A long piece of rope
Climbs from the sky
To the ground
Grinning
And it slips
Falling into the sky
Through the clouds
And from view.
Clutch at the grass
I don’t want to fall into the sky too
Showing posts with label Creative Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creative Writing. Show all posts
Monday, 22 June 2009
Monday, 27 April 2009
New Short Story - The War Copy
The war, 1944. The blitz. The bombs are falling, London lies in ruin and smoke pours through every street. A girl rushes past, fourteen or so, and fear is written on her face, she clutches the hand of a sandy haired four year old, he tugs a teddy behind him. She pulls him forwards, whispering in his ear that every thing will be okay when her face clearly suggests otherwise.
They take a sharp turn and come into a narrow alleyway, and then out and up a steep slope. They stop at the top and gasp for breath. The scruffy teddy slips from the boy’s hands and then down the slope and back into the dark, eerie alleyway. With a cry of despair, the small boy runs down the slope and into the darkness.
“ALFIE!” the young girl shrieks, “Alfie, NO!”
And then the small boy appears, smiling. He holds up the teddy.
“ Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
And then he disappears in the reds and oranges and noise. The explosion obliterates him. The girl runs forwards and searches for the teddy. When she finds it, she sits cross-legged on the street, and allows the tears to stream down her face, her dark eyes empty.
London, 2008. Southwark.
Charlie decided that archaeology was dull work, no matter how hard his dad tried to interest him, he remained unconvinced, he had gone on work shops and countless digs with his dad since the age of five, he was eleven now and he hadn’t found a single treasure, he glared at the hole that cost him sweat and hard work. And then he saw something dirty and matted-looking, half covered with soil. He lent down and pulled out the object: it was a very scruffy teddy. He had found something! He went round the house to find his thirteen year old sister sitting on the pavement eating her breakfast. Obviously she had had one of her many arguments with mum and dad, they were always arguing.
He showed her the teddy and saw that she seemed unusually interested so he smiled smugly.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, un-noticing of his smug face, “can’t believe you finally found something, from the war! And there I was thinking you’d disappoint dad!” she pointed at a tag that he hadn’t noticed before:
He raced to his room. HE HAD A REAL WAR ARTEFACT! He gave it place of honour on his TV.
That night, with thoughts of his artefact and suchlike, he wriggled down in his bed, smiling. Until he saw the figure sitting on the end of his bed, she was translucent and ghostly. She turned her head to look at him,
“Alfie?” she asked in a whisper, she lent over to touch him but disappeared just seconds before she made conact.
In the morning, the first he did was to throw the blasted, haunted teddy out. But when he opened the door to go to bed the teddy was there again, staring at him with those same empty plastic eyes… he threw it out of the window and finally nodded off. But then, in the middle of the night, he woke up again to see the ghost sitting on the end of the bed, she lent over and her mouth formed the same words as the night before: Alfie? But no sound came out, he recoiled and again she disappeared. When he looked in the morning, he saw the teddy was back, but this time he was on a pile of books next to the TV…
These nightly visits became part of his routine and he almost felt worried when the girl was late, but there was this thing that made him just slightly uneasy; each night, the teddy seemed to come slightly closer to his bed, he told himself that he was imagining things and he just put the teddy back firmly to the top of the TV where it belonged but still…
One night though, it was different. He woke up, as expected, at midnight but the lady was not yet there, his eyes darted to his wardrobe where the teddy had been the last night but it was not there, it was on his bedside cabinet. He put it back firmly on the TV and decided to read until the lady came. When she did though, she seemed much more real. She lent over, as always, but she didn’t stop, her hand was millimetres away from his cheek and still coming closer, she wasn’t going to stop… but then she disappeared, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned over, but this was a mistake, the teddy was inches away from his face… it’s paw rose… and it touched him.
There was nothing but darkness, until the alleyway came into focus. An alleyway, at least, that’s what it seemed to be. Two figures ran past him: a teenager and her little brother, just like the one who had brought him here. A few minutes later he heard a voice above the many bangs that were happening around the place:
“ALFIE! NO!”
The boy had run back down but he hadn’t seemed to notice Charlie.
He picked up something and then disappeared to the other side of the alleyway again.
“Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
It was then that the world exploded.
When Charlie’s dad came to bury the hole that he and Charlie had dug a few weeks ago he found a pile of bones wearing Charlie’s pyjamas…
By Chloe Kirk
They take a sharp turn and come into a narrow alleyway, and then out and up a steep slope. They stop at the top and gasp for breath. The scruffy teddy slips from the boy’s hands and then down the slope and back into the dark, eerie alleyway. With a cry of despair, the small boy runs down the slope and into the darkness.
“ALFIE!” the young girl shrieks, “Alfie, NO!”
And then the small boy appears, smiling. He holds up the teddy.
“ Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
And then he disappears in the reds and oranges and noise. The explosion obliterates him. The girl runs forwards and searches for the teddy. When she finds it, she sits cross-legged on the street, and allows the tears to stream down her face, her dark eyes empty.
London, 2008. Southwark.
Charlie decided that archaeology was dull work, no matter how hard his dad tried to interest him, he remained unconvinced, he had gone on work shops and countless digs with his dad since the age of five, he was eleven now and he hadn’t found a single treasure, he glared at the hole that cost him sweat and hard work. And then he saw something dirty and matted-looking, half covered with soil. He lent down and pulled out the object: it was a very scruffy teddy. He had found something! He went round the house to find his thirteen year old sister sitting on the pavement eating her breakfast. Obviously she had had one of her many arguments with mum and dad, they were always arguing.
He showed her the teddy and saw that she seemed unusually interested so he smiled smugly.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, un-noticing of his smug face, “can’t believe you finally found something, from the war! And there I was thinking you’d disappoint dad!” she pointed at a tag that he hadn’t noticed before:
He raced to his room. HE HAD A REAL WAR ARTEFACT! He gave it place of honour on his TV.
