Charging down the cobbled roads, Sweeney Todd looked back. He could hear the secret police's footsteps coming closer. There was no hope now. They were so close he could smell them. In a few seconds it would be all over and he would be for the gallows. Then he spotted something on the side of the road. It was an empty fish barrel. Well it looked empty so he dived in.
"Hey, there's something in here," he said to himself. Just then the secret police burst into the alley.
"Where did he go." The police looked around then walked down a gloomy side-street. After a few minutes he got out of the barrel. He looked around then walked on. Walking through dark alleys, gloomy streets and dirty squares was what Sweeney did most. He was a thief, a pickpocket, a highway man and a murderer. That was why he was running through the streets to safety. He knew the streets well and he also knew that if he could get to Rippsmann's Tavern he would be safe. Darting through Plum Street he was nearly there. Just three more streets to go. While running, he thought about the city. Dark, gloomy, dreary, miserable, drab and dismal were all of the words Sweeney could think of to describe it. Dirty and dusty people living in tatty houses. Arriving at the tavern he gasped. It was closed! The tavern was a well known place in the city. Grotty and grimy it was where most of the well known criminals hung out. Then he saw something. It was a small fishing boat tied up in the river. He climbed aboard and rowed into the middle of the water to safety.
He was pretty sure that the police would not follow him. Indeed he thought that he had once again got away. In his heart of hearts he knew that that was untrue, he knew that he was a marked man. He decided to go elsewhere.
As he escaped he looked out to sea, the way he had suddenly chosen to escape.
"The next place will be better, I can start again, I shall leave this dirty city and all my dirty crimes behind me," he thought.
[My Mum found this and passed it on to me this week. As it came with a Beaver Scout certificate for "completing 10 Beaver projects" in March '95, the story was probably written when I was 8 years old. I have resisted the urge to edit punctuation and grammar. It's cool to see that I had a preoccupation with villains as early as then. It's less cool to see that my writing hasn't improved all that much in 21 years.]
