Email: f.puttnam@googlemail.com
Total Article : 73
About Me:Hello my name is Anastassia Puttnam and I am one of the writers for kings news.I am always smiling and tremendously determined to do anything that is thrown at me. Furthermore people describe me as a quirky character with whacky ideas...that's why I now write these stories. However when I grow up I have always really wanted to be a doctor/heart surgeon, so thats my aim :)
Standing proud, the house stared at me with an intimidating glare, as I tentatively approached the wooden walls. Reaching out, my hand touched the brass handle and a cold sensation sprinted down my spine.
The hinges creaked as I pushed open the door, whilst a damp smell lingered up my nose. A sudden urge of bravery overtook my mind as my fingers began to trace the dusty sideboard. Chandeliers hung low above my head and sharp crystals failed to glisten in the light that escaped through the window. Any slight breath from my mouth disturbed the spiders webs that seemed untouched for years. Courageously, I slowly paced forward and with each step I became more and more nervous.
I began to approach the first room, hoping that what I was searching for was somewhere in there. I filed through the narrow door frame, which had paint peeling off, and I entered into the derelict looking room. There stood two chairs and a table. Suddenly, I tripped over a misplaced piece of wooden flooring and lay on my stomach for a while. Scanning the floor, chairs and all of my surroundings, I felt a glint of gold hit my eye. Consequently, I scampered to my feet and dived onto the object that I came for, securing it in my arms like a child would with their toy dolly. I held a cup, a small token of kindness from my mother, a golden piece of pricelessness, something that made a tear trickle down my face every time I glanced at it.
Around nine years ago my mother passed away and my father could not afford the upkeep of the house. As a result we moved into a small two bedroom apartment. There was simply not enough room for everything we had. But my father left the cup by mistake. So I retuned to collect it. Emotions collected inside of me. I was on the urge of bursting into tears and rolling into a ball, hoping nobody could get me. But I didn't. I restrained myself.
Soon I decided to leave my dilapidated old house and walk home with my arms clutched around the cup. Nobody could touch it, I was the protector.
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