That night, with thoughts of his artefact and suchlike, he wriggled down in his bed, smiling. Until he saw the figure sitting on the end of his bed, she was translucent and ghostly. She turned her head to look at him,
“Alfie?” she asked in a whisper, she lent over to touch him but disappeared just seconds before she made conact.
In the morning, the first he did was to throw the blasted, haunted teddy out. But when he opened the door to go to bed the teddy was there again, staring at him with those same empty plastic eyes… he threw it out of the window and finally nodded off. But then, in the middle of the night, he woke up again to see the ghost sitting on the end of the bed, she lent over and her mouth formed the same words as the night before: Alfie? But no sound came out, he recoiled and again she disappeared. When he looked in the morning, he saw the teddy was back, but this time he was on a pile of books next to the TV…
These nightly visits became part of his routine and he almost felt worried when the girl was late, but there was this thing that made him just slightly uneasy; each night, the teddy seemed to come slightly closer to his bed, he told himself that he was imagining things and he just put the teddy back firmly to the top of the TV where it belonged but still…
One night though, it was different. He woke up, as expected, at midnight but the lady was not yet there, his eyes darted to his wardrobe where the teddy had been the last night but it was not there, it was on his bedside cabinet. He put it back firmly on the TV and decided to read until the lady came. When she did though, she seemed much more real. She lent over, as always, but she didn’t stop, her hand was millimetres away from his cheek and still coming closer, she wasn’t going to stop… but then she disappeared, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned over, but this was a mistake, the teddy was inches away from his face… it’s paw rose… and it touched him.
There was nothing but darkness, until the alleyway came into focus. An alleyway, at least, that’s what it seemed to be. Two figures ran past him: a teenager and her little brother, just like the one who had brought him here. A few minutes later he heard a voice above the many bangs that were happening around the place:
“ALFIE! NO!”
The boy had run back down but he hadn’t seemed to notice Charlie.
He picked up something and then disappeared to the other side of the alleyway again.
“Found Mr Ted. Loo-”
It was then that the world exploded.
When Charlie’s dad came to bury the hole that he and Charlie had dug a few weeks ago he found a pile of bones wearing Charlie’s pyjamas…
By Chloe Kirk
New Poetry - The Warming Symptoms of Sunburn
A rosy Friday afternoon,
Like the glowing symptoms of sunburn.
Excited I reach for a loyal hair band, lip balm,
Your present in crinkled brown paper. Quickly,
Smiling I shut the door – a dull slam,
Yellowing light of the retiring week.
I gain the pavement – steep, unkempt.
On past a place of painfully cheery past times,
All of which you witnessed, none of which you saw.
The clutter and bunching of leafy park trees
Pressing on against the sturdy iron railings
While giving structure, keeping order
They never keep the chubby children
From the relish of the tarmac playground.
Around the round about now, impatiently I shuffle
Through track after track – bored of inner chattering monologue
I anticipate ours.
The penultimate house – still square, still solid
But not yours
The creamy green of two glossy doors
The memory of a great tree stretching to the sky in previous years
Now merged in my mind
– Gone now the giant still holds a presence.
The rubber round button against my finger tip, patiently
I pause – you, always late but always there:
“Tea?”
By Olive Mackintosh
Like the glowing symptoms of sunburn.
Excited I reach for a loyal hair band, lip balm,
Your present in crinkled brown paper. Quickly,
Smiling I shut the door – a dull slam,
Yellowing light of the retiring week.
I gain the pavement – steep, unkempt.
On past a place of painfully cheery past times,
All of which you witnessed, none of which you saw.
The clutter and bunching of leafy park trees
Pressing on against the sturdy iron railings
While giving structure, keeping order
They never keep the chubby children
From the relish of the tarmac playground.
Around the round about now, impatiently I shuffle
Through track after track – bored of inner chattering monologue
I anticipate ours.
The penultimate house – still square, still solid
But not yours
The creamy green of two glossy doors
The memory of a great tree stretching to the sky in previous years
Now merged in my mind
– Gone now the giant still holds a presence.
The rubber round button against my finger tip, patiently
I pause – you, always late but always there:
“Tea?”
By Olive Mackintosh
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
WINNER OF THE GRAPHIC SHORT STORY COMPETITION!
Well done Lily Xutong Zhao! Lily's work has an original style, we particularly like the way the cloud is drawn, and the interesting way both the cloud and the sun speak. Would love to see more from you Lily - Don't forget to collect your prize after school on Monday from the library.
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
The Wife
By Harry Godfrey
One day, years ago, a man married a woman very dear to his heart. Her name was Veronica, and she was the most beautiful and kind lady the man had ever had the pleasure to meet.
They had no children, no pets and it was very quiet around the house.
Something seemed to upset his wife, shortly after the man lost his job, but he still loved her so, but she found it difficult to carry on supporting him.
One morning, the man woke up to find his wire hanging off one of the curtain poles from one of his old work ties. When he saw her he felt like he could not breathe. He sat under the kitchen table and spoke to himself.
‘Was it me?’ he asked himself, ‘Was it me?’ He sweated. ‘Was it the fridge? Dumb fridge! Always bloody getting too hot!’ he twitched. ‘Or was it the window? The table? OR THE FLOOR?’
He never slept in their bed again, always on the kitchen floor, he never changed his clothes or washed ever again, he never watched telly, he just lay there in the front room staring at her cold, still body.
Over time he lost all interest. He never really ate, only when he had to, when he had no energy to stand up. He then decided it would be best to meet her himself. He locked himself in the bathroom and avoided all water and food. He then slowly drifted away.
Yes one day, many years ago, a man married a woman very dear to his heart. Her name was Veronica, and she was the most beautiful and kind lady the man had ever had the pleasure to meet.
One day, years ago, a man married a woman very dear to his heart. Her name was Veronica, and she was the most beautiful and kind lady the man had ever had the pleasure to meet.
They had no children, no pets and it was very quiet around the house.
Something seemed to upset his wife, shortly after the man lost his job, but he still loved her so, but she found it difficult to carry on supporting him.
