07/10/2013 Dave Cryer

The Jetty

It was his fourteenth birthday. He was sitting on the jetty. He had cycled the seven miles home from school in a pretty strong wind that almost blew him into the side at times, and yet still the lake was as calm as calm can be, no ripples, just a perfect mirror now that it had settled again after he’d rowed across it.

The Red House – his house – was reflected perfectly in the water. Its bright red roof, its deep red wooden walls, its windows and eaves picked out in a brilliant white. How he’d love to paint it green one day when his parents were out. Make it not stand out. Make it fade into nature. Make it disappear. 

All those rooms. All those wasted rooms.

School had been bearable. It was the most you could expect of school. Sometimes it was unbearable, but most of the time he could put up with it. It was never good. Only the lake and the dell and the fells were good.

Views: 71

Comment by Lynne Coppendale on October 7, 2013 at 9:57

One dark evening when he was riding home from school the wind got heavy. He rode onto the jetty and put his bike down. Suddenly something glistened in the water. He wanted to get closer but was scared of what he might find.

As he got closer a wave pulled him into the dark murky water. He tried to swim back to shore but the waves were too strong. After that he decided to swim towards the light. When he got near the light he found a kitten with a collar and a bell. The kitten was roughly three weeks old. He held the kitten protecting it.

He looked for a way back to shore but found nothing. Suddenly he saw a blinding light. It was a boat…

Georgia Coppendale and Faye Rimmer, Danum Academy, Doncaster

Comment by Nicola Gowing on October 7, 2013 at 10:39

It was a golden boat, filled with curious seamen with their diamond-covered telescopes and maps. From a distance I could hear yodelling and bag pipes.

“Help!” I screamed, rushing towards the shining boat.
“Do you need ‘elp my boy?” asked a Scottish man.

“Yes! Slow down, turn around and come quick!” I shouted off the top of my lungs.

I was tossed a life preserver and pulled into the boat, with the snow coloured kitten in my arms.

I jumped on board and thanked them for saving me and my kitten Biscuits. “Do you have any food for my kitten?” but soon after I asked the question I was knocked out… t

By Rebecca Dingwall and Stephanie Watson, Great Yarmouth High School

Comment by N Francis on October 7, 2013 at 12:51
Harry Gale and Jeremy Snudden - St Benedicts

I woke on a desolate island; the darkness of the cave surrounded me. I had been stripped of all my possessions other than the clothes that I lay, cold, scared and hungry in. I looked around me; the kitten had a long, shiny metal knife though its neck. I got up and walked slowly and clumsily towards the savaged body. I bent down grabbed the tactile knife handle and drew it slowly out of the bloody lump of fur in front of my eyes. I picked the tiny kitten up in my hand and walked out of the cave to a close by palm tree and knew at once this was the site for the kitten to be buried. I had grown close to Biscuits over the last few days. Suddenly my sense of justice and revenge smacked me in the face, I would find the Scotsmen that were at the helm of this atrocity and seek my vengeance. I would KILL THE SCOTSMEN!
I went back to the cave, laid down and quickly fell asleep. The next morning I awoke and stepped out into the crisp morning air, the sunlight was dappled by the trees. The wind was chilling me so I started back to the cave. I glanced around and saw smoke rising from the tree tops on the other side of the island. My brain whirled in realisation, smoke meant fire, fire meant people and people meant Scotsmen.
I started to run…
Comment by Simone Pope on October 7, 2013 at 13:52

Rage clouded my judgement; I forced myself to stay calm. Being angry would not help in this situation; I had to flush the anger out of my system. Keep a level head. But it was no use; abhorrence rose up from the bowels of hatred inside me. Everyone has them but only some can contain it. The beast from within had broken its chains. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was time to unleash this boredom that had been building up since I started school here in this godforsaken place.


 I ran towards the smoke, anger lending me the strength that I needed to haul myself up the unforgiving cliffs, taking care not to stab myself with the knife I unwittingly carried. When I got to the top I could see what looked like a movie set, cameras, lights, green screens and, most confusingly, vans with the corporate symbol of our restricting government. I stared in confusion. How did this relate, how did they link? I walked as if in a trance towards the vans. I opened the door, it made a creaky sound that almost made me laugh, despite the situation. To my shock, I found pictures. Of me. In the midst of my explosive rage.


Videos, photos, diagrams. All of me, with notes saying things like “Observe this display of a desperate soul, exposed”. Behind me I could hear men describing my actions in staggeringly accurate detail. Turning to investigate, I pulled out my knife. The leading man smiled.


Dispose of test subject 23. We no longer need him …”


Written by Jake, Brittany and Catherine, Woolmer Hill School

Add a Comment

You need to be a member of Write Path International Connections to add comments!

Join Write Path International Connections

© 2021   Created by WP Central.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service