Bcs 1W Short Stories

An Anthology of Short Stories Compiled

By Bailieborough Community School's 1W English Students 2014-2015

A Horrible Day

By Oisín Clarke As I awoke I could hear the drumming of the rain against the window instantly I could smell the pungent odour of poverty and the touch of rough worn bed sheets. I

quickly ran to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I had to do this quietly as my

mother will waken. I hurried down the stairs and explored the press for the last of

the cereal and began to eat. I had no milk but I like Cheerios dry and crunchy after eating I started my walk to school.

To many I was just a sneaky malnourished lad but it wasn’t my fault my parents are alcoholics. On my way through the school gates I confronted Dante the school

bully. He grabbed my rucksack and threw me on the ground. “Do you have any

lunch money for me?” he roared at me. I was so scared all I did was lie there on the cold, hard ground .I felt utterly destroyed inside. He walked off laughing. I arose from the ground battered and bruised.

I walked into the class and my teacher Mr McEnroe asked me what happened so I told him the story. He was shocked but could do nothing about it.

I really hate walking to school on a wet, miserable morning it makes it worse when Dante throws me on the ground. He

repeats the same line over again. “Do you have any lunch

money for me?” I have grown to hate school but my only relief is Mr McEnroe’s history class. Dante constantly takes my

homework and throws it in the gutter. It is usually soggy but if

I’m lucky the gutter isn’t full of musty smelling dead leaves and I can hand it up to my fastidious teachers. Usually Mr Mc

Enroe usually accepts it but recently he isn’t. I finally plucked

up the courage to tell the principal about Dante. The Principal called him in to her office and said “Liam here says you have

been bulling him for weeks”. Dante countered by saying “No miss Liam is like a brother to me”. “Don’t lie just own up

Dante” I said meekly. “Shut the fuck up Liam” he roars at me.

The principal said calmly “Liam, let me and Dante talk”. I left

the room paranoid thinking that he would get me back for this later.

As the final school bell rang I ran as fast as the wind until I got home. The door was locked

and it began to drizzle rain. Little did I know that Dante was sneaking up behind me. I

turned around to see him with a menacing

stance with a rusty motorcycle chain wrapped around his fist? “You ready for a beating you

little fucking snitch”, he roared. He pinned me against the wall and began beating me

viciously. The rusty chain lacerated and

ripped my skin. I felt my head throbbing and a burning sensation in my arm I looked down to

see a bone protruding from my arm. I began to cry loudly “stop, please stop!” He finally stopped beating me after ten minutes of

continuous brutality. I could not see very well my vision was hazy….

I woke to a “beep beep beep” of a heart

monitor. I was in a white room everything was white and hazy. Then came a soft, womanly

voice “he’s awake”. I felt nauseous. I tried to move my arm to prop myself up but a searing pain ran from my wrist to my elbow. I was in cast. “What happened you?” The nurse

asked quietly. “I got beat up” I replied after a moment of consideration. “By who” she asked “Dante” I replied nervously. That

whole day was dull and dreary. The police questioned me about my ordeal.

They say Dante is now a fugitive and is on

the run. He was last seen in London. “That’s a long way away” “Yeah” Captain Lynch said.” He has the SAS after him.

3 Weeks Later…

Dante made the news recently. He assaulted

someone else left the poor lad in London regional

hospital. He is still on the run I honestly can’t believe it. Life has been a blur since visiting the hospital for physio. It can be tough at times but I am determined to become as strong as I once was. Dante was

eventually caught and was summoned to court but before he was sentenced he hung himself.

A Horrible DAY

By Ryan Conway The sun was blocked out by a thick mix of smoke and clouds of smoke and clouds of rain. The path was saturated with

puddles, bodies and flies. I turned to see my friends who all

looked worried. Jim who was the youngest in the army, looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown, so scared you could see him cry through the thick mud on his face.

“James “I called. He jumped with fright. “James it’s only me

Tommy.” We should be heading back to the base trench now.

He nodded anxiously.

We travelled further into the smoke and the smell of rotting bodies and burnt flesh hung around the air. Mud became

something like quick sand. We could hear gunfire off in the distance.

Reaching our trench or so what we thought was our trench,

we crawled through the cold, wet, sloppy mud. I leaned over

and I noticed German writing on the sign, fear came over me.

Voices shouted out something in German that I couldn’t

understand. A flash of light filled the dugout, expecting to see a load of guns pointed to our heads we actually saw one

German soldier lying on the ground. He was moving. I stared at him. Blood was gushing out of here, there and everywhere. He was sobbing as if he was praying.

David one of my closet friends went over to take the weapons

off the soldier. The German pulled out his handgun and a shot rang out across the land. I ran to David and James shot the

soldier. Everything went quiet like at a funeral when we are told to have a moment of silence. Then we heard shouts, I saw a

flash light shining on the trench wall I was panicking now not

knowing what to do, then David whispered and said “leave me here” I got James and George to carry him back to the trench and I will stay. They wouldn’t listen. I told them I was their

officer and they have to obey my orders. They ran as fast as they could through the mud. Next thing I now I had a gun

pointed to my head. I stood up and walked slowly over to the trench wall when I was caught by soldiers they took my

weapons. Next thing I know I was hit very hard across the head with what felt like the bottom of a hand gun.

When I came to, my feet were cramped because of the cold. I was

sitting in a dilapidated shack with an eccentric smell in the air that

made me gag. My head aced from when someone hit me across the head. I sat there thinking about how I was going to escape. I

looked around me to see if there was something I could use to

escape. I saw a hole at the back of the shack that I could crawl under.

Then I looked for something to cut the rope that was gripping around my hands tightly. I started hopping in my chair. I saw a

rusted Stanley blade lying behind a sheet of galvanise. I hopped further towards it I grabbed and cut the rope. I could hear loud shouts coming from outside, I ran as fast as I could to the hole.

The soldier’s voices were louder now; I crawled under

when my uniform was caught on a razor sharp piece of

metal pulled and pulled, the door bust open, shots were fired just when I came free. I ran across an empty valley with steaks and barbed wire, shots were fired again, I kept running‌.BANG.

A Horrible Day

By Luke Crossan As I trudged through the bustling streets of London as the rain

thundered down I can hear other people happily chatting I could

faintly hear somebody proposing to their girlfriend and the revs of engines and the strong smell of petrol. I kept my head down

looking at my old, once white, tattered Nike shoes I could also feel the rain slowly drip through the hood of my old thread bare

jumper. I looked up to see everybody smiling as the rain stopped and there in the corner of my eye I could see a rainbow dancing

across the sky however this symbol of hope does little to lift my

heavy spirit knowing that I wouldn’t have a safe place to sleep at night and also that the boss would be looking for his money.

I used to live in a salubrious wooded area of red brick Georgian houses but I lost my job following the untimely death of my

parents and slipped down the clichĂŠd road of drugs and despair.

One day on the way home after I got my weekly fix, I trudged

through the strong swooping wind and as I neared the red front door of my beautiful Georgian house I glanced up to see an

eviction notice. It told me that I had three days to pack up my stuff and leave the premises. I had a lot of packing up to do because

that had been the family home for ten years. I am now living on the dirty cobbled Peckham streets.

As I lay down to curl up into my tattered old sleeping

bag a shadow was cast over me. I looked up to see an intimidating figure wearing a jet black suit and shiny

black polished shoes. He was accompanied by two huge broad shouldered unshaven men wearing suits and gun holsters containing magnums.

The figure in front of me looked familiar and I

remembered that it was my boss, the ring leader of the almighty Peckham boys. “Where is my money you

fucking prick” he scowled. I replied timidly “I… I…. I

don’t know”. His companions dragged me out of my sleeping bag and pinned me up against the cold graffitied wall.

One of them took a cold cast iron crow bar with a

brutally rusted sharp point on the end of it and held it

to my throat, the other kneed me ferociously in my groin and I fell to the ground like a rag doll.

As I lay helplessly on the cold cobbled street I felt the cold cast iron bar strike me in my stomach and the

blood trickled onto my jumper. I could feel the sharp

sting pulsating through my body. As I tried to get feebly

of the ground I felt a fierce, firm punch hit me across the head. I couldn’t really see through my right swollen eye because he punched me with tremendous power.

As the pain throbbed through me, I looked up to see

the three hefty men stroll, slowly down the street into

the darkness. When I woke up the next morning I could vaguely see the dilapidated Peckham apartment’s

tower above me. I knew that this wouldn’t be the last time those three thugs would pay me a visit, but the

next time they would make sure that they finished me off, dump me into the river and nobody would know that it ever happened.

I headed towards London’s bustling streets. I

staggered past the graffitied Peckham alley ways

where rats where frantically searching for food through the rubbish. As the pain shot through my body I

suddenly had a terrible flashback from the night

before. As I neared London city I could hear the horns

of cars and revs of engines and my heart was thumping out of my chest. Every bone in my body ached.

I continued along the tarred street towards the off

licence. As I approached the old yellow wooden door of the off licence the cruel horrible thoughts of robbing it

flooding my head momentarily. I could clearly see a sign stating that CCTV was in operation.

As I walked away heavy hearted I strolled towards the

Peckham streets and spotted an old vulnerable women walking alone. She was dressed in an old tartan skirt

and a shawl covered her grey tattered hair. I watched

her put her brown leather purse into her handbag, her

feeble hands struggling to close it. I pursued her as she walked heavily relying on her wooden oak cane.

She made a sharp right turn onto a quiet street where

there was nobody in sight. I started to walk more hastily on the cracked footpath. I violently shoved her and she landed on the ground with a large thump. I frantically

searched through her handbag, as she cried for help. I found the leather purse at the bottom of her handbag and I grabbed it and ran. I kept running until there was nobody in sight.

As I panted totally out of breathe wheezing and spluttering.

I glanced at a sign which said St Mary’s rd. Peckham. I knew that that was not too far away from where I stay at night. I staggered over to a nearby alleyway and took out the

woman’s purse. I opened the woman’s purse which smelled

of stale smoke. I opened where the notes were situated and peered in. I could see about four hundred pounds.

I knew that that wouldn’t be enough and the boss would be

looking for more. It would have to do because I couldn’t get any more money. I walked down the street which was called St Mary’s rd. I passed a small café and the smell of hot

vegetable soup stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t eaten in days and now I had a purse full of money.

I entered and sat in the corner watching a little boy playing with a hot wheels car as his mother chatted happily. I

ordered the soup and waited as my saliva drooled down my face thinking of the warm soup. The soup came and I

dolloped a piece of butter on my bread and spread it on my bread. I dipped my bread into my soup and it warmed the

cockles of my heart. I sat there for a couple of hours and

watched everybody go by. It was so warm and comfortable

that I didn’t want to leave. The young girl started putting up the farms and I knew it was time to go. I walked down the

street and found the alleyway where I slept and found my

sleeping bag where I had hidden it that morning behind the rusted steel garbage can.

As I laid down on the mossy street the sun was setting on the horizon. I crept into my sleeping bag and

stuffed the leather purse into it. I closed my eyes and

within a short while I fell asleep. I woke up suddenly to an alarming voice shouting ‘where is my money’. I

glanced up and to my horror, there towering over me, stood the boss and his two companions. I pulled out the purse and told him timidly ‘that’s all the money I

have’. One of the men grabbed it sharply out of my

hand and threw it to the boss. He opened the purse

and counted the money and snapped that isn’t near enough.

The two men grabbed me by my arms and dragged me out of my sleeping bag onto the cobbled streets. I lay there in terror thinking my life was about to end. I scrambled backwards frantically searching for something to protect me.

My hand ran across something cold and I grabbed hold of it. With all my strength I whacked the man across the knees. He

tumbled to the ground screaming with pain.

I rose to my feet fixing my grip on the cold cast iron bar and swung it ferociously

hitting him on the head. He fell like a sack of potatoes and was knocked out, stone

cold. I felt a sharp blow to my left jaw and

fell to my knees screaming with pain. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the boss’ foot

coming towards my head. As he was about

to strike me I grabbed his ankle and flipped him over. He tumbled to the ground and I could hear the crack as his head hit the

corner of the kerb. I watched helplessly as his eyes rolled back in his head and the

blood flowed from his ears. I grabbed my

sleeping and the purse which lay next to his lifeless body and ran off into the night.

A Horrible Day

By Aaron Curran

As I trashed through the rowdy fans shouting and fighting against each other, I start to run through the crowd. My

hands start to sweats and my heart start pound, all I can

hear is chanting of the two football fans. The screams of

terror from young frighten girls pinched my ears. I can feel the swoop of the wind as the weapons narrowly miss my face. I jump every time I hear the load bangs of bangers

and glass bottles smashing against the ground. Someone started to run at me with a knife I tackle him to the

ground. !! BANG!! All I can hear when I wake up is crying

and blipping. I open my eyes everything was fussy at the

start, then I realised I was in the hospital. My wife Megan was sitting at my bedside crying, I said what, I will be ok.

She slowly says your face was badly hurt in the attack. As I slowly in pain get out of my bed I look in the mirror and I paused for a second.

My face was burnt and deep cuts was all over it. And my

arm was in cast. I started to cry. Just as I was falling back asleep the police came into talk to me. They were asking me all of question. They were saying that there was a

brutal murder, and they were asking me did I have any

weapons on the time. As they left I started to think back. I start to get horrifying flash backs. I start to remember

everything, the man was running towards me with the knife, I start wrestle with him I grab the knife out of his hand, I

look the man was lying on the ground with blood gushing

out of him, I can’t believe I actually killed him. As I lay in the dark room, I try to o asleep, horrible pictures of me

sticking the knife in the man. All I keep thinking of my

family disowning me, being locked up in prison for life, and the fear of dying in prison.

I need to tell someone I can’t keep this secret to myself,

but if I tell me family won’t want to do anything with me and if I tell the police I will go to jail for life.

As I walked down the cold corridor, I could hear the screams form one of the rooms. As I walk past the

door there was a dead body lying there, it can’t be it was, it was the man who I killed, his brothers was

there, I know them are two family’s had a feud. Now I

know why he attacked me. One of his brothers came running at me with a knife, I didn’t run I just froze.

Bang!! I was on the ground with blood crashing out of my stomach. Two police men wrestle him to the

ground, the doctors and nurse come running to me.

