tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13376082058750113602024-03-19T03:01:59.399-07:00fabostory3FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-7926021482987025092014-04-18T22:50:00.000-07:002014-04-18T22:53:57.435-07:00NEW FaBo Lite starting May 2014<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Hey dudes and dudettes</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br />
It may seem ludicrous but we're doing the FaBo story-writing thing again this
year. Our only explanation is that we're a loony bunch over here at FaBo. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br />
Please check out the new site at <a href="http://fabostory.wordpress.com/">http://fabostory.wordpress.com/</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There'll be a new judge every couple of
weeks who'll be judging a new round of stories. Someone needs to win those
great prizes. It may as well be YOU. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Kick-off happens in May 2014, so check out
the new site and start limbering up your fingers on those keyboards.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">We can't wait to receive your stories.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-11497276578295977882013-07-10T17:55:00.001-07:002013-07-10T18:02:13.029-07:00Update: Fabulous Poetry Writing OpportunityThe fabostory team are taking a break this year from Fabo. While we are away here is another cool writing opportunity for primary and intermediate school students you might like to check out - <b><a href="http://nzpoetrybox.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">NZ Poetry Box</a></b> run by poet Paula Green. This is a blog for children, parents and teachers up to
Year 8. Paula posts tips, challenges, competitions, interviews, and poems by children
amongst other things. She has already run a number of challenges and awarded prizes to young poets from schools all round New Zealand. Go take a look.<br />
<br />
And keep an eye out for our return in 2014 :)<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-33186480395594501442012-09-23T02:52:00.002-07:002012-09-23T02:54:25.294-07:00Chapter Nine<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b>The Sowing Unravels<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b>By Melinda Szymanik<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The door shut
behind them with a definitive click. Mote rubbed at his eyes, but now they were
all inside the well lit security office there was no mistaking the identity of
the person with the pistol. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“You,” he
squeaked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Is that a polar
bear…costume?” Deb gasped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Yes it is and
it stinks of red herring,” Bizet Finnegan said. “And I’m jolly annoyed that
your father shot me with a tranquilizer dart.” She massaged an angry looking puncture
wound on her forehead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Bizzy?” Mendelssohn
said coming up behind Mote and Deb. “What are you doing here? And who’s minding
the farm? And what’s that on your forehead?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Kate! So good
to see you here.” Bizzy waved at Captain Pejalmer who stood just behind
Mendelssohn with a very grumpy expression on her face. “And Mendelssohn, in answer to your question -
you shot me, darling. Don’t worry. I’ve locked up at the farm. Fred and Trev
are down at the cow cockies cottage watching over everything. And I’m here because I had a phone call
saying things were getting out of hand and you needed my help...And what’s with
these straw guards? That’s terribly dangerous with so many fireworks going off
all the time around here. They’re highly flammable you know.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
As if her words
were sparks, the smell of smoke began drifting in through the air conditioning
ducts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“It’s a bit warm
in here,” Bizzy said, pulling at the neck of the polar bear suit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Mum, why have
you got a gun?” Deb said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What this old
thing?” Bizzy waggled the pistol around haphazardly. “I couldn’t find my
semi-automatic so I had to bring this instead. Don’t worry. It’s not a real
gun.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I think we’re
on fire,” Mendelssohn shrieked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Oh darling, yes
we are a great couple,” Bizet Finnegan purred.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“No Bizzy! The
building’s on fire. Someone’s trying to burn us alive,” Mendelssohn cried
pointing at the window. They could all see long tongues of flame leaping up outside,
even one storey up. Mendelssohn yanked on the door handle but it seemed to be
locked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Well that makes
a mockery of the idea of a fire exit, don’t you think?” Bizzy said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb rushed over
to the fire alarm and breaking the glass, reached in and flicked the switch. An
ominous click was followed by an even more ominous silence. She glanced over at
the bracket on the wall where the fire extinguisher should be but the bracket
was empty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“The hose,” Mote
called. He ran out into the corridor and walked back in seconds later holding
the fire hose nozzle in his hands, the hose itself just a few wisps of shredded
rubber hanging off the nozzle. Bizzy started fanning herself with a manila
folder she’d grabbed off the top of a filing cabinet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Sabotage”
Mendelssohn said bleakly. “Kate you were right. I should have used the security
company you suggested. You get what you pay for.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“More like you
reap what you sow,” Deb said drily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What are we
going to do?” Mote said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“We’re all going
to die,” Kate Pejalmer said. “Because you were too cheap to hire proper
security guards.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mendelssohn hung
his head.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Don’t talk to
my dad like that,” Mote said. “You stay away from him.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Not to worry,”
Bizzy said, extracting a cell phone from the pocket of her bear suit. She flipped it
open and stabbed at the keypad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Fred, I need
you and Trev to scramble the Blue Angels,” Bizzy barked into the phone. “Full
payload. Get them good and soaked pronto and let them out over the the north
corner of the Main Stadium....”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The flip phone squawked back at Bizzy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Yes. All
seventy. At the same time,” she replied. <span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36pt;">“Use the special
net parachute.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36pt;">Bizzy closed her phone and turned back to her family, and Kate
Pejalmer. “Right. They’re on their way.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What are the
Blue Angels?” Mote asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Just some sheep
I bred specially. Their wool is blue. And fire retardant. You’ll see...Anyway,
so what’s all this about then?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb pulled the
notes out of her pocket. All the clues and red herrings. She checked they were
all there and handed them to her mother.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Someone’s been
trying to kill us,” Deb said. “And sabotage the Titanic Games. You know Mum,
for a minute when I saw you in the polar bear suit holding a gun, I thought it
was you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Me? I’m just a
sheep breeder,” Bizzy said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“And a part time
ninja,” Mendelssohn muttered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Well yes, true,”
Bizzy said smiling. “But it’s the genetic engineering that takes up most of my
time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Did you say genetic
engineering?” Deb asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Of course
honey. But it’s all a bit top secret. And I do it under the name I had before I
married your father – Bizet Wolf.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb turned and
stared at Mote. “It all makes sense.” She grabbed the scraps of paper
back. “What was the first message, shorn
into the sheep?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mote frowned.
“Um ‘To protect the sheep, you um... have to catch the wolf?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“That’s right,”
Mendelssohn gasped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Here, look,”
Deb held out one of the clues. She read it out. “<i>It takes a wolf to catch a wolf.</i> And then there was the jar of wolf
spiders. And then there was this, <i>A sheep
for a sheep, A scrambled surprise, Is an egg just an egg, Or GrenadE in
disguise.</i> They didn’t mean like a chicken’s egg at all. And the G and E are
capitals because it’s all about genetic engineering.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Without warning Kate
Pejalmer lunged at Bizet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Oww,” Bizet
cried.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“That’s right,
little miss clever clogs,” Captain Pejalmer now stood with her back to the fire
exit, Bizet Finnegan’s gun in her hand, pointed at the Finnegan family. “Genetic
engineering is wrong! These stupid games are wrong. Blindfolded
cake-decorating? Belly flopping? Floss flicking? Are you kidding me? Actually,
no, I get the floss flicking. That stuff is always getting caught in my teeth...Anyway.
