across the dull room as the shadows continuously danced on the rough walls. A spider creepily crawled up Roger’s leg, petrified his hand as quick as lightning slapped the eight legged creature . As swiftly as he whipped the spider away a wrinkly hand grabbed Roger and pulled him back to make hm fall on the floor.
Lyra (being the insolent person she was) slowly turned the key in the door; knowing that if they were caught the punishment would be severe Roger reminded Lyra of the punishment they would receive if caught, but Lyra just shrugged her shoulders. With no worries, Lyra pushed the great oak door; as it opened, the heavy door creaked under the weight. “Lyra you know better ,what if uncle Asriel finds out what then?” Pantalamon slowly whispered into Lyra’s ear “Your such a worrier; relax why would someone come down here anyway we’ve no guests today so the butler needn’t come down for Tokay,” Lyra replied in a determined manner. “I agree,” Roger said abruptly. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” he continued, “Relax its fine,” Lyra leisurely exclaimed. Unwillingly, Roger entered the cellar; in the little light there was he made out the silhouette of coffins lying on top of each other; a shiver ran down his spine. Sensing fear in him, Lyra reassuringly patted his back. “I’m gonna see if I fit in one of those,” Lyra said. “You’re joking aren’t ya, Lyra arn’t ya?” Roger asked knowing whom Lyra was he glared at her in a begging manner. “Course I’m not joking,’ she replied grinning a cheeky grin. Lyra strode up to the coffins and casually opened the lid and stared into the eyes of a dead man probably a scholar she thought. “Roger look at this,” she said holding the dead man in front of the light for him to see. When his eyes met with the soul-free body he felt goose bumps produce from his arms. “Hold this a minute, ”Lyra shouted to Roger at the same time throwing the dead body across the room to him. Reluctantly Roger held the body until two minutes later his brow was pouring with sweat even though the air was crisp and cold; he couldn’t stand it. Without thinking he dropped the body and rushed to the next room; in his haste to escape the eerie atmosphere he ran into a barrel and started cursing out loud. The contents spilled out on to the cold stone floor and when the smell escaped into the musty air he realised what it was. CHOCLATE!
Luscious smells filled the air as Roger fell on his knees; as he fell he forgot that there was a high chance he could be caught and he stuffed his face with the succulent contents. Finally he came to his senses when finally Lyra (although was having fun at first became agitated after hearing no reply from Roger) screamed; Roger stopped what he was doing and peered round the unoccupied room before returning to his beloved chocolate. A minute later, there was another scream –the same voice no doubt- and he then realised he wasn’t dreaming. With a quizzical look upon his face, he realised, 30 seconds later, that Lyra was in the coffin and she wouldn’t be able to open it from inside; frustrated with himself Roger swiftly ran next door, as soon as he got there he started throwing open the coffin lids forgetting his fears, until he found Lyra crouched inside weeping. Reassuringly Roger led Lyra next door showing her the treasures he found. Lyra –who’d recovered from her agitation- produced an ancient, tattered map that led to a treasure room. As Rogers eyes crept along the map, his daemon started to race around the room and when he finished reading Roger danced round the room shouting all the while. “Oh, shut up! You know you’re going to wake the whole college,” Lyra disapprovingly whispered into Rogers ear. But Lyra was also filled with exhilaration and she raced down the passage. “First one there gets most gold,” she shouted, Roger immediately raced after her. Panting Lyra came to a room that –according to the map- was where the treasure was meant to be but instead the room was crowded with large wooden barrels. In frustration Lyra kicked the barrels and the sound of them toppling over echoed in the neverending passages. A minute later Roger came panting and holding his hip and groaning. “I’ll go in and see if I can find anything,” he announced still panting. Lyra stepped back to allow him to get past and enter into the hectic room. Lyra impatiently waited outside until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped into the room. “Roger what took you so long?” she said and was about to continue when she realised the silence. She cautiously looked round the room she was on her own. Curiously she started to search for him round the room maybe he was hiding she thought but she stopped searching when she found a hole in the ground was it possible he’d fallen down? “ROGER,” she screamed but there was no reply.