My wife waited nervously outside the operation

room. The doctor came out to my wife and tells her its good news, the operation went well. I lay unconscious on the bed, as my wife holds my hand. Beep Beep.

The machine started blipping. The nurses and

doctors came running into the room. My wife watches through the window of the room. Everything went

quite, the doctor put the sheet over my head. My wife started screaming, the doctor came out and said

sorry but its bad news, he’s passed away. After my

funeral, my daughter committed suicide and my wife was depressed. Three years later my wife passed away.

By Jordan Curtis This special day was a foggy and rainy one in November. The

weather was miserable and so was my mood… It was a long and exhausting day of school. I finally hopped off the bus with my

soaking wet and worn out bag. In addition to that, I also got a D in maths – my Mum would be disappointed with my grade, because

normally I am a good student. My day could not get any worse…

Striding forward to our rusty front door. I suddenly noticed a

strange noise to my left hand side coming out of the shed. At first I wasn`t interested, but all at once my curiosity took over. I

entered the dark outhouse – I could not believe my eyes... My jaw dropped and my heart skipped a beat as I saw a giant black hole

circulating on the ground two feet in front of me. I was fascinated by this amazing hole. What shall I do now? Go back to my

wretched cottage and listen to my outraged Mother or take a risk and manoeuvre one step closer to this supernatural burrow?

I was curious and moved to the strange hole. All of a sudden the

door of the shed fastened. A gust of wind caught me off balance and I went deteriorating down the hole. I was knocked

unconscious and seconds later, I woke up in the middle of an

abandoned forest, finding myself surrounded by withered trees

and strange caves. Fear and the feeling of being lost overwhelmed me.

Next to me was a huge and dangerous looking

volcanoes. Suddenly I felt something sharp touching me.

Looking down I found an impish goblin standing beside me. I retreated back and was shocked by its scary

appearance. It had a long pointed nose with big hazel

eyes and a horrific smile showing off his decayed teeth.

I had to suppress my laugh because of his preposterous face gesturing to me. He led me to a murky and old castle. What will happen next?

I felt uncomfortable as we plodded through a pair of dark

and moulded doors. As we entered this fortress there was a reeking odour of sweat. Abruptly a voice announced

“someone has stolen the queen`s emerald.” There were a silence in the room, you could even hear the king`s sweat drop trickling on to the rusty floor, when all at once

someone exclaimed “the saviour… The saviour is here.”

Everyone gasped. The minute goblin heaved me up to the king`s throne. The king rose up my hand and shouted:

“Our saviour has arrived.” The emerald was the king and

queen`s life source. If it got into the wrong person`s hands

it would explode and wipe the goblins, elves and fairies off the face of this planet. If that wasn`t enough, it would also close my portal to Planet Earth.

At that very moment I was very confused. Why did they

pick me? “You came down from heaven to save us. You are our hero…. Find your way to the spiral tower, that`s all I

know”, explained the king. I turned my head and there was the queen weeping in the corner. I approached her and proclaimed “I will do everything that is necessary to get that emerald.” With those words I left the castle and

headed towards an unknown journey full of danger.

My way to the spiral tower led me through dark forests, across deep and dangerous rivers and through

abandoned deserts. Soaking wet and wretched I finally

passed through the rusty doors of the ancient tower and

ventured breathlessly up the stairs. Where is this emerald?

Where shall I search first? The fate of millions of lives lies in my hands… I need to save them!

Arriving on the top floor I examined the spaces to my left and right. Abruptly I could see a small figure suddenly

vanishing out of sight. The shape turned left and raced through a pair of seasoned doors onto an unstable

balcony. Something green clasped in his hands – it must be the emerald! Without thinking I dashed through the

worn-out doors, seeing a narrow portal. I shot towards it

when unexpectedly a tiny and misshapen goblin appeared behind the portal. Both shocked, the goblin chucked the sparkling emerald into the air. It seemed as if it was going

in slow motion… Unable to think I stretched out my hands at the edge of the balcony, but it was too late…

I could see the emerald descending onto the ground shattering into millions of pieces. I dropped to my knees. I have failed! What have I done? I have just

destroyed millions of lives, the kingdom is lost and my portal to Planet Earth is closed‌ forever! Feeling so guilty I came to conclusion that this has to be the most horrible day ever.

''A Horrible Day'' by Jessica Dunne I woke up to see my old, cramped bedroom, the windows

cracking, making constant rustling noises, reminding me of

the storm to come, worry rose in my chest, my heart started

to pound. The rough, threadbare covers of my bed irritated my skin and I was to shivering in my light pyjamas. I sighed

and reluctantly pushed the bed sheets of me, and swung my long bare legs out of the bed. I heard faint sounds of

movement downstairs; my Mom preparing to leave our home before the storm hits our town. We lived in an old, cheap

house in a council estate, in a small town just east of Tampa, Florida in America. I reached for my clothes, which were laid out on a chair beside my bed. I yanked my faded jeans and sneakers on, slipped my grey T-shirt on and grabbed my

hoodie. I leaned over to retrieve my red Nike gym bag that I had packed yesterday. It held clothes, toiletries some

money, and I quickly glanced around my room to check that

I hadn't forgotten anything. Guilt flared in my chest when my eyes fell on a picture of my family. I grabbed the picture, while I thought ''How could I have forgotten that?''

My feet slap down on the old abused wood of my

stairs, but I was too busy staring at the dog-eared photo of my family to pay attention to what I was

doing. It had been taken when I was six years old; we were at the beach on holiday. A tourist had kindly

taken it for us. It was the last time we were together as a family. My foot missed one of the stairs, and I

was thrown of balance and I half fell, half stumbled down the remaining few steps.

I took a moment to regain my balance, when I did, I

quickly glanced in at small mirror hanging on the wall.

My wavy blond hair was tousled from after being in

bed, my crystal blue eyes dull and heavy with sleep, my slim shoulders slumped in on my tall figure. I ran

my hands through my dishevelled hair and I turned to enter the kitchen. On the way there I pocketed the picture.

My Mom was leaning against the counter. My Mom was a foot shorter than me, her short, dark brown hair grew down to her chin, a cup of tea in her hand. Mom always made tea when

she was nervous, however, she never drank it. Mom peered at through her hair, ''You ready?'' she asked, her voice sounded dry and sore. I simply nodded. Mom nodded silently in

response, turned and poured her tea down the drain, then grabbed an apple from the fruit -bowl and tossed it to me.

''Just in case you’re hungry later.'' she said, as I just barely

caught the apple. Mom grabbed the handle of the tattered

and torn suitcase beside her and snatched up the car keys.

A sudden gust of wind raged outside, sounding like high

pitched screams, and the rain pounded heavily against the

ground. I heard a piercing, shattering sound from upstairs. I realised it was a window. I looked over at my mom and her

face was pale, I could see her mouth move, but I could barely hear her words. We then walked out the front door. When we

were outside, I put my gym bag in the trunk of the car. I lifted up the suitcase, I then heard a bang and the car rocked.

Black smoke rose from the exhaust of the car. I heard the car revving again, then it went still'' Mom?'' I yelled over the raging

winds. I put the suitcase down and ran to the front of the car.

I opened the driver seat door.

My mom was slouched against the wheel, her body rocking as if she was sobbing, her head shaking back and forward.

I gently clasped her hands ''Mom, what’s happening?

Why won’t the car start? We need to get away!'' I yell

over the wind and rain. Mom turned her head to face me. ''The car- it has no petrol'' she yelled back, her

eyes bloodshot, her face tear-stained full of shame. ''I forgot to fill it yesterday, and all the stations were

closed ...'' her voice died down. I pondered that for a

moment. ''We better go into the house, Mom.'' I shout, giving her a little shake. I grip her wrists and urge her out of the car. Together we enter the house,

disappointment, shame, pain all showing on my Moms face. I felt heavy hearted and numb.

We walked into the kitchen, the mug that earlier held tea in it was still sitting on the counter. Mom walked over to our portable radio, and switched it on. She

turned it up to maximum volume, and leaned in to listen.

I walked over to listen as well. The reception was quite

poor, and it was hard to hear what the presenters were saying. Then the weather came on. It gave warnings of thunder and lightning, and the storm was progressing

faster than expected. I glanced out the window, above the sink. The sky was almost pitch black, the tall trees out the back were swaying back and forward in a worrying way.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning forked through the sky. A

split second later, thunder boomed, deafening me. It was so loud, my head hurt and my vision blurred. Then

another fork of lightning lit up the sky, the thunder rolling at the same time. I heard a splitting snapping sound: one of the trees.

''MOM!!!'' I screamed at the very top of my lungs. She

spun around, and I pointed out the window, frozen with fear. The tree was heavily falling toward the house.

Snapped into reality, I make toward the door. A

deafening sound, windows shattering, wall crumpling, crashing towards the ground, the wind shrieking, the

wood of the trees splitting, and worst of all, my Moms last desperate scream was haunting and piercing.

My heart was thumping, as my legs raced out of the house, which was falling in on top of me. I reached the door, and grabbed the handle. I fell out the door, when a clump of

cement fell on my left leg. I tripped on the lip of the door, and collapsed on the door step. My leg burned with red hot pain, throbbing with every beat of my heart. I could

barely breath with the pain of it, a sudden wave of nausea

overcame me. I twisted to my side, as bile rose in my throat, and through up the contents of my stomach. The acid

burned my throat, and made my mouth taste stale and

rotten. My stomach hurt as the food left roughly through

my throat. When it was finally over, I scooted away from my fallen house, towards the car. My leg was going completely numb, tingling painfully with pins and needles, making my

head spin. ‘Mom’. I thought with longing. A sob built slowly in my chest. She was gone, in my gut I knew it. She was

gone. Mom was dead. Dead? But how... HOW? I let the

sob come through my mouth, the tears blinding me. I was

alone. Again, I had lost a one of my parents, lost someone I had loved. I could feel the darkness coming back, taking over my mind. I couldn’t form a straight thought.

I stared at nothing, the growing winds, lashing rain, flashing lightning, they all meant nothing to me

anymore. Then through the darkness, a thought

though the gloom appeared. -Mom had her arms

around me, Dad one arm slung over my shoulder, him smiling proudly at the camera that a tourist was

holding. ‘‘Smile!’’ my Mom had encouraged me. I could feel the heat of the blazing sun on my bare back, the glare of the sea making me squint. Noisy tourists in their swimsuits were everywhere on the Spanish

beach, at noon. I gave the camera a big goofy grin,

showing my missing front teeth. The camera flashed, and the friendly tourist handed it back. My Dad

reached for it, nodded and said politely‘. ‘Thank you very much, sir.’’ He turned and hunched to my level,

grinning broadly. ‘‘You look hot, Tom. You wanna get an ice cream?’’ I jumped up and down excitedly

‘‘Yeah!’’ I yelled enthusiastically. Mom chuckled at my giddiness and ruffled my hair. Dad smiled fondly at

me. ‘‘Well alright then. Vanilla, with a flake and extra

sprinkles and syrup?’’ I nodded vigorously. Dad got

up and turned away from us. I smiled up at Mom. She

smiled back, pride in her eyes as she looked down on her six year old son with love. - It was the most

content moment of my life. I didn’t think about what happened next; the bloodcurdling scream, the loud crash of metal and- then-

A Horrible Day

By Aideen Hoey As I opened my sleep deprived eyes I reached over for my glasses and knocked down a picture of the best friend I never had, I could hear the pounding rain against my window I walked over and opened it,

immediately I was engulfed in a vile smell of slurry from the near fields, I could hear no birds chirping only

deafening tractors in the early hours. I tightly griped

my nose as I closed my window and shut my curtains, I

lay on my bed gaping up at the roof of my ramshackle of a room wondering what those gang of malevolent

girls would do to me today. Just then I glanced over at my dusty clock and realised I was late for school; I

hurried down my dark, neglected hallway. I grabbed my old, hideous school bag that sits in the corner of the

damp room and hurry out the door of my dilapidated

home. As I made my way along the narrow, mossy, brick pavement I was suddenly victimised by a gang of girls

they pushed me to the ground, patronised me and ran on. I started sobbing as I tended to my bloody knee, I started to feel squeamish and I went a pale colour. I looked down I began to see double and blank out.

I started to awaken, I drifted in and out of

consciousness I helped myself up and leaned on a wall, the rain dripped down my face. I begin to feel better and staggered on. I could see the school in the

distance. As I walked cowardly into the class room, 40 minutes late I was met by a stampede of zealous

children running to P.E. all of a sudden the teacher yelled, “Where have you been, you may stay in and clean the room�. While I made my way around the

dishevelled class room I realised the gang of girls that pushed me are headed this way.

They are leaded by a girl called Emily who has had a

grudge against me since we met in primary school years ago. She is one of those girls who spends all her time making herself look good because she comes from a rich back round.

I began to feel nervous and I sank behind a tall, cracked

cupboard; I could see opaque shadows under the dark coloured wooden door. I started to breathe heavier and sweat franticly, my hand turned shaky and I began to feel numb all over, my

mouth felt dry and parched like a desert in the month of June. I stubbornly made my way over and I looked out the transparent

glass in the door. I didn’t see the gang so I slowly with my clammy hands reached for the handle, when the door opened with a

squeaking noise I tensed up in case the girls heard me, I started

wheezing and panting. They didn’t come so I continued, my class were out the back so I didn’t worry about them seeing me, when I got to the front door I heard mumbled giggling, I opened the

door. They started to laugh louder I turned around to them and they are pointing and staring at me. I ran cowardly on with my

head hunched, I ran and tripped and landed on the rough stony road just on a bend, I seen a car and all went black.

As I opened my eyes, I could see flashing lights I heard my

mother crying in the distance she’s yelling, I felt cold yet sweaty.

My hands are tangled in wires. I heard ear pinching screaming yet I didn’t know where I was. All of a sudden my arms and legs started to shake, I felt like I was going to puke.

I started to vomit it was a reddish colour, I started to feel dirty and a swarm of doctors crowded around me, the colour in my eyes started to fade. I bitterly tried to hold on and not die horribly there and then.

A breeze hit me in the face, I breathed in and out the cold air and then I gagged. The swarm of doctors seemed to disappear and only one or two were left. They started attaching me to machines I can taste the vomit in my

mouth it lingered for a while. It started to settle down but my heart was still beating like a cheetah going for the kill.

In the hallway I could hear footsteps running down to me.

