This half term has seen many year 8s working on spy fiction stories.
It is a fantastic unit for all pupils. This year I’ve found that it’s been the boys who have really blossomed; with a chance to read from the James Bond and Stormbreaker series and the opportunity to create their own spies I have been astounded by the brilliant work produced.
That leads me into this short story written for the blog by a pupil from 8Y1, Ben Folkes, simply called ‘The Spy’.
He was hiding on a boat, moored by a small island in the middle of the lake. Every morning his boat was shrouded by the fog that concealed the valley. The boat wasn’t posh, but not in a state of disrepair. It was so unremarkable that many people in the town near the lake didn’t even know of the boat’s existence. The man inside was a different story.
Most people knew him as a journalist, travelling the world, seeing places to write about. He mostly visited Russia though, as he said it was his favourite place to visit. However, he was not a travel journalist. He was a spy and a Nazi spy at that. He was handpicked to spy on the Russian ship development and answered to Hitler himself. He knew deep down inside he was working for the bad guys but if he left now, he would surely be killed. No one angered the leader of the Nazi’s. He carried on; he would leave when the war had ended.
On his last visit to Russia, he had been sloppy. After stealing the plans for a new Russian destroyer, he had to kill the designer of weapons and chief of security and still managed to be seen. He was now being hunted by two Russian assassins. They were silent, skilled and deadly. Yet he carried on, hiding out on the lake while the unsuspecting town’s folk passed by oblivious. It would be almost impossible to pass the German borders, never mind finding him. He still had to be careful though. He’d almost exposed himself once, and vowed he would never do it again.
He needed a way to send the plans for the destroyer to Berlin, where the base for Naval Intelligence was. It needed to be soon, too. If he waited too long, he would end up being found dead for being a rubbish spy and therefore committing treason. Many of his sources and fellow spies had been executed on the basis of taking too long to deliver information.
As a combined positive he decided to sail to Berlin along the new canal. Going there by boat would be quicker than post and it would help him avoid the ever increasing threat of the assassins. He would have to go in to town first though to buy supplies for the journey. He hated going into town, one because it increased his chance of being recognised as a spy and also because of the new concentration camp, set up at the edge of the town. As he didn’t empathise with the Nazi’s beliefs, he found it hard seeing all the poor people locked up, working to the bone, only to then be brutally killed. He’d had a child once. He’d rescued her from the camp, telling the guards that she had important information involving Russian super weapons. However, soon it became apparent that she had no information of the kind. He came home once after going to Russia and she was gone. He never saw her again.
He bought what little food and fuel he could with his ration cards and prepared to set sail at dawn the next day. On the way back, a child, no older that fifteen, bumped into him, telling him that two men were looking for him. He said that they had a foreign accent, but had no idea what it was. So the assassins were here already. They were better than he had first thought. He would leave tonight, under the cover of darkness.
They followed him back to the boat, always just out of view. When he arrived back at his boat, he re-fuelled before setting of immediately. He thundered down the river, dark as it was. For the first time
in his life he felt scared for his life. He knew that he was being hunted by extremely dangerous individuals who would stop at nothing to kill him.
The spy never reached Berlin. He crashed his boat into a bridge near Frankfurt. He never gave the plans to Naval Intelligence which lead to the loss of the German fleet to the new Russian destroyers. When Hitler found out about his death, he was enraged. The spy was buried in an unmarked grave, and his name was erased from all records.
He was only ever remembered as The Spy.