Download Escapes! (True Stories from the Edge) by Laura Scandiffio PDF

By Laura Scandiffio
"Ten nail-biting tales of real-life escapes."
In 1979, the streets of Iran's capital urban, Tehran, became gruesome. Six americans stuck within the rebellion came upon security on the Canadian embassy. throughout the feverish efforts of the embassy employees, the fugitives have been disguised as Canadians -- whole with fictitious passports -- and have been in a position to break out the country.
History is filled with such bold escapes, usually artistic, continuously heart-pounding. Escapes! recounts ten of those nail-biting stories. observe woman Nithsdale's ruse to loose her husband from the impenetrable Tower of London in 1716. Fall into Douglas Bader's harrowing break out from a plummeting Spitfire in international battle II. carry your breath as households go with the flow over the Berlin Wall in a selfmade hot-air balloon!
From getaway gladiators to runaway slaves, from the never-ending Sahara to the impassable Bastille, every one intriguing tale could have younger readers desirous to break out into the next!
Key positive aspects: interesting actual tales of ingenuity, drama, suspense, and heroics tales from all through historical past, from historical Rome to the trendy day Black & white line drawings with each one tale.
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Additional info for Escapes! (True Stories from the Edge)
Sample text
Eine beiläufige Freundin mit Draht zur Polizei, mein Mauerblümchen-Maulwurf. Während Staceys Fall langsam kalt wurde, entwickelten Lucy und ich eine Routine, die aus zwei-, dreimal die Woche stattfindenden Happy Hours auf meiner Veranda bestand, mit launigen Geschichten aus ihrem Arbeitsalltag und vorsichtigen Anfragen bezüglich meiner »Fortschritte«. Dann und wann, wenn die Freitagsmargaritas ein wenig zu stark gemixt waren, machte Lucy errötend Annäherungsversuche, meist nicht mehr als eine schnelle Umarmung oder das Zerdrücken einer Träne (ihrer) aus Staunen über meinen Stoizismus (Alkoholnarkose) angesichts meines Verlustes.
Sie meldete sich nicht. Am Abend fing ich an, mir Sorgen zu machen. Ich rief ihre Freundinnen an, aber keine hatte sie gesehen. Ich telefonierte mit dem Gartencenter und der Kunstgalerie, aber sie war weder bei dem einen noch bei dem anderen eingeteilt gewesen. Am Ende stand ich vor der Spüle und sah zu, wie der Tag der Dämmerung wich. Ich blickte zum Fenster hinaus, ohne so recht etwas wahrzunehmen, und dachte, vielleicht wäre es langsam Zeit, die Polizei anzurufen. Und da bemerkte ich, dass das Garagentor offen stand.
Im Haus knipste ich alle Lampen an, während ich durchs Erdgeschoss schwebte: Esszimmer, Wohnzimmer, Korridor, Sonnenzimmer, Waschküche, beide Bäder und die Küche. Licht tat gut, Licht war lebensnotwendig. Das ganze Haus war zu weitläufig für einen einzelnen Menschen, und ich hatte das Erdgeschoss zu meinem Reich erkoren. Im Bad war eine Dusche, ein Korb mit Kleidung stand in der Waschküche, und im Wohnzimmer wohnte es sich besonders gut. Ich machte mein Bett auf dem Sofa und döste weg. Das Festnetz-Telefon schrillte und schreckte mich aus den Kissen.