First of four Style of Wight Children’s Writing Competition winning stories…
Riding Towards Freedom By Imogen Forsy th, A ge 12, from Gurnard I l lustration Ju les Ma rri ner My name is Edward. I was meant to be the king of England in 1483, but that all changed the moment I was put on a carriage heading for The Tower of London aged only 12. I arrived in the morning and was told that my younger brother Prince Richard would be arriving that afternoon. I had never met my brother, but today I would be able to embrace him and play with him until the day of my coronation. My brother arrived just before dinner. I could see his eyes light up when he saw me. We both looked a lot like each other even though I was 3 years older than him. He ran over to me, we hugged, started chatting and ran off to finally get to know each other. Together we enjoyed archery, fencing and rolling on the grass. He was the best friend I never had, I knew from that moment on, I wanted to spend my entire life with him. The closer we got to the coronation date, the less I was able to see him. The coins were being minted and most of my time was taken up with preparations. Luckily, we were sharing a room together and at night we were able to catch up and talk about what we did that day. In July, Richard, our protector, had found out something horrible. Legally, I wasn’t the heir to the throne. There was a document stating my father was already engaged to another woman before he was married to my mother. This news meant that my brother and I weren't heirs to the throne. The new heir was Uncle Richard. I was so scared, I had no idea what was going to happen to us. That night I dreamt about dreadful things they would do now we weren’t heirs to the throne. Would they send us off to live in some poor area of England to punish us for being illegitimate? Would they kill us and make it sound like an accident? I decided I didn’t want to know. I hatched a plan and told my brother in the morning. My plan was that we would fake our deaths using old pig skulls and bury them at the bottom of the stairs leading up to one of the towers. Then we would take two of the horses and escape to the countryside to start a new life. My brother liked this idea. He asked me when we would put our plan into action. I told him we would leave tonight. Just as we discussed, we took the skulls from the kitchen bins and quickly threw some mud over the top of them. We rushed over to the horses, tacked them up and galloped out of the gates towards freedom. No one ever found out what really happened to us. Some say we were murdered, some say we fell. But luckily, only a few know the truth.
