The moon was so bright that the trees cast bars of shadow across the rough track. The children picked their way carefully over its rutted surface as they moved through shadow to light and back into shadow. Noises they would have disregarded during daylight seemed loud and disquieting in the darkness. The bravado of daytime when the adventure was planned had long disappeared.
'Come on!' Joe hissed, as if impatience might mask his fear. 'We should stick together.' His cousins looked at him wonderingly, as they were as close behind him as his own shadow. But being the city kids they accepted his authority unquestioningly. This was his home, his territory, and he was their safety. He knew where the tree roots snaked across the path, lying in wait to trip them, and what landmark signalled their turn-off into the bewildering gloom.
A narrow side track forced them into single file and long sweeps of grass whipped their legs as if to discourage them. The country became more open and they could see the narrow sheep trail cutting like a brown thread through the dry grassland.
Silently they stumbled after Joe, not wanting to incur his anger again. The path crested a low hill and suddenly they could see the derelict homestead. As they neared the house, they could see the sheets of iron starting to lift from the roof like the curling pages of an old book and the twisted fruit trees in the orchard sending barren, tortured arms towards the ground.
'They're round the back,' Joe said, 'but keep away from the trees-there could be snakes.' The cousins shrank into themselves to make a smaller target for the perils of the bush. They placed their feet down reluctantly, shying nervously when Joe cracked a piece of rotten wood beneath his boots.
They skirted the house, trying not to look at the blank windows where bedraggled curtains hung through ragged arcs of broken glass. Beyond the collapsed garden fence stood a small enclosure, its elaborate iron gate wedged slightly open. Joe forced it wider and they stepped through. Two marble headstones glowed palely in the straggly grass, their inscriptions covered in moss. The children stood in a line, considering their great-grandparents.
Q1. What kind of kids were Joe’s cousins?
17 answers
countryside?
the gravestones are gleaming in the moonlight.
the gravestones have been neglected for a long time.
someone has left flowers at the gravestones.
large flowers are growing over the gravestones.
hopeful
depressing
thrilling
tense
The text about… begins with… discusses the idea that… and ends with…
After reading it has become apparent that the main idea or message the author is sending is . We know this because of clues in the text, such as . The author’s purpose in writing this text is to . An example, drawn from within the text, which helps to show the author’s purpose is . The tone of this text can best be described as , through the use of language such as . The likely audience for this text is . We can infer this because .