произведение на конкурс коротких рассказов на английском языке, посвященных достопримечательностям Лондона

Тюрина Анастасия, МОУ «Гимназия №12», Саранск,

конкурс коротких рассказов

на английском языке,

посвященных

 достопримечательностям Лондона

Ghosts

        How difficult it is to get back to those days!... I will always remember Edward`s face, his bitter words and the whole sense of unreality overwhelming my soul when I heard a dying sound of his steps. He left for eternity.

        For no one could guess the mystery of his disappearance.

        When I first came to London I started my trip around the city with the Tower. The place I had always wanted to see was somewhere here. Anne Boleyn`s ghost had never stirred my imagination, but  the Traitors` Gate through which the executed-to-be had followed to the infamous  - or the glorious ending – seemed ominous. It looked like a road to an unknown land, strangely attractive and terrifying.

A man in a grey leather jacket walked past me. I tried to entertain myself guessing where he was from, as he was looking something up in his guidebook, suddenly the man turned round and asked, ”Can I help you?”

        I was ashamed. “Thank you, no”. Suddenly,  I noticed a white shadow behind a group of Japanese tourists. The  man near me shuddered. “Oh, no, not again!” he uttered and rushed to the Water Lane but the white person in front of us vanished in the air. Melted!... And, to my deepest surprise, another childlike ghost turned up and led to the Queens house.  My companion moaned and asked me, despair in his voice, “Will they forgive us?”

        “Us?” I was stunned…Who are those children? I had heard, of course, about the late Richard III having been accused of his nephews` deaths. Of course, I had read about the opposite version – Henry VII found it necessary to eliminate all his predecessor’s relatives. By the way, the time coincided… Nevertheless, what could lead the man in grey to such grief?

        The answer was plain. The burden for the death of the innocent was too big for the young historian examining the mystery with two small Tower ghosts. When an old lady took my unlucky neighbour by his hand, he said, “My name is Edward, I didn`t want to die here! And why did they kill Richard? He was so small…” Ed began crying, so did I. The lady murmured something in Ed`s ear, said goodbye and left me with tears on my cheeks, sorrow in my soul and sense of pure adventure in the old Tower in my memory.