Young Storykeeper Volume III

200 | STORYKEEPERS VOLUME III AGE ELEVEN | 201
A LIGHT AT LOCKDOWN
It’s lockdown. My classroom is empty and I often feel alone.
The person I miss the most is my nanny and I hate it when my
mum disinfects the shopping. However, today I am going on an
expedition with my dad.
We mount our bicycles. “Be safe and have fun,” my mum
says as she waves goodbye.
We begin our long cycle from Newforge Lane towards
The Great Light at the Titanic Quarter, right on the edge of
Belfast. I am nervous. My head keeps telling me I might not
make it, it’s way too far. My dad cycles alongside me and he
talks about how the lighthouses guide sailors through fog and
to the land. He tells me how it helps sailors if they have been
out to sea for a long time. It means it is a sign of hope and a
sign they are near land.
I see a robin and I stop to take a closer look. I know my
uncle from heaven has come down to wish me luck. I call my
robin Conor. I am halfway there and my mouth is dry. We stop
for water near a river. I notice five fluffy ducklings at the edge of
the water. I walk forward to try to touch them but their mother
glides across the water quickly and herds them protectively
away from me. I wish I could just cradle one of the ducklings in
my hands and take it home with me as a pet.
Suddenly, we have arrived in the city centre and finally
we reach our destination. I’ve made it! I see the optic of the
lighthouse and it’s huge compared to me. It was built in 1884
and comes from Mew Island off the coast of Donaghadee. It
sits safely in the centre of a glass cylinder protected by the
famous Titanic Building behind it and Belfast Lough in front.
We sit on the rocks. I smell the salty sea air and feel the
breeze against my back. It’s time for lunch and my dad pours
hot chocolate from a flask. We read about the history of The
Great Light and I learn that the light keepers and their families
had to make a lot of sacrifices and leave for long periods of
time to keep everyone else safe. It reminds me of how I don’t
get to see my nanny to keep her safe. I feel sad.
At home Mummy lights the barbecue and the smell of
wood burning reminds me of camping in France. We put on
music and I immediately start dancing to the rhythm of the beat.
I collect blankets for everyone because it’s cool. The sizzling
sausages smell good. Afterwards, we toast marshmallows and
I gobble chocolate mousse from a disinfected pot. We talk
about the expedition to The Great Light. I send WhatsApp a
video of me dancing to my nanny. I feel happy.
Pritsana Gallagher
Co Antrim
THE HAUNTED LIGHTHOUSE
Tuesday 16th of March
Dear Diary,
I’m really not sure what to do. It has been a day since I made
the promise. I am still so scared - oh yeah, I need to tell you the
promise if I want to read this back in the future. I promised to
spend a night in the haunted lighthouse. Now that I’ve written it
down, it seems official.
“Fine,” I am saying to myself now. “You will do it tomorrow.”
But I still think that is too soon. I won’t dwell on this thought
. . . no, I should try to get to sleep.
Wednesday 17th of March
Dear Diary,
Today is the day – the day I will probably wet my pants and a
scream like a baby. I am so scared but still so nervous too. What
if I don’t come back?
If you find this diary without an ending, please give my Top
Trumps to Marcy. Uhh –no, I know I’m over-reacting.
I have to be brave.
6 pm
Dear Diary,
I’m in the lighthouse now and it doesn’t seem so scary.
CREAK! What was that?
Correction – this is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Oh no,
I see a shadow and I’m very worried I’m not here alone.
“Hello?” I bellow. The reply isn’t words, though. It’s a hollow
scraping sound.
“Eeeeeh!” I squeal. The reply isn’t words again. But it is
familiar. My fear is suddenly replaced by anger. The reply was a
laugh but not any laugh, the laugh of my friend, Alice.
And the worst part is, she is the one I made the promise to.
Thursday 18th of March
Dear Diary,
I am so embarrassed. It turns out she was filming, and it has only
taken a day to make that video go viral. But there is always time
for revenge . . .
Sophie Salmon
Co Dublin