One morning, the man woke up to find his wire hanging off one of the curtain poles from one of his old work ties. When he saw her he felt like he could not breathe. He sat under the kitchen table and spoke to himself.
‘Was it me?’ he asked himself, ‘Was it me?’ He sweated. ‘Was it the fridge? Dumb fridge! Always bloody getting too hot!’ he twitched. ‘Or was it the window? The table? OR THE FLOOR?’
He never slept in their bed again, always on the kitchen floor, he never changed his clothes or washed ever again, he never watched telly, he just lay there in the front room staring at her cold, still body.
Over time he lost all interest. He never really ate, only when he had to, when he had no energy to stand up. He then decided it would be best to meet her himself. He locked himself in the bathroom and avoided all water and food. He then slowly drifted away.
Yes one day, many years ago, a man married a woman very dear to his heart. Her name was Veronica, and she was the most beautiful and kind lady the man had ever had the pleasure to meet.
Monday, 17 November 2008
Sunday, 9 November 2008
Short Horror Story Winner is Harry Godfrey!
We had lots of excellent stories to choose from, but this was the scariest. Well done Harry, pick up a prize from the library after school on Monday.
The Shadows
One day, many years ago, a girl called Katie moved house and she got the attic room of the new house. They had old-fashioned wooden floors, and chandeliers. Her bed was soft and the room was warm.
So there was nothing wrong with the room, in fact, it was perfect, so she snuggled up, and tried to get to sleep.
Then, all of a sudden she heard very strange murmurs and faint laughing, she bolted up, and there were tens of dark, blotchy shadows in front of her, they had no faces, just the shape of a head, and the rest went straight down, she was very frightened.
“Who are you? Can you play with us?” the shadows asked happily, as if nothing was happening.
“My name is Katie Shaw, w…w…w what games do you play? Hide and Seek?”
“We play with axes and guns and knives!” the shadows voices went higher pitched. “Do, you play with axes?”
“No, not at all”
The shadows closed in and they all had inky guns and knives and swords. Katie feared for her life, and she hugged her teddy, she started to cry.
Then, all of the shadows laughed and fluttered around, throwing knives and shooting each other, loads of thick purple blood fell all over her face, she screamed, the shadows made weird noises.
“Would you like to know of our daddy?” the shadows said. “He was an axe murderer, he snatched us from our mummies, and then took us to this house, there were lots of us to start with, but then every night, he would chop us up and eat us in stew, he pretended our blood was raspberry juice, and sold our blood. Our daddy liked us though, he HUNG himself for us so he could meet us again. When he found us in hell, he tied us up in boxes, and threw us here, we needed a host, YOU FIT THE BILL!”
Then in a shock of black and red ink and blood the shadows flew in through her mouth, ears and nose her eyes widened and black ink fell from the inside of her eyes, as if she was drowning in the gooey black liquid.
“We are only PLAYING” the shadows said through gritted teeth, they made her cheeks go black and her veins were so visible as they had sucked up her skin.
Her eyes shone a bright red, then the same night, she found a rusty axe, chopped up her parents and ate the pieces. The police found her dead the next day, hung by a chain, just like her daddy…
The Shadows
One day, many years ago, a girl called Katie moved house and she got the attic room of the new house. They had old-fashioned wooden floors, and chandeliers. Her bed was soft and the room was warm.
So there was nothing wrong with the room, in fact, it was perfect, so she snuggled up, and tried to get to sleep.
Then, all of a sudden she heard very strange murmurs and faint laughing, she bolted up, and there were tens of dark, blotchy shadows in front of her, they had no faces, just the shape of a head, and the rest went straight down, she was very frightened.
“Who are you? Can you play with us?” the shadows asked happily, as if nothing was happening.
“My name is Katie Shaw, w…w…w what games do you play? Hide and Seek?”
“We play with axes and guns and knives!” the shadows voices went higher pitched. “Do, you play with axes?”
“No, not at all”
The shadows closed in and they all had inky guns and knives and swords. Katie feared for her life, and she hugged her teddy, she started to cry.
Then, all of the shadows laughed and fluttered around, throwing knives and shooting each other, loads of thick purple blood fell all over her face, she screamed, the shadows made weird noises.
“Would you like to know of our daddy?” the shadows said. “He was an axe murderer, he snatched us from our mummies, and then took us to this house, there were lots of us to start with, but then every night, he would chop us up and eat us in stew, he pretended our blood was raspberry juice, and sold our blood. Our daddy liked us though, he HUNG himself for us so he could meet us again. When he found us in hell, he tied us up in boxes, and threw us here, we needed a host, YOU FIT THE BILL!”
Then in a shock of black and red ink and blood the shadows flew in through her mouth, ears and nose her eyes widened and black ink fell from the inside of her eyes, as if she was drowning in the gooey black liquid.
“We are only PLAYING” the shadows said through gritted teeth, they made her cheeks go black and her veins were so visible as they had sucked up her skin.
Her eyes shone a bright red, then the same night, she found a rusty axe, chopped up her parents and ate the pieces. The police found her dead the next day, hung by a chain, just like her daddy…
Saturday, 8 November 2008
The best of the rest in the short horror story competition
Belle
by Lotte Laing
Great Aunt Mary had always had an obsession with dolls. Every birthday she would send me a porcelain doll. I loved them, but after 13 years, they had begun to lose their magic, and now were hidden away inside my wardrobe.
But Belle was different.
“It’s from Aunt Mary.” said mum handing me the package.
I opened it and read the card.
Happy Birthday!
Her name is Belle,
just like you
Aunt Mary.
I picked up the large doll that lay on my lap. She was heavier than most, perhaps it was her large elaborate dress which was silver satin. She had beautiful golden curls that tumbled down round her rosy cheeked face. Her eyes were big and deep, deep blue. They looked so real, staring through mine...
“She’s nice! Come on...SCHOOL!” said mum.
