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Post by missmcgrory on Jun 10, 2013 14:08:43 GMT
Please post your pieces of work as a reply to this message! Well done everyone! I look forward to reading them Miss McG
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Catriona McRoberts short story
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Post by Catriona McRoberts short story on Jun 13, 2013 20:21:34 GMT
Short Story Catriona McRoberts
Joe leapt along the shore line feeling the sand between his toes and the wind rush past his ears. He could hardly hear the waves that were lapping up against the strand. White foam made its way up the sloped beach and Joe’s feet became submerged by icy ocean water. Each jump he took got higher and made a deeper imprint in the wet sand. The footprints would then be filled by a gush from the sea and the trace of the young boy’s path would be gone.
He was so lost in his surrounding that it came as a great shock when he found himself in a heap on the ground with a beard of grit. He curled up and grabbed his toe as it throbbed in pain. He had smacked it off of something hard which lay under the surface of the sand. He guessed it was a rock but thought he would dig it up anyway. It would give him something to do until it was time for lunch.
With his toe still pulsing, Joe heaved himself up onto his knees and shuffled over to where he had fallen. He started to scrape away at the fine covering of sand which had camouflaged the object. His small hands lifted up handfuls of the sludge that surrounded it. He dug deeper and deeper until he could get a tight grip on what had tripped him up. He remembered that his father had told him that if he dug a hole deep enough then he could come out the other end in China but that would have to wait, as the only thing Joe wanted to do was see what it was that lay under the sand. He grabbed hold of one end of the object which was quite thin and with the other hand stretched to grasp a fatter, more curved and smooth end. This definitely didn’t feel like a rock.
From over the top of the cawing seagulls and the waves, Joe heard a familiar voice. It was his mum. “Joseph, it’s lunch time” she called. Joe scrambled to pull his find out of the pit. Then, without checking to see what he was holding, he sprinted back along the beach and over the top of a small sand dune to where is mum had been lying. He saw his red and blue checked rug and hopped down to sit on it. He lay back and tried to catch his breath. “What’s that?” said his mother, sounding quite surprised. Joe suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to check what it was that he was holding. He sat up and stared down at his hands. Not a rock or a big shell, not even a treasure chest like he would expect to find on the beach, it was a small wooden ukulele. “Err…I found it just along at the other end of the beach” he said. “Ok,” said his mother “but just watch you don’t get any splinters.” She then went back to making and cutting the crusts off of a pile of sandwiches.
It was weird to find a musical instrument hidden in the sand. Joe thought of lots exciting people that could have owned the ukulele that he was holding. Maybe it belonged to a rock star or had spent years being pushed by waves around the world and ended up buried on a small beach in the north of Scotland. He lay back and felt the warm wooden skin of the tiny guitar under his arm, he then tried the strings. Each let out a soft twang. He stared up the sun which was gleaming high above, soft fluffy clouds floated past and melted into the blue sky around it.
With the soft music, the warm rays beating down and the sea air, Joe forgot about everything and let his eyes become heavy. Within only a few minutes, he was fast asleep in a dream world but wherever his mind had taken him couldn’t have been better than the beach on which he lay.
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Post by Ollie Fawl on Jun 16, 2013 7:57:21 GMT
Poem
She sat by herself, In the corner gathering dust, Watching everyone else being opened, And having a great time.
She missed the good, old days, Of treasuring priceless items for the Queen, And being the favourite, Above all her peers.
She treated others with envy, Jealous of their circular shape, And their sparkly polished wood, Nothing like hers at all.
Her lid was bashed and tattered, The colour in her cloth had deteriorated, The mirror was marginally scratched, From the years that had past.
Suddenly, she found herself, Being removed from the darkness, Two wrinkly hands held her tight, And put her on a table.
A princess picked her up, And blew away the dust. As soon as she set eyes on her, She had fallen in love with her.
So now she sits, In the princess’s room, Used on a daily basis, As happy as can be.
She treats her new friends, With kindness and respect, She loves her unique eight sided shape, Which hides earrings and bracelets.
Just like before.