A gust of cold wind flooded lyra’s face, as her and Roger swung open the great oak door leading to the cellar. The damp humid edge of the room made them take small, sharp breaths as the temperature swiftly rose well above 30 degrees Celsius. Venturing further into the dark, bottles and twisting vials slowly became visible as silhouettes in the flickering candle light.
Suddenly, lyra stopped. Rogers heartbeat grew to a buzz and beads of sweat dropped onto the burning candle. It gave a small hiss and their only light went out. He sensed movement and his shoulder was unexpectantly yanked, turning him round to look at the spot lyra last was.
A face emerged from the black and lyra stood in front of him.
“Hey! Why did you let the candle go out!” she whispered with anger etched across her face.
“S-s-s-orry.” Roger was almost in tears. Lyra had never been so angry before.
“Don’t worry!” she answered with a smile escaping her lips, “I was just messing with you, it’s much more fun and scary in the dark anyway!”
Roger managed a grin and the two of them travelled further down the isle of curious bottles. “wooooo!”, a ghostly sound echoed around the room.” stop it lyra”, Roger called from much further back than she had expected.
“There could be Gobblers down here.” She said with a grin invisible in the darkness. “Don’t say that, anyway, the kitchen will need me, it’s almost dinner.
“Roger, we’ve already had dinner.” lyra replied dismissively.
“Oh yeah.” He answered in a small voice.
“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!” The room burst into a chorus of cackles.
“I said stop it!”
“That wasn’t me! They were surrounded.
Tense with fear, Lyra crept through the tiny, un-illuminated tunnel not thinking about what might happen to them if they were caught. An eerie silence ran down the abandoned netherworld, filling the two children with fright. Dust filled her nose and, as a result of this, Roger, her loyal servant friend jumped two feet into the air every time she sneezed.
The boisterous girl had suddenly changed her expression to one of a desperate manner. “Be quiet” whispered Lyra under her breath.
“What?” exclaimed Roger, slightly irritated. “What’s the matter?”
“Can’t you hear it?” she continued. “What do you think it is? ”
Roger replied, “I don’t know but we’d better go have a look. Come on.”
There was a large, breathing noise echoing slowly around the slimy brick walls so they started to tiptoe cautiously around the corner, constantly looking behind them to check no-one was stalking them. Once the troublesome pair were round the corner, they realised what the noise was……… a stray orange and black cat.
They laughed so much that the disobedient girl had to hold the wall for balance. She felt something give way under her palm. Then, from the darkness, a scruffy room emerged. The kitchen boy shouted “Run!”
One snowy afternoon Lyra feeling board asked Roger to go to the library, with a grin of trouble on her face…
Roger thought to himself, (oh no here we go again.) They ran into the library and froze when they saw a big gold key on the floor.
They both stopped and thought for a moment about what this key could possibly open. They soon realised that it opened the secret panel that they had just discovered in front of them!! Both laughing they were so excited & eager to go in and explore what was behind this secret panel.
With a swift turn of the key, the large panel moved to one side and a deep, damp, stale smell hit their nostrils.
They slowly descended down the stone cold stairs; a chill ran through them as the door closed behind them.
Once they got to the last step of the stair case, they noticed a gigantic heap of glistening gold in the corner of this dark smelly room and Lyra said in shock ”oh my goodness!!!!!!!” As Roger just stood there gazing with his mouth was wide open.
Quietly, Lyra and Roger slowly crept into the paralyzing cellar. Dust entered into her lungs while breathing. Dead bugs had fallen from the ceilings like frozen statues and fell onto the floor like the spitting rain. There was a quiet sound of the filthy mice fighting over a piece of moldy bread. The light of a small window tried to fill up the damp woeful cellar. She felt a shiver slither down her spine. Sticky cobwebs trapped her like being inside a white chrysalis. Lyra then tripped over something and the sound echoed through the pitiful room.