I took Belle under my arm and carried her to my room. I carefully placed her on top of my shelf and looked at her. Was it just me or were her lips, slightly upturned, as though she was smiling to herself? No, it couldn’t be, I was imagining it. I closed my door and went off to school.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get the feeling of someone watching me out of my mind. I lay there, staring up at the blank ceiling, listening to the tick of the clock. Closing my eyes to try and help me relax. I cleared my mind and felt myself getting sleepier.
My heart skipped a beat. I had heard something in my ear ...like breathing, then a tiny, little girl’s giggle. I slowly turned my head to the side and saw something that took the breath from me. There, beside my bed, was Belle. All I could see was her pale face glowing eerily in the dark room. Her mouth was slightly upturned, like she was smiling. Her face was slowly getting closer and closer...
My eyelids were heavy but I forced them open. I tried to move my arms but it was impossible, and I realised what I could see. I was in my room, high up, as though I was on a shelf. I couldn’t even move my eyes; they were fixed, staring straight ahead. The door opened and a girl came in. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was me. The girl looked at me, reached up and took hold of me. She smiled ...an evil smile.
“A nice body you’ve got here!” she said turning and admiring herself in the mirror. “100 years Belle... it’s finally been 100 years... now it’s your turn,” she snarled as she walked over to my wardrobe. What was she saying? I couldn’t understand what she was going on about. She opened the large wooden door and threw me in, I was surrounded by the faces of all the other dolls. I looked at the girl; myself...
“100 years” she said once again and taking one last look at the daylight, she closed the door.
A Halloween Poem
by Amanda Boach
As a vampire came out at night
The dull orange pumpkins glow alight
The Vampire’s assistant came out to play
For a long long time, all night not day
So if you hear him children listen clear
He’s right outside your window, yes he’s near
He’s digging a spot just for you
Marking the place he’s going to push you through
He’s going to suck your blood and steal your soul
That is always a vampires goal.
So if you hear me children listen now
Fall to your knees and start to bow.
by Lotte Laing
Great Aunt Mary had always had an obsession with dolls. Every birthday she would send me a porcelain doll. I loved them, but after 13 years, they had begun to lose their magic, and now were hidden away inside my wardrobe.
But Belle was different.
“It’s from Aunt Mary.” said mum handing me the package.
I opened it and read the card.
Happy Birthday!
Her name is Belle,
just like you
Aunt Mary.
I picked up the large doll that lay on my lap. She was heavier than most, perhaps it was her large elaborate dress which was silver satin. She had beautiful golden curls that tumbled down round her rosy cheeked face. Her eyes were big and deep, deep blue. They looked so real, staring through mine...
“She’s nice! Come on...SCHOOL!” said mum.
I took Belle under my arm and carried her to my room. I carefully placed her on top of my shelf and looked at her. Was it just me or were her lips, slightly upturned, as though she was smiling to herself? No, it couldn’t be, I was imagining it. I closed my door and went off to school.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get the feeling of someone watching me out of my mind. I lay there, staring up at the blank ceiling, listening to the tick of the clock. Closing my eyes to try and help me relax. I cleared my mind and felt myself getting sleepier.
My heart skipped a beat. I had heard something in my ear ...like breathing, then a tiny, little girl’s giggle. I slowly turned my head to the side and saw something that took the breath from me. There, beside my bed, was Belle. All I could see was her pale face glowing eerily in the dark room. Her mouth was slightly upturned, like she was smiling. Her face was slowly getting closer and closer...
My eyelids were heavy but I forced them open. I tried to move my arms but it was impossible, and I realised what I could see. I was in my room, high up, as though I was on a shelf. I couldn’t even move my eyes; they were fixed, staring straight ahead. The door opened and a girl came in. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was me. The girl looked at me, reached up and took hold of me. She smiled ...an evil smile.
“A nice body you’ve got here!” she said turning and admiring herself in the mirror. “100 years Belle... it’s finally been 100 years... now it’s your turn,” she snarled as she walked over to my wardrobe. What was she saying? I couldn’t understand what she was going on about. She opened the large wooden door and threw me in, I was surrounded by the faces of all the other dolls. I looked at the girl; myself...
“100 years” she said once again and taking one last look at the daylight, she closed the door.
A Halloween Poem
by Amanda Boach
As a vampire came out at night
The dull orange pumpkins glow alight
The Vampire’s assistant came out to play
For a long long time, all night not day
So if you hear him children listen clear
He’s right outside your window, yes he’s near
He’s digging a spot just for you
Marking the place he’s going to push you through
He’s going to suck your blood and steal your soul
That is always a vampires goal.
So if you hear me children listen now
Fall to your knees and start to bow.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Waiting
By Joe Doherty
I’m waiting at night outside my mum’s house all alone, waiting for her to arrive. I can hear the rustling of trees, the echo of hooting from owls. I can see movement and hear strange noises coming from the near by forest. The trees seems to be talking. Leaves are swaying from side to side and something touches my shoulder. It’s only a falling leaf from the tree. I take a deep breath still waiting fro my mum to come back. I can still hear the leaves, I take steps toward the forest but there’s nothing to see but darkness. The only light I have is the light from my phone, and the little light reflected off the house from the moon. I look up and see the beautiful sky full of stars with a full moon, when I hear the howl of a wolf.
In the distance I can see the flashing of car lights but not my mum’s car, maybe some neighbours. The engine stops, there’s no noise, just silence and darkness. I’ve been waiting over an hour now, and there’s no signal on my phone. I stand in there cold and worried. The wind gets stronger as there is a loud rustling sound in the dark trees. There’s a sudden bite on my neck and I swing around but all it is is a little fly. I can smell the cooking of a barbeque and my belly starts to rumble and there’s the sweet smell of a storm coming. I look up to the sky as the stars are disappearing and the moon goes behind a dark cloud. Minutes later I feel a dribble of rain and hear a roar of thunder as a beam of light soars from the sky. I have had enough, so I go into the forest to look for her.