I’ve always disapproved of what you do, Bizet. Genetic engineering isn’t
natural. And the last straw was when your husband wouldn’t see sense and hire
<i>my</i> security company to cover the games. Even the members of my spy team, Le Zard,
Byrd and Barker, all victims of Wolf Laboratory engineering, were a huge clue
and you couldn’t see it. When I’ve disposed of you lot I’m going to set fire to
all those carefully placed scarecrows and these games will be a full-fledged
disaster. Games over.” She cocked the gun and aimed at Bizet. “You first,” she
hissed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Suddenly the
fire exit flew open and a soaking-wet, blue woolled sheep wearing a crash
helmet rolled in the doorway and into the back of Captain Pejalmer like a
bowling ball hitting the last skittle in a bowling alley. As Pejalmer fell her
finger grasped the trigger and a shot rang out, a trickle of water dribbling
from the end of the barrel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“It’s my water
pistol,” Bizzy said, picking it up off the floor as she prodded the unconscious
captain with the toe of her shoe. “I did say it wasn’t real. You villains never
listen. Well at least the fire’s out. And I’m really surprised you didn’t
figure this out sooner Mendelssohn. Something … or someone must have been
distracting you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mendelssohn
looked a little sheepish.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The End</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-75219888470662343502012-09-15T15:43:00.001-07:002012-09-15T22:52:23.628-07:00Chapter Eight<br />
<h2>
The last straw? </h2>
<h3>
by Kyle Mewburn</h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">There was no time to lose. Mote had to escape the
choking smoke before he ... well, choked. He stumbled forward with his arms
held out before him like a zombie. The packed stadium was buzzing with
disquiet. The spectators were beginning to suspect the thick, pink smoke wasn't
actually part of the egg-throwing event. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As
the sound intensified, Mote's feet began moving faster. If the crowd decided to
panic, he could be trampled in the stampede. And if he got trampled, who was going
to find his dad and Deb? He'd been waiting all his life for a chance to be a
hero. There was no way he was going to miss it now it was here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">But
first he had to find the exit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When
he glimpsed a row of shadowy silhouettes through the swirling smoke, Mote
smiled. Despite the explosions and drama, the line of security guards had
maintained their position along the bottom of the stands, preventing the crowd
from spilling onto the field. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>Dad's recruited</i> <i>an awesome security team,</i> Mote thought proudly as he veered towards
them. Being a hero was going to be a lot easier with a crack team of
professionals beside him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Hey,
guard! Over here!" he yelled as he neared the first guard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
guard remained motionless with his back towards Mote. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Hey!"Mote
yelled louder. It wasn't <i>that </i>noisy
in the stadium. There was no way the guard hadn't heard him. When the guard
still didn't turn, Mote grabbed the sleeve of the guard's coat and yanked it
roughly. "Hey! My dad and sister are in trouble! You have to come and
..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
guard's arm pulled loose with a weird rustling sound. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">For
a wild-eyed, frozen moment, Mote stared in horror at the uniformed limb
dangling from his left hand. Then his instincts kicked in. His hand shot skyward,
sending the guard's arm looping through the air. Mote's mouth opened wide as he
backed away. But his scream shattered into a series of retching coughs as his
lungs filled with pink smoke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"COUGH!
SPLUTTER! COUGH!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
arm made a graceful arc then thumped into the top of the guard's head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
groaned. The guard was going to be really angry now. As if rippng his arm off
wasn't bad enough, Mote had to go and whack him in the head with his own
dismembered limb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But
the guard didn't turn. Or even make a sound. He wobbled slightly forward, then
silently toppled sideways. His head smacked against the neighbouring guard ...
then broke loose. As the first guard's head rolled away across the artificial
grass, the next guard toppled sideways, setting off a chain reaction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
watched the line of guards falling like dominoes. The crowd, thinking it was
part of the show, started a mexican wave. Loud cheers resounded around the
stadium and the sky rained confetti as Mote inched towards the fallen guard. He
took a deep breath to steel himself. He didn't like blood. And one thing he
knew for certain - if someone lost an arm and a head, there would be masses and
masses of blood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">With
his face set in a grimace, Mote carefully turned the guard over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Hnnnhhhh????"
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
shook his head, blinking furiously all the while. There was no blood soaking
the guard's uniform. No veins and sinew hanging from the gaping wound where his
arm used to be. No severed muscles and spinal cords sticking out between the
collar of his shirt. There was just ... straw. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
gasped. In a way, it was the last thing he expected. But it all made sense,
too, in a nonsensical, not-quite-real, weird story kinda way. No wonder they
were able to evade security all the time. There was<i> </i>never any<i> real</i> security.
Just an army of scarecrow deterrents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But
that meant ...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Hey,
Mote! Over here!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
jerked round. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Deb!"
he yelled, rushing towards his sister. He was surprised, and a little
embarrassed, by how relieved he was to see her. If he'd been just a teensy bit <i>more</i> relieved, he might have even hugged
her. "The security guards ... they're all scarecrows! That's why ..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Shhhhhhh!"
Deb scolded as Mote halted beside her. "You don't have to tell the whole
world, do you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"I
wasn't," said Mote, feeling offended. "I was just telling <i>you</i> and ..." He halted with a
frown. "Hey, how come you're not surprised?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb
rolled her eyes. "There's one sitting outside the exit. When I followed
Dad I expected the guard would try and stop me. But he didn't. So on my way
back here I checked him out. He's just a dummy in uniform."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Sounds
like Inspector Barker," muttered Mote, trying to disguise his
disappointment. He'd been looking forward to making his shocking revelation in
front of the assembled suspects. Just like in one of those old crime movies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"You
can mope later, Mote," said Deb, shaking her head. "Right now Dad
needs our help. Come on!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They
sprinted out the emergency exit and raced across the stadium carpark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Where
... are ... we ... going?" puffed Mote <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Shhhhhhh!" hissed Deb. "We're
almost there!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote's
head spun one way, then the other, trying to get his bearings. The main gate
was off to his right, beneath the giant iceberg that was the Titanic Games'
(slightly ironic) symbol. In the distance off to his left was the giant frosted
tower of the Blindfolded Cake-Decorating venue. So that meant they were heading
... where, exactly? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"The
security command centre!" Mote gasped as Deb started climbing the narrow
fire-escape winding around the outside of the main stadium. "Of
course!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!"
Deb hissed again. "Do you want to get us <i>all </i>killed?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Sorry,"
gulped Mote. He hadn't thought about them getting killed. But whoever was
trying to disrupt the Games wouldn't hesitate to kill two pesky kids, would they?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb
finally paused outside the fire exit door and waited for Mote to catch up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Ready?"
she whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote
nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb
held her breath and eased the door open. Muffled voices drifted through the
narrow crack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"I
<i>know </i>the company was called
'Scarecrow Security', but how was I supposed to know they were going to use
actual scarecrows?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They
recognised their dad's voice right away. He sounded scared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But
the second voice was too faint to offer any clues. They couldn't even
understand the words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Of
course I wouldn't have sacked your company if I'd known," said </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mendelssohn Finnegan. "But they put in the cheapest tender
and I've got a budget to worry about."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"What now, Deb?"
