30/09/2014 Dave Cryer

It was midnight. The room contained three chairs – an armchair, a wooden chair and an office chair with wheels. The carpet was a deep red. The walls were a sickly yellow. There was no other furniture in the room. One door.  No windows. One tractor. One teddy bear. Three letter bricks – A, B and C.

On the floor sat a boy. Eleven years old. Way past his bedtime. He knew that from the clock on the wall. He’d been watching it for five hours. Dad had said he would be back at seven o’clock – not a second later.

“He’ll come soon,” said the teddy bear.

“You’ve been saying that for four hours and fifty-nine minutes.”

“I know.”

“So that’s not soon is it?”

Soon is not a set amount of time, my lad,” said the teddy bear. “Soon could be seconds. Or soon could be weeks. It depends on how long you think ages is.”

“You talk a lot of nonsense sometimes,” said the boy.

“Don’t we all,” said the teddy bear.

“I don’t,” said the tractor. “ I always talk sense. I’m intractable.”


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Comment by Adam Lancaster on September 30, 2014 at 10:03

Even the blocks on the floor wanted in on the act. Although it was hard to convey their real meaning they rearranged themselves to say BAC. He was hoping that this meant they were on his side and that they too thought it was OK to wait for his father to be back.

'Thank you' he said to them and the C dropped to its side to show a smile. The teddy however had not been amused by this and had gave the block a gentle kick so that it's smile was now no more than a frown.

'You see' the teddy started 'time is all relative. For instance if you take me, time runs slowly. The life of a teddy bear can run on and on as we get passed down from one child to another to another. However the life of tractor over there' he thumbed towards to tractor who was gently knocking the blocks as if tickling them with his ladder, 'can be very quick. Once he's been played with and all his plastic accessories have fallen off there's only one place for him.'

Just as the teddy bear was turning to look out the window and gesture towards the big blue bins that he knew lay out there a bang startled all the toys. Chris Monk's Walk

Comment by Jayne Davidson, WHHS, UK on September 30, 2014 at 11:12

It rang out clear as a summers day, disturbing the persisting silence that enveloped the desolate house.

“Miss Carter’s cat is too much of a nuisance to be dealing with, knocking bins over at god knows what time” teddy spoke up, annoyance underlining his tone.

I closed my eyes and listened to the steady ticking of the clock, never getting faster, never getting slower, a continuous never ending cycle. My father was a mans man, big strong arms, rugged beard and wild eyebrows however he was a kind soul who was un-stereotypically gentle for his looks.

Teddy stood up suddenly a hopeful look displayed on his face “How do we know its twelve o clock? It could be 6 in the afternoon and we’d never know because every bit of information we have about time is read from a circular object on a wall”.

“How else would we know the time if we didn’t have clocks?” I asked with a confused look on my face.

“How do we know we do?” He answered abruptly, I began my next response when the banging returned from the outside of the cold stone walls.

By Annabel and Jamie

West Hatch 

Comment by N Francis on September 30, 2014 at 11:52

‘BANG…BANG…BANG!’ The banging continued, growing louder by the second. All of the toys in the room grew anxious, the ground began to shake, the walls started to vibrate. “AHHH!” the boy screamed using all the power in his lungs, the circular object on the wall was the only object not shuddering. It seemed to so calm, as if mocking the boys panic. The toys noticed the clocks silence and were left bewildered by its serenity. Suddenly its hand started to turn, spinning at the speed of light, then came the knocking on the window, it was ever so slow but ended in scrapping each time, as if fingernails were being dragged down a chalk board.

     Al the toys fell to the ground, lying still in panic, everything went silent…

“Is it over?” Teddy squeaked, for a brief moment silence filled the air, no one quite sure what to do with themselves, then out of nowhere came footsteps, slowly with the sound of dragging after every step, “w-who’s there?” Teddy asked, the reply was only more footsteps, growing closer to the window. The footsteps were now mere inches from the curtain closed window, all the toys and the boy wobbled to the back of the room, huddled together.

The footsteps stopped, the dragging seized, everything was silent for what felt like forever.

Out of nowhere the glass shattered, flying everywhere, all that could be seen was a hand poking through the curtain smothered in blood, there he held, the boys dads head…

Lloyd and Alwin  St Benedicts Catholic School

Comment by Paula Ward on September 30, 2014 at 12:55

“DAD!” the boy wanted to scream but a cold, blood-stained hand had clasped around his open mouth. All the toys stood, petrified, eyes glued to the severed head. Except from one. The boy only had enough time to hear the tractor’s mirthless cackle before his vision plunged into darkness…  

Teddy was alone. Alone with nothing but his own fear eating away at his stomach and all the courage sapping out of him. The urge to find his boy was long gone but the hatred for the tractor was still burning like a bonfire in his broken heart. Like water down a hill, the memory of what happened was flooding back to him. A, B and C had burned in the tractor’s flaming madness. The traitor had then followed the man into the distance leaving a trail of ashes in his wake.           “That’s it!” Teddy suddenly exclaimed triumphantly, a wide smile spreading across his now joyful face. ,”I can follow the trail!”

“Save me Teddy,” the boy whimpered.

Padding through the trail of ashes, Teddy finally looked up. It had been a long journey for him especially as time went slower for him than anyone else. But finally he had reached the place he had been seeking. It was the final endgame…

By Sadie and Charlotte. Robert May's School

Comment by Lorraine French on September 30, 2014 at 14:26

My heart was pumping like a steam train on my stuffing, my legs almost gave way. I saw the boy struggling against the grown man his strength sapping. The captor threw a punch into the boy’s chest and the child doubled over and was unconscious. The man dragged him away and I searched for an entrance.

The building was colossal even for a grown man. The bricks were bright red from blood or paint, I could not tell. In the window was a sign it was an incomprehensible sentence that wasn’t what struck me it was the glass around it was smashed. That was my way in.

Inside was a scene of bitter, unimaginable horror.  Boxes of toys for boy’s girls and adults heading towards a tank burning ferociously I stood still and stared at their lives ending before me. I prayed for them and ran off. As I was running a warm glow struck my eye. It was an incinerator. I looked up the man was there. He effortlessly flicked a switch and slowly the bloodstained claw roared into life.  It grabbed me and brought me over the incinerator. A cut on my side let a plume of fluff fall and an explosion of fire sent the sown lining of my stuffed heart cold. The claw let go. I saw a ventilation shaft in the side of the metal tube, I threw myself towards it and the heat of the fire roasted my fur. The shaft sent me into the next room where I met my nemesis my heart froze and my stuffing raged, he stood there the boy in his arms a gun by his side. He hadn’t even dropped the head of the dead father.

“Let him go!” I cried letting my rage flow from the cold depths of my heart.

The man glared at me and suddenly he shouted “Release bobzilla!”

A shutter started to open and a tank rolls out. The tank rolled towards me. The boy cried.

“Help me!” I felt more fire and strength than ever before I ran forwards and cried “This is for bob” as the boy cried in anger and victory I ran at the tank I saw the metal wheels connect with my face. I died.  

Jordan, Oliver & Tom Trinity school

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