I’m waiting at night outside my mum’s house all alone, waiting for her to arrive. I can hear the rustling of trees, the echo of hooting from owls. I can see movement and hear strange noises coming from the near by forest. The trees seems to be talking. Leaves are swaying from side to side and something touches my shoulder. It’s only a falling leaf from the tree. I take a deep breath still waiting fro my mum to come back. I can still hear the leaves, I take steps toward the forest but there’s nothing to see but darkness. The only light I have is the light from my phone, and the little light reflected off the house from the moon. I look up and see the beautiful sky full of stars with a full moon, when I hear the howl of a wolf.
In the distance I can see the flashing of car lights but not my mum’s car, maybe some neighbours. The engine stops, there’s no noise, just silence and darkness. I’ve been waiting over an hour now, and there’s no signal on my phone. I stand in there cold and worried. The wind gets stronger as there is a loud rustling sound in the dark trees. There’s a sudden bite on my neck and I swing around but all it is is a little fly. I can smell the cooking of a barbeque and my belly starts to rumble and there’s the sweet smell of a storm coming. I look up to the sky as the stars are disappearing and the moon goes behind a dark cloud. Minutes later I feel a dribble of rain and hear a roar of thunder as a beam of light soars from the sky. I have had enough, so I go into the forest to look for her.
Monday, 14 July 2008
Work by David Adedipe
It is a dark night and it is cold. I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know how I am going to get home. I don’t even know how I go there. the only thing I am following is the light that leads to a metal wire fence. I am stuck – I don’t know whether to jump the fence of just to crawl into a ball and cry.
Work by Charlie Clinton
Back in the mysterious and haunting 1960s there was an old worn out town called Beckingstoke. This tattered area held a myth about a haunted house on the corner, just off of Riley Road. According to locals, whoever entered never returned, or if they did return they would be possessed with a second personality, of the creature which had overpowered them.
Then it came to the year 1969, just before the end of the decade, and one man was sure to end the myth of the 60s. His name was Henry Mackenroe. He lived in the village and always boasted about how he wasn’t phased by the house and would enter it at least once before he became old and wrinkly.
Just by the look of the house, people could tell this wasn’t a very good idea. People had already started arranging his funeral and ordering flowers to mourn him with, but Henry was sure they were soon to find out the answer to their questions. As he stepped up to the front door, climbing up the rusted, moulded steps, he paused and looked around behind him to get a last glimpse of outside life.
He hesitantly pushed open the door which produced a loud creek, before swinging forth and smashing into the unpainted and bloodstained wall. By now Henry had a tingling feeling in his belly which was telling him something was about to go terribly wrong. As he bravely moved forward down the corridor, he heard a quiet voice coming from his right. He turned his head slowly to the right to discover a slightly opened door. He stuttered forwarded and pushed the cold door knob and there it was, the misty figure as white as snow. It made the room cold and icy. As he stood there staring into his eyes which seemed ocean deep, the myth became real, the blood shed began, the locals were right, how would the myth ever end?
Then it came to the year 1969, just before the end of the decade, and one man was sure to end the myth of the 60s. His name was Henry Mackenroe. He lived in the village and always boasted about how he wasn’t phased by the house and would enter it at least once before he became old and wrinkly.
Just by the look of the house, people could tell this wasn’t a very good idea. People had already started arranging his funeral and ordering flowers to mourn him with, but Henry was sure they were soon to find out the answer to their questions. As he stepped up to the front door, climbing up the rusted, moulded steps, he paused and looked around behind him to get a last glimpse of outside life.
He hesitantly pushed open the door which produced a loud creek, before swinging forth and smashing into the unpainted and bloodstained wall. By now Henry had a tingling feeling in his belly which was telling him something was about to go terribly wrong. As he bravely moved forward down the corridor, he heard a quiet voice coming from his right. He turned his head slowly to the right to discover a slightly opened door. He stuttered forwarded and pushed the cold door knob and there it was, the misty figure as white as snow. It made the room cold and icy. As he stood there staring into his eyes which seemed ocean deep, the myth became real, the blood shed began, the locals were right, how would the myth ever end?
Work by Sam Digby-Baker
I am there in the middle of a corn field. I can smell fresh corn, I can feel it brushing up against my legs. I like the look of the bright yellow corn.
Work by Sean Johansen
As I walked up the rocky path towards what I’m told is a large castle, I wondered what the point was in dehydrating myself to see something which you could see in nearly every country in the world. The sun was beating down on my face with great penetration making me feel like I could just jump into that nearby river will all my clothes on, without a care in the world. The hill was gradually getting steeper and I could only hope this meant I was getting closer, and that this suicide walk would soon be over. I could feel my legs sinking into the hot dry ground. I had been walking for almost three hours in the sweltering heat, now I just had to sit down. After sitting down for a couple of minutes I had seen what I was looking for.
Work by Carlton Lieu
I
I was stuck in the corn field and the only thing I could see was more corn. It went on for miles and miles and the only thing I felt was prickly stems and leaves brushing my legs. As I walked further I could hear different animals and insects. Firstly there was the chirruping of the crickets and as I progressed, the rustling of the corn where rodents ran though it.
The clouds filled the sky like an ocean that never ended and I felt like just giving up. the finish line was not in sight. I was tired and hungry but I wasn’t desperate enough to eat a rat or the raw corn.
II
It had been a bad month for me. I was demoted from my job and I didn’t have a penny to spare. News came to me that my granddad had passed away. I ran though a whole box of tissues and even though my tears were now dry, I still missed him. I remembered as a kid I would chill with him, even spend the whole summer with him. I still couldn’t believe it. He was like my dad. My dad used to go to work and I had to chill with gramps.
I lay on my bed thinking about him. I took time off work to visit his house, knowing I was likely to get fired, but that was the last thing on my mind at that moment. I arrived at his castle and made sure that I spent time with the thing he spent his last days with. As I sat in his ‘throne’ the chair I was not allowed to sit on as a kid because he said I wasn’t big enough, I felt his spirit in the air. A cold breeze brushed my legs bit I wasn’t scared I was happy to feel his presence. The world had come back to colour and I felt better.