whispered Mote. </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> <span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb's
answer was drowned out by an evil chuckle coming from right behind them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Eavesdropping
is very rude you know," said a familiar voice. "Why don't we all just
go in and join the conversation?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">It
was impossible to argue with that. Especially when the words were punctuated with
the sound of a cocking pistol.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">*****************</span><br />
So one week left. Time to tie up some of those loose ends and finish with something memorable. Will there be a twist or a shocking revelation? I can't wait to read the final entries. Good luck!<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #000d21; color: #cccccc; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 48px;">You can read the winning child's chapter and the judge's report on the </span><a href="http://fabostory3.blogspot.co.nz/p/winning-writing.html" style="background-color: #000d21; color: #86b8d2; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 48px;" target="_blank">Winning Writing Page.</a>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-49079792901859366932012-09-08T16:50:00.002-07:002012-09-08T18:08:52.484-07:00Chapter Seven<h2>
A Theory and a Big Bang </h2>
<h3>
By Tania Hutley</h3>
<br />
While he was swimming, Mote was thinking hard. What was with all these weird animal clues the saboteur was leaving, warning them of his plans for ruining the games? It was almost like he was playing chicken with them.<br />
<br />
Wait a minute. Playing chicken? The egg-throwing event was about to begin!<br />
<br />
No time to wait for Debussy to catch up. Mote pulled himself out of the swimming pool and raced to the arena. Sure enough, the egg throwers were limbering up. Pricilla Byrd was sitting right in the front row, her head cocked to one side, her eyes bright. <br />
<br />
Could Byrd be the one doing all this? Mote slid into the chair next to her. If she tried anything, he'd be right there to stop her. And his gut told him egg-throwing was just the type of event that would be a target for the saboteur. <br />
<br />
The timer was counting down the seconds before the event started. In front of him, the Black Scramblers had their slings loaded and ready to fire. All their spare eggs were in one basket, but one of those eggs glinted as it caught the light. Mote squinted at it. What on earth?<br />
<br />
"Mote!" Debussy came running into the arena, waving her arms and screaming. "There's a grenade! He's planted a grenade!" <br />
<br />
Mote gaped at her for just a second, then her words connected in his brain. He leapt from his chair and dived for the basket. He meant to grab the grenade and throw it as far away as he could, but his feet tangled in the chair legs and instead he fell heavily right on top of the basket, crushing all the eggs - and the grenade - underneath him.<br />
<br />
He lay still, heart thudding, eyes scrunched closed, waiting for the grenade to go off. Too scared to move in case he triggered an explosion.<br />
<br />
"Are your brains scrambled?" The angry shout came from just above him and Mote cracked open one eye to peer upwards. One of the egg-tossers stood over him, arms folded, face red. Byrd was beside him, an unreadable expression on her face. Was she trying to hide a smile?<br />
<br />
"Mote!" Deb skidded up. "What are you doing?"<br />
<br />
"I saw something sparkle in the basket." Mote said.<br />
<br />
"My lucky, championship-winning, gold-glittered egg!" The tosser's voice rose into a furious roar. He grabbed Mote by his collar and hauled him off the crushed basket. A colourful egg-mash decorated the front of Mote's shirt. There was no grenade.<br />
<br />
"Sorry," said Mote, picking bits of gold glitter out of the mess on his front. <br />
<br />
"Sorry," called Deb over her shoulder, as she grabbed Mote's arm and hustled him away from the glares of the egg-throwing teams. As they reached the edge of the main stadium she said, "If there was no grenade, then I guess the egg clue must have been a red herring." <br />
<br />
"First sheep, then wolves, a polar bear... and now herrings!" Mote snapped. "What kind of evil plot is this? It's way too random. Like someone's just making it up as they go along!"<br />
<br />
"There's got to be a pattern," said Deb. "If we can figure it out, we can work out where they're going to strike next." <br />
<br />
"Wait a minute!" Something sparked in Mote's brain and he grabbed Deb's arm to stop her. "Do you remember hearing something about before the first Titanic Games, someone was trying to start a different kind of games?"<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, that's right." Deb nodded. "It didn't have cool events like floss-flicking and belly-flopping, but weird ones... what were they again?"<br />
<br />
"Wolf wrestling. And wasn't there sheep hurdling?"<br />
<br />
"Who'd want to watch lame events like that?" snorted Deb.<br />
<br />
"What if whoever wanted to start those games is angry they didn't get the chance, and that the Titanic Games got started instead?"<br />
<br />
"You reap what you sow!"<br />
<br />
Mote grinned. "Let's go tell Dad." <br />
<br />
They spotted their father and Kate Pejalmer standing near one of the stadium exits, talking intently. When he saw Mote and Deb racing towards them, Mendelssohn looked guilty. He said something to Pejalmer, who nodded and walked quickly away.<br />
<br />
Mote lost his grin. His father had too many secrets! What was it his father had said right after the sheep went splat on top of the bellyflopper? Something about it being his fault and that he should have told them everything. By 'them' had he meant Mote and Debussy?<br />
<br />
"Don't say anything for a moment," hissed Mote. "Dad knows more about this than he's let on. Before we tell him what we suspect, I'm going to get some answers!"<br />
<br />
Just as they reached him, an announcement came over the loudspeaker.<br />
<i>"Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologise for the delay of the egg-throwing event. The event is now starting. Please return to your seats."</i><br />
<br />
Their father looked at Mote with concern. "What's that mess on your shirt?"<br />
<br />
"Never mind that," said Mote. "Was there was something you were going to tell us? You said all this was your fault!"<br />
<br />
His father nodded, wearing a grave expression. "You're right, Mote. There's something I should have told you a long time ago. I can't keep it a secret anymore." The look on his father's face was so serious, Mote knew at once that it would be something big. "I'm only sorry you have to find out like this." His father took a deep breath, as though preparing to give them terrible news. "I have to tell you that-"<br />
<br />
From the direction of the egg throwing event, a starting gun suddenly went off. A moment later there was another explosion, and Mote was surrounded in bright pink smoke. It billowed around him, burning his throat and making his eyes sting. He coughed and spluttered, his lungs full of the foul smoke. He couldn't see! <br />
<br />
"Dad?" he croaked. "Dad, are you there?" <br />
<br />
There was no answer.<br />
<br />
"Debussy?"<br />
<br />
Silence. Mote's heart pounded as he frantically tried to see something, anything, through his streaming eyes and the thick pink smoke. What had just happened? Where were his father and sister? Why weren't they answering him?
<br />
<br />
**************************************************************************************
<br />
Chapter Eight next week, and we're almost at the end! (There'll be nine chapters in total).
Chapter Eight should either contain, or work up to, the big climax. The chapter should be fast and exciting, and it should set things up for the final chapter in which all questions are finally answered!
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-68508456177531620292012-09-02T02:40:00.000-07:002012-09-02T05:16:59.269-07:00Chapter Six<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Exploding
Eggs</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>By Elena de Roo</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Deb swam to the far side of the pool
where she'd seen her father, the polar bear and Captain Pejalmer
disappear. Vicious or not, she hoped the stunned polar bear was awake
enough to know it should hold its breath underwater. She trod water
and turned to see how far behind her brother was. Only minutes before
he'd been swimming right on her heels, but now, the pool was empty.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
"Mote! Mote! MOTE!!!! Where are
you! If you're playing a trick on me, I'll, I'll ..."
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Bubbles floated to the surface an
arm's length away. So, that was it. Typical Mote. Showing off again.
He must have swum down ahead of her to find the underground entrance.
She didn't want to contemplate the other option. Either way, there
was no time to waste.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Making sure the lid was screwed on
tightly, Deb buttoned the spiders into the leg pocket of her cargo
pants, took a few deep breaths and dived down. Under the water, it
was quiet. There was only the distant hum of the pump. No more
bubbles followed. Far below, she could see a grate lying crookedly at
the bottom of the pool. It looked a long way down. She was relieved
when the entrance turned out to be only a few metres away from her,
in the pool wall.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
It took more courage than she had
thought to swim into the tunnel mouth, even though it was easily
wide enough for a person, a polar bear even. Could she make it in one
breath? It helped that she could already see light from the other
end, and to know Mote and her father had done it before her. One
stroke ... two strokes ... she pushed the water behind her ... three
strokes ... she was through. She kicked upwards, lungs bursting and
swam towards the light.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Deb grabbed the metal ladder, allowing
herself some time to gasp in air, before hauling herself up the steps
and over the side. She wiped the water out of her eyes. No sign of
Mote, her father or Captain Pejalmer. She was standing at the
junction of three dimly lit underground tunnels.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
"Mote! Mote!" Deb's voice
echoed down the tunnel, but there was no answer. Then she heaved a
sigh of relief. She'd spotted several sets of wet footsteps leading
into the tunnel directly in front of her. One set was about Mote's
size. There were some animal prints as well, bear prints, which went
down the tunnel to her left. The polar bear must have recovered and
broken free. She shivered. She wouldn't be going down that tunnel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
The air was damp and her clothes
dripping, but with no towel, the best she could do was to squeeze the
water out of the ends of her pants. She took the jar of spiders out
of her pocket, where it had been banging annoyingly against her shin.
The wolf spiders seemed unbothered by their journey and were busily
crawling over a small roll of paper. Another message? Why hadn't she
noticed it before? Maybe it had been wedged under the lid and come
loose during the swim.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
There was no way she was putting her
hand into a jar full of spiders. Deb unscrewed the top, watching as
the spiders scuttled for cover in the dark crevices and corners of
the tunnel, before extracting the roll of paper. There was just
enough light to make out the words written inside.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A sheep for a sheep</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A scrambled surprise</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Is an egg just an egg</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
or <b>G</b>renad<b>E</b> in disguise?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She wished now she'd asked her father
more about his past. Like, why he had an old lab coat hanging in his
wardrobe? Then, maybe she'd have some idea what that whole <i>Katie-Kat
</i>thing was about. Or why
her father thought everything was his fault? One thing was clear
though. With the words <i>egg</i> and <i>grenade</i> in the same
sentence, this threat had egg throwing event all over it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Deb pulled the games guide from her
top pocket and prised apart the wet pages. She checked her watch. The
egg throwing would be starting any moment now in the main stadium. If
she was quick she could warn them, stop the event. Her intuition told
her the tunnel straight ahead should take her in the right direction.