It was my parents they run over hugging and crushing me.

My mother was crying as quiet as a mouse, I could tell

something was seriously wrong. I didn’t bother asking

because I’d just get upset myself, my dad walked out of the ward; I could hear him yelling at a doctor, he then

grabbed the doctor and heinously pushed him on the

polished, wooden floor. My Mam ran out she helped the doctor to his feet, she apologised repeatedly in a

considerate manner. The doctor dusted himself off and says,” it’s all right but there is nothing I can do until Dr.

Graham is on his rounds”. Then my Mam and dad came and sat with me for a while.

As I lay on my bed thinking about all the horrific things that could be wrong, I could see a tall, skinny figure standing at the door. My Mam could sense something was wrong she looked over and seen the girl, I glanced at her and she

disappeared as my head churned in search for this girls my eyes blinked and I could hear laughing I can see the gang.

My mother grabbed my arm but I scathingly pull it away. I began to cry pathetically, I could hear a beeping and my

parents screaming, I felt weak and my mother was crying.

She whispers to me “you can let go darling,” my eyes closed and a tear trickled down and I let go. She turned around

grabbed my dad pulled him to the ground she lay down and slowly melts away she whispered to my dad,” my little girl”

Two days later, the poignant funeral was over my

mother sitting at the table drinking a bitter smelling

cup of coffee. She sees Emily standing at the door

with a bundle of books, she invites her in. Emily puts the books down on the table says” these are hers”

and leaves as my mother watches her run away she

flashed back to the night I died she could see the girl

she matches the description of Emily. My mother runs out the door screams come back but Emily just keeps running. My Mam sits down and thinks it over she

notices a book peeping out from the pile of school books it coloured orange with red sequins on the cover it read “the friend I never had” she skips

through the first few pages they are just pictures of

Emily, after the picture came page after page of diary entries she skipped to February 17th the day before

she died it talks about all the things Emily has done to me. My mother drops a tear on to the book and

breaks down her eyes close she falls to the ground and sits in a pool of her own tears she whisper to herself again “my little girl”.

A Horrible Day.

By Jade Hudson Today was a cold miserable, dark day in England. I trudged through the snow on the road near my house. I could hear the wind from the blizzard. The freezing flakes of snow

grazed along my face. I was on my way to the nearby town to meet my friend, Sarah, because we were going to go skiing. I

had been looking forward to the trip all year. As I was nearing the village, I noticed crystal clear icicles hanging from the

houses and shops. The puddles in the street had completely frozen over. The weather forecast had said that it would be cold, but not this cold! I noticed Sarah sitting on a nearby bench and I made my way towards her.

Sarah is one of my best friends and I think the reason we are such good friends is because we have so much in common. I am interested in sport and so is she. We are also both

interested in pop music like Katy Perry. Sarah has light

blonde curly hair that cascaded way past her shoulders and

has chestnut brown eyes that sucked you in like a whirlpool. I

have sleek auburn straight hair that falls at my waist and have dark green eyes the colour of emeralds. We both have an interest in skiing and we go skiing in Germany every year.

When we started driving to the airport it began to snow again. It felt as cold as the arctic. I noticed my breath creating mist as it

froze in the air. I put my hood up to try to keep the cold out. As we pulled up to the airport car park, I could see lots of families

wheeling suitcases as they were about to go abroad. I could hear them chatting enthusiastically about the holiday they were going

to go on. But I could also feel the tension and nervousness of the families and couples because they were going to be in the air and not on ground level on the plane. Sarah and I both pull our

suitcases out of the car and set off to the airport terminal to catch our plane.

When we made our way to the plane I could see all of the air

hostesses at the plane entrance ushering everyone to their seats and helping them with their suitcase of luggage, and hear the

jangle and rattle of the luggage being put away. When we finally boarded the plane, we got shown to our seats and we put our

luggage in the overhead cabinet. By the time everyone had sat

down in their seats, you could hear the sound of excited families and couples chatting to one another about the things they were

going to do in Germany. When everyone was seated, there was an announcement from the pilot telling everyone that the plane was

about to leave. I could hear the rumble and rustle of the engines and the slight movement of the plane as it got ready to go. I

looked at Sarah excitedly as the plane started moving I looked out the window and saw the ground slowly move away from me as the plane rose up.

I could see all of the families and couples looking excited and

eager as Sarah and I were. When we were safely up in the air I

could hear the rattling and movement of the air hostess’s trolley as it made its way down the aisle towards me and Sarah. She

offered us a sealed container with a ham and cheese sandwich

that smelled really nice, but when I opened it up and tasted it, it tasted horrible. It was very dry and tasteless, like cardboard. I looked out the window and all I could see was big, bright,

clouds and a brilliant light blue sky. After looking out the

window and admiring the sky for a while, I felt quite tired and

gently dozed off to sleep. I started dreaming of the great time Sarah and I were going to have in Germany, but before I could continue my dream further I woke up abruptly to people

looking confused, and as I listened more closely I could hear

one of the pilots sounding worried as he mumbled something on the intercom. Suddenly he opened the door of the cockpit and

announced that the plane was going to land immediately as they were having difficultly controlling it. I could feel the tenseness and the stress of the people around me. The pilot pressed a

red button at the side of the control room door that released the gas masks which then came down on strings above

everyone's seats. I could feel my hand getting clammy from the nervousness of what was going to happen as I held onto my

soft, tartan chair. The pilots and air hostesses started giving everyone orders and directions as to how to use the masks. I

could hear and see everyone around me started to panic and children started to cry.

I could feel my throat closing up as I came to terms with what was happening. I had seen horrific airplane crashes happen

before on the news but I never thought that it would happen to me and Sarah. I reached up rapidly, trying to grasp the gas mask in my clammy hands. The fear was evident in the air, and the tension was palpable. I started to think of my family and how heartbroken they would be if something

happened to me. I looked behind me and saw and old man struggling to get his gas mask on. I quickly turned around

and reached out to put the strap over his head. Suddenly,

the plane shook violently and started turning over sideways.

Everyone was terrified and the screams cut through me like a knife.

I looked out of the window and I could see the wing of the

plane looking dilapidated and bent out of place. The sight of the ruined plane filled me with terror. What was going to

happen to us? The plane became dark as the lights began to flicker. I could feel my heart rate accelerate as I envisioned what was about to happen. I stared meaningfully at Sarah and hugged her reassuringly.

The ground began to rush towards us. It was scary sitting

there hoping the pilot knew what he was doing. The plane flew through the air and I squeezed tightly eyes shut, not

wanting to see what was about to happen and in an effort to calm myself down. I focused on my breathing, trying to

breathe deeply to steady my heart rate. After what felt like years, we hit the ground. The hard impact threw my head

forwards and into the seat in front of me. The front of the

plane broke away from the rest of the plane as we bounced

along the hard, rocky ground. Finally the plane had come to a stop. Silence.

As I stepped out of the trashed plane, I could see the

burning engines and rubble of the plane that I had just been on. My arm felt like it had been crushed. I started calling

Sarah's name, frantically pulling up pieces of the airplane wing looking for her. I heard a muffled scream coming up

from the rubble nearby. I began pulling up pieces of broken glass to get closer to the voice. When I eventually got to the sound, I saw a woman with jet-black hair and a deep cut

across her forehead. She looked like she was in her mid-30's and she was clutching a four year old little girl in her arms. I quickly reached out to help her up and out of the debris

My arm was bent at an awkward angle and I felt sick. I stopped

myself from looking around at the wreckage of the plane, scared of what I might see. Although some had survived, most hadn’t. I

still hadn’t found Sarah! A man with chestnut coloured hair and

deep blue eyes ran towards me. There was a deep cut above his

left eyebrow and blood dripped down his face. Dried blood was on his sleeve where he had attempted to slow the bleeding. He

took out his phone and dialled a number. He then began to speak

frantically in a foreign language. I sat on the cold, hard ground and contemplated the events. I was alive.

Eventually, a squad of ambulances arrived at the plane and I got directed into an ambulance where I was sat down and asked

questions as to how I felt and if I was injured. Without me even answering, the nurse put a mask over my face and I was

unconscious within seconds. I woke up abruptly with a stabbing pain in my left arm. As soon as I came to terms with what had

happened, I started to realise that I hadn't seen Sarah since the

crash. “Where’s Sarah?” I asked her hoarsely. The nurse sat down, looking uncomfortable. “Sarah Barnes?” she asked. I nodded,

feeling scared about what she was about to say. “Unfortunately, Sarah Barnes did not survive,” the nurse told me sadly. She

hugged me quickly and told me that I could see my family soon. I felt cold sadness wash over me as I began to deal with the

prospect that I would never see Sarah again. I felt crushed. Just

then, my family walked in and ran up to hug me. They took care to avoid my painful left arm. “Sarah didn’t survive!” I told my mother as I began to sob.

Later that day, we went home and I began to come to terms with Sarah’s death. Sarah had died but I

was consoled by the fact that she had died quickly

and had not suffered. I felt lucky that I had survived and I would pray for Sarah every day.

A Horrible Day

By Greggory Liggan I was walking home from school after a bad day of name calling

and abuse. I moped along as I heard loud laughs, the heavy smell

of cigarettes was in the air. I stood, and thought I’m going to walk on and ignore them. I walked along and my legs felt as if they had

turned into jelly. I raised my head and saw people in the alleyway.

One of them looked out of the alleyway and shouted look at this gimp coming. Immediately I lost all confidence. Here we go again I thought. I walked past speeding up my pace but one of them

stood in front of me and grabbed. He threw me up against the car smacked me a thump in the jaw.

I went to the cold hard ground and winced with pain, I couldn’t

move the left side of my body. They all walked away, it was my

chance to run I got up and jolted past them holding my hand on my ribs not having full balance I kept swaying to one side.

To my surprise they didn’t run after but that’s probably because the leader of them said to leave me be for the moment. I walked

home with a heavy heart, each step I took was filled with pain. It

was getting dark, I needed to get home, I sprinted up the road and

nearly came through the door, and I met my mother in the hall, and just wanted to fall into her arms. I half did my homework and

rushed off to see if there was any threatening text messages on my phone.

I was shocked there was nothing at all on it only a face book notification that meant nothing. I went to bed with no bother, knowing that there was an under 16

football match the next day, there was only one of the bully’s left at school he would probably tag along with me for the day because his friends weren’t there. The boy out of that gang was in my year, he talks to me,

doesn’t push me about when he’s with his friends. He’s a decent sort of person, he doesn’t smoke or do any

of that dirty stuff. I went home and figured out a plan, I was going to ask my brother to pick me up from

school on his days of work, but the only thing he

really does is go to sleep, or be glued to his phone, so he might forget, then I’d probably be a target, again! I was feeling excited, I went and asked my brother

would he help me, and to my surprise he said yes!So I went off with a grin on my face, and for the first time in ages I went to bed feeling happy and content. All might be good in my world!

The next morning I was in school knowing that I have to try and

dodge them. It was the second last class going on to the last and

the students in the higher classes get out of the room before the bell rings. I was one of the first out and I was spotted by the two

third year boys one of them shouted c’mon Aaron and I’ll race ya down the hall. He said in a flat and drawn out Cavan accent.

I looked back bracing myself for a push or a nudge or something.

They went into their classroom and I went into mine. The next few days were alright but then Friday came. It was the last class and

the boys went up behind me, I hastily jumped to one side and put

my foot out. I stood and looked back and one of the boys was on their back and he was staring at me and the other one was staring gobsmacked at me he ran and grabbed me and said you wait till

after school Tommy, just wait. I rushed outside and waited for my

brother I waited for about 20 minutes and there was no sign of him what so ever.The boys walked out after about a half an hour of

waiting, the boy I tripped his eye was swelled up like a balloon and they were all throwing me dirty looks. At the back was John, he

didn’t look at me he just went along with his head down towards the ground.

I waited on the steps of our school feeling dejected. I waited for few more minutes until I felt I was being watched by

someone. I looked back and I saw the boy with his swollen eye and a man that I’ve never seen before. They kept

walking faster until they got close. I ran and looked back

and the man was running after me. I ran until he caught up

with me and he jumped and shouted “I have ya now ya little twat.” He grabbed me and brought me to the woods.

On the way he had a series of questions like was it you bullying my brother is it you taking his money. I never

answered them we got to the woods and he said I know you

did that to his face and now I’m going to have to leave you in the ditch. He struck me in the ribs and then kneed me in the stomach I fell to the ground, he wasn’t able to hold me

anymore. The last thing I could remember was the white and blue vestments of the nurses

A Horrible Day James McGuinness I woke up feeling ill with a bounding headache hearing the crackles of the thunder from the miserable day outside my bedroom

curtains .I crawled out of my bed and walked up the dark hall. I

opened the door to see a dank wet day outside. I got ready for a horrible day at school. I sat down at the table looking out the

window at the miserable day outside with a hot mug of tea in front of me. I opened the door to go down to the school bus and

suddenly a gust of wind blew the door back with a big bang. AS I

stepped outside leaves and the rain started to blow into my face.

BY the time I got to the bus my hair was all wet. I arrived in school to meet my friends.

Class started and we all we all were in class. When class finished I

was walking up the corridor and someone pushed me. It was Dave my enemy .I picked up my books and walked fast up the corridor.

Dave’s friends started laughing. The bell rang and it was time for lunch I sat by myself with my bounding headache from this

morning. Class had started again and it was time to get my books ready for my last three classes. School was over and it time to go home. I went to my locker and got my homework out. We got

homework in every class .I was in a bad mood with Dave and with all the homework we got.

I jumped on the bus for home. As soon as I hopped up on the bus I seen Dave sitting down with his friends .As soon as Dave seen me he started

sniggering and laughing at me. I knew they were

talking about me and making jokes about me. The

bus took off and we were on the way home and Dave was shouting at me and he was using derogatory

language. I stood up and told Dave I was sick of him

bullying me. Dave spoke back ‘I don’t care what you

think’, Dave then walked towards me and pushed me.

I hit him a punch.

The whole bus was chanting ‘fight, fight, fight’. The bus driver lost control of the bus and the bus

toppled over. I woke up to hearing the loud noises of the fire brigade and the ambulances feeling puzzled.

The police officer said lie back down till we get you to hospital. I lay back down on my stretcher .They

lifted me into the ambulance and brought me to the hospital.

