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Page 80 text:
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from his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve. Well, that first part was dandy fine. I dug myself into the ground by a big headstone that looked like the ancient folk under it might have been carriage trade. Maybe I ' d get some gold trinkets that ' ud bring a good price in London. Maybe even one of those Viking jeweled swords I heard tell was sometimes inside the caskets. How did you know about those? Crathers interrupted. Later, later, guv. There ' s no time for that now. Just let me tell my tale and sign a written confession first. Well, the London pickpocket went on. 1 got down six feet right fine and uncovered a rotted worm-holed casket. There was no need to lift the casket top as it was rotted away. 1 just picked the dead wood out and looked in. It was terrible! Just a white pile of dust there but one thing glittered - it was a gold bracelet. I reached in and picked it up. Suddenly , so help me by the clang of of Big Ben, that dust just started to blow about like a wind was blowing it wild. Faster and faster the stuff whirled around and all the time a terrible cry of hounds from Hades rang in my ears. Then it took form, right before my very own eyes. It was a ghost! Just like you read about in the castles or see in the flicks. It took me by the hand and led me out of the cemetery and the next thing I knew there were four of them sitting around me. One of them said, You have desecrated our resting place, Emery Neadle, because of your greed. You have disturbed our centuries of peace. The penalty is Death! Now you must become one of us. Have you anything to say for yourself? Anything to say! Blimey, constable, 1 had plenty to say. 1 fell on my knees. I begged. I told them this was my first graveyard I had ever tried to rob. I promised to return to London and never set foot in Dunstable County again. Emery Neadle, it is our decision that you may go free if you confess your crime to the Constable of Dunstable. All the whUe he said that, he put his finger on my forehead and pressed real hard. It seemed to go right into my skull. Then he said Sign a writ- ten confession before Dawn. If you do not, then the death mark I have placed upon you will bring you to us! Neadle ' s face whitened even more. He stood up - jabbing his forefinger against his forehead. It was right here he placed his death finger, Constable right into my brain it seemed to go! Now Neadle was shrieking, wailing like a man possessed. Constable Crathers and his deputy rushed for- ward managing to catch him just as he collapsed. Dawn was just beginning when Emery Neadle regained consciousness. A cry of terror burst through the jail- house window. Paper and pencil he screamed. 1 must sign before it is too late! The constable stood him on his feet, comforting him. Now there, Neadle, just relax. Charlie, here, is going to take good care of you. As Charlie led him to the car outside, Neadle made gasping sounds, trying to talk. A moment later Charlie re- turned to face Constable Crathers, wide-eyed. H-he ' s dead, Constable. Dropped cold stone dead just as I opened the door! Poor devil, said the Constable, but he wasn ' t well. Perhaps it is for the best. Madness is a horrible sick- ness. Y-you don ' t understand, stam- mered Charlie. You ' d better come outside and look at him. A moment later they both stood look- ing down at the would-be-grave- robber before the car. In the centre of his forehead was a hole the size of a forefinger as if a hot poker had been thrust into his skull. The constable looked over the hill- side. Dawn, he miurmured. K. Morrison (Grade 8) There once was a man with a pocket Who thought that he ' d ride on a rocket He said, Well, good-ijyet And started to fly. But he simply forgot how to docket. There once was a boy named Marcus Who loved his dog called Barkus One day he went fishing And heard a loud swishing. And Barkus was swallowed by Sharkus. Bob Maxwell (Grade 5)
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Page 79 text:
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The Strange Fate Of E. Neadle E. Neadle was a most despicable per- son indeed. He was scrawny, seedy - looking and weasel-eyed. He had never performed a decent act in his life and never planned to. He was, in fact, a grave-robber. Even so, few in the little town of Dunstable felt he deserved the fate that awaited him. Dunstable was a remote vUlage in a remote corner of the British Isles, and there was one thing this tiny backward town had that London herself could not boast of - a most bizarre grave- yard. Like perhaps a hundred others in England, it was supposed to be haunted. But more than that, the townfolk in the seventeenth century buried jewels and other valuables with their dead. It was indeed a choice spot for a grave-robber. How a small-time cockney pickpocket got word of all this is still unknown, but find out he did - and it was this knowledge that brought about his tragic undoing. The first time the good folk of Dunstable knew of Neadle was on a clouded night when the moon danced in and out of view. A person who happened to be just leaving the local pub, saw him racing down the hill- side path that led to the ancient cemetery as if the hounds of death were at his heels. Which way to the constable ' s office? Neadle gasped. The startled citizen pointed down the street. Neadle barely broke stride as he galloped on. Crathers, the constable, was just pre- paring for bed when this wild-eyed apparition of a human stumbled into the one cell jail-house that he had made his home. Crathers reached for his shot-gun but paused when he took a closer look at the pitiful quivering figure before him. Blimey! Neadle blurted. The saints be with me that you are here, Constable. Calm down, man. Who are you? What are you doing about this village? Neadle slumped like a rag doll into a chair. I-I ' ve come to confess my crimes, I ' ave. I ' m the very foulest thing on earth Constable. The lowest, the vilest, the down-into-the ground dirtiest thief out of London, I am. Your nibs, it ' s a grave-robber I be! Constable Crathers studied the spindly wreck of flesh before him for a mo- ment. Then he rose and patted Neadle on the shoulder. Just sit quiet right here, he said. I ' ll get my deputy and then you can tell both of us your story. Hurry! Please hurry , Neadle said with pleading eyes. Time is im- portant - important as life, it is. Of course, said Crathers as he hur- ried towards the rear door to awaken his deputy asleep on a cot in the back. He shook the man by the shoulders. Wake up, Charlie! Looks like we ' ve got a case for the mental farm in Hamburg. Get dressed and ready to drive him over there. When Crathers returned with his deputy, Neadle was staring wall-eyed at the floor, head down. Come now, man, brace up. First tell us your name. Emery Neadle. All right Emery , what are you doing in our village? Neadle ' s face twisted in pain and he rose from his chair trembling. Blimey, I told you I came to rob your graveyard! It ' s almost dawn, it is! I haven ' t much time left! Let me tell you my tale and sign a confession before it ' s too late. The constable beamed at the terrified man in what was meant to be a com- forting smUe. Speak right out, Emery. We ' ll listen to every word. Emery Neadle ' s voice sounded hollow with fear as he spoke. As I say, he began, I came out of London to rob your graveyard. I knew there was gold and jewels and all sorts of valu- ables buried right there among the dead. Well, it seemed a right patty - cake job. All I need to do is slip in careful-like with my little spade and just dig away. Because the place is haunted didn ' t bother me! Neadle paused and wiped persfHration
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