"Cut" - "We're here," Dad breathed a huge sigh of relief as our flashy, new Lotus rolled effortlessly along the neglected, overgrown gravel drive.

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27/04/07 Catherine Meachin 10PT

“Cut”

“We’re here,” Dad breathed a huge sigh of relief as our flashy, new Lotus rolled effortlessly along the neglected, overgrown gravel drive. The stress of travelling for five exhausting hours across the everlasting terrain of Switzerland had got to all of us. The trepidation engulfed me as we passed the colossal pines that stood at the side of the drive shivering in the unbearably cold temperature. Even at that moment in the depth of the Swiss winter the comforting, peach coloured rays of the rising morning sun peeked warily through the dominant clouds. I stared in awe as a low flying eagle flexed its wings majestically in a demonstration of unlimited power and agility. I watched in wonder, as it swooped through the dense woodland and off into the distance.

The car suddenly swerved uncontrollably to the left bringing my wandering thoughts back to the present. Dad, by now a little fatigued nearly hit a baby rabbit, which obviously unaware of its actions darted off into the safety of a nearby gorse bush. The waiting was almost unbearable as we veered around the last corner and drove carefully up to our new house.

The house was what I expected. The main building was huge, sixteenth century and made of stone. The outer buildings consisted of a spacious garage and a dilapidated stable block. As we neared it I could see the windows, thick with grime and dust that had gathered over the many years the house had been uninhabited. The crumbling stone walls were wrapped in a substantial blanket of spindly ivy. Much of it was dying, ripped from the now vulnerable walls by the raging gales that had hit Switzerland only months ago. Needless to say, the house looked stunning as the blazing sun beat down lighting it up in the most peculiar way. It had almost a frightening, mysterious feel to it. Even in its beauty it was slightly spooky but that didn’t really bother me.

It was the house of my dreams set in the vast, mountainous regions of Switzerland. The freedom of the open country appealed greatly to me and the clean, fresh air rushing vigorously through the open car window cleared my mind as I smiled and relaxed, slumping down into the soft, furry car seat. As the first few glistening snowdrops began to fall from the overcast sky I felt at ease with myself. This was my heaven.

The gravel crunched as the car ground to a halt. My brother and I leapt out of the lifeless car. Dad enthusiastically wrenched open the awkward car boot and hauled out the most humungous suitcase I had ever seen. He then proceeded to dump it into my weak arms and with ever ounce of my diminishing strength I lugged it into the house.

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As I entered, the most horrendous musty smell hit my sensitive nose making me feel terribly nauseous. I walked slowly over to the kitchen table. The house was silent, not quiet, but silent. A cold silence. The type that makes you shudder. I looked around. The light flowing through the ancient glass windows cast shadows in the room. The table was coated with thick dust protecting the pinewood underneath. I drew a short, sharp breath and blew. Multitudinous clouds of swirling dust flew through the air covering everything in its path. I coughed violently, my lungs on fire, as they ...

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