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Post by Ruairidh Gordon on Jun 16, 2013 11:07:06 GMT
Ruairidh Gordon's Short Story It was a beautiful, warm day. The beach was brimming with children sprinting and crawling around in the pleasantly warm sand. The waves were miniscule and extremely gentle. The clear water flowed calmly into the rock pools which were brimming with life. Ben had come to the beach with his mum and little brother, Joey. Ben was digging in the soft golden sand trying to find pirates treasure meanwhile Joey was building sandcastles beside their mum. “Lunch time!” his mum yelled to him. “Just a minute!” Ben shouted back. Ben started digging faster and faster, his hands were like the paws of a dog. He continued to dig until his finger scraped painfully against something hard, he stopped and looked. It looked as though what he had hit was an oddly shaped white rock. Ben hurriedly used his fingers to start excavating the unusual stone. Almost as soon as hi excavation project had begun he realised that he had found a tiny head with a neatly carved face. Atop the exquisitely carved head stood a hat that looked like it wouldn’t have been worn by anyone for hundreds of years. Just when he was about to dig out more of his newly found treasure his mum shouted, “Ben! Lunch! Now!” Ben hastily reburied the head so that no one else could steal his wondrous discovery. Then he sprinted up the beach to where his mum and brother at enjoying the heat of the blazing sun. The lunch consisted of sandwiches made with bread that was going stale, lettuce that had seen better days, tomatoes that were on their last legs and to wash it all down a disposable cup full of lemonade. Ben made short work of the sandwiches before downing the disposable cup of lemonade in one gargantuan gulp. Then he jogged back to his excavation site. He leapt into the shallow pit he had dug. It was only then he realised that the tide was coming in rapidly; he would have to work fast. Ben kept using his fingers to excavate the tiny stone figure. It was happening extremely slowly but he was making progress. Ben could now see the at the figure was wearing a military uniform. It had a tiny well worn star upon it. The miniature statue appeared to be very old and valuable. The pit had begun to fill with water, the object would soon be underwater so Ben gave it an almighty tug and the object was free. “I’ve got it!” Ben shouted, jumping in the shallow pit. He ran back over to where his mum was. After he had brushed the dark, wet sand from the crevices in the statues immaculate design he inspected it further. The little statue had been made so precisely that you could see the long boots and each one of the soldier’s fingers. Then Ben thought about how much it could be worth. “Mum, look at this!” Ben called. His mum walked over and looked at the tiny statue before saying, “Wow, that nice sweetheart.” “I think it might be pirates’ treasure!” Ben said excitedly. “Maybe it is,” his mum said. “Do you think it’s worth loads of money?” Ben asked. His mum paused, “I don’t know…” “We could see…” Ben said hopefully. His mum made a thinking noise. “Oh, please, please, please mum!” Ben shouted. “Well I suppose I could call an auctioneer,” she said. “Yay!” Ben shouted before running off and showering himself in sand. His mum called the auctioneer on her mobile telephone. She described the object to the man on the phone who said that it may date back up to seven hundred years and be worth quite a lot of money. She agreed to send the little statue to the auctioneer for it to be auctioned in about two weeks. He told her she would receive a call after the auction. Two weeks later as promised the call arrived: “Is this Mrs Lee?” a woman’s voice said. “Yes,” Ben’s mum replied. “It’s about the auction, your ornament sold for seven hundred and fifty pounds. After commission and tax you will receive six hundred and seventy two pounds and forty pence,” the woman replied. “Really! That’s brilliant!” Ben’s mum replied excitedly. “You will receive a cheque in the post within the next week. Thank you, goodbye,” the woman said before putting the phone down. Ben’s mum ran excitedly up the stairs before bursting into Ben’s bedroom. “It’s sold!” Ben’s mum said loudly. “How much?” Ben asked. “Guess,” Ben’s mum said. “One hundred pounds,” Ben suggested. “Six hundred and seventy two pounds and forty pence after commission and tax!” Ben’s mum replied getting excited again. “Wow…” Ben said. “It’s all yours,” Ben’s mum told him. That was more money than Ben had ever had or imagined having. He was amazed that he had six hundred and seventy two pounds and forty pence and it was all his! It was like a dream, Ben was ecstatic… By the following week Ben’s bedroom looked awesome. They had spent the money doing up Ben’s bedroom. It now had a television; none of his friends had a television in their rooms, and a big double bed. It had also received a new lick of paint, a light cream. He adored his newly refurbished room. He felt so lucky!
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Poem Hannah Ritchie
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Post by Poem Hannah Ritchie on Jun 16, 2013 17:01:45 GMT
The Necklace
Smitten with my elegance, Basking in my shine,
You think because you wear me That I'm yours, no, you're mine,
I grace the austere necks Of the richest and the great.
I make anyone within my presence, Embarrassed by their state.
Arrogance is necessary With gleam as bright as mine.
If you're rich enough to buy me, Then that's a significant sign.
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Post by Euan Newlands on Jun 16, 2013 19:20:29 GMT
My account hasn't been approved yet so I cannot post my story, should I print it off or bring it in on a memory stick?
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Post by Euan Newlands on Jun 16, 2013 19:23:25 GMT
wait, found a way haha ;D
Creative Writing For years I have been locked up with my older brother. For years I have been kept in darkness. For years I have been unused. For years I was losing hope. Then one day, I saw the light. A giant claw descends from above and snatches up Trevor and then myself. The five limbed claw sits us in its palm, the five limbs acting as a towering barrier. They suddenly begin to move, forcing Trevor and I to turn round and round on the base of the claw. We are forever touching as we are thrown round in a circular motion. Eight times. Nine times. Ten. Both of us growing increasingly dizzier each circuit round the large bowl shaped roller coaster. And when Trevor isn’t comfortable he will do anything to get his own way. As our momentum reaches its peak, he barges into me and I manage to find a gap and topple over the edge of the barrier. Now I am falling faster than ever. The wind rushes in my ears. I smash off a cliff edge and continue falling. I see the fast approaching ground and close my eyes preparing for a catastrophic impact. I stop with a jolt. I open my eyes to see the claw has saved me. It returns me to my home, checking me for scratches. Trevor stares at me as I’m placed back in my seat. The lid closes for another hundred years.
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Post by Heather Newlands on Jun 16, 2013 20:03:34 GMT
SHORT STORY – BY H3@thEr N They stood tall like pillars belonging to an ancient temple, strong and proud. They shadowed over me. It felt like someone was always watching me but I didn’t know where to look. Every so often the sound of bones clicking filled my ears and the crunching leaves rattled beneath my feet. A damp smell ran through my nose and went straight to the back of my throat.
The night was dark. Cold and dark. Me and my friends decided to play dares. I didn’t think it would be serious. I thought it would be fun. If any of us didn’t do the dare we would get called a chicken. Who wants to be called that?
