St Georges Day

The 23rd April was St Georges Day and my grandson who is at Junior School in the UK  wrote a St Georges story and it won him a prize at the school. He used a computer to type the words in and also to illustrate the story.

Here is the story:-

In a large, tattered Viking village, burned by a ferocious, vile dragon that had attacked without warning that night, there was pandemonium. There were Vikings everywhere either gathering weapons or treating the wounded, or putting out still flaming huts.

The chief Stoik the Vast (hear his name and tremble, ug-ug) looked out on his village in despair.

“Curse that dragon and its powerful flame, it’s scorched our huts and killed so many!” he raged murderously. “We must sacrifice our sheep to it so that it will not attack the village any more.”

Just then, Astrid walked in. She was the daughter of Stoik, she had flame red hair and muscles like a gorilla. She could take three enemy Vikings on at a time with one hand tied behind her back.

“Father, the people are panicking, we must do something and fast,” she said worriedly.

“My dear, I have already decided what we shall do,” he replied,” we will give our sheep to the dragon to stop it from attacking us.”

So, once all the farm animals were gone, the Chief ordered his council to help.

“We must do something, we must think of something else to give the dragon for it shall not be long until its next attack,” he shouted.

“We could give him our fruit,” suggested Gobber the belch, leader of the village army.

“Dragons don’t eat fruit you old nutcase!” replied Old Wrinkly the dragon expert.

“We should give them our cats and dogs,” said Speedfist the Brains.

So, all the cats and dogs were taken out one by one until there were no more, and they had all gone. So the chief once again called his council.

“Speedfist, do you have any ideas?” asked Stoik anxiously.

“I can honestly say I don’t,” he replied.

“Old Wrinkly?” asked Stoik, hopefully.

“No, not a one,” he replied.

“I have an idea,” said Tuffent Junior, the leader of the farms.

“What is your idea?” asked Stoik, suspiciously, for Tuffent never had good ideas.

“We should get a bag, put as many stones in as there are people who are in the village at a time. Whoever picks out the black stone will be taken to the dragon.”

Stoik felt terrified. He did not want to go through with this plan, but he knew he had no choice to prevent the dragon from attacking the village again.

Many days passed. Weeping mothers lost their children, children lost fathers, fathers lost wives, women lost husbands, until one day, when Astrid picked the black stone out of the bag. Stoik pleaded with the people not to take her.

“Why shouldn’t we,” they replied, “whilst we have lost family, you have not. It is time you felt the sadness of losing a loved one.”

Astrid was a brave girl and said “Father, do not worry, I shall die with the honour of a Viking warrior.”

As all this was going on a brave young Viking named Georvik the Great was trotting down the path to the village on his white stallion. He heard a girl crying. He looked to his left and saw Astrid crying tied to a post with ropes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh go, before you are eaten by this beast as well as me,” she sobbed.

“Beast?” Georvik asked curiously. “You mean as in a dragon beast?”

“Yes,” said Astrid.

“Do not worry, for I shall slay this dragon and save you, my dear,” he shouted. Georvik unsheathed his sword, Stormblade, and sliced through the ropes as if he were cutting through string.

“Thank you, my brave sir,” said Astrid. Just then, the dragon rose out of the lake. Its scales were shining black, its eyes were red with hate and its claws looked like they could slice through a man in full battle armour. Suddenly Georvik had an idea.

“Here, here dragon,” he called, shaking the rope at it, like a ball of wool to a cat. The dragon opened its eyes large and started to smile somehow. It pounced forward.

“Look out!” called Astrid, but the dragon wasn’t aiming for Georvik, it was aiming for the ball of wool in his hand. It snatched it up and started playing with it. Georvik jumped onto its back suddenly the dragon stopped playing with the ball of wool but it didn’t struggle. It knew it had lost. It waited for the death strike but none came. It looked up at Georvik. Kindness was in the young man’s eyes.

“If you promise not to terrorise the people of this village then I shall spare you.”

The dragon nodded, and Saint Georvik let go of the ropes and jumped off, and the dragon sank back into the lake. Astrid and Georvik walked away happily like nothing had happened at all. When the chief saw his daughter coming home he ran up to her, then he asked

“What of the dragon?”

Astrid smiled. “The dragon shall no longer bother us anymore.” All the Vikings cheered. Then she turned towards Georvik. “All thanks to this man.”

Stoik beamed. “Young man, anything you ask for you will get.”

Georvik said “All I ask for is a meal. A hero takes nothing and lives in happiness. Some alone, some married. I do not know which I am destined to be.”

And with that, he jumped off onto his stallion and rode off into the distance.

And that is the tale of georvik and the dragon georvik is now the patron saint of England and the Brazilian football team.