‘‘What happened? ’’ Roger asked while touching Lyra’s soft but cold hands to pick her up
‘‘I don’t know. I think I tripped over something!’’ Lyra groaned after her accident
Lyra touched the hard musty object she tripped over. As soon as she touched the rough object, she automatically knew what it was. “It’s a coffin!” Lyra shouted “I’m going to open it!” “No don’t Lyra! Think of how many trouble we will be in!” Roger said warning Lyra
“Calm down! No one will notice,” Lyra said calmly
Slowly, Lyra opened the coffin. There laid a pale skeleton lying humbly in the coffin. Probably an old scholar she thought. Lyra sharp eye was on the golden necklace that was on the skeleton. Lyra, whose mischievous self was starting to take over, slowly grabbed the necklace and showed it to roger. “Pretty cool right?” Lyra said, as the golden necklace shimmered in his pale face “Lyra put the necklace back otherwise we’ll be the next people in those coffin!” Lyra simply shrugged and ignored Roger. She didn’t have a care in the world about which punishments she would receive if caught. Roger however, feared all the cruel punishments that would hit him if caught.
Walking among the pitch black cellar, Lyra saw a rusty key lying on top of a big barrel. Lyra’s cold hands quickly swiped the keys and she aimed for the massive door in front of her. “What do you think is behind here?’’ Lyra asked Roger.
Roger was unable to answer that question as being weak with fear now from the cellar. Lyra turned the key in the key handle and the door opened revealing bottles of wine of every company. Lyra quickly checked if anybody was watching and then took a huge bottle of wine. Roger rejected the wine and drank some of it. It tasted delicious and Lyra allowed herself to drink more.
Lyra had soon finished the bottle and was found drunk! Oh great Roger trying to keep Lyra on her feet. It was now a challenge for Roger to get upstairs without getting caught by anybody. Roger slowly traveled through the sinful room and opened the grand door. Roger swore he would never go back in there and left without looking back.
With anxiety running through her, Lyra tiptoed down the creaky stairs, inhaling dust every time she breathed, knowing that the dust could have ben sitting there for centuries. Every step they took, there was a deafening echo filling the hollow cellar.
Roger thought they would find something and that was indeed true. They strolled across the room, with the streetlight beaming through the only window in the room. There it was what they were looking for. The rotted, old wooden box. Lyra opened the box and there was a polished metallic key. Roger fearlessly grabbed it, thinking nothing would happen. pair set off to adventure what door would fit the golden key. They came across a bold, red door, the key sliding in with ease and turned. The disobedient girl, turned the handle and pushed open the door. It was a room which was filled with many jewels. It was a dream come true to them.
“Roger, lets fill up our bags of these jewels,” Lyra mentioned.
“You can do that because I’m not getting caught,” replied Roger to Lyra.
The troublemaker proceeded to fill her bag and pockets up to the brim until no petite thing could fit in. They vigilantly tiptoed into the next room, not knowing if they were going to trip up. Not seeing a thing, two guards heard a clatter and a clash, and pushed open the door. One guard grabbed Lyra, and the other grabbed Roger. The pair were dragged to the Master, kicking, screaming and pleading to let them go. The Master thrashed around objects to hear what happened and sent them away never to be seen again.
As Lyra and Roger silently crept into the cellar, they saw dust covering the floor as thickly as shoes cover feet. Roger walked forwards and saw a big black spider the size of his hand!
“This is a great place for a game.” whispered Lyra, shaking with excitement.
“I’m not so sure – have you seen that spider?” complained Roger,
Lyra tip-toed across the cold marble, dust crunching under her boots. She tripped on an unseen crack and knocked over some crimson looking wine from a shelf which crashed and splashed on the floor.
“What was that?” said a trembling voice upstairs.
“It’s probably a rat, don’t fret about it.” said another man’s voice in reply.
“Shh, be quiet, they’ll hear us!” whispered Roger, a chill running down his spine.
“Look, there’s another bottle,” said Lyra “I wonder what it tastes like?”
So with some effort they opened the russet liquid and Lyra took the first big gulp.
“Mmm, tasty” she lied hiding the sour expression on her face as she passed it to Roger.
“Oh yes, a very good year” said Roger, rolling the liquid around in his mouth.
A few swigs later and their faces turned rosy and their cheeks burned red. Roger swiveled around and fell over – it was obvious that he was drunk.
“Shhhhhhhh” giggled Lyra
” I am shushing!” hiccuped Roger
Lyra slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor with a bump.
