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Chapter 1 : The Green Light
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My name is Emily Jones. I love my family. I love my mummy, and my daddy, and even Cole, my baby brother. Cole is annoying, he pulls my hair. I don’t really like it when he does that. When he did that mummy would tell him to stop and gently pry his fingers from my golden locks, making sure that he didn’t get away with a single strand of my hair.
I have friends. Molly is my bestest friend ever, because she is just like me. We both like to draw, we both like cats, and we both think boys are icky. She always makes me laugh. Like that one time Tyler Bynes tripped me and she punched him in the nose.
At night time my mummy would wrap me in a warm blanket and tell me a story before I slept. I liked the one where there was a princess in the story and a night came and rescued her. I always had dreams after that story. In my dreams I was the princess, and my prince came and rescued me. Although, because I don’t like boys, the prince was always my dog, Rufus.
My family lives on a nice street. All the lawns on our block are green and have pretty little picket fences on them. I want to live on a street just like this when I grow up. Everyone is nice here, no one is mean.
The day the bad men came was the day after my very first dance recital. I had danced like a swan my mummy had said. My daddy was so proud of me. Even Cole was smiling, and he didn’t pull my hair. I think that was a very happy day. I knew that I would always remember it. Always.
Why did they come…the bad men? Did I do something wrong?
They came. They didn’t knock, which they should have done because that was polite. They tore down our door, the very pretty white one with a glass window that you could look out of. Splinters fell from the door and one got in my hand. It hurt really bad.
“Filth,” said the first man who came in, a mean look on his face. “How utterly disgusting you are.”
“Who are you-What do you want?” asked daddy, stepping in front of mummy, Cole and me. Daddy was very brave.
“You dare talk to me?!” yelled the man, pointing a stick angrily at my daddy.
“Don’t point a stick at my daddy!” I yelled, a tear streaming down my cheek. I don’t like to cry. Crying makes your face get all sticky and stiff after the tears have dried up.
“Disgusting, how these mudbloods breed,” said the man.
Mummy hugged me then. We were all sitting at the table. It was supper time. I like supper time. Every night for supper we have potatoes, beans, turkey, and broccoli. I don’t like broccoli. Daddy was standing up, an angry expression on his face. I don’t like it when daddy is angry.
“Excuse me, but I would like you to leave,” said daddy, his voice sounding different than usual.
“Leave? I should think not!” said another one of the men, their scary skull like mask illuminated in the moonlight.
Daddy had come home late from work that night, so we were eating later. Usually I would have been in bed by now. I like my bed, it is really cozy. Mummy would also have been reading me a book or telling me a tale. Did you know that I like books and tales?
“Roger, I’m calling the police,” said mummy, jumping up and running towards the phone. Mummy barely ever calls daddy Roger. She calls him daddy just like me and Cole do. I don’t know why though, daddy isn’t her daddy.
“The police, ha! Pathetic weaklings!”
The man who had been doing most of the mean talking said something close to “Abra Kedabra,” but I don’t think he was a magician. Magicians are always nice. I know because once, when I went to Molly’s birthday party, there had been a Magician there. He was nice and had let me pull a bunny rabbit from his hat.
There was a pretty green light that came from the mean mans stick. I like green, it is my favourite color. The light hit mummy and suddenly, she was standing any more. Mummy fell down. Mummy never falls down.
“Mummy?!” I cried, hugging Cole softly. Cole began to cry and wiggle in my arms. He reached for my hair.
“Christina!” yelled daddy, sounding both sad and mad. “I’ll kill you,” he said to the man with the stick.
“I can honestly say that I doubt that,” said the man, pointing his stick at daddy again. He said something, I couldn’t hear, and daddy fell down.
I felt my throat clog and I couldn’t talk. Daddy was now on the floor beside mummy. I felt really sad.
“Should we kill those two?” said the other bad man, pointing to me and Cole.
“Kill the boy, leave the girl. We need someone to tell the tale,” said the man with the stick, suddenly smiling at me.
The other bad man grabbed Cole from my arms. I tried not to let go, but Cole was yanking my hair. It really hurts when he does that. The man took him from me and leaned over him. I didn’t see what he did, but when he moved away, Cole wasn’t moving. I hope he was sleeping.
The bad man looked at each other. The man that didn’t have a mask smiled and nodded. With a loud POP, both bad men disappeared. Maybe they were Magicians. I didn’t move for almost a full minute. It might have been longer, but I can’t count very well.
I looked down at mummy and daddy. “It’s OK now,” I said, sitting down on the floor. “The bad men have left, we can eat more now,” I said, gently stroking my mummy’s hair. She always stroked mine when she read to me. Mummy didn’t move. I looked a daddy and I stood up. I went over to Cole.
“Cole, wake up, it’s probably time to have your bottle,” I said, trying to pick him up from the blanket he was wrapped in. It used to be my blanket. He felt stiff when I lifted him up. “Cole, come on, you can pull my hair now, I won’t mind,” said, trying to play with his tiny little fingers. They were cold, so very cold
I loved my family. I loved my mummy, and my daddy, and even Cole, my baby brother. Cole was annoying; he used to pull my hair. I didn’t like it when he did that. He doesn’t do that anymore.
I used to have potatoes, and beans, and turkey and broccoli for supper every night. I don’t like broccoli. We don’t have that every night for supper anymore.
My favourite color used to be green. I don’t like green anymore. I also don’t like crying, I never liked to cry…
My name was Emily Jones. My family was killed by death eaters, and I was the only one spared. Many more families just like mine were murdered, all over the country. Eventually, it wasn’t unusual to see a brutal murder of families in the paper, with no cause of death. More lives were destroyed than I can count. I don’t count very well…
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