It was also the direction the trail of footsteps was leading, and
since no one had come back that way yet, Deb reasoned, there must be
another exit.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
She was right. The tunnel sloped
gradually upwards, ending in a solid looking metal door. She tried
the handle. It wasn't locked. No wonder bad things were happening if
security was this slack. Deb opened it a crack and saw the dark
outlines of mops and buckets. The tunnel ended in a cleaner's
cupboard.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was no time for mucking around.
Even as the door clicked shut behind her, she already had her next
step sussed. A crack of light was coming from under a door on the
opposite wall. On the other side, she could hear the hum of people
and muffled bursts of applause.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
A few seconds later Deb emerged into a
side corridor next to the ladies' toilets in the main stadium. She
shouldn't have complained, it was working in her favour that nobody
seemed to lock anything around here. Everything was going to plan.
Except for the fact she didn't actually have a plan.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Deb raced into the packed arena. She'd
cut it finer than she'd thought. The egg timer was already counting
down. Only sixty seconds to go. The two teams, The Gold Yolks and The
Black Scramblers, were already lined up on opposite sides of the
arena. Each team stood with slingshots at the ready, about to launch
a barrage of eggs - yolks appropriately dyed team colours - at their
opponents, just as soon as the timer sounded.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
It was down to her. Thirty seconds
left. Somehow she needed to stop the event without causing mass
panic. But what if she'd got it all wrong? Then Debussy saw something
which was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. It was Mote.
He was in the front row of spectators, wet hair plastered behind his
ears ... and about as close as you could get to the Gold Yolk's line
of fire. Not only that, but Priscilla Byrd was sitting right next to
him, her beady hen-like eyes darting from left to right.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
Okay, now it was personal. She'd been
wrong about the mass panic. Mass panic was exactly what this
situation called for.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
*********************************************************************************</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Now it's your turn to write Chapter 7. Another major turn in the story should up the stakes for the kids and put them in immediate danger. They may find out the truth behind the villain's plans for the games, and it is a diabolically clever and evil twist that no one saw coming.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-66389143870136302532012-08-26T04:07:00.003-07:002012-08-26T17:00:51.162-07:00Chapter Five<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 1cm;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">THREATENED AND ENDANGERED </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 1cm;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">By Johanna Knox</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<br />
Priscilla
Byrd flew in and – with a vigour unusual in one so close to retirement – jumped
in front of the bear and pointed a handgun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Inspector
Barker bounded in next, taking up a similar stance several metres away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Last
came Inspector Le Zard, hefting an assault rifle to firing position.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Where’s Captain Pejalmer?’ whispered Mote to Deb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">His sister didn't take her eyes off the scene below. ‘Sh!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The
polar bear continued devouring the desk, glancing now and then at the three humans
waving interesting black things at it. Wood splinters stuck to its chin, mixing with
the blood like a strange beard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: center 207.5pt; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Ready …’ called Byrd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: center 207.5pt; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Aim …’ growled Barker.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘STOP!’
came a voice. Mendelssohn rushed in, toting the biggest gun of all. ‘You don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kill</i> a polar bear!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Inspector
Le Zard regarded him unblinking. ‘Well, what would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>suggest, Monsieur?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mendelssohn
lifted his gun, fixed the bear in his sights, and fired. A dart struck the forehead
of the bear who promptly went cross-eyed and toppled backwards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Stun it,’ said Mendelssohn with satisfaction. ‘Now, we have to think how to get it out and … where’s Pejalmer?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Exactly,’
whispered Mote, squirming to try and get more comfortable on the ventilation
tube.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Below
him, Barker, Byrd, and Le Zard looked around uneasily, then all three froze,
staring at the entrance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">A
slim woman in a trenchcoat stumbled in –- Captain Pejalmer. She stopped, swayed,
groaned, and collapsed. A bear-sized claw mark on her neck gushed blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Katie!’ gasped Mendelssohn. He ran to her and
dropped to his knees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Katie?’ whispered Mote. ‘Dad calls her Katie?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Just
shush!’ said Deb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Their
father put his head to the Captain’s chest. ‘She’s still breathing!’ He gazed into
her face, pushing her hair back from her forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Then
Mote saw something astonishing. Captain Pejalmer opened her eyes, looked up at
their father, and winked before closing her eyes again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mote
looked at Deb. ‘Did you see …?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Yes! But I’ll miss what happens next if I
have to keep answering you … Whoa, look at her hand.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">From
their vantage point, the children could see that, concealed from the other
three members of the security team, Captain Pejalmer’s fingers were working at the
phone protruding from her trenchcoat pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">A
few seconds later, the national-anthem ringtone tinkled from their father’s
phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">He
answered it swiftly: ‘Yes? … I see …Well, I’ve got a bit of a situation myself,
but I’ll send the others.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">He
looked around at Byrd, Barker, and Le Zard. ‘There are reports of violence
breaking out in the floss-flickers’ quarters. I’ll stay with Pejalmer and call
the medics. You three go sort those <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">darned
</i>floss-flickers*.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The
minute the rest of of the security team had left, Captain Pejalmer sat up. ‘I thought
you might remember that trick,’ she said, smiling at Mendelssohn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">He
clutched her hands. ‘Katie-Kat, I was so scared ….’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Katie-Kat?’ Mote was appalled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Would I bail on you, Felix?’ asked Captain Pejalmer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Felix?’
Mote spluttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Felix
is Latin for cat,’ Deb whispered, puzzled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘So they have cat-themed pet names for each
other, that’s …’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Weird … disturbing, gross, I know, but …’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Below, Captain
Pejalmer was now explaining to their father: ‘I was doing the last security
check round the pool complex when that bear came out of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nowhere</i>. And it was so focused. It was me it wanted!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘That swipe must’ve hurt,’ said Mendelssohn,
lifting his hand gingerly to her neck. ‘I really will call the medics.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘No!’ said Captain Pejalmer. ‘It’s fake. When
the bear came at me, I knew I had to get it out of public sight fast. So I threw it a big piece of juicy, raw pork.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Their
father looked concerned. ‘Free range?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Of course! Then while it was busy eating, I
shoved the bear inside the complex and onto the travelator. I checked round to see
where it could have come from, called you, then quickly applied this fake
wound.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Where did you get pork at such short notice?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Captain
Pejalmer opened her trenchcoat to reveal enormous pockets in the lining. ‘These
days I always carry a hunk of meat, just in case … Not to mention
blood capsules for feigning injury.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mendelssohn
looked impressed. ‘You haven’t changed, Katie-Kat. Although most women have handbags,
you know.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Handbags,’
said Captain Pejalmer, ‘are a tool of patriarchal oppression. Real women have
pockets.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Well you certainly are a …’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Oh, yuck. No!’ hissed Mote. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I’m worried about something else,’ said Deb.
‘Why didn’t she call Dad as soon as the bear was in here? Why did she go looking
round for where the bear had come from first?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Wait, look!’ said Mote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Captain
Pejalmer was pulling something else from a pocket. A note. ‘This was attached
to the bear’s collar,’ she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Their
father read it aloud: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There are several
endangered species around here, aren’t there. Shall we count?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Some wolves are endangered …’ Deb murmured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Felix,’ said Captain Pejalmer to their father.
‘This was why I needed to get you alone. I think one of the security team is
involved in this plot. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">At least</i>
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I faked the injury so they’d think
they’d succeeded in putting me out of action.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mendelssohn
looked stricken. ‘Do you think it has to do with when I worked at …’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Highly likely,’ she cut in. But right now we’ve
got to contain this bear before it wakes.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The
next thing to emerge from Captain Pejalmer’s pockets was a long rope. Mote and
Deb watched as she and their father bound the great beast and then, at Captain Pejalmer’s
urging, dragged it to the pool’s edge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I’ll jump in first. You follow,’ the Captain instructed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Their
father paused. ‘Are you telling me there’s a secret underwater exit? How did I
not know that?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Oh,
there’s always plenty the boss doesn’t know,’ said Captain Pejalmer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Their
father hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Come on, Felix,’ said the Captain. ‘Let’s see
those almost-Titanic belly-flopping skills,’ She herself made a neat dive into
the pool, fully clothed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mendelssohn
took a deep breath and leapt after her, hitting the water with a thwack, before
beginning to swim, dragging the unconscious bear behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">The
submerged figures reached the far wall and vanished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Deb
looked at Mote: ‘Follow them?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Definitely.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">As
the children jumped down from the ventilation tube to the table, Mote
remembered how much he needed to go to the toilet. Then he had a brainwave, which made
him forget again. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">‘Deb!' said Mote. 'She didn’t call him Felix as a cat name! It’s because
it was the first name of Mendelssohn, the composer who Dad’s named after! Felix
Mendelssohn! And<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…' He felt himself
filling with excitement, importance, and terror. ‘Deb, you know who I’m named
after.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Funnily enough, you’re named after the composer Mozart, Mozart.’ said Deb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘But he wasn’t just Mozart! He was called Wolfgang
Mozart! Deb, what if all this is about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>?