Sometime later – she didn’t know whether it had been minutes or hours – Lyra opened her eyes. The bottle lay on it’s side, a puddle of wine beneath it on the floor. She drew in a sharp breath, what was that inside the bottle? A key!
“Roger!” she whispered loudly, shaking him “Wake up! Look what I’ve found.”
“Huh?” mumbled Roger struggling to open his eyes.
“Come on!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. This was a mistake – the room spun around her and she staggered trying to grab the wall to steady herself.
One of the bricks was slightly raised and as she knocked it there was an echoing “Clickkkk” and a piece of the wall swung open to reveal a door with a dull golden keyhole.
“En’t this strange?” said Roger in amazement.
“Let’s see if the key fits!” breathed Lyra.
It did. The door creaked open on rusty hinges.
“It’s just an old jar.” said Roger in disappointment.
“But look what’s in it – ‘Dust’ – they’re all going crazy over this stuff.”
“What’re we supposed to do with that?” said Roger “Let’s just go home before we’re caught, okay?”
“I dunno but I’ll figure it out.” said Lyra stuffing the jar inside her jumper, “Come on.”.
Lyra jangled the hefty keys, with some trepidation, through the grand ostentatious triangular hall. She stretched her hand out and brushed away the coats of thick velvet like dust to find the keyhole of the small oak door that lead down to the wine cellar, the only place that was still undiscovered to Lyra. “We shouldn’t be doing this, what if someone catches us?” whispered Roger, who was trembling with fear of getting caught by one of the servants, “we’ll be fine why would they come down here now?” She slotted the rusty iron key into the keyhole and turned the key to open door with a loud creak that echoed through the hall. She beckoned him over and told him to calm down, yet again, and slipped into the mysterious cellar Roger flinching at every squeak from the ancient door.
They crept to the bottom of the stone stairs their only source of light Lyra’s dim candle lamp she’d stolen from the porter. They looked around; Roger was about to speak but dust filled his lungs depriving him from his means of speech. The partners in mischief crawled along the timeworn pine floor, sweeping the dust aside with their knees burning their shins in the process. Suddenly Lyra noticed a golden glint behind the shelves of twisting emerald green and transparent wine and champagne bottles. She moved closer to the light and took away the numerous bottles of spirit, carefully placing them down on the carpet of dust until she got to the source of light. With a gasp of excitement Lyra grabbed the object, it seemed to be a key but it was covered in dust so much you could hardly tell, she blew the dust away and watched it dance in the candle light. It was covered in red dust that obscured the rest of the golden metal that made the key she felt a spot of moss on one side of the key and instantly moved her hand away from it. She crept back over to Roger who was taking the moment of peace to relax in a clean spot and was about to lie down when he heard Lyra and sped over. “ Where do you think it leads?” Lyra asked the amazed Roger, “don’t know.”
Lyra crawled through the low passage, trying to find the door that the key opened ignoring the shouts from Roger telling her to come back and that they should go or they would get caught. She turned and called: “Come on you, your shouting is going to get us caught at this rate.” So the hesitant follower hurried after Lyra as she shouted his orders, “we have to find the door it might be a trapdoor or under something like a mat.” Around five minutes later, it was Roger who found the key, even though he was the less eager to find it. Lyra slipped the key into the large lock and turned it with much struggle, Silently, they slipped into the secret room and started to explore.
When the Queen of mischief shined her torch around the pitch-black room she saw shelves of intricately patterned crystal wine glasses. She picked up one of the glamorous champagne glasses that resembled a tulip and pretended to be the master giving a toast at a private dinner like she’d seen him do a hundred times before. She sucked in her tummy and took a big sniff until she looked like the haggard posh master of Jordan collage, and started to talk about the restoration of the cathedral roof in a silly deep voice. Making Roger laugh hysterically. Suddenly she heard a voice deeper than either hers or Rogers, “hey who’s there?” the unexpected loud voice boomed through the cellar the light of his lamp shining through the slits of the wooden planks of the floor board. They looked at each other with an expression of total and absolute fear.
