This week in Literacy we have been
reading and retelling a short story called 'Kidnapped' by Pie Corbett.
Somebody
was coming up the stairs! Ducking down behind an old crate, we waited. I could
feel my heart thumping like a bass drum and my throat felt tight and dry with
dust…and the crush of fear. What if we were caught? The strange girl glanced at
me through the semi-gloom and grinned. I thought that she was trying to be
reassuring.
Gradually,
the door opened and we could hear someone tiptoeing in. There was a pause and
then a torch flickered on. Its beam stabbed the darkness, seeking us out,
nosing into all the hidden corners. Holding my breath, I tried to make myself
as small as possible. After a few moments, the light switched off. Whoever it
wasstood quite still, listening. We could hear each rasping breath. Then the
door shut and the footsteps clicked back down the stairs. Relieved, I let out a
sigh. As we clambered out of the window and slithered down the wet roof, I was
trying to remember how I had got into such a mess.
It had
only been half an hour ago when Mum had sent me down to the chippie with a
tenner and strict orders for no vinegar on her chips. When I reached the Stroud
roundabout, I couldn’t help looking at the old house. It was ready for
demolition, which was a shame because we had played there for years! It was
then that I’d seen it; a light at the window. Then I saw a face. I stood there
staring. It was a girl, mouthing a word and the word was, ‘HELP’.
That’s
how it happened. I’d broken in round the back through a smashed window. Half a
minute later and I’d found her, a trapped prisoner in an upstairs room. She’d
only just finished telling me that she was the American ambassador’s daughter,
Cindy Breakwell, and about the ransom money when the kidnappers had returned to
move her to a safe house.
So
there we were, balancing on the wall, as if we were walking the plank. Gripping
the guttering tightly, I lowered myself down. Five minutes later and we were back
at Mum’s. “So Ron, where’s the fish and chips?” she asked, eyeing Cindy
suspiciously.
Half
an hour after that, Cindy’s Dad arrived in an embassy car. All the net curtains
on the St Petroc’s estate started to twitch with curiosity. That night it
wasn’t just chips for tea. He took us all out for a big meal. Amazingly, the
next day, there I was in the local paper. A hero.
Can you
retell the story in your own words? Challenge - Try to retell it in 100 words.