I was stuck in the corn field and the only thing I could see was more corn. It went on for miles and miles and the only thing I felt was prickly stems and leaves brushing my legs. As I walked further I could hear different animals and insects. Firstly there was the chirruping of the crickets and as I progressed, the rustling of the corn where rodents ran though it.
The clouds filled the sky like an ocean that never ended and I felt like just giving up. the finish line was not in sight. I was tired and hungry but I wasn’t desperate enough to eat a rat or the raw corn.
II
It had been a bad month for me. I was demoted from my job and I didn’t have a penny to spare. News came to me that my granddad had passed away. I ran though a whole box of tissues and even though my tears were now dry, I still missed him. I remembered as a kid I would chill with him, even spend the whole summer with him. I still couldn’t believe it. He was like my dad. My dad used to go to work and I had to chill with gramps.
I lay on my bed thinking about him. I took time off work to visit his house, knowing I was likely to get fired, but that was the last thing on my mind at that moment. I arrived at his castle and made sure that I spent time with the thing he spent his last days with. As I sat in his ‘throne’ the chair I was not allowed to sit on as a kid because he said I wasn’t big enough, I felt his spirit in the air. A cold breeze brushed my legs bit I wasn’t scared I was happy to feel his presence. The world had come back to colour and I felt better.
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Secret
By Maxine Lartey
Monique changed back into her pyjamas. She was glad that her dark complexion meant that no one could see her face burning with embarrassment.
She found her mum making breakfast into the kitchen
“Mum, can I talk to you?”
“Always, love,” she answered, smiling.
“Well, I’ve been sick.”
“Oh dear,” said Monique’s mother turning to look at her.
“And then…well, let’s just say my bladder had a mind of its own…”
“Oh, you poor thing!” said Monique’s mum, putting a hand on Monique’s forehead.
“Mum! I’m not a baby,” she replied defiantly.
“You probably have a bug. You can miss school today.”
“Thanks mum.”
Monique turned and started to walk away.
“Darling, if you ever get pregnant, you would tell me wouldn’t you, Monique?”
“Of course, mum” Said Monique, shocked.
“When I had Kamal your grandfather wouldn’t talk to me for months. I just don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”
Monique trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mum’s words kept playing over and over again in her mind. Could she be pregnant?
At Lauren’s party, a few weeks ago there’d been lots of people and fun and beer. She felt a little reckless and knew her mum would not approve but she wouldn’t get in to any trouble. And then later on Ben, Kate’s boyfriend had showed up. They talked and danced and drank. They’d kissed, something Monique wasn’t proud of, but it had been nice to feel wanted, and as long Ben didn’t say anything, what was the harm?
But then Ben had led Monique to Lauren’s bedroom, and past that the night was a blank.
Monique put her coat on over her pyjamas and snuck out the back door, so that her mum didn’t see her. At the chemist she bought a pregnancy test. It is really hard to buy a pregnancy test because she did not want anyone to know she might be pregnant and then tell her mum. It was ten pounds which seemed stupid because you can only use it once. The look the chemist gave her almost turned her to stone.
Back home she locked herself in the loo and read the instructions carefully. Taking the test was no problem; it was waiting for it to be ready to read that was difficult. After ten minutes Monique finally made herself look. Two blue lines. The instructions on the packet told her she was pregnant.
“No. I can’t be. It’s not true,” she whispered to herself. It’s okay, she thought. I’ll do another test, and this one has to be wrong. But turning out her pockets she didn’t have even half the money to buy a new one.
The next day at school was very hard. The events of the previous day were still fresh in her mind. She didn’t know what to do. All day the only thing on her mind was whether or not she should keep it. What will Kate think of me? She wondered, what will my mum do? I’ve gone and made the same mistake she did.
Kate could tell that something was on her mind.
“What’s up? You’ve been down all day.”
“It’s nothing much, don’t worry,” replied Monique.
“Come on babe, we tell each other everything. You look like you’ve eaten cold porridge,” moaned Kate.
“Look,” Monique didn’t mean to snap, “it’s just I’ve got stuff on my mind, that’s all.”
“Well, we all have stuff on our mind. Ben’s been acting all funny, but I suppose that doesn’t matter because Monique has problems so big that no one else matters.” Kate snapped back.
The hurt and coldness in Kate’s voice made Monique burst in to tears.
“”Hey babe, I’m sorry. I have all this negative energy I need to get out, that’s all,” she said giving Monique a hug.
“It’s not that, It’s just…Oh, Kate I’m so sorry,” sobbed Monique
“What about? You haven’t done anything,” said Kate
“I have…Oh Kate. You remember Lauren’s party?”
“Yeah.”
“Ben and I sort of kissed…but it was a mistake, I mean we were so drunk.”
“You did what?” Kate yelled, so that people stopped and looked at them both. “Wait, with my boyfriend?”
Her face looked like she had been slapped a thousand times and now she wanted revenge.
“It was an accident, I’m so sorry. I just had to tell you, because…”
“Because what?” Shouted Kate.
“Because I’m pregnant,” she sobbed. She hadn’t meant to tell her that bit but it came out like word vomit.
The bell for afternoon lessons rang.
Kate walked away, without looking at her and Monique had never felt so alone.
That evening, she went home and worried about how she would tell her mum. She didn’t have to worry for long as soon Kate was at her door.
“Hey Kate come in. Monique is upstairs”
“Actually I wanted to talk to you”
“Really well come in and grab a seat. So what’s on your mind kiddo?”
Monique’s heart was thumping in her chest like an animal trying to get out of a cage as she sat on the stairs listening to their conversation .
“If my boyfriend cheated on me and took advantage of my friend should I dump him or give him another chance ?”
“That’s a hard decision to make. Do you like him enough to give him another chance. Can you trust him? Is your friendship worth it?”