Wolfgang means <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">walk like a wolf</i>!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Deb
looked at him for several seconds then said slowly, ‘You have really got to get
over yourself.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mote
ignored that. He trailed after her to the pool, dazed. This was huge!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">His
foot caught something that went skidding over the tiles, and he picked it up. ‘Deb!
A jar of spiders!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">She
turned back, curious. ‘Do you think it fell out of Captain Pejalmers' pockets? Can I see?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mote
handed it to her. ‘Anyone who was in here could have dropped it,’ he said. ‘Even
that camera guy.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Deb
turned the jar in her hands. ‘Guess what kind of spiders these are?’ She looked
faintly triumphant. ‘They’re wolf spiders.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Still
holding the jar she dived into the pool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 1.0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mote
followed. He suddenly hoped there wasn’t any of that stuff in the water that went
coloured when you peed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 131.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 63.35pt; tab-stops: 131.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 150%;">* In floss-flicking, each
competitor eats a cob of corn, then uses dental floss to flick out stuck bits from between their teeth - sending those bits as
far across a field as possible. Once an under-funded and seldom-watched sport,
floss-flicking has been revitalised by the advent of night-time tournaments
held under black lights, using fluorescent corn and fluorescent floss. Despite
its new popularity, the sport continues to be marred by the behaviour of its players
who have a reputation as temperamental and aggressive.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
********************************</div>
Now it's your turn to write <b>Chapter 6.</b> There is even more danger ahead. At the same time, the kids must stay alert to solve the mystery. Clues are accumulating. And isn't is funny how animals keep cropping up? Is this significant? Or is the most numerous species the Red Herring? You have one week to write this.<br />
<br />
<b>A NEW WRITING CHALLENGE!</b><br />
Instead of (or as well as) Chapter 6, write your own side story about any minor character in the story - absolutely any you like. (Perhaps the woman who won the golden ticket? Or the ill-fated belly-flopper from Chapter 2? Perhaps another athlete? Or maybe a person who doesn't appear in the story but is connected in some interesting way to someone who does?)<br />
<br />
You have two weeks to write this side-story. A winner will be chosen, but we may publish more than one entry on the Fabo site.<br />
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-38097161767250831242012-08-19T01:27:00.000-07:002012-08-19T04:06:36.403-07:00Chapter Four<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Hanging with the Bear<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">by Maureen Crisp</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘Wow! What a start to the Titanium Games in the pool. The Cross The Pool
Flotation race has a live looking polar bear centrepiece. This is just ground
breaking or shall we say ice breaking stuff! How will the competitors cope?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The news camera man gushed ecstatically into his microphone. Mozart and
Debussy looked at one another. They knew there was no centrepiece. A real polar
bear was sitting on a rapidly melting piece of ice in the swimming pool!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote’s brain quickly computed the implications of a dangerous meat-eating
protected species being found in a public event with no barriers. It all added
up to disaster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Debussy moved fast. She marched up to the cameraman and waved her finger
in his face. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘How did you get into
a restricted area? This complex is closed to the public and media until
tonight.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The cameraman looked surprised. ‘I was told a side door would be open.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The polar bear began to growl and then it crouched down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘That is the most realistic robot I’ve ever seen,’ said the cameraman,
trying to get another shot of it. Debussy jumped in front of the camera.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘You’d better get back through that side door, she said. ‘We won’t tell
on you if you leave now. Our dad’s head of security and he could cancel your
media pass just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. The cameraman hoisted his
camera on his shoulder and scuttled away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote grabbed Debussy’s arm. ‘How do you think of stuff like that?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Debussy grinned, ‘It’s true.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">And so’s that bear! We’ve got to get help.’ Mote pulled Debussy by the
arm back to the travelator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Behind them there was a splash. Mote looked over his shoulder. The Polar
Bear was swimming to the side of the pool heading in their direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘Let’s run,’ said Mote. The Polar Bear’s seen us... we could be lunch.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">They sprinted down the passage and jumped onto the moving travelator and
kept running. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Through the loud speaker they heard a familiar voice. Attention!
Attention! The pool complex must be evacuated due to a chlorine leak. All
personnel to the exits immediately! This complex will self-seal in two minutes.
Evacuate all personnel! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">A siren started to wail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘Good,’ said Debussy, running easily down the travelator. ‘They’re on
top of the problem.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘And the polar bear’s nearly on top of us,’ screamed Mote, trying to
keep up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Behind them they could hear
growls as the polar bear tried to get on the travelator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘Keep running, we’re nearly there.’ called Debussy from in front.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The travelator stopped, with a jolt. Debussy stumbled. Mote skidded, his
feet leaving black streaks on the rubber surface.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Behind them the growls got louder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘It’s not two minutes,’ yelled Debussy. They were nearly at the complex
doors. They just needed to get past the security desks and they were safe.
There was a loud clunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘No,’ yelled Mote. He sprinted to the doors. They were locked. Debussy
and Mozart stared at each other for one panicked second. ‘The souvenir shop, it
must have a back entrance,’ Debussy spun round.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote grabbed her. ‘You can’t! Don’t Deb! he yelled. Deb tried to get her
arm free. ‘The polar Bear’s right there... probably looking for a Titanium
beach ball.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Escape routes, screamed his brain. Think escape routes not lame ball
jokes. Mote looked all around. Up! Above him were huge ventilation tubes
running the length of the pool complex. They carried warm air out of the
building. Mote jumped on top of the security desk. ‘Come on Deb, I’ll hoist you
up.’ He grabbed a chair and hauled it up on the desk as Debussy climbed on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The polar bear knocked over a rack of souvenir hoodies and got tangled
up in the clothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Debussy climbed on the chair and reached for the edge of the ventilation
tube. She was too short.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Climb on my back,’ said
Mote, balancing on the chair. He gritted his teeth as Debussy put a foot on his
hip and clambered up his back, struggling to get her feet on his shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Then her weight was gone. He looked up. She was straddling the tube,
leaning down to reach for his hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">The polar bear tore the clothes apart and started for the security desk.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote reached for Deb’s hand and swung up as Deb pulled. He hit the tube
hard on his stomach and struggled to breathe as he clutched the smooth sides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Below him the chair toppled off the table. With one swipe the polar bear
broke the chair in two and settled down to chew the wood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote closed his eyes in relief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘You know,’ said Debussy sounding remarkably calm for someone hanging
above certain death, ‘I think whoever got that polar bear in here just made one
huge mistake. Everyone will be trying to figure out how it was done. You can’t
move a polar bear on your own. There must be a few people who knew about this.’
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote snapped his eyes open. ‘You mean all the wolves are in on this,’
‘Barker, Le Zard, the Byrd woman and Captain Pejalmer? But why? It doesn’t make
sense.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Debussy ignored his question and continued thinking out loud. ‘You would
need to make sure no one was around. This place has security guards 24/7.You
would have to have a strong alibi.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote stared down at the polar bear below them. It finished with the
chair and started on the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Motion caught his eye and he squinted to see through the security glass.
‘Great, they’re here. We’re about to be rescued. He sat up to wave.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘No Mote! Keep still! Don’t let them see you!’ Debs kicked out with her
foot and caught him a good one on the arm. Huh, Mote blinked. Debussy must have
lost it. He knew it, too much Sherlock Holmes watching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Debussy looked back at Mote. ‘We know one of the security team must be
doing this and maybe more. They’re all going to have alibis. If we run around
telling people what we know, that just plays into their hands. Whoever it or
they are...they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will</i> try to get rid
of us.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Mote stared at her. He opened his mouth to say don’t be silly, but the
words wouldn’t come. His brain made a few unwelcome connections and he knew she
was right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘So we just lie up here, keep our mouths shut and watch what happens.’
