The expansion - by A.P. aged 13

The expansion

                                 by A.P. aged 13

The rain pattered a tattoo onto the roof, wearing away the layers of paper.

“I’m not too sure about this,” said Herm. He looked up at the newspaper ceiling, blobs of not-yet-dried glue dripping down.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Richard re-assured. “It’s mainly the ‘Deaths’ section. Pretty hard stuff.”

“But still . . .” Herm sighed. He was never comfortable with his master’s projects, but, as his assistant, he had no choice but to go along with them or lose his job. And he really needed his job. Richard Le Branski was well known for taking in the malformed and the miscreants of the town – people and things that no one else would have.

Herm had a deformity of his spine, rendering him useless for manual labour. Richard had hired him as a sounding board for his ideas, although he rarely took Herm’s advice.

“Right. Now we’ve got that sorted we can go back to the Ideas Room and continue planning the ‘expansion’.”

He turned on his heel and fell into a tray of glue.

Herm held out a hand to help him up but Richard raised a finger and used his other hand to undo a buckle on each hip. He then lifted himself out of the tray, leaving the seat of his pants behind, which he then picked up and deposited in the hands of a laundry steward.

“It’s an idea I had earlier this morning. I have five squares of fabric buckled to my trousers so when I fall,” – Richard indicated the glue – “I just remove the protecting fabric and walk away with clean trousers.”

Herm just nodded and followed Richard out the room, down the hall, and into the Ideas Room.

Richard placed himself upon a wing-backed chair and Herm on a small leather cube chair.

“Now, about the improvement!” The ‘improvement’ was Richard’s ever-changing ideas and plans to modify the mansion.

“Are we still going along with the Gothic look? Herm asked. His master had recently become obsessed with Gothic architecture.

“No, no! Le Branski replied. “I want something sleek and modern. Gothic is so yesterday.”

Herm sighed again. He had spent the best part of last night Googling masons who would be willing to do Gothic style. The closest he could find lived in Belgium

“What colours?” Herm asked.

“Black and red, with a hint of gold.” Then, “Ah, here come the muffins.”

A muffin steward entered with a tray of freshly baked blueberry and white chocolate muffins. Richard selected one. Then Herm. The room was silent as the muffins were munched, the only sound being the ticking of the 57 clocks placed in the room. A steward had the job of maintaining the clocks, making sure they were well-oiled and showing the correct time.

“Now,” Richard said, “Just one more muffin and then we’ll get started on design details . . .”

'Friends' & 'On the Run' - by S.B. (age 13)

Friends

                                       By S.B. aged 13

I wasn’t ever a fan of parties and social events. I was shy and kept to myself most of the time. I had a few friends around and I had my own thing going on.

I never thought I’d end up here, and certainly not so fast.

It all started at the youth group. There were only a few members, but two girls had come along to see what it was all about. Anna and Beth, 17 and 18 year olds – about four years older than me.

I decided to come out of my comfort zone and try to make new friends. After an hour or two of talking Anna decided to give me a makeover. That’s how it all began.

We started hanging out a bit and talking over Facebook. After a month she asked me to come to one of her parties.

“You mean one of your drinking parties?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry dude. You can trust me." And I did. I trusted her completely.

She was the one person I could be myself with around: my best friend.

But ever since I met her I’ve been getting into trouble. I started drinking, smoking and even

trying to get drugs.

On the run

                           by S.B. aged 13

Boom! Crack! The thunder rolled and lightning cracked in the distance.

John and his sister Susan had been on the run for almost a week. They were twins, born to a poor family in the country.

The family had only really enough money for one child but they did everything they could to keep both. But after 14 years it became too hard. One was to be sent to an aunt in the city. They couldn’t bear the idea of being parted so after forming a quick plan they were off! 

“We must find shelter. It looks like a big storm’s coming,” said John urgently. “But we haven’t come across a house in ages.”

Susan replied, “Even if we could find one, we couldn’t stay there. They would tell our parents.”

“You’re right. We need to find another place to stay while the storm is here.”

Rain started pouring down on them and they broke into a run. After a few minutes they saw a silhouette not too far off. Lightning struck and they saw the shape was actually an old farmhouse. John started running towards it but Susan froze.

“Come on Susan. You’ll get soaked!”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit spooky: that it just popped up when we needed it? And it looks exactly like that place in that movie!”

“Oh, Susan. I told you to stop watching so many horror movies.Come on!

Reluctantly Susan started to run for the shelter.

The door was jammed shut and rotten, but John found a hammer and was able to break some of it down.

They got inside after a struggle and realised it was abandoned.

Eek! - by K.K. (age 13)

Eek!                    by K.K. aged 13

A brown mouse scurried from under my desk and raced under my bed, carrying something in its disgusting mouth.

I leapt up onto my desk and waited a few minutes. Slowly I crawled down and knelt beside my bed. I bent my head and peeked underneath it. In between the junk I spotted the same brown mouse that had scurried across my bedroom floor. I could see something moving next to it. 

Despite my disgust I moved my head further under the bed to see what it was. It seemed to be a mass of wriggling mouldy jellybeans: baby mice! There was a whole family of mice living in my bedroom!

I should really call the exterminators. I thought: ‘who knows what kind of a disease those filthy animals could be carrying?’

The brown mother mouse was feeding her baby mice a corn chip. 

I couldn’t really kill them. They were just innocent creatures. I crawled out and went back to my desk.