Showing posts with label Term 2 Week 9. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Term 2 Week 9. Show all posts
Monday, June 27, 2016
Francis Brandywine By Hannah F
Francis Brandywine
By Hannah F
I gazed at my map of Quetico park, it used to be my favourite place to visit until I heard the frightening story of a girl named Francis Brandywine.
Francis was a carefree 17 year old girl with pitch black hair and an adventurous personality. She wore a brown denim jumpsuit with ripped tights, a woolen hat and thick brown boots. Francis and her family regularly visit Quetico park, one year they were camping alongside one of the deeper lakes. Whilst her parents were asleep she snuck out of their tattered blue tent with her notebook and a lantern. She crept towards the family rowboat hearing nothing but the faint sound of crashing waves. She slowly paddled through the crisp cold water until she eventually believed that she had passed the deepest part of the lake.
Francis was relaxed, alone and in her own bubble. Francis lay down and gazed up into the sky of bulging neon stars. As time ticked by she was nearly asleep when suddenly she heard a loud knock, knock, knock she lept up with fear and she slowly turned around looking for the answer to her question, what was that? Her mouth went dry as she stood in silence she grabbed the ores with her slender arms and lowered them into the deep blue water. Nothing came back so she told herself that it could be anything from a turtle to a stick so she lay back down and dreamt some more.
As ten more minutes passed she lay lonely in the boat, she was deserted it was exactly how she liked it. When she woke up she was so calm until suddenly she heard another series of knocks, it was coming from the bottom of the boat, this time they were crisper and louder. Francis grasped onto the ores of the boat as she reached for them she knocked her lamp into the water, leaving nothing but the light of her emerald eyes to guide her.
She started to move them at a rapid pace, it got to the time when her arms started to get tired, she realised something, she hadn’t moved at all something was holding it back. The suspense made her feel sick and she was on the verge of crying, but she was trying to be brave and keep the tears in. She glanced around at her surroundings hoping that someone was going to come and rescue her, but no she was completely deserted, isolated. Francis curled into a ball and rocked herself back and forth until suddenly the boat started to shake and then it rocked from side to side. She stood up hoping for it to stop. Francis peered into the deep blue water looking for a creature underneath the boat.
She lowered her ores into the crisp water but she felt nothing, she attempted to replace the ore back into her boat but as she maneuvered her ore it slipped and she accidentally let go of it. It slowly drifted away. All of Francis’ hope was lost. She had no options but to stay put in the boat for the night. The knocking continued all throughout the night. To pass the time Francis wrote in her brown notebook that was filled with many creative ideas, she doodled and wrote in her memories and that was the last we have heard of Francis.
It was only because of her notebook that we know what happened that night. She can’t reveal to us what happened but her notebook did give us a clue, every one of Francis’ pages in her book was filled with technical stories and many detailed drawings except for her last page which read, I did knock first written in rushed writing and had been written with muddy fingers and Francis was never seen again.
Writing - Francis Brandywine - By Rebecca Thwaites
Francis
I never had any adventures in the suburbs of Chicago, but we did go camping at Quetico Park. Quetico Park was isolated, that we went days on end without seeing anyone. I loved it there but there’s no way I will go back, after what happened to Francis Brandywine.
Francis was camping at Quetico Park with her family. She never wanted to go, out there, there is no WiFi or reception, and this doesn’t exactly appeal to a reckless 17 year old girl. One night, she wanted to go to the deepest part of the lake on a boat so she could look up to the stars, have a smoke and write in her journal. Waiting until her family was sound asleep, Francis snuck out, put on her black Doc Martens boots, grabbed a lamp and she headed out to the lake.
The boat was old, wooden and rusty. Francis sighed as she gently rowed to the deepest part of the lake. The lake was made out of a melted ice glacier, the silent black water would be freezing. Francis gently rowed and rowed until she was content that she was over the deepest part of the lake, she lay down and looked up to the clear night sky.
About an hour had past and Francis was just about asleep. Suddenly she heard a crisp, clear knock of the bottom of the wooden boat. This disturbed her and she suddenly sat up, her jet black hair sprawled across her face. Francis peered over the edge of the boat to see if she had drifted ashore. But her reflection only stared back at her. Francis reassured herself that it was nothing, lay back down and continued to gaze up at the stars.
After 10, 20 minutes, there was a loud knock once again, Francis nerves were rattled. Gently reaching out to the still water, her slender finger brushing over the water surface, to see if anything was there. She thought that it was a turtle or a fish, or some other type of creature. But she couldn’t escape the fact that no animal or creature would make a clear knocking sound like a human knocking loudly on a brass door. Francis tricked herself into believing it was nothing, she sat back down and continued to write in her journal.
An hour later, just when she believed she had imagined it all, the third knock came and the boat was knocked side to side. BANG, BANG, BANG, and this time it was loud as a bass drum. Francis screamed. She knew that she need to get out of the lake and fast. Grabbing the oars, she rowed and rowed. Her breathing became quicker and salty tears were threatening to escape. Suddenly she stopped and realised that the boat hadn’t moved a centimetre. Usually, since the water was calm, she would have made quick progress. Something was keeping Francis and the boat from moving.
After a while, Francis manage to calm herself and thought that it was time to take some extraordinary measures. She grabbed an oar and dipped it into the calm water, waving it around to see if there was anything there. The oar was suddenly pulled down by an invisible force. This caused Francis to tumble back, tipping the other oar over the side. Francis. Was. Stranded.
Her teeth chattered and Francis curled up in a ball. Slowly she sat up and to past time, wrote in her journal, describing every movement and sound. Waiting for whatever to happen, happen.
The next day, they found the boat, which was washed to shore. Inside it, there was Francis’ journal. It is only because of this journal, that we know what happened. When they found the journal, the last page was still wet. Written with a bloody finger, it said, “I DID KNOCK FIRST.” Francis Brandywine was never seen again.
By Rebecca Thwaites
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