Ben Szefler, Neil Wilson, Jamie Wickhem and Michael Mason-Phipps

Set in the 20th century (1900's) 

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An Anonymous Diary

August 3rd 1969

It was about 11 o'clock PM when I saw a group of men near the pub. I listened to their conversation and overheard them planning to blow up the castle. They may have been joking but they sounded pretty serious. I told my guards to be on full alert.  

It started like this. One of the guards, John heard a lot of shouting and laughing last night at about 1 o'clock so he went to see what was going on. He never returned so I sent out a search party. They found nothing. As a safety precaution we checked every single room, but the weirdest thing was when we tried searching one of the rooms, someone had locked it from the inside. We had to batter it down. When we eventually got into the room, we found it littered with empty barrels. One by one we moved them, trying to find John. We found nothing. There were just a few loose floor boards.

 John still hasn't returned so I have doubled the guard duty. Oh no! That group are deadly serious, as they have shot one of my guards! John is either dead or a traitor, and quite frankly, I don't like the sound of either. Oh no, This is getting worse. I've just remembered that John is the only one with keys to the stockroom!

The night has drawn in and the plot is getting thicker, and the manager and I have been evacuated to the cellar as a safety precaution. We've heard gunshots overhead and have phoned the police twice already.

One member of the public has been shot and requires medical attention, so we called the ambulance too! I don't want to tell the police about one o the guards that was shot because it will only attract the media.

I heard shouts coming from a room so the manager and I went to see what the hell was going on. The manager, whose name is Simon, opened the door and stood stock still. As I approached the door, I could make out the glinting silver barrel of a revolver.

As I jumped out of hiding, the man who was holding the revolver took a pot shot at me. At the same time, Simon flung himself at the terrorist, and grabbed him round the neck. They both landed in a bundle on the floor. After a few minutes of fighting, I noticed the pistol on the floor, and lurched to pick it up. I picked it up, and loaded the gun with the remaining ammunition. I held the gun, my hand shivering in fear, and shot two bullets to the wall to get their attention. I then pointed it towards the terrorist, demanding who he was through my gritted teeth. He didn't answer, so I instructed him to the cellar, he slowly walked towards the cellar. Simon, though nervous, opened the hatch-way and the terrorist descended into the dark cellar. We shut the hatch-way and, with much effort, pulled one of the crates in the room across the hatch-way. 

    We made sure the crate was would hold, then we ran as fast as we could down the corridor. Little did I realise that Simon was falling further and further back, when I turned round I saw Simon was gone. My heart started to pound and deep in panic I ran back to find him. My knee's felt like huge lumps of stone getting heavier every step, when I ran round the pile of rubble, I saw him laying on the floor in a pool of blood. He had a bullet wound on his chest and when I checked for a pulse, with my shaking and dirty hands, there was no beat and when I looked at his lips they had turned blue. I sprinted outside and, seeing the van, an idea started to form in my mind...

I radioed to all my spare guards and told them to meet me in store room five. When they all eventually arrived I sent them to the cellar and told them to remove the twenty very heavy barrels of gunpowder and then to load them into my van. As soon as they were all in place, I got in the van and drove all the way to a deserted field near a derelict house. I continued to accelerate to 30mph and set the van to cruise control. As soon as I got within the seeing distance of a suitable rock, I hurled myself out of the van. A few heartbeats later, there was a loud bang, and my van was no more...


     Tonbridge Castle drawn by Neil Wilson