It was my turn and I got dared to collect something from the old, abandoned house in the middle of the woods. I walked alone, along a small trail that other people had created. The wind blew and I got a shiver up my spine, like ice was pouring down my back. I hated walking through the old forest on my own. My friends didn’t come with me; they said they would meet me afterwards. My palms were sweating and my heart was beating like a drum. I couldn’t see where the trail ended. No light was shining through the broken branches or the tattered leaves. The silence was deafening.
I slowly walked forwards, trying not to make a sound. I soon came across the house and was surprised to see light glowing from every window. Ivy covered its sides and wrapped itself around its crooked, broken window ledges. Someone was definitely in. I wandered over unwillingly, hoping no one could see me. An old, arched door towered over me. I stretched my shaking arm out to knock on the door. Before I got the chance to knock, the door silently swung open. I froze. Everything bad rushed through my mind. Is there someone there? Should I run? What if someone comes out and grabs me? Could I die? I might not see my family again…
A small figure peered round the door, clutching the handle. The person’s face was still in darkness. The figure’s back was arched as they shuffled forwards. A wrinkled finger unfolded so it was pointing at me. A small voice whispered “Come in dear.” I instantly knew it was a woman but again I froze. The voice got louder “Come in from the cold, dear”. I cautiously stepped inside. A musty dank odour crept inside my nose.
The house was dead silent except for the spooky creaks and moans. Black and brown mould dotted the ceiling in clusters. I looked around but the old woman was no-where to be seen. Was it just in my mind? I quietly entered what must have been the only dark room in the house, which appeared to be the living room. Windows were covered with grime and dirt and the calm moonlight shone through. Sharp shadows wandered about the room. Some wallpaper lay curled on the floor. Picture frames hung off centre with a layer of dust on top. A misplaced grand bookcase stood in the corner of the room, undisturbed for a long time.
There was nothing interesting in the living room so I made my way back to the hallway and a ghostly glimmer of light came from behind a door. I approached it questioning if I should open it or not. I did. I had reached the bathroom. The single window was dirty. A flood of light flowed into the room. Dust swirled around as I made my way inside. A cabinet mirror lay shattered on the tiled floor. The only sound to be heard was a drip. A drip from a grimy tap. Approaching the bathtub a violent odour attacked my nose. Pinching my nose, I leaned over and peered inside. Crusty rags filled the bathtub and there were little hints of movement underneath.
I arrived at the foot of the staircase, thinking about where the old lady had disappeared. I stood and peered at the top. I summoned my strength and tiptoed up the stairs. Each step creaked as if they were about to collapse at any moment. I took a right at the top to reach my final destination.
The door did not give way easily, a forceful push was needed. Stepping inside a dresser seemed to have been against the door, attempting to prevent anyone entering. I could see a silhouette of a bed in the corner and edged closer for a better look. A china doll’s head lay on the bed with its body next to it. Black marks were splattered across the sheet. The wind got louder outside. The branches and leaves were rustling and banging against the window. I stepped away from the window and noticed a chair rocking back and forth next to the torn wallpaper in the corner. It was spooky as the window was closed and there was not a breath of air in the room. A gleaming teacup caught my attention. I slowly walked over to it running my hand over the wall. Crayon marks covered the wall where the wallpaper used to stick and little pink picture frames lay empty on the floor.
This room was once a little girl’s room. The carpet squished as I walked over, trying to avoid the broken glass from the frames. I gently picked up the small, white ghostly coloured cup, by its frail, frilly handle. The mysterious cup had a small chip, as if had been knocked by a tooth. I turned it round and noticed that in beautiful, silver writing on the cup the words “Silver Wedding Anniversary” were placed. Why would a little girl have that in her room? A howl echoed throughout the house. Its time to leave I told myself. This house got creepier every minute. I snuck the tea cup into my pocket to(prove to my friends I really went into the house. I closed the bedroom door behind me then I carefully walked down the stairs. I hoped I had not disturbed any spirits. I made my way outside, the huge moon staring me in the eye. I returned to the edge of the woods where my friends were waiting, eager to find out what I had managed to find. We walked on home and I took the cup out my pocket to show the rest of the group. I turned to watch the house fade into the distance but then I saw a dark figure was staring at me. I didn’t feel right stealing the cup from the little girl’s room. I was just about to run back with it when Jenny says “Ok Lucy your turn to make up the dare”. With the smallest sigh of relief, I held up the cup and said “I dare you to return this cup to the bedroom at the top of the stairs on the right.”
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Post by Isaac Riley on Jun 17, 2013 6:32:27 GMT
Isaac's Short Story!
