Pandora

Pandora Read Free Page B

Book: Pandora Read Free
Author: Arabella Wyatt
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult
Ads: Link
started.
    Something was in the middle of the children, something large and snakelike, but the top half of the gigantic snake was that of a woman. The creature laughed as it snatched up a child and clamped its distorted mouth to the hysterical girl, draining the child of her blood.
    Pandora screamed and the creature looked round.
    Its face froze in anger. Casting the dead child aside, it slithered at unbelievable speed toward Pandora, who tried to run but found she was unable to move. The serpent woman reached out and clamped her hands around Pandora’s face, crushing her, and screeched in fury, “Release us! Open the box!”
    Lights flashed in front of Pandora’s vision, blue and white, surrounding the snake woman, entwining around her figure until, with a blinding explosion, the snake woman, the field and the screaming children were all gone.
     
    Pandora’s head jerked up and she stared, disorientated, out of the car window. They had arrived at Willowcombe Clatford. Pandora looked at the village of solid, prosperous houses, thatched cottages and other rustic dwellings. It looked like something out of an old film, one where everybody spoke with a precise upper-class accent.
    There was a huge expanse of grass in the middle of the village where a few men, dressed in dazzling white clothing, were playing cricket. Several shops, including a newsagent, fishmonger, butcher, greengrocer and ironmonger, ran down the one side of the village. At the near side of the green was a duck pond, while at the far end, on a slight rise to dominate the area, was the village church, looking down through stained-glass windows which seemed to peer closely at the scenes going on below. It hardly seemed real to Pandora, yet it was realer than her dream which was quickly fading from her mind.
    “Ohh, there’s Aunt Mabel’s place,” exclaimed Mrs Laskaris, pointing to a neat, expensive, semi-detached house, which sat inconspicuously with its neighbours. There was a very long row of them. “We’ll be meeting aunty on Sunday. She’s invited us over for lunch. A real Sunday lunch! That’s how they do things here.”
    “Yes, dear, you have mentioned that once or twice,” replied Mr Laskaris.
    Pandora got the impression that her father didn’t like Aunt Mabel. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the village.
    Mothers, neatly attired in blouses and long skirts, pushed old-fashioned prams or else walked while firmly holding the hands of their children. Pensioners strolled along the pavement, stopping to chat to their friends every few yards, and even the blue shape of a policeman could be seen slowly ambling around the green, casting a paternal eye on the substantial houses, expensive cars, orchards and gardens that made up the village. The sun was shining, there were no clouds in the sky and all seemed right in the world of Willowcombe Clatford.
    They turned off the road that ran along the green and drove down a wide, clean street resplendent with lush trees and houses with well-maintained front gardens. They stopped outside the house at the end of the road. It was smaller than the others on the street but still larger than their old home in Lowell.
    “Well,” said Mr Laskaris. “Here we are.”

Chapter Five
     
     
    “Here’s the removal van,” said Mrs Laskaris with satisfaction. “Oh, there’s St Hilda’s, your new school, at the end of the road.”
    The family turned and saw an old building with a modern extension grafted on, an odd mix of solid red brick and prefabricated plastic and glass.
    “Can I trust you to supervise the unloading and unpacking, Georges?” she demanded of her husband. “It’s just gone three. I can whizz the girls up to the school and introduce them to the staff, ready for Monday morning.”
    “Mum!” said Pandora, rolling her eyes. “We’ll meet everyone on Monday anyway, so why make a fuss?”
    “It creates a good impression,” snapped her mother in a tone which brooked no argument.

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