Surviving This
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Surviving This - Waripamo-owei Dudafa Jr
SURVIVING THIS
Waripamo-owei Dudafa Jr
38553.pngAuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: 0800.197.4150
© 2018 Waripamo-owei Dudafa Jr. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 08/21/2018
ISBN: 978-1-5462-9690-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5462-9691-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-5462-9689-8 (e)
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Beginning This
Chapter 1 Arrested
Chapter 2 Judgement
Chapter 3 Shin-Hack Day
Chapter 4 Set Up
Chapter 5 Arrival
Chapter 6 Camp
Chapter 7 The First Feast
Chapter 8 The Beans Started It All
Chapter 9 How Did It Happen?
Chapter 10 The Going Back
Chapter 11 Getting Ready
Chapter 12 He Is Here
Chapter 13 Or So I Thought
Chapter 14 Oh My Gosh, Really?
Chapter 15 Or Maybe Not
Chapter 16 Not for Long
Chapter 17 Back in Action
Ending This
Chapter 18 Bus
Chapter 19 Uphill
Chapter 20 Until …
Chapter 21 Burning and Burnt
Chapter 22 The Interesting Van
Chapter 23 Police
Chapter 24 The Next Policeman
Chapter 25 Merci Beaucoup
About The Author
PART I
BEGINNING THIS
CHAPTER 1
Arrested
The beautiful blue breeze blows through my arrogant hair as darkness slowly loses the war to daylight. Today is the day—the day I become king of England and of everything else around me. I slowly grin. And I will inherit all of England’s fortunes and my father’s fortune. I will be the best king ever to have lived.
I will live in a spectacular palace that will be known for a hundred years to come. I will have a thousand servants and many wives. My name will be a household name. The whole of England will cheer for me; in the streets all I will hear is, William, William, William, William, you truly are the best!
I will sit on my royal throne while my mighty army conquers all other lands. But, of course, the victory will be mine. Even before the end of the war, I will have created my English armada.
I will worship God every day and give money to the Pope, the bishop, and the archbishop. Even God will write my name in the books with the names of other powerful kings before me. Of course, I will be better. I will create a new British empire.
That was the end of my daydreaming. I would likely never become the king of England, even if I wanted to, because my family and I were more on the poor side. But my mother liked to think of it as having a lack of job enthusiasm.
It was time for breakfast, but my crazy ambitions could not be put to rest. I had my delicious porridge in my beautiful clay bowl. Then I kissed my mum and dad goodbye and left for school.
When I arrived, I saw my best friend, James. He was very sporty, unlike me. Actually, he was unlike anyone else in the school. He looked at me and grinned. I knew that grin. We had homework due, and I’d forgotten to do it. I could tell because he was waving his notebook in my face. My soul sank. I would never be king if I could not do homework.
image%201.jpgI slowly walked into my classroom. It almost felt like I was barefoot and all alone. You see, I had no brothers or sisters.
Mrs Grey looked at me and asked why I hadn’t given her my homework. I gave a quick excuse that involved an execution and a cat, and that bought me some time (like three minutes). Then I had to stand in the corner as punishment for not doing my homework. But in my defence, I did not have much time for homework the night before.
At break, I walked around with no shirt on. I saw some boys pulling, kicking, and slapping the governor’s daughter. So to regain my honour, I helped her. It was a bit embarrassing at first, but then I became bold and punched one of the bullies in the face. That must have scared off the other two. Or the police came.
You are probably wondering why an English boy would go to a school with one of the foreign governor’s children, but our town had only one school. Everyone attended it, famous or not.
The police didn’t really care about my side of the story. All they knew was that the governor’s daughter was crying and that I was nearby. I ran, which only made them even more suspicious of me. I ran all the way to my friend’s house, where I was captured. And who was captured with me? None other than my best friend, James. We were locked up in cell no. 1859, next to a gentle old man who’d been arrested for shoplifting sweets two weeks in a row.
Help me,
said the man. I slowly backed away and pretended to sleep. Help me,
said the man again, but in a sadder way. I haven’t seen my wife and children in four years,
grumbled the man, quietly sobbing. James and I had no intention of helping the man until he started crying again. Then we just felt mean about not helping.
So we started to fib to him. We told him how we had been in a thousand prisons and escaped from them all without getting caught. We also reassured the man that when it came time for us to escape this one, he could escape with us.