The wind howled deafeningly through the spindly branches of the trees which surrounded Oak Manor. Leaves danced vigorously in the autumn moonlight, constantly swirling round each other, creating a scene of what looked like bats hunting their prey. Oak Manor was an ancient home that once belonged to Lord and Lady Davenport. In its prime, the Manor was always filled with many people cooking meals or sending messages to Lord Edward or Lady Mary Davenport. Now all that remained was an ancient ruin, crumbling away, brick by brick, stained with wonderful and exciting memories. The gardens of Oak Manor were once filled with the amazing smell of the most beautiful flowers you could possibly imagine. The colours were so vibrant and dazzling that even a slight glance would be spectacular. Now weeds have come to power and the garden, once glorious, was now a total mess of spiky plant life and other ugly plants which prevented the beautiful plants from growing. On that night, the 23rd of November 2012, two children were overlooking the Manor. Slowly they began to walk towards the Manor, holding a rusty bunch of enormous keys and a crumpled piece of paper. As they made their way through the cluttered garden, the moonlight gazed down on the small children’s faces and revealed how scared they were. Eventually they arrived at the giant wooden doors of the Manor, and after inserting one of the keys and giving it a strong twist, the doors creaked eerily open and the two children stepped in nervously. Inside the Manor the children’s eyes took a while to realise what was inside. A shiver of fear ran down their backs as they saw the cobwebs that covered everything in the hall. The hall in which the children had entered had an extremely spooky atmosphere. What was perhaps the strangest thing of all was that every room or corridor the children entered had loads of furniture and decorations in it which look extremely timeworn. It seemed that Lord and Lady Davenport had, all of a sudden, decided to leave with everyone of their workers however all of the furniture remained and it seemed that nothing had been moved for ages. The children had been into a lot of dusty rooms looking for something however to you or I it was unclear what. They came to the last room (the great hall to be exact) and, with a slight look of disappointment on their faces, entered. After a couple of minutes of vigorous searching, one of the children gave a cry of joy. In their hands was a box. A beautiful chestnut brown box. A wonderful embroidery of purple, red and blue flowers covered the lid. Surrounding this embroidery was a thin wavy strip of gold material which twinkled in the star light which shone through the grubby windows of the hall. Apprehensively, one of the children caught hold of the scratched, old clasp that kept the box closed. At that moment you could have heard a pin drop. The children’s hearts were racing, gradually the child that was holding the box pulled the clasp and all was set free...
* * *
The year was 1892 and all was very lively at Oak Manor. “Right then my dear Alfred,” cried Lord Edward. “Yes my Lord, how may I be of assistance to you?” replied Alfred the Butler. “Well then dear fellow. As you know there are very important people coming to my Manor tonight, and I need you to go once again and to check that there is enough wine,” instructed Lord Edward. “Absolutely my Lord, I shall see to it at once,” replied Alfred whilst hurriedly making his way to the wine cellar. Meanwhile, Lady Mary was speaking to her son, Phillip, in his bed chamber. “Listen Phillip, when everyone begins to arrive I want you to stay here. I’ll have Alfred bring you up some food later but you must stay here. Do you understand dear?” asked Lady Mary sternly. “Yes mother,” replied Phillip reluctantly. Phillip was ten years old and has lived at Oak Manor all his life. He hated when his father organised parties, as he was always told to stay in his room and was never allowed to venture down to the hall and have a good time like everyone else. The reason that his parents didn’t like him to be downstairs when they had guests round was that he always seemed to play jokes on them and once he caused a very important Lady to run screaming from the Manor. After that incident he has never been allowed to mix with guests ever again, so when guests come round, Phillip was always extremely bored so he decided to climb out of his window and sneak off to the near-by forest. Soundlessly, Phillip, as usual, opened his window extremely anxiously and climbed down the intertwined ivy plants which grew messily up the wall of the Manor. After he jumped down the last couple of feet, he dusted the dirt off his trousers and bounded towards the luscious green forest. “Alfred!” shouted Lord Edward loudly, “Come here at once.” “Certainly my Lord,” replied Alfred, “Is everything adequate?” “How long until the guests arrive?” asked Lord Edward. “Ten minutes my Lord,” replied Alfred whilst placing a platter of delicious looking food on a table covered in a wonderful snow white cloth. “Thank you my dear fellow,” thanked Lord Edward, “Back to work with you.” Meanwhile, Lady Mary was busy choosing which of her fabulous expensive jewellery to wear. Each of her pieces of jewellery were covered with jewels of wonderful sorts! Rubies, Emeralds, and Sapphires! Necklaces, rings poured out of the beautiful chestnut brown jewellery box which lay on Lady Mary’s dressing table. On the top of the jewellery box was a wonderful embroidery which Lady Mary’s mother made. She was inspired by the dazzling beauty of the flowers which grew in the garden of Oak Manor. The inside of Lady Mary’s jewellery box was lined with smooth green velvet which felt incredibly delicate and soft. Lady Mary decided to wear her most expensive ring and necklace, which made her look majestic. Back in the forest, Phillip was energetically racing past the trees trying to identify which was the best for climbing. Eventually Phillip found the perfect tree for climbing, this was an enormous horse chestnut tree which had many branches that grew round each other twisting and turning. Super for climbing! Speedily, Phillip clambered up the tree until he was about half-way up. Suddenly Phillip heard a thundering crash which, he thought, was a branch falling of a tree. Instinctively Phillip crouched nervously behind the thick trunk of the tree listening attentively for anyone or anything that was in the forest