The Ghost rider
At the crack of dawn as the black crows squarked their lungs out, a man and a cat stood silently in the deserted bar of Deadwood Town in the dusty western plains. The cat had sleek dark brown fur and stiff alert ears turned always forward because of his supersonic hearing and the young, dark haired man had a look of adventure on his earnest freckled face. Stepping out into the cold brisk morning, the cat was the first one to see the dark gloomy horseshaped shadow with eyes of blood red and its rider with a whip cracking like fireworks above the sounds of the crows. The young man froze as he felt a sharp pain strike his chest and as he tumbled to the dusty street the cat leapt onto his friend’s chest and bared his sharp fangs in warning. Yet again, the crows squarked but the cat and the man could not hear them.
Marissa, Grade 7.