We toured the British Museum, walked through Harrods department store, visited Westminster Abbey and Trafalgar Square.įor lunch, we had bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes) at a real English pub. So they signed us up with a tour group, and off we went. Our parents had to be at a conference at our hotel. This was our first day in England, and Eddie and I had been sightseeing all over London. A perfect day to visit the famous Terror Tower. Then another on my cheek.Ī perfect London day, I thought. The bent old trees in the courtyard shivered in the wind. Storm clouds hovered low over the dark towers. Its two narrow towers rose up like stiff arms at its sides. We both gazed up at the gloomy old castle built of gray stones, darkened over time. “They don’t torture people here anymore, Eddie. “They used to lock people in the Tower and let them starve to death.” “But they used to torture people here,” Eddie said, suddenly looking very pale. “Hundreds of tourists come here every day.” It’s just an old castle with a tower,” I said, gesturing toward it. “It’s time to stop being scared of your own shadow. “Eddie, you are such a wimp! You have a bad feeling about going to the movies!” A strong gust of wind fluttered his dark brown hair. “I didn’t beg and plead to see the Terror Tower. “Eddie, this was your idea,” I told my brother. I shivered and zipped my coat up to my chin. Fright Gallery: The Lord High Executioner
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