By Matilda age 14
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Four faceless men marched me forward, griping the chains tied to my arms with vice-like grips. They dragged me along a gravel path, jagged rocks shredding my exposed ankles. I attempted to walk but only tripped and stumbled, unable to keep up with their quickening pace. She is waiting, one said.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It had been hours and my already damaged legs had completely given out. The cold metal chains holding me in place had started to cut into my arms. I bet she planned it this way.
Thump. Thump. Thump
Thump. Thump. Thump.
And then they stopped. Confused, I lifted my head.
The Castle was the size of a mountain. Dark, threatening pillars looked down upon me. Fortified stone walls, glazed with marble gleamed red in the sunset, screaming for my blood to be spilled. The heavy iron gate shut with a bang, locking me inside the inescapable walls.
Then I saw her. She sat on a throne of bones and in the centre of her gleaming iron crown was an Emerald. She tossed it to the side, donning a battle helmet, and walked toward me. I was as good as dead.