Mote cursed quietly. ‘I hope they don’t take all day to get rid of the polar
bear. I’m getting hot up here and I need to go soon.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">Well just hold on,’ Debussy said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘I am,’ snorted Mote, ‘by my fingernails.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">‘Sssh,’ Deb hissed. ‘I think I see guns.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">We’re heading into the middle of the story. Chapter Five ups the stakes
for Mozart and Debussy...can things get any worse? Can they crack alibis? Can
Mozart go to the toilet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-8493129980440337522012-08-11T15:02:00.000-07:002012-08-11T20:55:55.724-07:00Chapter Three<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>TO CATCH A WOLF</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>By Michele Powles</b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Mote recoiled, holding his hand to his mouth and trying
not to be sick. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Wuss,” said Deb, taking in
his pallor even as she leaned in closely over the sheep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Don’t. Like. Blood.” Was all
Mote could manage before he had to turn away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“It’s not blood, it’s a bit of
red balloon.” She pulled the limp red streak off the sheep’s belly and waved it
in front of him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I knew that. Didn’t want you
to…you know, get scared or anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb rolled her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I’ll take that thank you.
Might be evidence.” As if he’d been there the whole time, Inspector Barker
loomed over them and snatched the balloon fragment, secreting it away in a
plastic bag. Mote shivered as the Inspector’s sleepy eyes seemed to scan him
like a barcode.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I’m not sure this is the place for children.
Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know. At school or something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb narrowed her grey eyes,
the steel in them glinting like polished metal. When she added an arched
eyebrow, Mote groaned inwardly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb pursed her lips and used
the tone that got their father totally riled. “It’s a hol-i-day. And our dad is
in charge. I don’t see you solving much. In-spec-tor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Inspector Barker swivelled his
eyes away and to Mote it felt as if a nasty buzzing had stopped in his ear. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Debussy, that’s quite enough
thank you,” Mendelssohn Finnegan said even as he reached for his ringing cell.
“I have to go. Carry on Inspector. Don’t get in the way, and get back to the
grandstands. Your mother will meet you there.” He scurried off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Bring him this way.” The
Inspector demanded of the stretcher bearers and started off up the corridor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hang on.” Deb’s eyebrow was
still up and Mote put a hand on her arm but she shrugged him off. “Where are
you taking him?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The Inspector’s eyes lost
their sleepy look for just a moment and Mote felt a cold rush wash over his
body as if the corridor had turned into a fridge. “I’m taking him to the
hospital.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What about the sheep?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Evidence. It’ll go to
Scotland yard.” The Inspector waved his hands at the stretcher bearers and the
lot of them shuffled up the corridor and around a corner. Mote turned to his
sister. “Are you mental? He’s from Interpol. He could have you arrested.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Deb shrugged her shoulders and
put her hand in her pocket. “Not very good at his job then.” She pulled out a
curled up piece of paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What did you…where did you
get that? You’ll have messed the fingerprints.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Almost impossible to get
fingerprints off paper. But I’ll be careful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“ Shouldn’t we give it to the
police?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Sure. And we will. As soon as
we’ve worked out if we can trust them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What about Inspector Barker
then. Interpol is like…police times ten. Or maybe even times a hundred.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I don’t trust him. He makes
me feel all…” she shivered and rolled her eyes back in her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
It felt strange to agree with
his sister twice in one day but that was exactly how the Inspector made Mote
feel. He shook himself to get rid of the last remains of the corridor fridge
feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“It takes a wolf to catch a
wolf.” Deb had unrolled the paper and was holding it carefully by the edges.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Oh man. Wolves have big
teeth.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Yeah, and their bite is twice
as powerful as a dog’s.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mote thought through the day’s
events. “The wolf-whistling contest. Do you think…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Don’t be dumb. That’s way too
obvious.” Deb chewed on her finger. “To protect the sheep, you need to catch
the wolf.” Her eyes lit up. “Wolf pack leaders have to fight to keep their
position. Maybe there’s someone trying to get the top job and this is their way
of getting rid of their opposition.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Which top job?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Exactly.” Deb frowned. “Who
would benefit from the opening ceremony going wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Someone who wanted Dad’s job?
Or to be Head of Security,” Mote suggested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Or top of police, the head of
SAS or the SIS. Pretty much anyone who was in the room with us for the
opening.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“We should tell Dad that
there’s a wolf out to get him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“We don’t know for sure. But
we do know that whoever did this isn’t going to stop. You reap what you sow,
remember. This could get really nasty.” She pulled something small out of her
pocket.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Hey, what’s that?” Mote took
it and turned it over in his hand. “Could be a piece of a flash drive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Definitely a clue,” said Deb.
“But it’s not helping now. This wolf is leaving plenty of clues but we’re no
closer to solving any of them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
They were both silent a
moment. Then Mote pulled out the day’s Titanic games program from his back
pocket. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“What are you thinking?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Mote held up a finger and
incredibly, Deb was quiet. “The pool,” he said finally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“We don’t have time to watch events,”
Deb said but the spark in his eyes must have been as hot as it felt and she didn’t
nag him further.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“We won’t be watching the
events,” Mote said. “The Byrd lady said she was going to the opening of the
Titanic pool tonight, and the Tuatara said he’d go with her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“That’s two wolves,” Deb said,
getting his drift. “I think I heard Captain Pejalmer say she would go with them
too. But what about the Inspector? He gives me the creeps.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I didn’t hear him say where
he was going. But three out of four is a good place to start.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“True. You think they’ll still
go, after this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“I think Dad will make them.
Keep up appearances and all that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
“Good point. Right, come on
then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The Titanic swimming complex
was connected to the main stadium by an underground tunnel with a travellator
running the whole distance and illuminated blue koru patterns set into the
curved walls and ceiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Check
me out,” said Mote, doing an almost perfect moonwalk as they glided alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Nice,”
said Deb, not even looking as she gazed at the Titanic games venue map she’d
grabbed on the way down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Deeeebussy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Shhh,
I’m concentrating.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mote
sighed and looked up at the blue ferns they were passing. “Um, Deb.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I
said, I was concentrating.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’ll
want to see this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
They’d
just reached the entrance to the swimming complex and in front of them the blue
koru patterns from the ceiling swooped down to twine around the door. Only they
didn’t. They swooped fine, they just didn’t twine around the door because where
the door should have been was a gaping hole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Holy
floating polar bears,” said Deb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I
know,” said Mote. “What could have done that to the door?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No.
I mean holy floating polar bears,” said Deb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mote
followed her finger and wished he hadn’t. Floating in the pool was a lump of
ice and standing on it, its teeth dripping with something that didn’t look like
a red balloon, was a large and very crotchety polar bear. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
Now it's your turn to write chapter four. In chapter four, the kids get deeper into their own investigation but now they are in danger themselves.<br />
<br />
You can read the winning child's chapter and the judge's report at <a href="http://fabostory3.blogspot.co.nz/p/winning-writing.html" target="_blank">Winning Writing</a><br />
<br />
<br /></div>FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-7365635799559232602012-08-05T12:10:00.000-07:002012-08-05T19:07:39.764-07:00Chapter Two<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">GOLDEN TICKETS AND CHOCOLATE SHEEP<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">By Kathy White<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Get Jacko to the generator room now. We need
those lights back on,” Mendelssohn said into his cell. “And Michael, you need to
broadcast my voice from this phone. We’ve got seconds, not minutes.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">He paced next to the window. Small beads of
sweat began to slide down the creases in his face as the seconds ticked by.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb pressed her face against the glass, just
as Mote had done earlier, but all she could see were murky shapes moving in the
darkness. It was like one of those bad dreams where everyone’s voices were
muffled, everything was blurred around the edges, and you had no control of
what was going to happen next. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">There was a loud thud, followed by a scream
down on the field. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mendelssohn got the green light from his IT man, Michael.
As he spoke, his voice boomed across the stadium, as crisp and clear as a
granny smith apple. “<i>There’s no truer
statement than that, Ladies and Gentlemen. You reap what you sow. These
athletes are finally getting the rewards they deserve for their hard work and dedication.