“I do like him but my friendship is not worth it. I don’t think I can trust him. Thanks for the advice”
“No probs kiddo.”
Monique was stunned Kate had not told her mum she was happy but still surprised.
Kate climbed the stairs and saw Monique.
“I am not going to tell your mum,” she whispered. “I’ll let you do that I realised our friendship is more important then a stupid boy who takes advantage of you, and I will stick by you and the baby.”
“Thanks and I promise never to do anything with your boyfriends no matter how drunk I am.”
“You better not or I will slap you!” and suddenly they both laughed.
“Would you come down with me while I tell my mum I’m pregnant?”
“What are friends for?”
Kate and Monique hugged and held hands as they descended down the stairs to tell her mum.
Monique changed back into her pyjamas. She was glad that her dark complexion meant that no one could see her face burning with embarrassment.
She found her mum making breakfast into the kitchen
“Mum, can I talk to you?”
“Always, love,” she answered, smiling.
“Well, I’ve been sick.”
“Oh dear,” said Monique’s mother turning to look at her.
“And then…well, let’s just say my bladder had a mind of its own…”
“Oh, you poor thing!” said Monique’s mum, putting a hand on Monique’s forehead.
“Mum! I’m not a baby,” she replied defiantly.
“You probably have a bug. You can miss school today.”
“Thanks mum.”
Monique turned and started to walk away.
“Darling, if you ever get pregnant, you would tell me wouldn’t you, Monique?”
“Of course, mum” Said Monique, shocked.
“When I had Kamal your grandfather wouldn’t talk to me for months. I just don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”
Monique trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mum’s words kept playing over and over again in her mind. Could she be pregnant?
At Lauren’s party, a few weeks ago there’d been lots of people and fun and beer. She felt a little reckless and knew her mum would not approve but she wouldn’t get in to any trouble. And then later on Ben, Kate’s boyfriend had showed up. They talked and danced and drank. They’d kissed, something Monique wasn’t proud of, but it had been nice to feel wanted, and as long Ben didn’t say anything, what was the harm?
But then Ben had led Monique to Lauren’s bedroom, and past that the night was a blank.
Monique put her coat on over her pyjamas and snuck out the back door, so that her mum didn’t see her. At the chemist she bought a pregnancy test. It is really hard to buy a pregnancy test because she did not want anyone to know she might be pregnant and then tell her mum. It was ten pounds which seemed stupid because you can only use it once. The look the chemist gave her almost turned her to stone.
Back home she locked herself in the loo and read the instructions carefully. Taking the test was no problem; it was waiting for it to be ready to read that was difficult. After ten minutes Monique finally made herself look. Two blue lines. The instructions on the packet told her she was pregnant.
“No. I can’t be. It’s not true,” she whispered to herself. It’s okay, she thought. I’ll do another test, and this one has to be wrong. But turning out her pockets she didn’t have even half the money to buy a new one.
The next day at school was very hard. The events of the previous day were still fresh in her mind. She didn’t know what to do. All day the only thing on her mind was whether or not she should keep it. What will Kate think of me? She wondered, what will my mum do? I’ve gone and made the same mistake she did.
Kate could tell that something was on her mind.
“What’s up? You’ve been down all day.”
“It’s nothing much, don’t worry,” replied Monique.
“Come on babe, we tell each other everything. You look like you’ve eaten cold porridge,” moaned Kate.
“Look,” Monique didn’t mean to snap, “it’s just I’ve got stuff on my mind, that’s all.”
“Well, we all have stuff on our mind. Ben’s been acting all funny, but I suppose that doesn’t matter because Monique has problems so big that no one else matters.” Kate snapped back.
The hurt and coldness in Kate’s voice made Monique burst in to tears.
“”Hey babe, I’m sorry. I have all this negative energy I need to get out, that’s all,” she said giving Monique a hug.
“It’s not that, It’s just…Oh, Kate I’m so sorry,” sobbed Monique
“What about? You haven’t done anything,” said Kate
“I have…Oh Kate. You remember Lauren’s party?”
“Yeah.”
“Ben and I sort of kissed…but it was a mistake, I mean we were so drunk.”
“You did what?” Kate yelled, so that people stopped and looked at them both. “Wait, with my boyfriend?”
Her face looked like she had been slapped a thousand times and now she wanted revenge.
“It was an accident, I’m so sorry. I just had to tell you, because…”
“Because what?” Shouted Kate.
“Because I’m pregnant,” she sobbed. She hadn’t meant to tell her that bit but it came out like word vomit.
The bell for afternoon lessons rang.
Kate walked away, without looking at her and Monique had never felt so alone.
That evening, she went home and worried about how she would tell her mum. She didn’t have to worry for long as soon Kate was at her door.
“Hey Kate come in. Monique is upstairs”
“Actually I wanted to talk to you”
“Really well come in and grab a seat. So what’s on your mind kiddo?”
Monique’s heart was thumping in her chest like an animal trying to get out of a cage as she sat on the stairs listening to their conversation .
“If my boyfriend cheated on me and took advantage of my friend should I dump him or give him another chance ?”
“That’s a hard decision to make. Do you like him enough to give him another chance. Can you trust him? Is your friendship worth it?”
“I do like him but my friendship is not worth it. I don’t think I can trust him. Thanks for the advice”
“No probs kiddo.”
Monique was stunned Kate had not told her mum she was happy but still surprised.
Kate climbed the stairs and saw Monique.
“I am not going to tell your mum,” she whispered. “I’ll let you do that I realised our friendship is more important then a stupid boy who takes advantage of you, and I will stick by you and the baby.”
“Thanks and I promise never to do anything with your boyfriends no matter how drunk I am.”
“You better not or I will slap you!” and suddenly they both laughed.
“Would you come down with me while I tell my mum I’m pregnant?”
“What are friends for?”
Kate and Monique hugged and held hands as they descended down the stairs to tell her mum.
