Graveyard Hill E-Book

Ian King

• Herausgeber: Tektime
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

A ghost story, with a difference. (hr)Two young cousins embark on an adventure, full with story telling, great foods and ghost haunting's. Heart-beats rise and minds rage as strange noises are heard out side their tent. What is wandering around, sniffing their sanctuary and threatening their safety? Will they even survive to see the morning sunrise again? (hr)Follow the boys into a journey of discovery where the learn that all is not what it seems. Bonus Short Story Included: 'Any Blood Idiot.'

PUBLISHER: TEKTIME

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

GRAVEYARD HILL

GRAVEYARD HILL

Smashwords Edition – Copyright © 2015 Ian King.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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My cousin Shane, and I set up our little tent at the back of the farm, where it was unlikely that anybody would disturb us. Water rolled leisurely past us along the creek bed which had been dug out of the clay nearby. It was within earshot of our chosen campsite and out of it flowed a peaceful sound, and it smelled cool and fresh. Dainty leaves from the overhanging willows, played their mysterious and haunting tunes above us and they hide much of the creek from the sun. This was our secret, hidden paradise for the next few days. Bird song, could be heard from all around us.

We were both ten years old, but I was the oldest because my birthday was in February and his was in July. We had pitched our tent on a flat spot between the brier bush, which raked its thorns over any careless by–passer (ouch!) and the pit above, where the tractor had dragged a few dead cows into it over the years, and one beautiful horse named Princess. Now they all rested in peace. Fortunately for us, nothing had found its final destination there in recent week... pewww! That would stink!

We had named it Graveyard hill. It was nice and flat there (mostly) and hidden away where many wild flowers speckled the hillside, purple and yellow and some even red. They were quite pretty amongst the sun–bleached bones, scattered higgledy–piggledy around. It made it a sort of special place for the local residents. The dead center of our farm. Well, that’s what we would call it in a jape, anyway.

Earlier on Shane ,and I had caught some eels from down at the dam not too far from here. We had made fishing rods fit for the job, out of simple tee–tree branches and nylon that we found in dads shed. We chucked on some fishing hooks we had found and some old nuts, for weights; it was all we needed. On the farm, we used what we could, that's called kiwi ingenuity.

We were going to cook them over our fire, on a spit. Some ‘number 8–wire’ and ‘Y’ sticks, from broken branches. We’d poked them into the ground to make it all ready, for holding up the eels above the roasting flames. The river sheer bulged with fresh–peppery watercress, right outside our door, so it was a full course meal: vegies and meat! Oh and we cheated on the desert, as we had brought some rice pudding in a can. Yumm!

“Shane, get some watercress please, I’ll get this eel ready okay.”

“Did you bring the pot?”

“Yep. At the back of the tent. Fill her up. Oh! I saw some wild strawberries too, on the other side of graveyard hill. Can you get some of those? We’re having a feast tonight!”

“Oh yeah boy! What about a rabbit? Shall we get one of those too?”

“Nah! We’ll go out tonight with the .22 and try after dinner. They’re easier to hit at twilight.”

“If you can see them that is.”

“We’ll find one, I reckon, there’s plenty about. We’ll need to bleed it overnight anyway. Rabbit stew tomorrow!”

The fire was stoked up and still had plenty of hot coals glowing, after we boiled the ‘cress. I had never ‘spat’ an eel before and when the flames licked at its grey flesh it came alive!

“Woahh! Look at that? I thought we’d killed that hours ago.” Shane’s eyes near ‘popped’ out of his head as the eel seemed like it was trying to wriggle off the ‘number 8-wire’ and away from every ‘lick’ of the flames. Freaky!

“Yea. It’s dead alright. See that flame–lick there, it’s amazing how that part of his body twists away from that specific point of contact. Must be nerves.”