Assured of the consequences,Lyra,a brash and boisterous young girl who in her heart is preserving and determined, and Roger, a boy who is timid and cowardly, crept down the mucky stairs-with the ancient air that had been sealed in a tomb of time suffocating and piercing their lungs. The rotten oak wine shelves were wearing a coat if webs with spiders jittering around which sent a ghastly shower down the Childrens’ spines.athe hatched window was buried in grime and stains of evaporated rain,with a ruined book on the windowsill, it’s pages browned and curved at the edges almost as if a fine liquid had split on and stained it. “hey Roger!” Lyra whimpered under her breath “I reckon that that shelf behind you is hiding something.c’mon let’s play detectives!” in response Roger gave her a frightened and unsure look then nodded his head sheepishly As he was too stricken with fright to speak and set on not getting caught.
With a weak jolt in his movements, as the if his own body was rebelling against itself. Roger began to rotate the shelf – pausing every thirty five degree angle he took a sigh Of breath. Eventually Lyra got tired of his almost aimless shenanigans and forcelessly pushed him out of the way and began to rotate the wine shelf herself. Like a magnetic force, Roger pulled himself back to the shelf and tempted to assist Lyra but failed and instead the deafening sound of several glass bottles all smashing themselves on the floor. Liquid, which was as crimson as blood, was spreading all over the floor, shaping and digging through every dent and crease in the floorboards.
“oh Lyra what have you gone and done now, we’ll surely get caught now and -” Roger whined and rambled with his hand over his face as he Impatiently trotted across the room.
“hmph ” Lyra sluggishly mumbled back at him. She was knocking on each brick like if it were a door, of if she were looking for a secret passageway. She pushed the other shelf over, without a care in the world, and dragged Roger through a tiny crawlspace. Roger didn’t dare say a word. Despite their horrendous surroundings they held onto each other tight and plunged forward with fear aside. With a tumble they landed on the cold concrete floor. They sat up dazed from bashing their heads on the floor and gazed around the haunting eerie room. They could hear the melancholy moaning of the room, the humming of the walls that were sealed in a skin of jagged, damaged Navy Blue brickwork. An exotic, wooden carved chest overlooked them, it was the golden treasure of the lone, decaying chamber of secrecy and regret. What remains in it, or is it nothing left but an ugly withered mass? Lyra thought to herself. As almost if they had sent telepathic messages to each other they both dived like dolphins to retrieve the chest from the crumbling catacombs. As they approached the door way a spirit of a lion dæmon appeared and forcefully grabbed the chest out of their hands and burnt it to ashes. Struck with fear they left the cellar , never speaking of the events that took place there.
As Lyra walked into the dusty cellar, the eerie silence was spine-chilling. The room was unilluminated and the air: thick.
“Yuck!” Lyra exclaimed. “This place is filthy!”
“It’s far from grand,” Roger said disapprovingly.
Every step that the two took echoed around the room, creating a steady pace.
As Roger got to the bottom of the stairs, his venturesome friend was already peering into every corner and tearing open cabinets, feeling a great sense of exhilaration. Lyra stood still in her tracks, staring attentively at one cabinet, this one looking just a bit older than the others.
“What’s the matter Lyra” Roger asked curiously.
“This cabinet has a lock on it! We have to find the key Roger. We just have to!”
Roger, submissive as always to Lyra said, “All right! We will, but quiet down! Do you want to be caught?”
As elation filled up Lyra, she looked everywhere for the key, leaving no nook or cranny unsearched, pulling Roger into it. Roger, who was still unsure whether they’d be caught, searched, but with less enthusiasm.
It was he who finally found the key in the most obvious of places, under the doormat.
“Brilliant Roger!” Lyra said, feeling pure joy. She gently carried the key over to the keyhole.
The cabinet opened but only after a few minutes of struggle. What seemed like a blinding light dazzled Lyra and Roger, and inside the cabinet lay pile after pile of gold. The partners in crime stared longingly at the solid piles of glory.
“Roger…This is…”
“I know Lyra but we mustn’t tell anyone. This gold must be hundreds of years old. I wonder if anyone knows that this gold is still down here…?” Roger trailed on but Lyra, not in the mood cut him short and said, “I agree Roger, we mustn’t tell anyone.”
They pinkie promised (despite Roger’s protests), and left the key on the table, leaving the cabinet unlocked…