Monday, 17 March 2008
Homework Trouble
By Zuzu Ali
There the tall terrible teacher stood over him, glaring eyes set to detonate at the sight of no homework in his poor pupil’s empty hands. He stood him up in front of the class with no mercy, where he would serve the boy’s punishment.
“Well,” He growled, arms crossed, never taking his black eyes off his target.
“Where is it Louis?” Where was his homework?
How should he have known?
He had a mountain of books and piles of scribbled paper waiting at home on his desk to be sorted through, topped up with a pile of random junk. No one, not even his own mother could find anything under that rubbish tip he called his room, how was he supposed to find his homework?
He had used every excuse he could think of for Mr. Ackerman’s lost assignments. ‘My printer wasn’t working’, ‘My computer shut down’, ‘My grandmother died’, ‘My dog ate it’. His crafty little brain couldn’t think of any more excuses, and it showed in his teacher’s slimy secret smirk. Mr. Ackerman was going to win this one.
A little rhythm of ‘uhhs’ and ‘ahhs’ were his first quick response. Sadly Mr Ackerman was not a fan of music.
“Where’s the task I set you?” He snapped, growing even more impatient. “I’m not going to sit here listening to you dawdle on in my lesson!” He barked, the foul breath of tuna and rotten eggs spitting in Louis’s nostrils.
“Have you, or have you not done your homework?”
“Well sir…” Finally, he could speak two proper words. “I…” Doom was in the air. He was going to face the telling off of his life, but that was the least of his problems when he thought of the punishments Mr. Ackerman had in mind for him
Wait. Being told off. He had it! He had the brilliant comeback.
“Sir.” Louis grinned, full set of white teeth showing.
“Has your tiny, little brain remembered what happened to your homework?” The greasy haired, Mr. Ackerman rolled his eyes, the quiet giggling of the classroom followed his actions.
“No.”
“Then?” Deep breath.
“You can’t tell me off for something I didn’t do.”
It was the best answer for lost homework that he had ever come up with.
Mr. Ackerman sentenced Louis to two weeks of detention, and a year cleaning off gum from under the tables in his classroom.
There the tall terrible teacher stood over him, glaring eyes set to detonate at the sight of no homework in his poor pupil’s empty hands. He stood him up in front of the class with no mercy, where he would serve the boy’s punishment.
“Well,” He growled, arms crossed, never taking his black eyes off his target.
“Where is it Louis?” Where was his homework?
How should he have known?
He had a mountain of books and piles of scribbled paper waiting at home on his desk to be sorted through, topped up with a pile of random junk. No one, not even his own mother could find anything under that rubbish tip he called his room, how was he supposed to find his homework?
He had used every excuse he could think of for Mr. Ackerman’s lost assignments. ‘My printer wasn’t working’, ‘My computer shut down’, ‘My grandmother died’, ‘My dog ate it’. His crafty little brain couldn’t think of any more excuses, and it showed in his teacher’s slimy secret smirk. Mr. Ackerman was going to win this one.
A little rhythm of ‘uhhs’ and ‘ahhs’ were his first quick response. Sadly Mr Ackerman was not a fan of music.
“Where’s the task I set you?” He snapped, growing even more impatient. “I’m not going to sit here listening to you dawdle on in my lesson!” He barked, the foul breath of tuna and rotten eggs spitting in Louis’s nostrils.
“Have you, or have you not done your homework?”
“Well sir…” Finally, he could speak two proper words. “I…” Doom was in the air. He was going to face the telling off of his life, but that was the least of his problems when he thought of the punishments Mr. Ackerman had in mind for him
Wait. Being told off. He had it! He had the brilliant comeback.
“Sir.” Louis grinned, full set of white teeth showing.
“Has your tiny, little brain remembered what happened to your homework?” The greasy haired, Mr. Ackerman rolled his eyes, the quiet giggling of the classroom followed his actions.
“No.”
“Then?” Deep breath.
“You can’t tell me off for something I didn’t do.”
It was the best answer for lost homework that he had ever come up with.
Mr. Ackerman sentenced Louis to two weeks of detention, and a year cleaning off gum from under the tables in his classroom.
Saturday, 1 March 2008
Secret
By Videl Shaw
What surprises me
is how he combs his hair
so the horns don’t show.
My brother was always so annoying,
a devious little daemon,
I saw his eyes glow
in the dark, crimson red.
One time he put maggots
in my bed, and when I yelled at him
he ran to mum and acted
like an angel.
“Stop it Alex!”
Here’s my mum, a half-assed parent.
It’s not as if she doesn’t care,
It’s just that she’s a blank lifeless robot.
What I hate the most is that I know she’d care more
If I was a daughter.
“Stop talking to yourself Alex!”
She snaps at me.
I was chopping up brownies
My brother was yapping
endlessly, and I kept chopping.
The rhythm escalated our bickering.
The sound of my mum sizzling
Pancakes and muttering about how
She wished she’d had daughters,
It all made red liquid
burst out of my ear,
but my hands kept chopping
rapidly and furiously,
and then
oops,
the blade sliced through my brother’s thumb
and he shouted
like a brick thrown against glass.
What surprises me
is how he combs his hair
so the horns don’t show.
My brother was always so annoying,
a devious little daemon,
I saw his eyes glow
in the dark, crimson red.
One time he put maggots
in my bed, and when I yelled at him
he ran to mum and acted
like an angel.
“Stop it Alex!”
Here’s my mum, a half-assed parent.
It’s not as if she doesn’t care,
It’s just that she’s a blank lifeless robot.
What I hate the most is that I know she’d care more
If I was a daughter.
“Stop talking to yourself Alex!”
She snaps at me.
I was chopping up brownies
My brother was yapping
endlessly, and I kept chopping.
The rhythm escalated our bickering.
The sound of my mum sizzling
Pancakes and muttering about how
She wished she’d had daughters,
It all made red liquid
burst out of my ear,
but my hands kept chopping
rapidly and furiously,
and then
oops,
the blade sliced through my brother’s thumb
and he shouted
like a brick thrown against glass.
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