Journey Across the Lake
Lady Annabelle stepped out of the black carriage carrying a large, leather suitcase and onto the dusty, cobblestone street of the rundown port. She pulled her royal blue, silk shawl more tightly around her as a cold, misty wind blew past. Nearby a small boy dozed on an old, wooden bench placed near the lake’s edge, where two men were loading up a small, dilapidated steamboat, one a gray-haired man, small and plump, and the other tall with dark hair.
“Excuse me,” she questioned the tall man, “where is the boat travelling to Port Brevnon?”
“You’re looking at it,” he replied casually.
“There must be some mistake,” she spoke more clearly now, feeling confused, “I’m Lady Annabelle and I’m travelling to Port Brevnon, on the other side of the lake.
“No, no mistake,” he smiled, “oh, and I’m Jonathon and I’ll be your travelling companion along with Mr Drodger here and Thomas over there,” pointing to the small boy she had seen before.
Lady Annabelle was now very confused, but she wandered dumbly onto the small steamboat and dumped her suitcase in the dingy cabin. She then started laying out her belongings, until she was rudely interrupted.
“What do you think your doing?” growled Jonathon.
“And why is it any of your business?” she replied nastily.
“Well, maybe because EVERYONE is sleeping in this room and not just you!”
Annabelle scowled and, rummaging through her suitcase, found her nightgown and collapsed on her small, lumpy bed, leaving her clothes in a mess.
The next morning she awoke to a large commotion outside.
“I’ll get you for this boy!” Mr Drodger yelled, running after Thomas and showing a large, jagged bald patch reading ‘Kick Me’ on his head. Eventually Mr Drodger’s breathing got heavier and he paused to catch his breath near the edge of the boat, oblivious to sneaky Thomas creeping up behind him, until he felt a slight shove and fell, with a large splash, into the cold, grey depths of the lake… right next to a large, floating suitcase!
What are my suitcase, and all my other belongings, doing in the lake?” Annabelle glowered, her voice thick with fury.
“That’s what happens when you leave stuff lying around,” laughed Jonathon, his blue eyes twinkling.
Annabelle felt a slight wind on her back and knew that Thomas was behind her. She tried to escape but it was too late, and before she knew it, she too landed into the cold, grey depths of the lake.
“I’ll get you for this,” she muttered to herself as she fished out her dripping clothes.
Later, when Annabelle was somewhat drier, she called Thomas and gave him a drink, a drink which contained a large portion of milk and lake mud scraped off her still dripping clothes. As Thomas took a sip his face contorted into a grimace and he spat the disgusting stuff out.
“Ha, payback,” she remarked.
“Hey lady,” Mr Drodger yelled, “go get my caskets of wine!” at Annabelle, quite out of the blue. She was about to reply when Jonathon replied for her.
“Don’t tell her what to d..,” Jonathon yelled back, to Annabelle’s surprise.
“Go scrub the toilet!” interjected Mr Drodger rudely, cutting Jonathon off. He then turned around and trudged into the cabin and feeling tired, fell asleep, so that loud snores could be heard.
With a secret wink and a small giggle from Annabelle they started dragging the bed on which Mr Drodger was sleeping on into the lake. Soon the bed was floating away as the three laughed their heads off. They spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating and drank all Mr Drodger’s wine until they were falling about the deck like idiots.
They arrived in Port Brevnon late that night under the moonlit sky and the three friends hugged goodbye (with Annabelle and Jonathon sharing a kiss), their faces glowing with happiness.