The next thing I woke up and there was two

guards standing around me .I ask where I was. The guard answered me ‘you’re in the hospital.’ Your

bus has turned over on the way home from school’ answered the guard. Then I remembered what

happened. I was in a fight with Dave and the bud

driver lost control of the bus. The police said I was the only one alive. As soon as they told me I was the only one alive I felt like I was going to cry. If I hadn’t of started that fight with Dave everyone would be alive. It was all my fault.

A Horrible Day

By Patrick Mc Intyre

As Mark brushed off his synthetic trousers, due to falling in the pungent smelling puddle of manure, he felt the

throbbing pain in his blood oozing knee and he felt a sense of failure and travelling through his bones and it was almost disturbing as if a horrible, ugly creature was

hanging off his weak back. He could just feel it, for him it

was that clear he could nearly taste the bitter flavour of a horrible day. As he trudged to school he looked through

the dull, misty, depressing skies and looked over the dark foreboding hills.

As he walked along the worn-away roadside, he

contemplated about his life for a brief moment and

wondered about the thoughts of suicide and if it could be an answer to his problems. He trudged along the roads only to meet with an imaginary wall of despair, suicidal

thoughts, loneliness and malnourishment and it was like it he could not get passed it as if he was being blocked off from the outside world.

Eventually he got passed the wall and he got to the forest where

he was to meet his “friends”. He walked through the dense, humid, alpine smelling forest and met his two faced sycophantic friends

and gave them the alcohol he took out of his mother’s rustic cream cabinet under the kitchen sink. He knew that his so-called friends were using him, he knew from past experiences, like rolling him

down steep hills to see if it was “safe” to do so and scaring the

side of his face, or cutting off clumps of his brown hair for “fun”, but the one thing that really annoyed him was having to take the blame for things he didn’t do, which felt deceiving.

Daryl, the misbehaved, delinquent child who was the ringleader of

the “apparent” group of friends which was definitely a false quote didn’t acknowledge the favour that was done for him, and as for

Mark, he felt worthless, pathetic and used. Without a word being

said, the group separated and they all returned to their shambles of houses. When Brian got to his nearly dilapidated house, he walked through the soggy, un-drained garden and walked in

through the broken-through door which was being held together by bailer twine.

He went into the dirty, unhygienic kitchen and went to the corner press which was half rotted and searched for tea

bags to make a simple nearly problem solving cup of tea.

As he rummaged through the presses he found a box of empty tea bags and with anger he threw them on the

ground. “Feck� he loudly recited with a loud powerful

voice, but just before he could walk away an A4 sized

envelope came down and hit him in the head. He could do nothing but open it because the logo of the HSE was written on the top and was addressed to his mother, Helena Byrne.

As he pulled out the numerous sheets he glanced at what

looked like to be the initial one. He quickly read through it

and when it finished he fell to the cold, dusty, dirty floor. It turned out that his mother had severe cancer of the lungs due to her many years of unforgivingly smoking tobacco

which was a pure toxin to her body. After several hours his tobacco addicted, alcoholic mother returned home after a session of drinking and smoking in the local town of Killadoughney.

She walked into the kitchen of her half- dilapidated

social services house and found her only child Brian

lying on the ground in a heap and ignored him as if he was an in-human object, but when she seen the HSE

letters scattered around his lifeless body, she quickly took action and pulled his delicate body up on the dirty stool in the corner of the kitchen, which was

highly populated with cigarette butts. She tried to

revive him by giving him a sharp, bitter slap across the side of his face and she succeeded.

Helena (with anger): what the hell did you open that letter when it is not your own?

Mark (crying): all I wanted to do was to see if my mother was ok!

Helena (with anger): Well, you still shouldn’t of have opened it anyway!

Mark (while being slapped): I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Why did you not tell me you had cancer!

Helena: all I just wanted to do was protect you!

Mark: well you didn’t get overall creative with the hiding spot.

Mark stormed out of the kitchen while his mother

was shouting abuse words at him, but all he could do was ignore her so he ran out of that not home because a “home” is full of love so he ran out of

that building badly constructed of bricks, mortar, lies, alcohol, smoking and discrimination. While he ran away, away from the lies he thought of hiding places to stay away from his horrible alcoholic

mother but the idea of suicide slipped back into his mind so he ran to a place where he knew he

could end it all. As he sprinted to the particular place, He thought about all the times he was

bullied relentlessly and abused greatly at home, but he eventually reached Killadoughney Lake which was also the town’s water supply.

Before he jumped into the extremely deep lake to end his life forever, he thought if he could take back one

moment in his life, it would be finding out his mother had cancer, but he ignored all those thoughts and just

plummeted into the lake like a rock into a puddle. As a result of his last breath, several bubbles of water rose

to the lakes surface and that was the last ever moment of life for Mark Byrne. His young life which ill people

would be fighting for was gone in an instant and from

that day forth, the people of the world only knew him as a coward.

A Horrible Day

By Dean McCullagh One tempestuous stormy day, a man called Jim got a call

to go to Ireland. It was five o’clock in the morning and the ululated howl of him complaining woke up the neighbours

next door. He whizzed down the stairs, boils the kettle and made a nice cup of tea, then he poured out a bowl of

cereal. He didn’t have time so he put a spoon of sugar in his mouth, then some coffee and finally the boiling hot water. On his way to the airport, he raced up the

motorway past twenty or thirty cars. He rushed in the

door, pushed passed the people in front of him, while he was running he dropped his tie.

Then he had to go back and get it. He tried to put on his tie while he was harnessing his belt. Then the escalators where full so he ran up the stairs. He was then looking

around to see which terminal he was going to. He finally got to the entrance and gave his ticket and passport to

the instructor. When he got onto the plane, there was bags where falling everywhere.

There was a big fat guy sitting on the outside of the isle. He was wearing a poncho, possibly

because he couldn’t fit into anything else. He was sitting beside a little girl who looked sick. All he

could hear was the ululated sound of a little girl complaining about her ears popping. While the

flight attendant was doing the safety instructions, the pilot was heating up the engines ready for

take-off. To make it even worse the poor little girl got sick all over his brand-new white suit.

When they got into the air, the girl finally stopped

screaming about her ears. She was complaining to her mother that she didn’t want to come back

onto another plane ever again because off the

pain. Then the flight attendants started coming

around with drinks and food after the seat-belt light went off. While the pilot was making an

announcement, an emergency call was coming

through It was about an incoming volcano that was about to erupt and the plane was flying straight into it. The heat of the volcano had erupted the signal on the plane.

Meanwhile at the back of the plane the passengers were

complaining about the heat. It was only mid-day and the sky was getting dull because the ashes were rising from the

volcano very fast and the pilot knew that the ashes would eventually clog up the engine. When they reached the

volcano, the lava looked like a bag of popcorn popping.

By now the engines had stopped working and the engines went on fire, the passengers beside the window were

petrified. The pilot knew that within ten minutes the engines will blow up unless the pilot can turn the plane towards the see. The pilot couldn’t even make a call because off the

heat, but the safety boats and helicopters could track them to the ocean they were heading for by radar. If the plane reaches the ocean it would be a miracle, but the only

problem was trying to land it. The air masks dropped down and the seat-belt light went on, the passengers where now terrified

The pilot made an announcement, prepare for an emergency landing. The passengers where now

starting to panic. The next announcement was to take a life-jacket under neat the seat in front of you. The plane reached the ocean and was dropping fast.

It was only 100m up in the sky. The pilot guided it toward the safety boats. The helicopters were

hovering in the sky with the ladders ready. The plane was coming in fast………. BANG!!!!!! The

plane crashed. As soon as it hit the water it blew up. The boats rushed in to see if there was any

survivors but it was no good. All the passengers were dead. The news helicopter flew in. It was

horrific. With the ashes covering up the sky, the

safety boats and helicopters knew there was no

point waiting around because the ashes would clog

up the helicopters as well. The horrific scene would be on the news later.

A Horrible day

By Niall McLeish I was walking home from school on a very dull January evening. The rain was thundering down and the water

was rushing down road. I could smell the fumes of cars

as they are whizzing through the town. I could hear the muffled sound of students snickering in the

background. I could taste the salty rain running down my face and could feel the rain seeping through my

clothes. I was wearing my school uniform that had now become soaked right through.

I arrived home from school to find that the majority of

my family outside. My uncle approached me with a face full of despair. I asked him what was wrong and he said “I’m sorry, but your parents were involved in a fatal accident last night. I looked at him and was utterly

speechless I tried to speak but I couldn’t, I choked, not a word came out. My uncle brought me in and sat me down on the sofa. He told me I was going to be living

with him. I did not like this as he was always drunk as a boiled owl!

My uncle Jim is a dishevelled person who spends all their money on alcohol. His house is a

dilapidated wreck and smells like a pub on a Friday night! There is ivory creeping in the shattered windows and warped pine wood doors.

My uncle Jim had gone for a walk out of the blue as he was still drunk from last night, he seemed

very confused. I walked from the kitchen to the

sitting room very slowly as I was very tired and had not been awake long. I was looking for the TV

remote when I stumbled across a large stash of white powder that looked like icing sugar,

alongside was a small safe. I lifted one of the small bags and then a moment later realised it was cocaine!

I dropped the bag and immediately thought of what

the code to it might be. I ran like the wind back to the kitchen, tucked in beside the microwave was a small sheet of paper with 10 digits. Originally I thought it

was a phone number, but then realised it didn’t have 086 or 089 or anything like them. I picked it up and

went back to the safe, I typed in the 10 digits and the safe door opened revealing a humongous stash of

cash. My first thought was to take the money and the drugs but thought I could’ve got in some sticky

situations trying to sell them so decided I’d only take the cash. I walked casually to my room as I knew Jim

would not be back anytime soon! I brought a rucksack down to the safe, and packed it and my pockets with cash.

I decided there and then that I was going to leave my

uncle Jim to live by himself again, and picked up all the things I might need, my phone and charger, a bottle of water and a heavy coat for any bad weather. I strolled out the front door of Jim’s house and down to the

main road, from there I got a bus and headed off to

the city to find a place to stay and to hopefully never see my horrible uncle Jim ever again!

A Horrible Day

By Jane Reilly I scurried through the near deserted streets of

London, the distant sound of traffic and lively music was carried by the whipping wind, the sun

descending into the horizon, and the stars were

scattered on the sky. I look up at the apartments

that towered above the street proudly, and jealousy coursed through me, but I shook it off, scowling at my envious lust for a warm home that I could never

have. I put my head down and took a dark side alley

to my right and rats scuttled around my feet, as the rain begins to fall slowly, making my already greasy hair stick to my scalp in clumps, and my ragged

dress cling to me. From up ahead, drunken laughter choruses out, and, a little shriek follows the laughter, and it almost sounds distressed.

I pick up my pace through one of the darkest side allies in modern London. I see dark figures up

ahead, grouped around a smaller form, and the drunken laughter continues to ring out.

I recall a memory from the back of my mind as I see the face of the ring leader of the gang, he was tall and

broad shouldered, with a top hat and ragged clothes, and his face was riddled with scares, I knew

immediately that this is my father. I stood up to him,

fear gripping at my heart tightly, as he turned his head to me, forgetting his quarry immediately, a sly grin

spread across his face. I remember how he looked all those years ago, before I ran away.

He really hasn’t changed, as his face is still riddled with those horrid scares, and the strong aroma of brandy still graced him. But I have changed, dramatically.

Before I ran away, I had a roof over my head, and I had a bed, and yet they may have been damp and dirty, but they were definite, reassuring nearly. But my

parents, the only family I had, weren't so definite, as

they simply did not care about me, and knowing that,

knowing that they couldn't care less if I had food in my stomach, sat like a stone in my gut still.

My father was – and still is probably – and abusive drunk,

who doubled as a drug lord, and quite frankly, he drove me away, him and his drunken nights – which was basically

every night – spent hitting me and sometimes even mum.

And don't get me wrong, she wasn't exactly a ray of

sunshine herself, but at least she didn't spend every night beating me to a pulp.

Dad's eyes were as grey as slate as they looked me up and down, his lip curling distastefully. His gang flanked either side of him, and my father looked into my eyes, the same hatred present like it was years ago. Father laughed in

disbelief, “Well I'll be damned, Carrie Heart, back in this side of London! My child how are you?” I sneer, and spit at him, my own hatred snaking up.

He laughs again, raking a grubby hand across his

face. “I'm no child of yours.” I growl. “I'm no more your child then you are my father.” He brings a

hand to his heart in mock shock. He sticks his face in mine, grabbing my throat, the stale stench of

brandy hitting the back of my throat. “You always were an ungrateful little rat, always a disappointment, always a burden.”

He shoves me up against the wall, his hand still

wrapped around my throat tightly, squeezing and squeezing, darkness teasing the edges of my

vision, threatening to cloud over and send me

spiralling into darkness. I claw at his hand, trying

desperately to relieve the pressure so I can take a breath and clear my head, so I can hopefully fight back. I move my hands up to his face and I claw at

his eyes, and he stumbles away from me, clutching

his face. I gulp in air, my vision clearing immediately.

He looks up, a type of hatred that I have never seen

before is in his eyes, and he thundered up to me again, swinging a wild right hook at my head, but I ducked

under it easily, and his fist collided with the defaced wall behind me. He recoils, hissing, and he holds his hand to his chest, strings of curses flowing from his mouth. I

back up against the wall as he continues to come at me, a knife blade catching the moon light and flashing wickedly.

I try to step out of the way, but the knife my father bore

slashed across my stomach, drawing blood, but the pain didn't register right away, and then it came. White hot

pain was rippling through my body. I bring a hand to my

stomach, and I feel the blood, the warm blood oozing out of the long yet shallow cut.

I look up at him, and he looks back at me, a smirk playing

on his lips. “What's the matter Carrie? Not able to handle a little scratch? “He steps up to me and cracks an elbow across my jaw, the world spins, my head snapping back, harshly cracking off the wall. He grasps a clump off my hair and throws me aggressively towards the opposite

wall. I twisted at the last moment, and got my hands up and hit the wall and then pushed away.

He doesn't stop coming at me, and knees me in the

lower stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs and I double over. The gang watch on in silence, as my

father, this man that used and abused me as a child, they watched on as the punches rained down on my

body. Did they want to see this? Were they enjoying this?

