Today’s post is from a guest blogger, my 12 year old son Lawton Ballbach. This weekend Lawton started writing a story for fun. He’s only written the first chapter so far, but I’m hooked! I love that he set the story in Mauritania and Morocco (and apparently Cornwall will be a third location in later chapters.) Happy reading!
The day moved on slowly and so did Chavis. The humid air attacked his lungs, making him wheeze out short subtle breaths. His grubby pack jabbed into his weak shoulders. Again Chavis’s mind drifted into the clouds. It has been four years now, but Chavis was still not over it. The flashbacks were harsh, they struck him like lightning. Then there was her. A tear rolled down Chavis’s face. He soon pulled himself back together, he had to stay strong.
Suddenly a voice echoed into Chavis’s ear. He spun around rapidly and there in front of his was Kwame. “Qu’est ce que tu veux?” Chavis’s voice was hoarse and croaky. “Comment osez-vous partir.” Kwame’s face burned with rage. Kwame was a very vile man. His grim teeth sprouted out of his mouth like mouldy plants. His colourless eyes drooped downwards and his ruffled hair crawled with insects and maggots. Kwame gripped Chavis’s limp arm tightly. Chavis considered running but he knew better than to disobey Kwame. So Chavis reluctantly followed. He knew he didn’t have much left, so all he could so now was think, think until a glorious idea sprang into his mind.
It was a warm day in Rabat. The blazing sun glistened onto the ‘Voyager,’ bobbing calmly against the Moroccan waves. However, the inside of the Voyager was a very different story. Jelani felt like he had millions of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Bryson Kenning had always make him very nervous, but never like this.
For a man in his early fifties, Kenning was very strong and very ruthless. All of Kenning’s guards, including Jelani were standing in a perfectly straight line. Each of them had AK-47s slung over their shoulders. Thud! Thud! Kenning had arrived. His thunderous footsteps echoed throughout the Voyager. Yelling, then a gunshot. Jelani felt the pang vibrate through his quivering body. Finally, Kenning entered, his eyes were gleaming with hunger and violence.
“I presume you have what I have been asking for,” barked Kenning. “Well, you see I …” Jelani stammered. “Well you know what I do to people who don’t give me what I want” rasped Kenning. And before Jelani knew it Kenning was aiming his gun straight at Jelani’s forehead. “I know someone who can sort you out,” sniggered Kenning. Then everything went black.