Who is that? I need to check it out. Since there are usually no other people around this place, that has got to be the only clue to find my brother, thought Fin hiding himself in the dense bracken. The vague, pitch-black figure sneaked towards its cave of doom with its jelly like thin body. Its chubby arms slowed him down.
Fin hid inside a bush. Then, he swiftly dashed like a lightning bolt across to the next bush diagonally forward and he carried on and on until he reached the figure’s dark, ominous cave where he found his brother tied to a wooden pole above a purple cauldron. Fig was face-to-the-fire and was slowly burning up with heat. The alien chuckled, “HeeeeeeHoooooo!” Hiding in the dense bracken, Fin accidentally stepped and snapped a twig in half, making a crack sound. Fin started sweating fiercely and trembling with fright. His instinct was telling him that he was a big Dum Dum and should have looked carefully for ‘sound’ items.
Lucky for Fin, he moved in the nick of time. Immediately, Fig cawed like a crow annoyingly loud. Phew! If it had not been for his brother, Fin would have been dead! Thinking of how to get his brother back, he suddenly came up with an idea. He grabbed a tiny pebble and threw it to the other side of the alien’s webby, rocky cave. Since Alien’s attention was tugged away, Fin bolted to his brother Fig and untied him as fast as he could.
Fin and Fig were sooooooooo tired from their journey that they took quite a while to get back to their car. Strangely enough, Fin and Fig curled up into balls and rolled down the mountain, straight into their car. They hopped into the car, with their hearts pounding in relief. Dad saw that Fin found his brother so he gave them each a sweet. Dad asked them, “What happened?”
Fin yawned, “I am too tired to talk now, let’s get back home so we c an talk.”
The following passage was from Storm Catchers by Tim Bowler
Dad drove past Polvellan to the end of the lane, pulled over and switched off the engine. Grassy fields stretched away on either side, wet and glistening in the sombre air. Fin stared at the forked track in front of them-left to the cove, right to the coastal path along the cliffs-and waited for instructions. Dad reached for the car torch.
"I'll try the fields. You check the coastal path. But listen-"His voice softened for the first time. "Be careful. I don't want you going missing as well."
"OK".
"Meet back here in half an hour. I'll leave the passenger door unlocked".
They climbed out of the car and switched on the torches. The wind was gustier than ever now that they were close to the cliffs, and the rain was starting again. Dad clambered over the gate into the field on the left and vanished into the darkness. Fin set off towards the diffs.
It felt spooky here. He'd never been this way at right before. He often came during the daytime, especially to wander down to the Pengrig headland and see the endangered lighthouse. It was only a ten-minute walk from home and there were never too many people around so it was a great place for thinking. He loved the view of the sea and, unlike more exposed parts of the coastline, the cut of the land offered enough protection for dense bracken to grow all the way down to the coastal path. The cliff-falls of the last few years had only added to the attraction of the place. But now, as he made his way through the storm towards the end of the track, he felt small and vulnerable and alone. He walked to the end of the rise and saw the land dip away.
There was the sea, bright with whitecaps; there were the cliffs; there was the coastal path; and here, running beside the bracken into the driving rain, was a small figure.
From Storm Catchers by Tim Bowler
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