below. Out of the corner of his eye Phillip noticed a shadow between some trees. Gradually the figure walked cautiously from its cover into the moonlight which lit a small opening. All of a sudden Phillip got the fright of his life. The figure was the most hideous monster could imagine. Its head was jet black and very long and thin. Its eyes were blood-red and covering its face were small red spikes. It was wearing a long black cloak that was torn and was stained blood. Hurriedly the monster ran with his shoulders held high towards the Manor... Phillip was terrified. He had never seen anything like it. As silent as a mouse, Phillip climbed down from the tree and tip-toed as fast as possible in the direction of the monster. Meanwhile guests were beginning to arrive and Lord Edward was getting himself ready to welcome his guests. “Good evening my friends,” declared Lord Edward, “My name is Lord Edward Davenport and this is my wife Lady Mary Davenport. Welcome to Oak Manor. So named because of the Oak tree you would have seen as you arrived in the middle of the garden. That very oak tree is one of the largest in Great Britain. I would like to invite you to enter my hall and I hope you have an enjoyable time.” Lord Edward began mingling with his guests and began bragging about his wonderful Manor. Outside the Manor, the monster was choosing his way inside and entered the main entrance. Phillip was following closely behind with a look of horror on his face as he suddenly realised that the monster was going to kill his family and all the other guests. The monster, taking no care about being heard or seen, raced up the stairs to Lady Mary’s bedchamber and grabbed the jewellery box from her dressing table tipping the beautiful contents onto the floor. The monster knew that in order to capture these people in the hall, he needed to use something old and of great value to one of the owners. He had been watching the Manor for a while now and knew this was the box he needed. Swiftly the monster flew into the hall and gave a terrifying roar! The guests screamed and ran to back of the hall some crying others arming themselves with the decorative swords hanging on the walls. Chaos broke out in that hall as everyone began screaming for their lives. No one in that hall had ever seen something so hideous in their lives. Lord Edward was trying his best to comfort Lady Mary who was in floods of tears at the thought of Phillip being killed by this beast. Courageously Lord Edward stepped to the front of the shaking group to confront the beast. “What are you?” asked Lord Edward bravely “I...sssss am ssss a creature ssssssss from far ssssssss away!” cried the beast. “And I am ssssssss here to sssssssss take you to my ssssssss home country sssssss where you sssssssss shall all sssssss become our sssssss slaves! Now come with ssssssss me!” “How dare you, you devil!” declared Lord Edward whilst grabbing a sword of a nearby gentlemen “Get out of my Manor and leave us in peace or I will smite you down!” “No sssssssssss,” replied the beast “If you don’t sssssss come with me ssssssss I will lock sssssss you all inside this jewellery sssssss box” the beast produced the stolen box. “Give that back you swine!” screamed Lady Mary whilst running towards the beast. “That is mine!” “Get back Mary,” cried Lord Edward sternly “Now beast, I hereby command you leave my Manor at once and give back that box!” “No ssssssssssss!” laughed the beast hysterically. The beast took the box in his wrinkled black hands and opened it using the shining gold clip and held it facing the group of terrified guests. “I am going to take ssssssss you by force if you will sssssss not cooperate ssssss. The only way you can be brought back is ssssssss if in 120 years someone descended sssss from Lord Edward opens the box at exactly midnight. But sssss because all the family is here there ssssss is no hope!” declared the beast. Loudly the beast cried something in the language of his people and all of a sudden everyone began to fly into the box like smoke. As the beast had been threatening the guests Phillip had been watching however he was too frightened to do anything about it. Now all he could here was the screams of the people being dragged into the box. Without even thinking Phillip picked up a long silver sword and ran towards the monster and stabbed the monster right through the heart! “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” screamed the beast painfully! He dropped the box which clattered to the floor whilst still dragging in the guests. “Phillip,” cried Lord Edward “Listen to me. You must get this box open in 120 years. Please Phillip you’re our last hope. I love you...” The monsters body lay helpless on the floor. Phillips tears rolled down his face and dripped onto the box he held in his hands. * * *
Phillip grew up treasuring the box his whole life, until one day, when his time was at an end, he gave it to his grandchildren instructing them that, on the night of the 23rd of November 2012, they were to go to the Manor and open the box. So on the 23rd of November 2012, midnight, one of the children caught hold of the scratched, old clasp that kept the box closed. At that moment you could have heard a pin drop. The children’s hearts were racing, gradually the child that was holding the box pulled the clasp and all was set free... As if by magic, what looked like ghosts poured out of the box and began turning more real by the second. The children looked astounded! Once the last of the “ghosts” had transformed into real people Lord Edward came forward and hugged both the children. He thanked them over and over again. After all the people had given their thanks, one of the children stepped forward, as instructed by their grandpa Phillip, and handed a small piece of crumpled paper to Lord and Lady Davenport. They read it and together and with a tear rolling down each of their eyes thanked them once again. The children left after telling stories of Phillip and other things about the world in which they had arrived. Lord Edward Davenport and Lady Mary Davenport were back, and now they were back they began rebuilding their wonderful home and in about two years there home was a glorious as it was in its prime. Flowers of all vibrant colours and smells filled the garden once again and all was well at Oak Manor.
The End
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Post by Miss McGrory on Jun 17, 2013 11:29:17 GMT
Thanks everyone!