That’s what the Titanic Games are all about.</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">There was a small, confused cheer from the
crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mendelssohn gestured to Mote and Deb that
they were to stay put, then he disappeared down the corridor, heading towards
the field.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“I’m Mendelssohn Finnegan, the
head of the Titanic Games organising committee and tonight we’re celebrating
unity. In Sport We Are One. That’s the motto of these Games. So in these
moments of darkness, I’d like you to reach out to hold the hand of the person next
to you.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Mote groaned. He hated it when his dad
did the touchy feely stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> “I’m
not going to sit here waiting,” Deb hissed. “We have to do something. Dad needs
our help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote didn’t normally agree with his sister
but this time, he couldn’t help it. “We need to </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">get the lights back on, ba-by. Let's </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">kick this guy’s butt. ” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> “If
Dad finds out you’ve been watching his Austin Powers DVDs, you are sooooo in
trouble,” Deb whispered. She noticed Le Zard staring at her. "Um, we're just going to the toilet." </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; text-indent: 36pt;">She nudged Mote through the doorway and down the hall
toward the Communications Hub. They called it </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">the Hub because </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">their dad's trusted team met there every morning for strong coffee and 'power talks'. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">“Why are you so sure it’s a guy
who’s doing this?" Deb asked. "Maybe it’s a scorned ex-girlfriend from when Dad was 17.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Aw, come onnn, De-bussy. Girls aren’t
capable of really nasty stuff,” Mote snorted. He took a short-cut by ducking
under the security barrier near the stairs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“I used to lock you in the hallway cupboard
when you were three, remember?” Deb said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Yeah, but …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“I ate your stash of Easter eggs that you hid
in the attic …” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Yeah, but …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“And I was the one who put glad wrap under
the toilet seat so that you got pee all over yourself when it splashed …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“You said it wasn’t you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb smirked. “I lied.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote opened his mouth to protest but he didn’t
get a chance. They flattened themselves against the wall near the entrance to level
two as someone walked past, whistling. As soon as the man had gone, they
slipped across the corridor and opened the door to the Communications Hub. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> “How
come the lights are out but the computer’s still on?” asked Deb, scanning the
room for signs of an intruder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">“They’ve got an isolated security power
supply for their computer system,” Mote said. “Hey, come and look at this. It’s an audio
file. See the sound waves. And look, it’s got a timer in the programming code.
It was set to come on two minutes after the lights went out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb gasped. “Dad’s broadcast must have prevented
it from activating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“This dude won’t be happy about that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote reached out to touch the mouse, but Deb
stopped him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“The security team will want to dust for
fingerprints,” she whispered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> “He could
have done it remotely if he was a hacker,” Mote said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“It’s just as likely to be an inside job,”
Deb said, scooping a pair of tweezers out of her pocket to pick up what looked
like a broken piece of a dog tag wedged into a loop of carpet fibre. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Their father’s voice interrupted through the
sound system. <i>“We’ve got a special
surprise for you tonight. As soon as the lights come back on, I’d like you to check for
an envelope on the underside of your seats. There are three golden tickets
worth $10,000 somewhere in the stadium.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A deafening roar filled the air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote sighed. “Damn, Dad wasn’t supposed to
announce that until later on tonight. I had plans.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Yeah, well, he’s probably desperate to keep
people in their seats where it’s safe,” Deb said. The fluorescent lights
flickered and then started to glow weakly. “I’m going to send him a text. He
can pick up a fingerprinting kit and meet us down here. I want to know what’s
in that audio file.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Have we got time to find a loo?” Mote said, grabbing
at his shorts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb pulled a face. “Euuuuww. Why do you
always do that?” She looked around. “Maybe we should leave a sign on this
computer saying DON’T TOUCH.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“We’re only going to be gone for a few seconds,”
Mote groaned. “I’m really busting.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They raced up the hallway to the toilets next
to the Titanic portholes. Mote said they were the port-hole loos, and then got
grumpy when Deb didn’t get the joke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“It’s not that I don’t get it,” she called to
him from outside the cubicle. “They had portaloos at the Bloom Festival last
year. What I don’t get is why you’re making jokes when there’s a madman out
there somewhere trying to cause a riot in the stadium. Aren’t you worried about
Dad?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mote shut the door behind him. “There are
always things to joke about,” Mote said. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">“Hey, look!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The lights were coming back on out in the
stadium. A spectacular Mexican Wave of light was spreading through the crowd,
like some kind of extraterrestrial spacecraft landing. It was almost like it
had been planned as part of the show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“That’s awe-some!” Mote said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A woman shrieked in the stand above them. “I’ve
got a golden ticket,” she yelled, waving it in the air. “I’ve won $10,000 AND a
box of white chocolate sheep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“She won the white chocolate sheep with
sherbet sprinkles,” Mote sighed. “Sometimes life is bitter and cruel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Deb,
glanced at her vibrating phone. “Dad says he’s seconds away. Let’s get back to
the Hub. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mendelssohn was already at the Hub when they
arrived. He stood tall and silent, his arms hanging limply by his sides. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-indent: 36pt;">Jacko, the head engineer at the Games, was also
silent. He lay awkwardly across the mainframe keyboard, like a giant sack of
potatoes. There was a smoky bacon smell, which made Mote’s stomach gurgle, until
he realised the smell was coming from Jacko.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Don’t touch him,” their dad said, slumping
into one of the swivel chairs. “He’s been electrocuted. The computer was
booby-trapped.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> “But
we were just in here ten minutes ago.” Deb said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Wow!” Mote said, pointing to the rust-coloured
scorch mark on Jacko’s fingers. Even the hair on the back of his arms and head
was singed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Their dad pressed the palms of his hands against
his forehead as he thought. “This is my fault,” he said. “I should have told them
everything. I'm putting your lives at risk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not
your fault, Dad. You haven’t done anything wrong.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Told who?” Mote asked. “Told them what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Daniel, one of the senior field paramedics knocked
on the door and poked his head around. “Sorry to interrupt, Boss, but we’ve got
something you need to look at out here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mendelssohn followed him into the corridor. The
other paramedics stopped whispering when he appeared. Lying on the ambulance
stretcher in the corridor was Benedict - one of New Zealand’s most popular gold
medal prospects for belly-flopping. And on top of Benedict was a large woolly
sheep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“It appears that one of the sheep lost its
parachute,” Daniel said. He gave a strained smile. “They both died on impact.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“So was that the thud that we heard?” asked
Deb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Daniel nodded. “Benedict was doing some
stomach crunchies at the time. It was dark. He probably didn’t see it coming.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“The poor … sheep,” Mendelssohn murmured,
looking at the contorted angle of the sheep’s legs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“The poor MAN,” Deb and Mote said together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Daniel made sympathetic noises, and then went
red. “The thing is … well, I think it’s best if you see this for yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">He motioned to Julie, the paramedic on the
other side of the stretcher, to roll the sheep towards him. She got down on her
knees, braced herself, and pushed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Deb gasped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">There, shorn into the matted wool were the
words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“To protect the sheep, you need to catch the
wolf.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">THE END</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> ************</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now it's your turn to write chapter three. Two things need to happen in chapter three. The story needs to turn in a new direction. This is a logical place to reveal that the villain had to have been one of the people in the room at the beginning.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You can read the winning child's chapter and the judge's report on the <a href="http://fabostory3.blogspot.co.nz/p/winning-writing.html" target="_blank">Winning Writing Page.</a></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-69049458818407526762012-07-29T03:37:00.000-07:002012-07-29T14:05:29.692-07:00Chapter One<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-AU">THE OPENING CEREMONY<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><span lang="EN-AU">By Brian Falkner</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Mozart Finnegan (‘Mote’ to his
friends) stood with his nose against the window, unable to tear his eyes from
the spectacle below, despite repeated complaints from his sister that he was
smearing the glass, and blocking her view.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“What if it breaks,” Debussy Finnegan
said, when none of those things had any effect on her brother, “And you fall
out!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“Cool!” Mozart cried, imagining
himself falling ten or fifteen metres to the tiered seating below, then crowd
surfing down to the stadium floor, where the performers were finishing the last
act of the opening ceremony.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“Better sit down,” their father said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Mozart pressed himself against the
glass even harder, just one last time, as if he could push himself through it
and somehow be a part of what was going on below him, instead of watching it at
a distance from this luxurious, glass walled prison high up on the grandstands.
