More creative writing

I was set a task to write a short piece with 3 facts and 1 fiction in it.  Can you tell what's what?

The parish church of St Martin stands, unusually, almost at the edge of the village of Edwick. Nobody is quite sure why it isn't central, but there have been many explanations put forward over the years. Perhaps the most picturesque is that it moved miraculously when the Devil once tried to get in the door. 


Closer to the village centre is the old school, now a youth club, which stands directly opposite the black and white Edwick Arms, where many of the club members drink their first sneaky sips of underage alcohol. That's if they can't get away with buying it from the nearby mini-market. 

Jack Wright of Welwick

A writing exercise for the FutureLearn course - Starting to write fiction

Jack Wright strolled down to the pub from his rented cottage on the edge of the village. On the way he passed the tall corten steel sculpture of the four Jacobeans with their barrels of gunpowder. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, low heeled boots, and a black jersey. The collar of a blue and white striped shirt just showed above the neckline, and he ran a finger uncomfortably under the cloth as he walked.  He had tried various outfits in the month since he arrived, but none of them seemed to sit well with the locals. He always felt uneasy when he walked through the doorway into the bar and silence fell, as many pairs of eyes turned on him with an air of disapproval. Despite smiling and wishing everyone a good evening the best he had elicited from anyone was a brief grunt. Even the landlord managed only a curt, “Jack” then waited for his order.

Ever since moving to the village Jack had been aware that he had the same name as one of the four figures in the artwork. The original Jack Wright had been part of the Gunpowder Plot, as had his brother Kit, though their given names were John and Christopher. Jack wasn’t short for John in his case though, he’d always been Jack. He thought perhaps the coincidence was part of the reason for the locals’ poor reception of him. As an early thirty-something he was half the age of most of the old codgers around the bar, which didn’t help either, but he suspected the real trouble was yet to come when he introduced his partner into the mix. Why did he have to have a partner called Kit? A male partner called Kit. He was pretty sure this place wasn’t ready for a gay couple, especially where one was such a flamboyant peacock as Kit Spencer.