He didn’t wait around to be noticed is a writing prompt taken from Winter of the White Horde. The book is the standalone sequel to my middle grade (read that as aged 9 to 90 in terms of the small but enthusiastic fan base) Guardians of the Forest series. The section the prompt comes from is shown below.
Winter of the White Horde, and the other four books in Guardians of the Forest are all on sale at 99c/p throughout August, for the summer holiday. Find them here. (You need to scroll down the Amazon page to get them all!)
The stable boy, scowling at this addition to his work day, saddled the pony. Dash fidgeted and snorted. He expected oats, not exercise. When Beron led the pony into the yard, Dash snickered softly, nudging Beron’s arm.
‘Good pony, good boy, Dash,’ Beron murmured into the horse’s twitching ear.
The tutor and the head groom had their backs to Beron, a rare occurrence. They were deep in discussion about some matter.
Beron didn’t wait around to be noticed. He stood on the mounting block and lifted himself into the saddle. His body buzzed with excitement, much more than a turn around the stable yard warranted. What he wanted, with all his heart, was to ride to the edge of the world. The voice murmuring in his head grew louder, more urgent.
Come, it called. Come, join me.
How could Beron join anyone if the grownups restricted him to the yard? He searched about. Ha! They had left the gate open. The two men continued to ignore him, their heads close together. The stable boy had disappeared.
Beron took the chance. He wheeled Dash about, yelled, ‘Fly!’, cantered off across the yard, and at the last minute spurred the pony to a gallop, out of the gate and into the lane which led to, and through, the estate’s boundary walls.
Aghast shouts followed his escape. Beron giggled, patted Dash’s plaited mane and kept galloping. He might gallop all the way to the edge of the world after all.
As he neared the wall, the voice called.
Beron, Beron, clever boy, come Beron. Join me.
Who was calling him? Over and over.
Hurry up, quickly, don’t dawdle.
Why did the voice, so friendly before, now cause an uneasiness to settle deep in Beron’s gut? The chill of near darkness fell heavily over him. He shivered. The edge of the world became less attractive. He pulled on the reins, wanting to turn back.
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HE DIDN’T WAIT AROUND TO BE NOTICED
The aircraft sat, beckoning, on the runway. He didn’t wait around to be noticed but made a beeline straight for it, all the while crouching low and staying as close to the ground as possible.
James Bond knew what he had to do. If he could reach the plane and plant the bomb, he could hopefully take out Henry Blofeld, head of the rogue organisation SMERSH, in mid- air and all their troubles would be solved.
He was almost there when a guard, planted at the front stairs turned around and, startled at the figure rattling towards him, raised his rifle.
In a flash, Bond was on him, hands squeezing his throat. The man dropped the rifle and desperately tried to loosen the British secret service agent’s grip, only to slip unconscious to the ground as Bond’s fingers tightened ever further.
A quick leap up the stairs and 007 was in the cabin, backpack securely hidden in the cockpit.
He was just about to retrace his steps when a voice from behind pulled him up.
“Ahh, if it isn’t Mr Bond?” He turned around to find the grinning face of Henry Blofeld, a Glock pistol clutched in his hand. ”And just what are you doing here?”
“What do you think, Blofeld? Obviously trying to stop your latest scheme to take over the world.”
“Ha! Fat chance of that, Mr Bond. The plan is already in motion and it’s too late to stop it!”
“Not so sure about that,” Bond responded, wincing as the Glock moved to within an inch of his eyes.
“So, you think you can disrupt years of planning with your amateur efforts, eh Mr Bond?” Blofeld was starting to look a little concerned. After all, this was not the first time he and the British secret agent had crossed paths and the outcome was never to SMERSH’S advantage.
“Guard, guard,” Blofeld called out and within a few seconds to burly figures appeared at the aircraft door.
“Take Mr Bond to the hangar and make sure he is securely locked up until we leave.”
007 was dragged unceremoniously across the tarmac by Blofeld’s two goons and locked in one of the hangar rooms.
Just as the two guards were leaving, a giant explosion rocked the building and Bond couldn’t help but smile.
His plan had worked perfectly…
To be continued….
Trouble, trouble. The penalty of being headstrong LOL
Ha! You should read the rest of it! Poor Beron