Then he reluctantly crept back into his seat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">It wasn’t always in his nature to do
what he was told, but there were ‘important people’ in the room and several of
them were watching him, which made him a little uncomfortable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Inspector Doug Barker was from
Interpol, the international police organisation. He was a tall, grey-haired man
with sleepy looking eyes that always seemed to be watching you when you weren’t
expecting it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Captain Kate Pejalmer was from the
SAS, New Zealand’s elite army regiment. She looked wiry and tough, and filled
with energy like a coiled spring waiting to be released.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">By contrast Mr Le Zard (he didn’t
seem to have a first name) from the SIS, the Security Intelligence Service, was
about as different from Captain Pejalmer as you could get. He was a rather
plump gentleman with small reptilian eyes, whose every movement was slow and
languorous as if he would rather not waste any energy that he didn’t have to.
He reminded Mote of a Tuatara sunning itself on a rock.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Then there was Miss Priscilla Byrd,
in her sixties, the security chief of the Titanic Games International
Federation (TGIF). She had a long nose, and bright, bird-like eyes, and did
things in tiny darting movements that were so appropriate for her name that
Mote wondered if she’d changed it to suit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Along with their father, Mendelssohn
Finnegan, the head of the NZ Titanic Games Committee, these people made up the highest
level of the security team for this year’s Titanic Games, the biggest sporting
event in history.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">And everything was going perfectly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The opening ceremony had been a
triumph. It was the first time New Zealand had ever hosted the Titanics, and
this small nation had wanted to show the world that despite having a budget just
a fraction of that spent by the North Koreans the previous year, they could
still put on a spectacle that would wow the billions of television viewers
around the world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">And they had.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">From the start, where an incredible
display of multi-coloured fireworks had painted a representation of the aurora
australis, the southern lights, across the night sky; to the amazing synchronised skydiving sheep,
incredibly well trained, who had joined together in mid-air to recreate the
Titanic logo, it had been a wonderful, creative, emotional opening ceremony,
sprinkled with flashes of irreverent kiwi humour.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Now as the performers left the arena,
music from the live symphony orchestra began to swell, and the entire crowd,
led on by cheerleaders in each section of the grandstands, began to sing, the
anthem of the first ever New Zealand Titanic Games. The words flashed up on
giant video screens around the stadium:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU"> <i>It’s not
a bad day for it<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">it’s a good day for it…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The music rose and crashed around the
stadium like waves breaking on the shores of a beach. The combined voices of a
hundred thousand people rose with it, as it built up towards the climactic
moment of the opening performance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">…wasn’t going to be<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">such a go…od day for it, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">but it turns out to be a cracker.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Mote and Deb had sat through what
seemed like a hundred rehearsals but every time, this part amazed and thrilled
them. Mote could barely wait. In a moment a thousand multi-coloured balloons
would float up out of strategically placed tubes. Ten metres off the ground
they would all burst, each releasing fifty smaller balloons, which would burst
in turn ten metres higher, each releasing a hundred tiny ‘pixel balloons’ that
would somehow form a photograph in the sky: a photo of the planet earth,
encircled by the motto of the Titanic Games: <i>In Sport We Are One</i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“Congratulations Finnegan,” Le Zard
said. He even spoke slowly, with a minimum of effort.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“A resounding success,” Miss Byrd
said, with a sideways flick of her head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“And nothing from our ‘Phantom’,” Inspector
Barker said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">That brought Mote back to reality. A
copy of “the letter” was stuck to the door of the corporate box they were
sitting in, a constant reminder of the threat that hung over these games. He
glanced at it. It was too far away to read, except for the last line. ‘YOU REAP
WHAT YOU SOW’ in uneven letters cut out from newspaper headings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“It was a bluff,” Kate Pejalmer said.
“And even if it wasn’t, with all the extra security measures we have put in
place, he wouldn’t have had a chance.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“Even so,” their father said. “The
games run for a week. We won’t be able to let our guard down for a second.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“And we won’t,” Miss Byrd said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The anthem soared, building towards
the grand finish, the last line, when the balloons would be released.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The entire audience, and billions of
television viewers were about to be as blown away as Mote and Deb had been, that
first time in rehearsals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">After that the Titans, as the
athletes were known, would start to march, not by country, but by sport, all
the egg-throwers together, all the backward sprinters in one group, all the bucket-stackers,
belly-floppers and speed-texters marching with their arms around each other,
showing that unity through sport was more important than geographical
boundaries.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“It’s so exciting,” Deb whispered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">She was right, Mote thought. Each
year the Titanic Games had become more and more popular. People had tired of the
other games, with the same old sports. Very few new world records were being
set, and those that were, were set by tiny fractions of a second. Swimmers had
started growing their fingernails longer, to give them an extra millimetre or
two when reaching out for the pad at the end of a race, marathon runners shaved
their heads for less wind resistance, pole-vaulters shaved their legs in case a
hair should touch the bar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The Titanic Games had changed all
that with exciting new sports. Each year new stars would emerge, each year new
records were being set. Each year a new crop of athletes would go home with
sport’s greatest prize: a Titanium medal. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The Games were now the world’s
premier sporting event.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“Here we go,” their father said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">All over the stadium floor balloons
were emerging, a dizzy kaleidoscope of colour and movement. Up they drifted,
up, then with a ripple of tiny explosions the balloons were gone, and fifty
thousand smaller balloons took their place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“It’s beautiful!” Deb cried, and it
was, Mote thought, except for one smudgy, smeary bit on the glass right about where
he had been standing earlier.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Another ripple of tiny pops and those
balloons were gone, leaving clouds of the smallest of small balloons. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Higher they drifted, and slowly the
picture took shape, a fuzzy blue/green circle resolving into a highly detailed
photograph of the earth. As it did so, so did the words also come into focus.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“O.M.G.” Deb breathed, and her hand
reached out and clutched Mote’s arm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">“W.T.F?” Kate Pejalmer said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Mr Le Zard jumped up off his seat and
flung himself against the glass, staring at the sky above the stadium.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The picture was clear. But it was not
the Titanic motto that encircled the earth. Far from it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">The words were there for all to see: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">‘You Reap What You Sow’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-AU">Then all the lights in the stadium
went out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
***</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 14.2pt;">
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Now it's your turn to write Chapter Two. You need to include two things in chapter two. You will write about the aftermath of the blackout at the opening ceremony, and the children will begin to investigate what is happening. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">You can read the winning child's chapter and the judge's report on the <a href="http://fabostory3.blogspot.co.nz/p/winning-writing.html" target="_blank">Winning Writing Page</a>.</span></div>
</div>FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-50866499066273032822012-07-15T03:12:00.001-07:002012-07-29T03:39:13.584-07:00The letter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRp3Iiv8RH67Az8wD7zhnk85UzYPp-wLHCMo_GvQ_uYNJVFDCxGh6f1QcEBKhxU5yLwNmXN7fGTgp5ujJnIS09OXwTzLuk8FPa6BCQ1ca58QsWsQ-lp5mkAm2SOKPOGPCRqQUkIm8UPOc_/s1600/Letter4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRp3Iiv8RH67Az8wD7zhnk85UzYPp-wLHCMo_GvQ_uYNJVFDCxGh6f1QcEBKhxU5yLwNmXN7fGTgp5ujJnIS09OXwTzLuk8FPa6BCQ1ca58QsWsQ-lp5mkAm2SOKPOGPCRqQUkIm8UPOc_/s640/Letter4.jpg" width="448" /></a></div>
<br />FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1337608205875011360.post-63116931725567135202012-06-07T16:14:00.000-07:002012-07-14T17:42:08.074-07:00Coming soon to a screen near you ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Welcome back to all those existing FaBo-istas, and hello to all the newcomers. Start exercising those writing muscles. Get limbering up for the Titanic Games. FaBo Story 3 is going to use both of those things in this round of writing mayhem, and it all kicks off at the beginning of the third school term. But in the meantime, while you're waiting for the excitement to begin, here are a few memories from <a href="http://fabostory.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">FaBo Story 1</a> and <a href="http://fabostory2.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">FaBo Story 2</a> (otherwise known as Planet Fabo). </div>
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<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Ffabostory%2Falbumid%2F5751430195975493105%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" height="267" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"></embed>FaBo Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01196749681837027483noreply@blogger.com0