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Post by Cameron Young on Jun 17, 2013 15:28:49 GMT
My short story
The wind was breezing through the trees leaving a faint whistle behind. A donkey’s hooves clicked and clacked across the rugged ground and the sloped hills. A frail, old woman was holding a rope which coiled around the donkey’s neck. She slowly made her way towards the kingdom in the far distance. The donkey carried woven baskets burdened with goods intended for the annual festival. She eventually arrived at the large, cragged walls of the city. The city had seen so many battles and wars over the years and had little to none signs of falling. She advanced to the massive gate of the city where there was a guard at post. The guard was sleeping on a small stool, leaning against the wall as he did. The woman woke the man and the man responded with a shock. He drew his sword and pointed it at the woman. She had no fright in her eyes and only stared deeply back at the guard. Once he realised there was no danger in the situation he sheathed it and apologised to her. The guard went on to inspect the baskets that the donkey carried. He was about to give the all clear when he found something that caught his attention. He took out a golden medallion with a small purple crystal engraved into it. This was not good. Little did that guard know what he had gotten himself into. The medallion he know held was something I had been searching for a long time. It was something that I had dedicated my life to destroying for the good of this world. It contained magical properties, capable of corrupting the mind of whoever possesses it. Something that King Risild had been wanting for a very long time. I used to look up to him, but when you get older you realise people for the monsters they truly are. He is really a man who wants nothing more than for everyone to bow before him and with that necklace he could, and now it is in possession of one of his guards. Suddenly the guard’s eyes went red, the woman asked if everything was all right but he only responded with drawing his sword. The woman let out a gasp and started backing away nervously. I leaped out of the pushes and tackled the guard. It didn’t take the guard long to get up and started fighting back. He was clearly possessed by the medallion. He swiped at my head but I ducked and the hit him across the face with the back of my hand. He dropped his sword and I picked it up, I then hit him with the side of the sword in the stomach and the again in the head knocking him out cold. Making sure I had not killed him, as I vowed I would never kill anyone possessed or anyone at all for that matter, I took the necklace off his neck. I took a ritual before starting my quest making me immune to the medallions powers. Suddenly I was grabbed by two other guards who must off heard the racket. One took the medallion of me and the other spoke to me and said, “What is your name scum?” “Garret Ale’en,” I replied. Trying to keep calm. “Well Garret Ale’en,” The guard chuckled. “ I think we should pay a visit to the high king Risild Dynoot’l.” Perfect. I now have to face the High King himself who probably won’t be happy with what I have done here. The guards took me through the city until we had reached the King’s personal drink hall the “Dead Man’s Drink,” Very fitting for the city’s past. A tall, bear-like man walked up to us, “What is your business with the king.” He asked “Vebydati Oosoimi and Samuel Eng-skeli sir. We have found the thief and the medallion.” “Then come right in. The High King will want to see you.” The guards took me inside to the grand hall. At the end of a large golden table sat the king himself.” What business do you have in my halls,” he demanded but when he noticed who I was his expression calmed, “Well isn’t it Garret Ale’en, the master thief, I have a massive bounty on your head.” “I would expect nothing else,” I replied. The king noticed the medallion in the guard’s hand. He laughed and said, “Finally the medallion, this just keeps getting better,” he looked to a lizard-man to his right “Akecheta, bring me that. Oh, and kill the thief while you are at it.” The lizard walked up to one of the guards and took the medallion into his own scaly hands. He then took out a dagger and gave out a small smirk. Before he could do anything else I broke free from the guards grip and kicked the lizard down, sending the medallion flying. I jumped onto the table and propelled myself into the air, grabbing the medallion before landing back down onto the floor. Then, before anyone could react, I threw 5 small spheres which all exploded into smoke leaving the room a foggy mess. I could hear coughing and orders to close the doors. I climbed up a wall and kicked down one of the windows, I then leaped onto the street with the entire city guard chasing after me. I scaled the walls of the kingdom and dived into the pond nearby. Once reaching the shore I jumped onto the nearest horse and rode into the woods. After I was sure I had escaped I looked back on the kingdom. I smiled knowing that soon my quest would be over and that soon I will be able to return home.
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Post by Robbie Eason on Jun 17, 2013 16:24:27 GMT
Fallen Images
He sat there in the dark. His matted hair stuck to his face, his soft hands lay in his lap, his blue, sparkling, innocent eyes glazed with tears. From outside the gloomy alley where he sat, sirens of one of the 'Oppressor's' armored patrol vehicles could be heard as it drew near. Gunshots were heard for a few brief moments. Then there was blood curdling screaming. Then there was silence. He knew if he set foot out there he would be taken, just like his parents who rebelled against the systematic and dominant ways of the Oppressors and they had paid dearly for it. Now he sat, alone in the dark. After a couple of minutes went by he hauled himself up to see if there was anything behind him. As he turned he saw mounds of split, rancid and rotting trash bags. The stench filled the air but he was a child of the city. The air was stale and pungent, he was used to it by now. He looked closer as walked towards the trash bags and a rectangular, wooden object caught his eye. It was surrounded by sharp shards of glass. He leaned forward and reached over to retrieve it, but he couldn't quite reach it and so tipped it over onto it's back. What he saw took his breath away. The sheer intricacy of what lay in front of him bedazzled him. In the shattered, splintering and fragmented frame was a torn, crumpled and rustic looking piece of paper with a painting of a vast and luscious field, the kind which no longer existed in the open, empty world. No longer were there vast fields and quiet groves, silent forests and peaceful clearings. All that remained beyond the industrial and dilapidated cities was a seemingly endless stretch of barren, scorched and unrelenting wasteland. The few that escaped the cities never lasted longer than a day in that empty wasteland. He stood star struck a few moments longer before pocketing the painting with great care. Afterwards he decided to see if the conflict outside had died down, he then turned to see and his worst nightmare stood facing at the alleys