You couldn't tell by their silence, but they were loyal to my father, so even if they didn't like this, they wouldn't stop him. Not until it was too late.

I made a feeble attempt to cover myself from the punches that continued to rain down, but it was

pointless. His face was screwed up into unimaginable hatred, and I fall to the damp and dirty floor of the

dank and dark alleyway. He straddles me lightly, the punching desisting and he draws the blade again showing me the hilt.

You see this knife? This is the knife my father used this very

same knife to kill his ungrateful brat of a daughter, as did the many a brethren of mine.” I can feel my face swelling up, and

the warm sticky blood trickling out of the cut on my stomach.

“I guess you could say it's a, type of family heirloom.” He

chuckled, and he rotates the knife. The hilt was a deep red colour, and where the hilt met the blade, a small black

diamond sparkled majestically and the hilt its self was a deep red, almost the colour of blood.

He wipes the blade in his dirty and torn jacket, still smiling

sadistically. I buck up my hips, trying to throw him off me,

but all he does is laugh. I buck up again, trying desperately to dislodge my father, but it didn't work. He was a grown man.

He had strength and I had none. He presses the cold blade

against my throat, and I dare not gulp or breathe. “And I know what you are thinking, “he wouldn't kill me, I'm his daughter””

He says in an over-the-top girly voice. “But Carrie, I would kill you, without a second thought.” He lifts the knife off my

throat and relief washes over me. “But, I thought I'd give you a fighting chance.” I narrow my eyes. “I am going to slowly try and slit your throat, and you’re gonna try and fail to stop me.”

He knows he will overpower me, and I know it too, and

he also knows I will struggle to stop him, but give in, like I have done for years. But he was wrong. I bring my

hands up to his wrist and I try to push the knife away, but it continues to get closer and closer. He leans

forward, putting more force into his push, not easing up. I let the knife come closer and closer. The sharp cold blade was mere centimetres away.

I use his own momentum against him, and I jerk the knife to the right of my head, and I twist my hips at the same

time, sending him sprawling to my right, a surprised yell escaping his lips. And I didn't miss a heartbeat. I

scrambled up and I sent a kick lashing into his ribs,

using all my strength. He gasped a little and rolled. I

kicked out violently at his head, but he caught my foot

and tugged hard, and I fell again, but I didn't stay down.

He rose slowly, as did I, heavy breathing from both of us filling up the sudden silence.

I notice something on his hip, dangling and swaying with his every move. It was a holster. A holster holding a

revolver. He sees me staring at it and he smirks. “My

new little toy� He growls slightly and reaches for it and takes it out of the scratched black scabbard that

housed it. I freeze on the spot, a new type of fear

paralysing me, like a deer caught in the head lights.

He twirls it on his finger, still smirking. I didn't know if it was loaded or not, and I didn't know if he was going to

use it against me, but the main question on my mind was, would I have to use it against him? He throws it up into the air and catches it.

The gang exchange a look with each other, the tension in the air was thick. My father stopped spinning the

gun, and what happen next was a blur to me. He had

launched himself forward 10 ft., the gun in hand and he

had it pressed against my forehead before I could even think. I act calm, but my mind and body were screaming at me. “Are you really going to use that and kill me?

Using a toy to kill a little girl? That just goes to show that you’re weak, letting a bullet kill for you.” I laugh, hoping I don't sound

nervous. He narrows his eyes at me. “You're right, breakin' your

neck with me bare 'and would be like snapping a twig” I waited till

his grip loosened on the revolver, but his knuckles were still white with the strength he was holding onto it with.

“Ah yes, but you’re thinking about it, you don't know if you should shoot me right here right now, alerting the whole of

London, or if you should snap my neck silently, giving you time to run.” Confusion dominated his face, and I knew exactly what he was thinking, “Why is she telling me what the best way to kill her is?”

The gun never wavered, but his grip did loosen slightly. I lick my

lips, and wait for the right opportunity. He steps back a little, the

gun finally wavering, but still at the level of my head. He continues to think, sweat beaded on his forehead. His grip loosened

further, and I saw my chance. I grabbed the wrist he was holding

the gun with and I yanked and twisted it, and ugly crack sounded out. And then, the revolver dropped to the ground, my father

screaming curses and abuse at me. I kick the gun away from me,

adrenaline humming through my veins. I turned my head to look at him to find her already is staring at me. He's surprised to say the least. I glance at the gun a few feet away from us.

And then, we both lunged forth, reaching for the gun. I got my

hand at it, and I held onto it for dear life. We rolled on the ground, struggling and clawing and growling. He got his hand on it and he pulled. I placed both my feet on his stomach, making sure I had a good grip with both hands on the gun, and I forced my feet into his soft stomach. He gagged and let go of the revolver. I rolled away from him and I stood quickly, the gun feeling heavy in my hands.

He rose slowly, one hand held close to his chest, his eyes wild and

furious. The small leather scabbard that usually held the knife was empty. I frowned, and suddenly, my movements became slow and clumsy, my blood loss affecting me. I was going to bleed out. I knew I was. But I still had some strength, and I knew I couldn't

show my weakness. What happened next, it was in slow motion.

My father roared, and sprung at me, and he raised the knife above his head, he was about to slash down, and end my life with a single slash. My mind was clouded over with fear, I did it out of self-

defence I swear I'm not a murder! But I screamed, and raised the gun, and then, I pulled the trigger. Twice. And he stopped mid charge, two bullets his shoulder.

The knife fell from his hand, and clattered loudly.

He eyes were wide with shock, his mouth formed a

surprised 'o'. The blood gushed out of his wounds and he dropped to his knees. The gang were

screaming and yelling, surrounding their boss.

My father fell onto his back, and with his last few breaths, called out, “I guess you're just like me Carrie, a murderer...” And with that, his heart

stopped beating, his body now just a soulless shell of a man who lived to kill. Me?

I just stood there, my body numb. I dropped the

gun, a new type of sadness filling me up from the gut. I blinked my eyes, trying to fathom what had

just happened. “He had strength and I had none...

And yet we both reached for the gun...” Those

words were in my ears, drowning out the anguished cries of the gang. I cried out at the pain of the cut and the crime I just committed, and drop to my

knees, crying loudly. One of the gang members

whirled, and pointed a finger at me, “You killed him, our boss, and a crime that cannot go unpunished.”

I rose from my knees, as the all turned to me. “H-he was t-trying to kill me!” I sobbed loudly. “I didn't want t-to kill h-him! I-I did I-it out of s-” I didn't get to finish as they walked to me slowly, revenge

burning bright in their eyes. I turned on my heel and ran out of the ally onto the street, people sticking their heads out of windows to see what the big up roar was about.

I sprinted down the street, but I knew I couldn't escape them.

Their feet thundering on the pavement after me. There was only one escape from them, and from the guilt. I didn't want to do it,

but it was the only choice I had. A few blocks ahead of me, was the river Thames. It was my only hope. I continued to sprint, my arms

and legs pumping, my dress ripped and covered in dirt and blood.

One of the guys attempted to snag my arm and stop me, but I

swung out wildly, hitting something soft. I can see it, the railing is in my sights.

Suicide was always a cold thought in my mind, but now it seems

welcoming and warm, the only answer, the only option. I can hear

the gang stop dead in their tracks, as I run up to the barrier. I look over the edge, and the river is rushing forcefully. I look at the men that had served my father, and they were an arm’s reach away

from me. I took a deep breath, and I raised a leg, and stood with

unnatural grace on the barrier. The wind was still whipping, cutting at my eyes and skin, my eyes watering. They didn't try to stop me.

They just watched. I looked up at the moon one last time, and took a deep breath. And then- I jumped-

I was falling, nothingness surrounding me, wind

whistling in my ears. I twisted so I could look up at the sky, the moon and stars were the last

thing I saw of that life. I was overwhelmed with

the coldness that followed when I hit the water.

And that was the last feeling I felt, before I

drifted off, down into the deep cold dark pits of death.

A Horrible Day

By Diarmuid Smith I strolled down the cobbled streets of Grafton Street. Stars

shining like fireballs in the sky and the moon shone down on the

shoppers and partiers below. I was walking alone depressed and lonely with the gloomy thought of homelessness in my mind. I

turned into a dark alley to find a place to sleep I scavenged the area asking nearby street people if you mind lending me

cardboard box for the night but many refused either because they were selfish or did have any place for me to stay. As I

hobbled with no hope of a safe abode to sleep in for the night came upon a group of people under a bridge sleeping under

tattered torn pieces of cloth and cardboard boxes and some even

just sleeping in the open. A man sleeping at the front of the bridge asked ‘What did I want?’ I said I needed a bed or something he

through a crumpled and torn ridden box to sleep in he then told me to go over to the corner so I won’t wake any up

The next morning I was woken suddenly from my sleepless night by a creepy looking man hooded and cloaked with a slightly tanned face he had scars and was wearing shoes

with the soles hanging by a thread. He said “If you want to survive you need to make a bit of cha-ching Yah Get Me! I replied “Yes”. He said he had some business. We walked

down to an old abandoned house. We stepped inside the derelict house and climbed the creaky stairs to a long

hallway. We walked down the cracked and broken wood.

We came to a door and stepped inside the dark room,

there was a mob of sinister looking men they were wearing leather jackets and big workmen boots and man with a

mask, gloves and a suitcase. I soon realised I was in a bit of bother.

A man walked over to me and handed me a 44 calibre Magnum

Pistol this gun had a nozzle longer than an average pencil its big chunky nozzle and heavy frame made it look like quite a scary

sight, the man said had to watch the door for any intruders this

was a very scary thought as the thought of murdering someone never entered my head but this was a deal of some sort and I

wasn’t going to act like a woman in front of all them. They were dealing a white substance which I assumed was Cocaine but

AK47’s where being sold and where taken from a crate with the words ‘Property of the Royal marines’.

I stood at the door for 15 Minutes which felt like an hour then out

of the blue BANG! I panicked people where running all around the place a man grabbed me told me to run for my life and try my best to get back to the bridge. My legs seemed to carry me without my brain commanding them I ran and ran I felt like a jetliner powering through the sky at full speed. Gunshots rang in the air and a few

hitting the hard and dry ground here and there. Suddenly a black van pulled up over the orange horizon the man who had

befriended me ordered me to get into the van if I don’t want the enemies to shoot us till we can handle it anymore.

As we roared down the dirt track thousands of

questions went racing through my head. I then asked what happened back there and the man replied “My name is Jim that was one of the South Dublin Drug

Gangs, we had a dealing with them we were going to supply them with cocaine and we were going to get guns and mercenary in return but this wasn’t going

down very well in the end we couldn’t decide on the quantities of each item in the trade so our deal fell apart from there”

I suddenly had horrific thoughts of Drugs, alcohol

and Death. What am I going to do? How am I going to

fix this? Then suddenly CRASH! I was flung out of my seat and my seat belt separating itself from the seat

like a cheap piece of metal. My head pounded against the other seats and the cold hard steel of the walls of the car. My surroundings looked hazy and colourless and in a split second I was outside the van and lying on the barren road and then black I was out cold.

I woke up suddenly with aching bones and blood oozing and

flowing from cuts and scars. My sight came back and a tall hooded figure was dragging me across the cold hard road which felt like chunks of ice to my back. I was thrown violently into a van back seat and the hooded man showing no mercy for my cuts and

bruises. The car slowly rumbled down the road. We seemed to be

heading for the outskirts of the city. We pulled up in an apartment bock car park and I was too weak to get out I was again forcefully

dragged out and pulled up cracked and hard stairs to a steel door at the top level of the apartment block.

I was shoved in the door and told the boss would like to see me.

Jim came from a back room and said "Hello John how are you, oh

you must be very sore. But you see I DONT CARE! I should have never let you join our gang. All you do is mess up everything I

could have been the richest ring leader in Ireland but now it’s your time to go!

So I am letting you go but you have seen too much I have to deal with you. I was dragged out of the apartment to the edge of the stairs. Jim came out and pulled a gun and he said "Thanks for all the help, but Goodnight" Bang the gunshot rang in the air I reacted quickly

breaking free from the guards and shooting to my left but it was too late the bullet caught my upper right

shoulder I lost my balance and fell down the crumbling stairs. I walloped my head of the hard steps and I was gone.

I woke up in a passenger seat but I was too weak to

move my already broken body and I had seen the driver and then he jolted his car to the right of the road and I

was fired like a cannon ball out the window and on to the cold cobbled streets of Dublin I then knew that I was in Grafton Streets the start of this crazy journey.

I woke up in a white room with cyan blue sheets all around me with a lot of weird looking technology hooked up to me on either sides but then I

thought how was I going to pay for the fees then

the cyan blue curtain was drawn and a figure who was a very well-known to me walked in he was my brother.

My brother told me that I was shot and that the wound was healing very well he said he paid for

the medical bills and he said we were getting out tomorrow and he said he had planned a plot of revenge. The next day came and I was in my

brothers apartment he said that the police where going to come over and follow us into the place

where the gang are. I heard sirens in the distance

and the time had come a Garda car pulled up and

was coming up the stairs a few minutes later there was a ring at the door I opened it and the police said "Ready" and I replied “ready as I’ll ever be".

We walked down to our car and drove through the misty morning fog to the outskirts of the city. I guided the

police the apartment block and we climbed the derelict

stairs one last time. Two Officers were situated each side

of the door while I lured Jim out. I yelled "Come on Jim we got to finish this" Jim opened the door and walked out then Jim was stunned to the ground. The police said

thank you for helping us find this drug lord and they dropped all pending charges against me.

As in drove home with my brother in his leather heated

car I thought of this amazing journey I have had over the last few days and this thought me a valuable life lesson I

wouldn’t call this a horrible day but a life lesson to all the people out there to never get involved in a thug life but

my life of crime has ended but I have many enemies and there are many left to be silenced..........

To be continued........

The End

A Horrible Day

By Niamh Smith As I dragged myself through the gust of wind that pushed me further back with every step I made. Looking around me, mist

blocked my vision but I could still hear the usual groans from the

zombie like students whom struggled much the same as me. A smell lingered the air, trying to obtain it, it seemed to get stronger and stronger as the rain bounced of my cold face, fogging up my

glasses. I tried to figure out what it was, but my face got wetter

and I wiped it off with my school jumper, realising that my uniform was the reason the air smelled unusually dank. I could even taste the air on which tasted like a wet dog.

