Not satisfied with the small and sparkling orange goblet that seemed to illuminate the darkness in the distance, she darted back to the shed, groping fervently for its doorknob. The rusty hinges creaked and moaned as if crying pitifully for a major disaster was about to befall.Read More
"You ... you're weird !!" For a moment I didn't realize what I was saying. And, it seems like he looks sad, he almost cries, even though his smile tries to cover it up. That must be painful.
"I ... I'm not strange," he said, sobbing, trying to hold back his tears.
"I'm not weird, that's ... it's just you who is weird! Why can't anyone see me? Isn't it ... aren't you strange?" Her tears began to wet her beautiful face.
ran around screaming “PIPS, PIPS” but it seemed to be to no avail. I spotted her in her cot, only Pips could sleep through this! I almost laughed but remembered the dire situation, hugging Pips tightly and placing my earmuffs over her ears, I ran to the stairs, our only way out, was in flames.Read More
My name is Bonnie. I am 15 years old. I live in London with my younger brother Max who is 14 - but acts like a 3-year-old. He has light brown shaggy hair, blue eyes and pale skin. He loves football.
My older brother William (Will) is 18 years old.
“I want to just disappear,” said Rose as she closed her eyes and imagined what her life would be like if she wasn’t the way she was. She thought people would like her, she would have friends and she would be accepted for who she was. As she started to cry she wondered if she should tell her mum what was going on and that she likes girls but she didn’t tell her mum.Read More
John Peterson has a story inside him. A story of love, and of heartbreak. A story that he will never tell, for never again will he be able to trust anyone. Above all, it is the story of a window. A window that never failed to draw his attention. A window that he came to hate. A window that finally helped him escape. He, alone, carries this story within him, and over the years he will come to realize that even in the darkest of times, there is a square of light within him. The light of that window.Read More
It's about a young boy tragically becoming orphaned and coping with life in an orphanage.Read More
I’m running, the fear coursing through my veins.
The police cars are screaming behind me, like hell has opened up on earth.
Deep red gushes from my arm, dripping onto the unforgiving pavement below.
I knew we should have listened to him.
But we didn’t and now I’m paying the price.
I sprint, faster and faster turning corners, searching desperately for an escape but the alleys blur and my head starts to spin. Colours go flying. I can’t breathe. My head is thumping, my heart is pounding. I panic and... darkness.
Soon I woke from my sleep and was in a large metal bed, secure and comfy at last. I felt for my legs. They weren't there. Instead were artificial wooden legs stiff and new. I loathed them. A fake arm too! I groaned as I remembered what the ambulance drivers had told me. My back was broken, I would never walk again. I sobbed into my hands, a sob that wrenched at my heart and shook my body. I howled and threw my smart hat across the room in rage, I ripped open my waistcoat and untucked my crisp white shirt. I tore my trousers and threw away my tie, Shook the metal helmet from my downy blonde hair and pulled the strong harsh boots away from my feet. I had ruined my soldiers outfit, well, I wouldn't wear it again now I was so weak and broken.Read More
It was dull. It was phlegmatic. It was dim. How could a place which felt so spiritless be dissolving all philosophical conspiracies of being alone? I thrust open just one of the duplicate heavy and ancient doors at the posterior of the not so celestial building, with timid hands and shaking feet. I was at once gratified and thankful for my lack of achromatopsia as, although it was night outside, the street lights shone through the stained-glass windows, that lined the walls, creating coloured artwork on the dusty floor like watercolours paints on paper.Read More
Impact. Pain washed through me, jolts and waves like electricity, striking me with extreme, unimaginable pain that almost killed me. To my great surprise though, I was alive, the snow that cushioned the shock of my fall. Gingerly, I got to my feet and my legs buckled, though I resiliently rose again, battling my way through the dark, wind and rain. Slowly, steadily, the rain turned to light, exquisite snow which then turned to heavy, deadly snow.Read More
It’s a recurring idea nowadays – the idea that appearance isn’t everything. The lesson has circulated through the media. Don’t judge a book by its cover. You never know what’s under the surface until you spend your time trying to understand.Read More
A young mother makes the painful choice to give her baby up for adoption and says a painful goodbye, while retrospectively explaining to her child why she made her decision.Read More
Christmas is here and although it is always very stressful your still looking forward to it. Experience Christmas through your parents eyes and remember to just enjoy yourself. After all Christmas is about spending time with your Family.Can you pull of the best Christmas ever for your kids.Can 'Father Christmas' pull through or will Christmas be a flop like last years.Read More
I wasn’t supposed to be here; I reached my hand into the guys pocket and whispered “I’ve got to go. Sorry”. I pulled him into a hug and took £20 swiftly from his pocket.
I waited silently for my sisters to join me. . As we turned the corner I cocked my hip and waited.
My baby was gone. Gone… Tears fought to come out of my eyes but I held them in, promising myself I would stay strong and brave, for my husband, my parents, for everyone but most importantly, for my baby. My sweet baby… Crying for my baby would signal that he would not be able to be found but I knew we still had a chance to find him.Read More
I remember my childhood, running around in my garden with my sister. My garden filled with lush flowers and bright green grass, with the little vegetable patches. I would run over to the vegetable patch and grab carrots and onions from under the moist soil. And take them in for my mother and father to make for our dinner. Okay, maybe that didn't happen but I prefer thinking it did. Instead my childhood was dark and lonesome. I would sit on my own in my tiny room either crying or colouring on my wall.Read More
As a result of his rage, Artemis had plotted her escape. On Monday, she had begged her best friend to help her flee. On Tuesday, she had pretended everything was okay. On Wednesday, she had ran and became a fugitive. By sundown, she was dead.
"You killed her!"
Then, the black gun was pushed closer towards my head: I had to go cross-eyed to see it.
“I’m sorry, but you know too much, so this is the way it has to be.”
Came the voice of my mother.