mouth. Facing him was a tall armored solder of the Oppressors militia. The empty lenses of its metal mask seemed to stare into his very soul. A deep distorted, electronic voice spoke: "We have identified the child. Confirming... Felix Sadner Jameson" The soldier walked towards the young boy as his destiny began, the world of the past lay in his pocket. The only remnant of what once was, was snatched away. The next thing that Felix knew was a cold metal table and a glaring light, blinding him. His eyes eventually adjusted and he tried to move his arms and legs to no avail. He panicked and flailed his arms and legs but to no avail. The shadows seemed to close in on him as he lay there, alone in the shadows once again. Then his heart froze again as a voice, deep and cold spoke, "The child... finally..." Felix tilted his head to see a tall soldier wearing a trench coat. The coat bore many dried and dull blood stains. What frightened him was he knew they weren't his. As soon as that young child laid eyes on that image of cruelty he knew this would likely be end of line. For that was no mere soldier, he was 'The Envisionment of Cruelty' as the rebels knew him but he was officially 'High Marshal 5AM of the Militant Corps'. He had toppled Earth's government almost single handedly and had been utter control of the military task forces of The Oppressors. He burned buildings of starving, ill and suffering people, he relentlessly eviscerated the people of the planet but Felix had seen his parents shot before his very eyes by this Alien commander. The colonels of the armies he commanded cowered before this creature. He took orders from nobody except the King of the Oppressors himself who resided on the home world of Phalin. Felix had seen many hellish horrors in his short life, his childhood torn from him by the cold mechanical hand of regime. Fear overcame him in that dark chamber in the Oppressors HQ, he lay alone as a flower in that deserted wasteland, shaking overcome by fear. His moist eyes clenched shut as the room seemed to fade from existence and a solitary voice spoke: "The last child of earth... the son of the only pureblood humans left... you will be assimilated and then dealt with..." There was a series of electronic beeps, a hiss of steam, then the most terrifying sound ever, the sound of a gun being loaded... Felix felt a cold metallic object being pressed to the side of his skull, warm tears rolled down his soft face, alone in the dark. A fallen image lay in his pocket. There was a loud crash... a loud voice... then another bright light...
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Post by laurynappleby123 on Jun 17, 2013 17:04:19 GMT
I ran. I forced my small legs to propel me forward and I ran. I ran away from the sadness and I ran from the memories. I didn’t know where I was running to or how long it would take, but I knew I had to get away. Would they look for me? I was just one out of hundreds who lived at the orphanage and I prayed they wouldn’t find me. As I began to tire and as the moon rose above the trees, I saw, illuminated in the distance, a small building.
Cautiously I pushed on the door. Its hinges creaked and the shiny oak was cold as I took my first steps inside. I was now in what appeared to be a hallway. To my right was an old set of crooked stairs and to my left the hallway continued further before reaching an archway that apparently led to the kitchen. As I walked towards this I dragged my hands along the tattered walls and felt the drooping wallpaper. I coughed as a layer of dust fell from a broken chandelier hanging from the mildewed roof. I stepped through the kitchen’s archway and looked around. It was empty and bare, the only thing left behind to tell it was a kitchen were the few rusty pots and pans strewn across the ground. A creak sounded above me as I prepared to enter the next room. I stopped and listened. A series of creaks and thumps resonated, as though someone was walking. I tiptoed back into the hallway as the sound became louder and more frequent. I placed my hand on the door, ready to exit back into the woods, then... Silence. The place was once again eerily quiet. My heart was racing and I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. Carefully, I let my hand slip off the door. Looking towards the flight of stairs I gathered myself before shouting ‘Who’s there?’
I feared the banister would give way as I warily ascended the stairs. Holes littered each step and the air became colder as I neared the landing. Attached to the walls, candle holders held the remnants of melted candles and gave the place a medieval feel. The moon shone onto the landing and cast shadows on the damp, peeling walls. As I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs I saw three entrances into various rooms. The first two had no door, whilst the last had a sturdy, but old, makeshift mahogany barricade. Images of eyes had been inscribed on its surface and the knob was shiny and cold. I ran my hands over its coarse surface, feeling the inscriptions, not knowing they were a sign of evil, of death.
The door opened swiftly into a bedroom. The window was open wide and the lace curtains were blowing vigorously in the wind. A single bed had been pushed against the centre of the wall. This was the only room I had found that had furniture and appeared lived in. A chest of drawers leaned against the other wall, the wood polished and shining. Beside the door an empty cabinet stood. Picking up a hand mirror residing on top of the drawers I began wandering around the room.
Just then a noise sounded from outside. Hunting dogs. I could hear men shouting in the distance and see the faint glow of torches heading my way. Calls of ‘find him’ and ‘get the boy’ echoed through the woods. They’d come looking for me after all. I crouched beside the window as the dogs and the men drew nearer and nearer. My breath quickened and my palms began to sweat as I heard the click of the front door opening below me. I could hear the snuffling of dogs and the shuffling of feet, the whispering voices of the men began moving up the stairs.
I crawled towards the door, aware that I only had a few seconds before they would reach me. I opened the door to one of the two cabinets and ventured inside. I started to lean back, prepared to sit against the back wall and wait for the men to leave, only, no wall came and I fell back into a long passageway. The further I moved along the passageway the darker it became, until finally I could no longer see at all. The space and the path stayed the same continuously, no curves or turns, just one straight passage. After crawling endlessly in the dark I was surprised when the space evened out, and only after feeling a rough rectangular obstacle that took up the space in front of me from floor to roof did I realise I’d reached an antechamber. After pushing on the object I discovered that it was some planks of wood roughly shoved into an aperture that took up most of the wall in front of me. Forcefully I pulled three of the planks from the wall, each time more light filtered through until eventually I could once again see. The space left behind was just big enough to wriggle through, and upon doing so I found myself in a cavernous room.