I came nearer to the school gates feeling glum and sick as I was hungry due to my kitchen being empty. Lately I have been

questioning myself about what I am doing with my life, people look

at me as if I had three eyes and when around me they acted like I’m a dirty old rat.

I know I look scrappy and a mess but it isn’t my fault, what you expect when my father doesn’t care about me, no one does. I

looked up to see Jeff Devan and his ‘possy’ as he describes his friends, they didn’t spot me yet so I delayed myself, I felt sick

once again. All I could hear in my head was the voice of Jeff from

the previous spoken occasions, which didn’t make me any happier.

As I stepped closer and closer, my stomach ghastly flipped, I felt like a pancake being turned over, my heart started to

pound quickly but all of a sudden he shouted over to me “ hey, Tom why don’t ya come over here?”. I ignored him and put my head down and kept walking, “You not talking to me

bonehead?”, he interrogated me making me feel like I was under pressure, I don’t know how to answer him, if I kept walking he would only get madder at me and then the

punishment would be worse but if I answered him he would

think I was being smart so either way it didn’t seem likely I would get of this easy.

I didn’t know what to do, I froze, but suddenly, the gods

seemed to be in my favour as the shrieking bell rang, I scurried as fast as I could, racing through the crowded halls, my heart

pounded, I was literally shaking, I could not go through it once again, “I hate him”, I repeated and repeated, I finally got to my dinted, stale locker. I knew from previous occasions that it

wasn’t the end for one day, but I could do nothing about it, so I carried on my day, the day seemed to becoming longer as I

became impatient and nervous, I want to get out of here now.

Finally the last class was done with and I could escape this

some like prison, the smell of aftershave lurked in the air as I

realised who was approaching, so I rushed home as quick as I could, once I reached my destination I repeated “I wish he

would just die” as a way of getting through the horror of having a bully.

The next day I felt strange, but an optimistic strange, I did my usual retinue but not in the usual way, I felt light and

free, I felt happy and as I came near the front gates of the

school I didn’t see Jeff Devan and his gang in sight. I walked through the hallways with caution expecting them to

surprise me but they never appeared, but whispering seemed to fill the room.

It felt wrong ease drooping but it was the only way I’d find out what had happened, and the next thing I heard was a

fire and so on to finding out that all of the Devan family was killed due to the fire. I felt guilt sinking into my skin making me feel sick, but also mad, why should I feel guilty, I didn’t

kill them, the fire did, and for so long I have been bullied by Jeff Devan, I should feel happy, but I wasn’t.

Few days past rather slowly and today was the funeral, I got dressed in my Sunday best, grooming myself to the best I could, it made me wonder was I the reason they

died, I wished for him to die and it came true, I felt it was my fault, like I was the killer of them all, I would take

back that wish any day but that could never happen, so I will just have to move on. Apparently you never really

get over this sort of thing, it sticks in your mind forever,

but it does get easier, I don’t want it to get easier, I want it to go away. I stepped outside my front door to see a parade of people strolling down towards the nearby

church, glancing around at the mourning relative’s faces as tears flowed down their face, feeling guilt pass

through like the wind passing through the night sky.

When we came to the church everyone took their seats,

the mass seemed to get even harder, once the mass was finished we headed outside to bury the family, all six people, thoughts swirled through my head, like who started the fire? The mass was finally done with, I

thought that would be it, as I strolled home I thought

more and more and I soon realised that this was in fact

never going to go away as guilt feels like a frozen knife, stabbing you slowly, not knowing how to be set free.

But I know I will learn to live with this, I will always have to deal with it.

A Horrible Day

By John Tayag Mom called me as I sat comfortably at the perfectly set table

surrounded with the continuous conversation of my siblings and before me was roasted turkey along with apple tart and a half filled glass of lemonade waiting to be devoured. It was an

admirable, ebullient day and I was thrilled for the day. Then my

mom suggested on going to a forest. I knew where the place wasmy friends keep talking that it is a fascinating place to visit- and then my two brothers grabbed my hand with joy jumping and saying "hooray".

Afterwards I got dressed into my gear, baggy trousers, a t-shirt that suited the hot condition and torn leather shoes. "Joe, dear we will be waiting in the car, don’t forget to lock the door"

bellowed my mom. I trudged down the old brick path down to the

car, the clear blue sky beaming down. I glanced at my right and yes as I knew the smell of the dry, distinctive cut grass, our neighbour Mary was lawn mowing her front garden with her usual bright

happy face .The grinding noise of the machine made it hard for me to listen to my dad calling "hurry up" but it was no problem. We live in Nixon Street inhabited by kind and helpful neighbours and people. There is only five in my family: me, my annoying little brothers and my mam and dad.

Both my parents get along well with each other and so we never have major problems .As the car trundled down the road people and nearby children shrieked and laughed

and the smell of barbeques wafted through the wide open

windows of the car. My parents and brothers chanted and hummed as time passed .My eyes glistened in the dim light and my short curly hair flicked with the breeze.

Eventually we reached our destination and the sound of the engine faded. I hopped out of the car with a thud in the

ground. The immense forest was bursting with life and dense tall trees majestically rose high in the air and the sound of leaves rustling was to be heard. An old rusty

gate was in front of us and the orangey dead grass and leaves were noticed to be stepped and squashed. We

approached inside the forest, glanced at my optimistic pair of brothers and they explored nearby views and places of interest with the keen sight of my protective mother. We

walked across short bridges to calm streams. I met and saw

different people, we jogged and ran because the forest was big and we even did a small treasure hunt that was quite

difficult because you had to find clues all around the forest.

The trees were so high it covered the whole forest like an umbrella.

The time came when my legs started aching with pain that I could not run anymore distance and we all decided to go to a place to have a break. We approached an open big field crowded with

people there and here playing and running. I even saw old people doing their runs with shorts tucked beneath their shirt. We sat under an oak tree and we watched and stared. Of course my

brothers were not tired so they played. Then I needed to go to the toilet and my dad told me it was just right through the forest to the left. He said you couldn’t miss it. I got up from the soft ground

and I headed towards the forest. The sounds of everybody faded as I got further and further. But the when I was running while

looking back I felt over what I thought was a branch. My body felt dead because it was a hard thump on the ground. I got up slowly and sluggishly, stroked my face for there was dirt from the

ground. The thought came instantly to me of what did I fall on. I spotted the tiny of what it looked like was a tiny hill. Then

suddenly there was a raggy old shirt just able to be seen. Shivers of fear went down my spine and my mouth was tight shut like a

lock. I bent over while still staring at the horrific view and I revealed the dead body. The veins were clear, the skin was so dry, and

eyes were wide open with the mouth shut. In the abrupt moment he grabbed my wrist, his eyes even growing wider and he wasn't

stopping. Without thinking I tried to resist, with my hardest pull I got away. Sprinting with fear and anxiety I raced it back to the

field. I saw my family, tears trickled down my eyes and I threw at

them. They asked me what happened and I told them everything. I will never forget that day.

The Charitt’s Long Journey

By John Wright Zero Dragonfire awakened to a shocking echo of his name that

rung in his dark hollow cave and his ears. He strutted towards the cave entrance until he was stopped by a forceful rush of air that made his tempestuous red hair run wild. He thought about his

belongings blowing away, so he looked back and realised he only

had a bed, he was only 17, so he couldn’t get a job, that and there weren’t much jobs that would accept him when he was older. He needed more money to buy more clothes as well, he was bare

footed, his black trousers were tattered up to his knees and his

baggy red top had singed holes everywhere in it. His mouth was parched and he knew exactly why.

He came from a long line of fire wielders, he could create fire,

control fire and eat fire, which had given him the dry disgusting taste in his mouth. As he reached the entrance of the cave he

thought about how much fire tasted like dirt. When he expected to feel a warm sunshine at the cave entrance, he felt a breeze of cold

air like ice. For what he saw was a dark shady heinous man looming over him. “So this is the famous Charitt that I have heard of,” the dark man said with his voice booming and crackling like thunder.

Zero studied the man further, he wore long black robes, he wore a tall black pointy hat and he held a withered staff that held a diamond, in his hand.

“I’m not the Charitt you’re looking for,” roared Zero, blood rushing through his veins, “So you say you are not be Zero

Dragonfire,” said the man grinning wildly. Zero had had enough with the man, he was short tempered and impatient. Orange

flames shot up his arm, shaping it into a fiery dragon arm with

deadly claws. The man’s expression changed to anger, he raised his staff and thunder struck it. The force was so much it blew Zero’s fiery arm out. “My name is Hadagus and you see, the

reason I am looking for you is because I sense something strange

in the air, a force from the dead has arisen and I fear that I will not be able to stop this force by myself, that is where you come in,

you must help me save this world,” stammered Hadagus with anger in his eyes, “Okaaaay,” said Zero with uncertainty in his voice.

“I’ll help, but before you do anything else, tell me what this

mysterious force is.” “All I know is that this force is one person unfortunately I do not know who he or she is called,” replied

Hadagus. Zero stared back into his hollow cave, it was dark, deep and the floor and ceiling were scattered with stalagmites and

stalactites, he turned to face Hadagus and said solemnly, “All

right, I’ll help you, it’s not like I’ve got much to do,” Zero clapped his hands together making the birds in the trees fly like hawks, “So, where do we need to go?”

Zero could no longer handle the stiff piercing pain

going up his legs, he had trudged through slimy bogs

that attempted to devour him twice, he had discarded

his top because Hadagus had used it as a handkerchief and all for what, and he had been brought to the wrong place. That was when he regretted crying out furiously at Hadagus, that was when the large impish eight-

legged spiders came, Zero saw eight of them which

increased his arachnaphobic fear to a rate where his

head felt like bursting, the leading one had red tattoos.

He guessed it was the leader, and then, he started

sprinting the vast open green lands with jagged rocks

here and there, but suddenly he stopped and looked behind, he saw the limp body of Hadagus wrapped in spider webs and being dragged into a huge dark

retched forest. The trees of the retched forest were

covered in silky cobwebs an standing as sentinels, the branches of the trees were like long deadly swords,

blood-thirsty to kill, then he tripped over a branch and fell into a dark black pit, hitting his head on a ledge on

the way down. He hit a ledge on the way down and then the light grew smaller and smaller.

That was when the flashback began, he was dressed in a red scaly dragon costume, people were gathered round holding hands

except they were wearing casual clothes, they were all dancing

happily around a fire in a circle, the fire was blazing but no one

was affected by the heat because they were all Charitts from his

childhood village. They were celebrating Zero for becoming a fire

wielder, he looked to his right and saw her, his beautiful sister who had hair as fair as gold, eyes that sparkled like emeralds and a face as pure as snow.

Her long hazel hair was braided with fire flowers, her dress was

made with flashy diamond silk but Zero heard a creaking sound

behind him, he turned around and saw a big red scaly fiery dragon burst out of the ground setting everything ablaze.

Zero stared into the cold dark eyes of the dragon that looked like the hole he fell into, and then he

woke up in silky cobwebs. He tried to wiggle out of

them but they were too strong, the rattling noise of spiders echoed through the cave he had been

brought to, they were coming closer by the second, he shut his eyes and pretended that he was still

unconscious. As soon as the spiders passed, he

busted into flames, the cobwebs dissolved like snow in the summer, then he put himself out, he felt like a

fish out of the frying pan, the cave was not too dark to see but he could only see a few yards away, he saw large uneven stalactites and stalagmites

surrounding the cave and at the back of the cave, leaning against the wall was Hadagus wrapped in cobwebs.

Zero sneaked slowly towards Hadagus, as soon as he got to

Hadagus he tapped him on the shoulder and said “Hadagus, wake up.” Hadaghus burst out of the silky cobwebs keeping him under

lock and key like an animal in a cage and started venturing through the long twisty tunnels and shouted behind him, “Follow me Zero, I know a way out of here.” Zero had almost lost Hadagus a couple of times, he never knew how fast an old man could run but he couldn’t help it with the sulphur stench that roamed the air.

The tunnel got brighter and brighter as they moved forward, they finally reached an opening after what seemed like hours, and the

opening was a big hollow dome and on the floor was a huge pit of

lava. He looked towards Hadagus and saw blisters rise all over his skin but Hadagus seemed to be gazing up at the ceiling of the

dome, he looked towards where Hadagus was looking and then he saw her. His knees began to buckle under his weight, he was

falling backwards and losing consciousness by the second, then, everything went black.

The dragon arose from the lava pit beneath the ground, it set fire to the heart-warming houses the head Charitts had built, no Charitts was affected by the fire but the ground beneath everyone was breaking away, falling into the pit. Zero

scanned the vast open land crumbling into the lava pit, he also saw many people fall into the lava pit, he turned and grabbed

his sister’s hand so tight he set his own hand on fire but it was too late, she started to weigh like an anvil, her hand slipped

out of his like greasy butter, she was falling into the lava pit, her dress sparkled as she fell but Zero knew she wouldn’t

survive because the Charitts of the town told legends about

this lava pit, they said that no Charitts could survive it, so he watched as his sister and all the other burn to death. The

ground surrounding him did not seem to crumble, the dragon had returned to his lava pit of hell, so Zero stood warily on

two feet and turned around, walking away from the massacre, each step he took felt heavier than the last, his guilt

increasing the further he travelled. He had always felt warm

where ever he went but now he felt cold, so he made a solemn vow that he would never return to this now annihilated place.

The wind roared around Zero and a piece of diamond silk

struck him, he grabbed it before it blew away and gazed at it for a minute or two, then he put it into his pocket and continued strutting onwards.

Zero busted out of his flashback, sweat embedding his face, “So you’re finally awake,” said the girl, glaring at him like he

was no more than a mere peasant. “You should be dead Erza,” said Zero trembling in fear, “I saw you die that day with

everyone else.” “I never died Zero, the dragon decided to use my body as its host, letting me survive the lava,” chided Erza.

Zero studied her, she wore a black skirt, a purple top with

black sleeves, she was barefooted and her hair was on fire, except the fire was black.

She turned to Hadagus, “You have served me well Hadagus but I no longer need you,” Hadagus’ pale eyes widened in shock, “But you said I would stand beside you while we

conquered the world,” “Ye s I did say that, but, I lied,” said

Erza with no feeling in her voice, and, with a flick of her arm, the ground beneath Hadagus crumbled and he fell into the lava pit, with it singing his skin until it was flesh and bone.

