I know I haven't posted anything for ages and you all probably hate me, especially now that I'm only posting this so I can get your opinion on whether or not I should submit this for my Writing Portfolio assignment. This was one of my Writing For Young People tasks in which I was to write a children's chapter book. As it is part of a chapter book, I have included the introduction and a much later extract. It's a story I'd really like to continue with. Tell me what you think.
Introduction
Percival Xavier Crane, or Percival X as most people knew
him, was eleven years old and lived in the eighth floor of an apartment
building with his nanny, Mrs McClendon. The reason Percival X lived on the
eighth floor with his nanny, Mrs McClendon, was because his parents were lepidopterologists.
This meant they were often away, travelling the world, looking for rare species
of butterflies. The last time Percival X had heard from them they were hot-air
ballooning over the Amazon looking for the Spotted Orange Sundancer.
Percival X’s parents loved butterflies. That’s why they were
always running around the world looking for them. Percival X hated butterflies.
Even more so, Percival X hated that his parents were always running around the
world looking for them. To tell you the truth, Percival X was jealous. He
thought that his parents, not Mrs McClendon, should have lived with him in the
eighth floor apartment. Better still, he thought that his parents should have
taken him with them when they were travelling the world. Percival X would have
loved to hot-air balloon over the Amazon, even if it was while looking for the
Spotted Orange Sundancer.
Percival X’s parents thought that he was too young to be
travelling the world. They thought that a hot-air balloon over the Amazon was
no place for an eleven year old boy. They thought that Percival X needed a
stable environment; somewhere normal, with normal friends, doing normal things.
Thus Percival X stayed at the eighth floor apartment with his nanny, Mrs
McClendon. He attended school, he played with friends in the park, he went to
movies and he helped out with chores. Percival X lived a normal, stable life.
Percival X didn’t want a normal, stable life. Percival X
wanted an adventure. His parents were always off on adventures, whether it was
hot-air balloons over the Amazon or something else. Percival X wanted one of
his own. It was for this reason he was so excited when he found a parcel on his
doorstep early one frosty Saturday morning.
The parcel was odd for a number of reasons. First of all,
the mail wasn’t delivered on Saturdays, particularly not early in the morning.
Even when the mail was delivered, it wasn’t left on the doorstep. It was put in
little mailboxes in the foyer or given to the doorman who then said things like
“Ma’am, a parcel came for you this morning.” when you come down stairs. But
Percival X’s parcel wasn’t in one of the little mailboxes or with the doorman.
Percival X’s parcel was on the doorstep of his eighth floor apartment.
The parcel was a long and flat oblong wrapped in royal blue
paper and tied up with pale lacy pink ribbon. In the upper left corner,
butterflies had been drawn in silvery ink. There were fifteen stamps taking up
the entire right half and scrawled on the left in the same silvery pen as the
butterflies were the words:
To
Adventurer
Eighth
Floor
When Percival X turned the parcel over he did not find the
senders name like one usually would with letters and parcels but instead,
written in the same scrawl as the words on the front of the parcel was:
Your
expedition awaits!
Later Extract
Percival X entered the room with caution. One should never
rush into a room gated by a ten foot crimson door that mysteriously creaked
open as one happened to be walking by. Percival X placed on hand on the door
and the other on the doorframe and peered his head inside, careful to look both
left and right to make sure nothing was hiding behind the door ready to jump
out and gobble him up.
Once Percival X had diligently checked behind the door he
stepped inside and examined the room. His mouth opened into a little ‘o’ and,
without meaning to, let out a gasp. At first he thought the floor was carpeted
in thick green shag but when he looked closer, Percival X realised he was
standing ankle deep in luscious grass. The domed ceiling was painted navy blue,
with tiny lights set into it, twinkling like stars. For a moment Percival X
thought that he had stepped outside, but the walls proved that that wasn’t the
case.
Every wall was lined with glass shelves. They started a foot
above the ground and rose all the way to the ceiling. There were no windows in
the room so the only place the shelves stopped was across the crimson doorway.
In the centre of the room was a very enormous lounge chair
with a very tiny, very old lady perched in it. “Don’t let the door close, dear.
It catches.” The very tiny, very old lady said. “And it is awful troublesome to
get it open again.”
“I received a parcel…” Percival X began, thinking perhaps
this lady could help him, but the very tiny, very old lady interrupted him.
“The door, dear.” She prompted.
“Oh. Right.” Percival X turned back just as the door was
clicking into place. “Sorry.” He chewed his lip, “I guess I was too slow.”
The woman sighed a loud, drawn out, sigh, “It really is such
awful trouble to get back open again.” She pointed Percival X to the glass
shelves and told him to have a good look at them. The shelves were cluttered
with hundreds and hundreds of tea cups and saucers and, when Percival X stepped
closer, he noticed that none of the cups were with their matching saucers.
“Now.” The lady ordered from where she sat in the enormous
lounge chair. “Match them up.”
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