@brucel
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Hi Beth,
My homework is written below,
As I walked down the clean gravel path, something shiny caught my eye. A watch, half-buried in the dirt, gleamed in the sunlight. I picked it up, noticing its strange design—the smooth silver band and an oddly-shaped face, with markings that seemed to shimmer.
Curious, I pocketed it and went home. I laid my four other watches out for comparison—each with its own story. The first was a simple leather one, the second a digital sports watch, the third a gold gift, and the fourth, a vintage heirloom.
But the new watch was different. Its hands ticked at an odd rhythm, and the symbols on the face shifted, almost alive. When I tilted it in the light, the reflections seemed to move, too.
Something about it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just a watch—it was a mystery waiting to be uncovered.
I rushed to my best friend’s house, breathless with excitement, and told him everything. As I spoke, something strange happened. The dials on the watch started turning—backwards. Slowly, they spun in reverse, and I suddenly realized: we were going back in time.
The turning stopped abruptly. I looked around and found myself in a different world. A Victorian street stretched before me, smoke rising from chimneys. In the distance, a young boy sat on the cobblestone ground, his attention fixed on a wooden toy in his hands.
I approached him, heart pounding, and asked, “What year is it?”
He looked up at me, studying me as if I were the one out of place. After a long pause, he answered, “1837.” His gaze grew more intense. “You don’t look like you belong here.”
We bolted away from the boy, hearts racing, and found shelter behind a row of stinky bins. The grime and smell of the alley made my stomach turn, but I had bigger things to worry about. We were stuck in 1837, and I had no idea how to get us back.
I paced, trying to think of a plan, when—out of nowhere—the watch spoke.
“You must find cogs to fix me if you want to return,” it said, its voice oddly mechanical. “But cogs are expensive. You might be here for a long time.”
A wave of frustration washed over me. How could we get cogs without money? My mind raced. Then, in an instant, an idea hit me. What if we stole the cogs?
I turned to my friend, “We need to find a shop selling cogs.”
We scrambled through the streets, asking everyone we met, trying to find out where cogs were sold. Time was running out, and the clock in my head was ticking louder with every step.
What would happen next? Would they get caught stealing or would they make it back to the normal time?
Bruce
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