Zero was showered in fear, but he knew what had to be done, fire covered his body, he jumped with

amazing agility like a kangaroo, he mustered all his

strength into one blow and hit Erza. Her limp body

was thrown into the cave wall, she was consumed by smoke, when Zero landed she reappeared, there

was no damaged inflicted on her at all, “Is that the best you can do?” she said, “Then I guess it’s my

turn.” Erza’s body was consumed by black flames and then a huge black heinous dragon emerged from the lava pit.

Zero had no idea how he would be able to defeat the dragon but he started by punching it

repeatedly. His tactics where not working so he jumped to the cave ceiling and punched it, the

ceiling began to crumble and in no longer than a

minute the dragon was engulfed by the wreckage.

The pain in his body was going to be nothing compared to the pain he would feeling a few

moments, he turned to Erza and saw she was

holding a circular mound of flesh, he was about to

say where did she get it but he couldn’t, he looked down to his chest and noticed a big hole in it.

He wanted to scream out in agony but he couldn’t, his lungs were

in the hands of Erza, the pain was too much to bare, it couldn’t be described but he felt like he was missing something, he started to

fall into the lava pit but everything went slow, he started to see all the happy moments he shared with his sister, when they all

stopped, he saw a smirk on Erza’s face, he knew she would

destroy everything but there was nothing he could do about it and as the lava pit engulfed him, his blood sizzled and mixed with the lava, the heat was like nothing he ever felt before, he could feel

the sizzling pain throbbing through his bones, his eyes rolled back into his head and he pictured one thing, his sister.

A Horrible Day

By Shauna McElwaine McKiernan I pulled my jacket close, and shivers were rippling

through my body as the unnervingly still forest held

its breath, and only the odd screech of an owl broke the silence. I looked around my surrounding and

could smell the fresh cut green grass. I could make out the shape of an owl fluttering its wings. I could

almost taste the smell of the fresh cut green grass.

Dad suddenly pulled up in his old banger of a car,

he was drunk as per usual. I hopped in to his car and could instantly smell the alcohol from his breath. I

slammed the door closed and then his hoarse voice

started shouting and muttering at me. As soon as we got home he dragged me out of the car and sent me to bed. I pulled the rough duvet over my body and slowly drifted to sleep.

Right when I woke up the next morning I felt like it was going to be a bad day. I fell out of the4 bed and hit me right eye of the

bedside table man it hurt! When I got off the floor the big old dictionary fell of the shelf and hit my head. I started to cry.

My eighteen year old brother came in and tried to calm me down. It didn’t work. My father came in and spanked me. I cried for a while and then my father came in and told me to shut up and get ready for school. So, I went to my closet and was going to get my

favourite green sweater. When I saw it wasn’t in my closet, I ran to my mother and asked her where it was and she said she threw it

out because I barely ever wore it. I went into my room and picked a black sweater, it matched my mood. Then I put it on and noticed it had holes in it.

When I went into the kitchen to have breakfast I slipped on some spilt milk. My mom yelled at me for running in the kitchen even

though I didn’t. When I saw that my siblings all got a toy in their

cereals, I was hoping too much. I poured my cereal in the bowl and saw that I didn’t get a toy, and then I put my whole hand into the cereal and didn’t even feel anything, just crunchy Rice Krispies.

Man I was mad! I always wondered why my parents were always

giving out to all of us and as I grew older I figured out, we all drove our dad to go on the drink in the first place.

Images would always come into my head of him giving

out to me and I just used to either slam the door in his

face or walked away from him, but even if I did that he

would come and grab me and start roaring in my face. I always retorted my mother and always shut her out of my life. I finished my breakfast and headed to the bus

stop. When I got on the school bus, Josh pushed me off and I landed in a puddle of dank mud. Then the bus left

me there and I had to run to school. I was soaked and all dirty, my clothes were sticking to me and I was

destroyed. I was so late for school and I was so mad! I told my teacher why I was late and she thought I was lying so I had to go to the corner during recess.

The day just seemed to get worse and worse. At math I got fourth problems wrong so I had to take it home for my parents to sign. I knew I would get punished for it too. At lunch I forgot my lunch so I had to eat the

school lunch. We had broccoli, soup, peas, spinach and a soggy lemon bar.

After I ate, at recess my friends wouldn’t let me

hang around with them. I felt hurt. After school my

mom didn’t pick me up so I had to walk all the way to her office what was about 12 blocks away. When I

got there mom said to me ‘oh sorry I forgot about

you’. You can stay here with me in my office. After a while my brother came in and said that he was too busy and couldn’t take me home. I started to

protest to him but he just laughed and walked out of the building.

I had to stay there until mom had finished whatever she does in her office and I’d just sit there doing nothing literally absolutely nothing! When I came

home I felt horrible because I have to stay at mom’s office on Saturdays all day because my brother

refuses to look after me. I walked in the front door

and dad told mom to get in the kitchen, he grabbed me and started roaring in my face for no reason at

all. My mind went blank and I could smell the alcohol from his breath and I could feel his cold hard

against my neck choking me. I could hear the pt. in the background over lapping his horrible hoarse

voice. He told me I was impish and dishevelled. He would always make me feel so worthless………

A Horrible Day

By Amy Cave

The alarm clock woke me up one day. Because I was going to the beach. I was so excited because I hadn’t been in ages. I got

dressed real fast. I was wearing my pink shorts and my with vest top and my brown flip flops. I pulled back my curtains and the sunshine shined in at me. Then I raced down the stairs like an

elephant. I hurry my breakfast so fast I got the pink cups to go to the beach. My mam and dad will be taking me to the beach to day

my mam will be driving and my dad is going to be the back sit driver [Journey to the beach] I jumped in the car so quick. I knew

something was wrong when my mam kept and turning the key.

When they my mam and dad keep and turning in the in the car.

There a problem we had all our phones but no signal no nothing.

Hours passed by and we were still sitting there the mood in the car was not great.

Mam and dad were both arguing and both blaming each other. We were all in bad temper mood. I starting feeling breathless I started

searching for my inhaler but I couldn’t find it. So I asked Mam and Dad did they see it and they said no because they thought I

brought it. My own inhaler. I finally found it in my pocket. Then

next of all I heard owls and dogs and I jumped and it scared the life out of me. It wasn’t the first time I heard them and it probably

wouldn’t be the last. The next of all we finally got the car started and we went home.

My Story

By Michael McDonald As I walked slowly exhausted home the sun got hotter and hotter I felt like I was going to melt like an ice-cream. The skin on my back felt like it was sizzling and I began to smell like I was being cooked

like a sausage. It was a very long way home it was so hot I began to

see hallucinations I thought I saw a giant ice-cream but it was really a pole.

I began to turn around and go home but when I got home I began

to faint. Mom saw me unconscious. She rang the hospital. Soon an ambulance came. Mom took me to the hospital.

After a while I woke up in the hospital with mom next to me. Mom told me why I was in the hospital and how long I would be in the hospital. I be in the hospital for 6 weeks. Mom couldn’t sleep because she was worrying about me. On the day of the

appointment the doctor told me that I was hot because I had a bit of a fever but I was all better.

As mom got the good news she took me home and took care of me from that day

A Horrible Day

By Katie O Connor 1W Peter was slowly walking home from a desperate day at school, his bag as heavy as his heart.

Flashes of the day flashed before his imagination, the malevolent and derogatory things said to him at break, that he was useless and good for

nothing, and how he was tripped in the corridor.

Peter was dreading going home and opening his laptop to see what other heinous things where being said about him. Peter stumbled into his

house, as his knee was painful from that day, he pulled himself upstairs.

He walked into his room and threw his schoolbag into a corner, then he threw himself onto his bed and he started thinking about his scathing

classmates. No later did he start thinking about

the impish things said to him, did his phone beep.

He had a message.

It was from Henry, one of Peters tormentors. Peter sat up in

his bed, he didn’t know if he should open it or not. He knew that it would greatly offend or deeply hurt him, but if he doesn’t open it it’ll always be there. Peter looked at his phone. He felt scared and he felt as if he was about to

vomit. Words started swirling around his head, words like – unequal, dirty, stinky, and so on. He decided to leave the message.

Peter went to his desk and started his homework. After a few minutes Peter was called down to have dinner, he left

his phone in his room in case it started beeping. Peter never

old his parents about what his classmates were doing to him because he didn’t want to be seen as a cry baby. Once he finished his dinner he went back upstairs to finish his

homework. He began writing a history essay, his phone was beside him so he decided to look at it. He switched on his

phone only to see that he had a hundred messages from a number of his aggressors.

He put his phone back down and continued his work.

Once he finished his homework he went to his

bedside locker and got his night wear out. He got

changed and go into bed. He looked at his phone,

Peter wanted to look at the messages but he wasn’t

sure. He decided to read one of them, so he held his breath and opened it. It read “Well fag, look out

tomorrow I hear some of the older kids are coming to teach you a lesson!!!” After reading this peter felt

terrified, he wanted to find out who the older kids

were so he could avoid them, so he started reading the other messages.

Peter barely slept a wink that night, he was worried

about what they might do to him and what excuse he would have for what injuries they would give him, he might tell the teacher he tripped and fell. The next morning Peter got up early to have a shower. He looked at himself in the mirror and he felt as if

everything that people were saying to him was true.

He looked down at the sink and saw his dad’s razor,

he picked it up and took one of the blades out of it.

Peter then held out his arm, he looked at himself in the mirror and

started crying. Then he looked down at the blade, then he slit his arm with the razor. The blood started pouring out of the cut and down the sink. Peter done this to himself another two times, he

stopped as he heard his mother getting up. Peter quickly ran back to his bed, his mother Emma came into the room to awaking Peter.

“Mum I don’t feel well” Peter mumbled. “Are you sure?” Emma

asked. Peter nodded so his mother decided to leave him be. Peter didn’t get out of bed until twelve o’clock and when he did get up he went down stairs and watched television. His mother knew

something was wrong but Peter wouldn’t tell her so Emma assumed that it was nothing.

The next morning Peter got up and went to school, it had snowed

the night before so Peter had to leave the house early. On his way he met Henry, Zoey, Alex and Sophia, these where the first

people to start picking on Peter, they were in a corner just outside the school. As Peter was walking he kept his head down hoping that they would just let him pass, but they didn’t.

They saw peter and started sniggering, Alex strutted over to Peter and threw his arm around his shoulders, Peter decided to keep his down. Alex pulled Peter over to the group of friends.

Henry man handled the bag of Peter’s shoulders and threw it over to Zoey. Zoey and Sophia started searching through the bag

while the boys were elbowing Peter. Peter was pushed and shoved all day. This kind of abuse went on for a few months until Peter decided he had enough and he wanted it all to end.

So that weekend Peter tried to give himself an over dose of a

number of different pills he found in the medical cabinet. Peter fell unconscious on the kitchen floor. His little sister Ruby, who was

only seven, found him unconscious. She screamed and the father ran in. He saw his son on the floor, his eyes opened wide, his

breathing increased and his heart started racing. He immediately dialled 911 for an ambulance, then he called Emma, who was at work. As soon as she heard the news she went straight to the hospital.

Peter was in intensive care. Once his mother saw him she broke out into tears. After a few days peter began to come to. His parents never left his side the whole way through.

When Peter felt a bit better he told his parents about everything.

So Emma called the school and told the principal what had

happened. So the four friends were called to the office and were confronted.

They immediately regretted what they done and

apologised. When peter got better and went back to school, the four friends said that they were sorry.

Peter forgave them but he knew that they could

never be friends. So Peter moved classes to meet new people and he did. As peter got older he

always tried to tell people to not bully. Peter is now

twenty three and is in university studying to become a councillor and help people threw whatever might

be troubling him. So I hope Peter’s story has helped you understand that bullying is not right.

I am sprinting down the streets and I can hear the soft pitter patter of the rain crashing against the

pavement. I can vaguely hear the sound of booming

thunder in the distance. I see the cars racing down the streets on their way to their destination. I can feel my

wet clothes clinging to my body suffocating me, leaving me breathless and cold as I tear through the crowds. I can smell the fumes of cars and see the lingering haze of smoke as they speed down the street. As I tear

through the cluster of people, dark clouds begin to

overshadow me bringing the street to darkness and I feel my soaked polyester trousers and thick woollen jumper clinging to my body itching my skin uncomfortably.

While I walk around the corner of a very popular

coffee shop, finally the bus station comes into sight

and I quickly jog the rest of my way. When I reach the bus I wait patiently as the crowds enter the, in my

opinion, dirty, crowded bus and once on the bus I

retrieve my black leather wallet from my pocket to pay.

When I open the badly kept wallet I glance

over at the old rugged picture of my fiancée Kate and happiness fills me as I think of her

and I can’t help the cheesy grin plastered on my face. However this quickly turns into a

frown as I sneak a peak of the old wrinkled

picture of a boy, and with short brown curly hair and blue eyes, looks exactly like me.

As I stare at this picture I can’t help the

emotion that fills me like anger, regret, guilt,

most importantly pain, so much pain I can feel

it slowly painfully dragging me back to a place I don’t want to be. I feel a lump begin to form in my throat but I quickly swallow it and

hurriedly put my wallet back in my pocket and take a seat.

As I slowly lay my head down on the

back of my seat my eyes flutters close, and I take a deep heavy breath to try

and calm my beating heart which is now

racing and try rid the memories that still

haunt me to this day. Instead it drifts to my beautiful and admirable fiancĂŠe,

with long curly blond hair and painfully blue eyes she is the most beautiful

woman I have ever met. I first met her

when I was studying to be a doctor in college and she was studying to be a

lawyer and a proud smile breaks out on my face as I couldn’t think of a more

stubborn, intelligent person for the job.

Slowly I turn my head and lean my head against the

window, although quickly cringe and remove it as I see

the dirt and filth stained on it. It is times like this when I wish I could drive my own car, you would think after four years I would be able to face my fear and start

driving again but I haven’t driven in four years ....not

since that day, and don’t plan on either despite having to suffer through these filthy and dirty things every

day, like sitting on these old sticky seat, looking out the dirt stained windows, listening to the shouts of men down back.

As I turn my head back around again, out of the

corner of my eye I see an old frail women awkwardly standing on the opposite side of my seat, so I offer mine. At first she declines but eventually smiles

gratefully at me and takes it. I grip the railing and

forcefully swing myself up. As I stand there my mind

drifts to my unexpected call this morning that had me reaching for my clothes and racing out the door.