A large altar stone was the only item in the room and in some areas the jagged walls and roof sparkled with some unknown mineral. The air felt damp and the drip drip drip of water could be heard echoing around its spacious reach. ‘Hello?’… The sound reverberated throughout the space before finally disappearing all together. Reaching the altar stone I placed my hands on its dusty, cold surface and began to wipe away the cobwebs. A cuboid shaped object lay in the centre of the altar; its pages were tattered, yellow and flaking, its cover a worn grey/green, the once so intricately drawn design of intertwining thorns had begun to wear away and the binding had become thin and weak. I timidly opened the first page. Nothing stood out to me so I commenced to flicking through the rest of the chapters. Drawings of eyes were scrawled messily on each page, and writing in a language I didn’t recognise filled the pages, its eerie neatness sending chills up my spine. Attentively I began to pick up the object. I waited for something to happen, anything, but nothing did. I backed away from the altar, something was wrong- I could feel it. What kind of person puts in the effort of creating a secret passageway, to presumably keep this from ever being found, and then simply leaves it unguarded? No, something wasn’t right- and then, I saw it- one word, a word that had been hidden beneath the object, a word that signified the end. Death… A piercing scream ripped through the quiet and I knew my fate had been sealed. I would die here.
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Post by rachelferguson on Jun 17, 2013 17:29:38 GMT
RE-DRAFT- Creative Writing
The lethal car fumes were already making me choke, never mind the very generous amount of perfume I was wearing that day. Buses roared passed me along with speeding cars followed by the loud sirens of police cars. I was already late for work, plus, it was starting to rain. I don’t just mean a light passing shower, it was hail stoning. I needed to get inside quickly. I frantically ran into the nearest shop on my right. It just so happened to be an antique shop. The smell of cup-a-soups filled my nose as soon as I entered the small and cluttered, yet cosy and warm shop. I wandered around hopelessly wondering when the rain was eventually going to stop, until I stumbled upon a bizarrely shaped brown box. The sides of the box were covered in shiny copper spots that looked like they had definitely seen better days. I peered inside the cube and realised there was four small dice. I decided I needed to find out more about this box. It fascinated me. I bought it at the cheap price of seventy five pence and decided it was worth missing work for.
I trekked back to my countryside cottage to welcome my newly found gift. I put it on a dusty window sill that was warm with the afternoon sun beating down on it all morning. The shiny spots glistened in the sunshine along with picture frames surrounding the box. I decided to turn to the internet. Hopeful, I typed in to the Google search bar ‘brown box with copper spots’. This wasn’t going to help at all. I gave up. I felt like this object was staring at me. The way the reflecting spots shone in the daylight was hypnotising. This object was never going to escape me. There is definitely something eerie and supernatural about it. The thought that the box had a story behind it kept entering my mind all day long. I was desperate to know the story.
I returned to work the next morning, unfortunately leaving my prized possession behind, in the so called safety of my house. It was a quick day at the office. Working as a journalist has its ups and downs. We had all the up to date technology, plus I worked around very nice people. I don’t understand why people don’t enjoy going to work. I guess when you pick your job you must like it, so why would you not enjoy it? Everyone has their bad days, but mine were horrific. I would spill everything; get annoyed at every single mistake made by me or my colleagues and lose my temper easily. Those are the days when I can understand people who don’t like work. Moods mean a lot.
When I returned home, the first thing I saw was devastating. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. A feeling so indescribable, it was painful. I stared at the empty window sill. It was gone. I had been burgled. I thought I had something special that was mine and nobody else’s. Now someone else was feeling the exact same way. I was hoping this would be on their conscience for eternity. I had to seek revenge.
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Post by liamthomashowman on Jun 17, 2013 18:17:05 GMT
I was wanting this object for ages now, I even thought of it all day in class and today was the day I get it. I walked to the charity and looked at it. Not the nicest of looking places I've ever seen but aside its looks I walked in. I've been here many times before to buy books, games, movies ect. But today was special. The scuffed up box sat on the shelf covered in a small layer of dust, nothing to cool I thought but I asked to have a look at it. I opened the box cautiously taking a peek into it, soon enough revealed a pink sheet, a thick memory card and the object itself... The PS-02. A grey and very dull box which consisted of 15 microswitch buttons and 3 sliders.
It does look boring but it can do a lot more than you think, such as make your guitar have a waawaa effect or add drum and bass so you can play along with it. Considering it's very old it works surprisingly well. The screen is very small but still and extraordinary device and only £20.
Along came with it that big memory card holding a little amount of data (8mb) which is the same amount of memory as 3 songs. It was enough to hold on all 53 effects though. The golden microchips were on the back, as expected, all perfectly aligned. Also was the pink sheet of paper, an odd color to put on an instruction manual. It was in a very formal language which was hard to understand. Me being me decided to just buy it without even testing it but in the end worth it. I was wanting this for more than 3 weeks.
I researched my PS-02 for more details, and its worth over £80 to this day. The grey, blank square seemed priceless but was worth so much. I got it very cheap considering the condition, I was happy and nothing could get me down now. I was mucking about with it then it broke... I was so devastated! I didn't know what do as it was so much everywhere else! I couldn't stop myself from crying. What would I do?
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