In this ongoing collaborative series, young writers around the world revisit stories important to their childhoods. Like many of the tales that shape our lives, these pieces flow into each other, creating a narrative that links contributors across continents and cultures. You can read the previous stories here, here, and here. Remember to come back to KidSpirit for the next installment, and don’t miss the accompanying videos that bring these young voices to life.

The next morning, without preparation, the young traveller went out in search of an adventure that no one could ever have imagined.

She had no food and her red dress was completely soiled, but Margaret was looking forward to keeping her promise to her grandmother.

Her eyes welled up as she recalled what had happened the day before, when she was walking down a deserted alley to her grandma’s mansion. She hadn’t noticed the three men following her. Though she felt an odd chill as if something was off, she kept walking. As she reached her home, Margaret noticed the silence. No birds, no wind, nothing. She shrugged and entered using her key.

Approaching the study, Margaret saw her grandmother sitting at the table, oddly stiff. “Granny?” she asked. “I have scones for you.”

“Margaret. I was expecting you.”

Margaret frowned. She hadn’t told her grandma that she’d be home early. She asked, “Is something wrong?”

Granny replied, “Margaret, come closer to me.”

Margaret had realized by now that something was wrong, so she walked over to the table and looked over Granny’s shoulder. There was a note on the table in scrawny, rushed handwriting. It read:

Kidnappers watching, act normal, get out ASAP

Urging herself not to panic, she looked around the room for an escape route, but before she could, the three men from before walked in and grabbed both of them. Margaret was thrown into a dark closet and could barely make out her grandmother screaming, “Don’t give up!” before a gunshot. Hearing it, Margaret let out a gasp and felt the tears fall.

Scrambling around the bottom of the closet with her fingertips, she found a broken piece of glass and used it to cut herself free. Armed, she tiptoed to where the three men were talking, their backs to her. Realizing that they didn’t know the fireplace had a secret ladder, she crept up it, running out through the roof and into freedom, unable to look back. She ran and ran, finally stopping at a bench on the side of a busy road and curling up for the night.

The next morning? Margaret set off again, with nothing but her favourite red sneakers for company. A plan was the last thing on her mind.