Apparently there has been a horrific collision

leaving two people already dead and two others

in critical condition. I especially hate these types of accidents as it brings back the tragic

memories, of me lying on ground, something wet and thick trailing down my face as I see my

brothers lifeless body awkwardly lying beside me and the cries of my sisters filling my ears. I

quickly rid the memory and scold myself for

thinking of it but its memories like this that make me better and my job and encourage me, not

that I don’t try my best in any situation but these types of accidents bring me back to how I felt and seeing the families of the patient waiting

outside the door with the same helpless look

that was planted on the faces of members of my

family many years ago....it fuels me, as I how they feel, I know what they are thinking, feeling....I lived through it

Finally the bus comes to a forceful

stop swinging me forward causing me to hit my arm on the railing and

suddenly feel sharp pain shooting up my arm. I bite my lip and quickly get off the bus. Straightaway when my feet hit the pavement and not even

both feet I already hear the sirens of ambulances blaring in my ears. I walk bristly pass the entrance of the

hospital and in the far distance I see a little girl holding her mother’s hand

swaying in her spot twirling a lock of

her hair with her finger as innocent as a lamb.

Seeing this girl breaks my heart as I notice her pale complexion and the

large hospital gown draped over her like a curtain and tears filling in her

mother’s eyes. I quickly avert my gaze before tears fill in my own. As I stroll along the pavement I survey the

premises to behold people in coats

shielding them from winter’s blues and as I tighten my hold on my coat I feel my phone begin to vibrate in my

pocket, I quickly zip open my coat

pocket to get a hold of my phone to see that my mother is calling me and has called me three times already.

Just as I am about to answer my phone my name is called.

“Daniel!” “Oh....uh...hey Tom?” I say

uncertainly, I have only been working here for a short amount of time and don’t yet

know all the names. “Did you hear any more news about the collision?” he says in his

thick American accent. “No unfortunately not I only got the call a half hour ago and

haven’t had word since. “What bout’ you?”.

“All I know is one of the two is just in surgery now and have been in for the last half an hour.” Talking about this causes a weird

feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I quickly shake it off. We hurriedly run the rest of the way, and burst through the rusty old doors and as usual see doctors racing form room to room, the piercing cries of children,

nurses running after their patients whilst pushing the silver steel cart containing

nameless foods, overcooked depleted of odour or taste.

Once again I feel my phone

vibrating, this time I answer it not even bothering to see who it is

although I am met with my mother’s frantic voice. “Daniel where have you been?! I have been calling all

morning. I have been so worried, I

thought the worst.....’ she trails off and mumbles something I can’t hear. “Mom slow down! What’s wrong?!” There was heart-

breaking silence before she

uttered the words that caused my

heart to stop beating. “It’s... Kate” she whispers “There has been an accident”.

Not even two seconds to register the thought I see two familiar faces

rounding the corner as pale as ghosts with eyes weary and red telling me

they have been crying and as their eyes met mine mix of emotions

crosses their face ...despair, shock,

pain, these two familiar faces are the parents of my fiancée, I hear people shouting my name but I can’t move, can’t think, of anything but Kate.

I stand still in my position, everything is blurred, I can vaguely hear people around me calling my name, roughly grabbing my shoulder to try get my attention but the only thing going

through my mind is Kate and before I even talk to her parents... I know just by looking at their tear streaked

faces, as they were once the faces

of my parents, the look of pure fear and vulnerability. As I stand there

and ponder these thought I can feel someone abruptly grab my

shoulder, bringing me back

immediately I run over to Kate’s

parents with Tom and others trailing behind me. I begin throwing my

questions at John Kate’s father as I see her mother Claire sobbing

uncontrollably leaning on the wall.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

I shout. I feel someone lightly grab my shoulders

I turn around to see that it is Tom. “Dan you

need to calm down, there are other patients here too, and you will get your answers soon just

wait...”he whispers. I shake off his hand and turn around and look him straight in the eye and say “No I want answers now!! I whisper shout.

Fortunately one of the nurses comes between us and grabs my arm bringing me over to the corner of the waiting area. “What happened to Kate?” I

try and keep my voice from cracking but it does.

“There was a collision this morning at 7 o’clock between 2 cars, altogether 4 people were

involved with 2 already dead. Kate was just

brought into surgery about a half hour before

you arrived” she says calmly in a monotone voice used to having being the bearer of bad news,

she continues on “I will be honest Kate did get

injured very badly but we have everyone we can helping and she is in great hands.” “I want to go into her, I can help....

I say as I jump of my seat and begin down the

hall. However the nurse quickly grabs my

shoulder and says “No! You’re not going you will be no good to her in this state let the other

doctors help her” As hard as it is hearing her say this I know she is right, I stumble back, and hit against the white brick wall, I slide down and

crumble to the ground with my face in my hands.

As I sit there uncomfortably and look around the hospital my mind is swapped with the familiar

memories of years ago of a doctor walking down the hall wearing his white coat and clipboard in hand and I can tell by looking at his face, with

how he won’t meet my eyes, his head hanging low staring at the ground, I know it’s bad news I know he is gone. Thankfully I am brought back to the

present by hearing a door open then slam shut.

My curiosity is piqued so I look up to see what caused it, to find Claire and John in the small

little room beside me sobbing into each other’s shoulder. Despite the pain and despair filling

me, no tears fall, I can’t even shed a tear for my

probably dying fiancée in the next room. I don’t know how long I sit there waiting, wondering, no one bothers me they know not to I know that I

know that Tom leaves to go and help them. I can faintly hear Claire come out of the room and sit on the chair beside me. Despite knowing she is

sitting there I still jump when she begins to talk.

“She will make it you know” Claire whispers.

“How do you sound so sure? We won’t know until that doctor comes down that hall and tells us

himself.” “I know...but she will make it. She has to.” Claire said quietly, almost like she was

begging...and damn if that didn’t hurt. We sit there for a while, not talking just sitting, probably thinking of Kate.

The room begins to feel extremely small and air around me is stifling me. I grab onto the chair

beside me and hoist myself up and as I get up my knees and legs begin to ache signifying how long I sat there. I trudge out the waiting room door

not saying anything to Claire, and the minute I

open it I am hit with the sweet fresh air. I stand there for a couple of minutes, and breathe. I

stand for what feels like eternity but is probably only a couple of minute. As I stand there I look at my watch to see that it is four o’clock. It’s

been seven hours since I have seen Kate and she has been in surgery for nearly six hours. It’s

funny how you think when you wake up in the morning it will be like a normal day doing the same old thing and all that can change in a

couple of hours. After a while I walk back into the waiting room hoping that there is news on Kate.

The minute I walk into the room I see one of the doctors talking to Claire and John. As I begin to walk over to them I see the look of relief pass over Claires face and I stop and sink

against the wall and listen to what the doctor is

saying. “She is through the worst of it. She had

some internal bleeding but thankfully were able to stop it. Like I said she is through the worst of it, she is sedated now and hopefully

everything will go as planned� he says, I briefly hear john thank him, then walks out the door. I take a breath and finally I can breath, it feels

like a weight has finally being lifted of me and I

feel free. I stumble over to John and Claire and the relief is evident on their faces. I quickly hug the two of them but there is silence, no words

are exchanged, there is no need for them, Kate is going to be fine so there is nothing more to say.

Thirty one hours, forty two minutes, and twenty seconds had passed since I last spoke to Kate.

Thirty one hours, forty two minutes and ten

seconds since I last seen her, Thirty one hours,

forty two minutes since Kate got into her car and drove down that god forsaken road. Each

second, every minute has driven me insane.

Despite the nurses and doctors coming over to me every bleedin’ minute reassuring me, it

doesn’t mean that I am not worried. I was offered some food twenty minutes ago and was going to take until I got a quick look at the tray seeing overcooked food and an unnamed vegetable

with a leftover cup of greyish congealed gravy and say I am alright.

Ever since then my stomach has been rumbling rather loud and it’s quite embarrassing sitting

there in the quiet waiting room only to hear my stomach rumbling every five minutes. “Daniel I think you should go home and get some food and take a shower too. I can stay here.”

Whispers John to me. “There is no point in

staying here waiting, I will ring you immediately if she wakes up.” “No...No its fine you go home I

will stay here” I argue. “Daniel please.....go home

get some rest, some food you need it.” I know he is right so I thank him and slowly get of my seat and walk out of the small stuffy room. Once

outside I stretch and I ache all over probably due to sitting in that chair for the last twenty four

hours. I walk as fast as my aching legs can to get outside to the fresh air. Once outside I take a gulp of fresh air and just stand there and.....Breathe.

I am sitting in my house at the kitchen table, light gleams through the window on to the shiny

marble made worktop. It’s a big house, the kind that most people would dream to live in.

Secluded among trees on one of DC’s most

exclusive streets, it has dormers, a balcony and a screened in front porch with a pool too, the

American dream...my dream..Kate’s dream...our dream. The small TV is on in the corner of the

room but I am too bust thinking of Kate to watch it. The minute I entered the house I walked over

to the old rustic kitchen table and began making something for me to eat. I make chicken

sandwich with tomatoes and lettuce and despite how hungry I am I can’t seem to finish it due to

the nerves filling in my stomach of not being at the hospital with Kate. When I finally stuff the last piece of the sandwich into my already full stomach I make my way down to my bedroom.

As I walked down the hall I pass all the

pictures on the wall, one of Kate and me on the beach, another of us in Florida on our holidays, as I reach the end of the hall I

notice a picture of my family and I on the

beach, my sister lying on the sand beside my mother totally oblivious to us taking the

picture. My father and brother are sitting on one of the chairs leaning back reading a

book. As i look at the picture my mind drifts back to that day, and how happy I was, it

was taken in the summer time at the start of July weeks before the accident. That was the last good day we spent as a family. I stand there for a couple of minutes just

staring at the picture, thinking of my family,

thinking of Kate and how scared I was when talking to my mother on the phone.

Thinking of my mother, it reminds me that I must ring her and tell her about Kate and that she is

going to be okay. Right before I even move I hear the ringing of my phone in my pocket. I quickly

answer it ,hoping it’s to do with Kate. When I see

its Kate’s father I almost feel like jumping up and down with joy, and before John can even begin to say anything I start talking. “hey I am on my

way down now, sorry it took so long, is she ok?

Did the doctor say anything? Does she

remember what happened?” I mumble into the

phone as I am running around the room looking for my coat with my wallet for the bus again

regretting not being able to drive my own car.

However when John doesn’t immediately reply I stop moving, wondering what’s wrong. “John

what’s wrong? Is Kate ok? Tell me she is okay?

I ask panic laced in my voice. Its when I hear

John begin to cry, and I hear someone take the

phone off him and begin talking, I know it’s bad, very bad, I try to walk over to the couch to sit

down but I don’t make it, as I stumble and fall, I

don’t even try to get back up, I just sit there my head in my hands rocking back and forth, I can briefly hear someone talk into the phone, but I

am not fully listened, I pick up the words “It was very unexpected” “brain haemorrhage” “there was nothing they could do to help”. Whilst

hearing this I just keep on whispering Kate’s name over and over again, hoping it’s all a

nightmare and that I will wake up and it will all be over. But I know it’s not. A shudder racked my shoulders and before I knew what was

happening, I was crying those big, breath

stealing sobs, and I just lay there hoping,

praying it’s not real, hoping Kate will burst

through the door home from work ready to start dinner, but she doesn’t and no matter how long I lay here she wont...she never will again.

The sun is shining down on me, there are flowers blossoming all around making it more colourful. I trudge along the graveyard seeing all the

colourful flowers, so it doesn’t look dull. There is silence surrounding me, and its nice...its calming relaxing and it feels great. I have been walking around the graveyard for at least ten minutes before I finally reached my brothers. I have

visited him every day for the last five months and every time I come it still breaks my heart. I read

his headstone “A beloved son and brother who left us tragically and the young age of twenty

three. He will be forever in our hearts and in out prayers.� As I lay the colourful flowers on the grave I glance at the picture my family at the

beach. As I look at the picture my mind drifts

back to that day, and how happy we were, it was taken in the summer at the start of July a couple of weeks before the accident. My mind thinks back to the accident.

My mind thinks back to the accident. It was in the middle of July both my brother and I

were picking my sister up from some party, it was late at night and we had just picked my sister up when it happened, I don’t

know what happened, one minute I was

behind the wheel and the next lying on the side of the road. The doctors said it was very lucky that even my sister and I

survived, but that didn’t help at all, my

brother....he still died. I blamed myself for so many years about what happened, it took ages for me to get over it....and it

wasn’t until two years ago that I realised

that I will never get over it....I just have to live with it.

When I met Kate though she helped, she made me forget. Thinking of Kate makes me want to

curl up in a ball and start crying my eyes out god

knows I have done it enough in the last couple of months. I left my brothers grave and made my

way over to Kate’s. I visit Kate every day too, and just spend hours there talking to her

sometimes just sitting there, it’s like my second

home. It’s been six months since Kate’s funeral

and the amount of flowers and ornaments on her grave overwhelms me. I try and make room for my little picture, I finally find a space in the top left corner. Looking at the picture surprisingly

brings a smile to my face the first genuine smile in a long time. It’s of me and Kate sitting in the park with the sunset in the background and two big

cheesy grins on her face. I remember this day as if it was only yesterday; it was the day I proposed to her.

Kate not being in life is very difficult...I don’t think I will ever get over it. Sometimes I wake

up and wonder it is worth it? Is it worth going through this heart aching pain every single

day for the rest of my life? Sometimes I think of just giving up but then I think of Kate. Of her lying in the bed fighting for her life

thinking she had a chance but she didn’t, the

same with my brother he didn’t have a chance either, didn’t have a choice, and me here,

having a choice and am choosing the wrong one.

So no... I won’t give up, I will

fight every single day for the

rest of my life, fight the pain and the sorrow. One day I will

eventually leave this world, but I

want to leave this world knowing that I did fight and I didn’t give up. There is only one thing I

have to say about life and that

is that it sucks. But you have to remember that you hold the

power in your life and you hold your happiness in your hands

so choose wisely ......and that’s what I am trying to do.

Ms Quinn would like to thank all the contributors to this anthology.

They were a joy to teach.