11/10/16 Secondary - Dan Freedman

"If I release you, will you calm down?" Nick shouted.

The man trapped in the headlock didn't respond. 

"I said:'If I let you go, will you calm down?!'"

Nick tightened his grip, stopping the air from reaching the man's lungs. Finally, as Nick wrenched even harder, the man grunted out a 'yes'.

With relief, Nick let go and the man fell to the floor.

"How...did this happen?" asked Nick, his mind racing back over the last two years. "How did we come to this, Da-"

The word caught in Nick's throat. Looking into his reflection in the window, he'd seen his father had raised himself from the floor and was now rushing towards him...

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Comment by Jenny Noble on October 11, 2016 at 0:56

…his dark eyes glistening with fury, and his face covered in blood. "Why father, why?" Nick said as he covered his face in his hands. Suddenly, as Nick looked up he saw a glimpse of a shiny silver object. As his father lunged towards him, Nick saw the blade of a knife being drawn from behind his father’s back. Nick ducked out of the way of the knife's blade just as his father lost his balance and crashed through the old cracked window and into the busy streets below. Nick struggled to stand up but he finally built up the strength to get up from his position in the corner of the room. He reluctantly walked over to the shattered window, stepping carefully around the shards of broken glass. He peered out the window looking down on his father’s silent body. Nick rushed down the many flights of stairs of the abandoned apartment building and bustled out the front door. He pushed through the crowds of people and ran over to his father’s side with tears running down his face. In his moment of weakness, his father raised the knife once more...

By Cecilia, Imogen and Cait

St Mary's College

Comment by Hollie Rush on October 11, 2016 at 8:58

… He plunged the temperamental blade just above my shoulder as I tumbled away in quick succession towards the shattered glass window.  I pick up the whistling wind screaming between his legs as he makes a rapid movement towards me. I sense the adrenaline sprinting through my veins as the hammering footsteps edge closer to me. My heart stops. My father, the one whom I share blood and culture with; why? What have I done to deserve this terrible fate? Looking up, I visualise the dreary, drab and drudging sky and take a glance downward and notice my father charging towards me, I grasp the frame of the dilapidated window as he grabs my waist with the force of a truck barely clutching on. If he falls he will suffer a drop of no return and feel the fate of Satan himself. I scream as I can barely hold the frame any longer “Dad, after all this, I love you and you’re going be okay, I promise” He starts to slip as I reach out my hand for him; he grapples on as I swing back into the window, slicing my arm in the process as my father barely clutches to the bottom. I try to help him but I am too weak …..


Django + Olivia


Ashlyns School, Hertfordshire, England

Comment by J Dennis on October 11, 2016 at 10:00
I sprang from my bed, my heart beating so ferociously it felt as if it could beat out of my chest. I glanced at my arm: nothing but my own pale, bruised and bony arm reflecting back at me. Did I really have another nightmare about that monster? I looked at the clock, concentrating on the gradual ticking of the hands as my breathing rate slowed. This wasn’t the first time I’d had a dream like this and I didn’t think it would be last. Huffing, I heaved myself out of broken bed avoiding the splotches of blood stains. Almost like a symphony of horrifying noises my foot dropped to the wooden floor as a loud bang of a door shut from downstairs followed by a rhythmic pound of feet on a stairs.

“WHERE IS HE!” bellowed a voice.

Suddenly I rose from my bed preparing myself for what was about to come once more. As the doorknob of my door rattled I knew that this time it wasn’t just a dream.

By Maia Robinson WKRS
Comment by Nikki Olhausen on October 11, 2016 at 10:57

As the door crept open I tensed my muscles ready to face my own father,  of the same blood as my own. All I could do was hope that through pure determination I could defeat my childhood carer. The distorted figure of a shadow began to rise like cress would grow. As my father sidled conspiratorially through the door I could see the crimson red blood dripping down his face as if he had been stabbed through the head. But this time his face was full of sorrow. Limping he pulled out a hand demanding help. I could feel his heavy breath upon my face. His eyes were pleading. It was as if he was a blank canvas. I was clueless as to what he had previously done. All these years of hatred towards me and finally now he was asking for help. I was in control. My mind racing, I could not decide whether to leave him or save his life.

Oliver Okhuijsen

The Beacon School

Comment by Nicola Gowing on October 11, 2016 at 13:55


No. I won’t save him. He will die, and I won’t care. After all these years, he has done nothing to help me, so why should I help him?

But… Why do I feel so guilty for leaving him?

He has hated me for so long, yet I can’t help but feel like I must help him!

But what can someone like me do? Call an ambulance? Yes, I’ll do that.

*Beep~* *Beep~*

“Hello, which service? Police, Am-“

“Ambulance!” I interrupted.

“What is your address?”

“74 Winslow Avenue, Jointinton!”

“An ambulance is now on your way. What happened?” The operator seemed concerned, but I didn’t have time.

“Thanks. Bye!”

I hung up the phone and placed it in my father’s hand before jumping out of the window. For the first time, I left home without that tyrant’s permission. I was kind of free- But I still had the problem of the police. They would probably come and find me, wondering what happened to father. But still I had some hope; maybe I could stay at Jimmy’s. His mum is nice.

Of course, if I didn’t walk by that alleyway, I could have done that.


“Hey… Isn’t that John’s kid?”

“Yeah- It is! Let’s take him, Make John pay ransom!”

“Great Idea!”

I screamed as they slammed by head into the stone wall, blood spilling out from the newly made cut. They laughed like dogs, loud and unattractive.

I laid helplessly on the ground, slowly twitching and shaking.

Their breaths smelled of alcohol, and their pupils were dilated. They reached down and grabbed me, their knotted beards falling on my face.

I hear the ambulance sirens in the background as I’m taken away.   


Great Yarmouth High School.

Comment by Sara sheldon on October 12, 2016 at 2:32

Neenaw, neenaw, neenaw.


“We’ll take him there”

The muffled noise from the ambulance could still be heard beyond the rusty van doors. Nothing clear came to mind. My head dripped with crimson red, heavy with bloodlust. I could slowly feel the sickening movement of the vehicle taking me away. Pain, so strong that not a single sound could have escaped my mouth. With every bump I could feel myself thinking- “Away. Far away…” I didn’t exactly know how much time had passed; I was locked away in my own reality of distress.

“Drop him off at the back, we’ll come back for him later”

A rush of cold air attacked my face. Cold and harsh. Violently, the alcoholics grabbed me from the back of the van and carried me in a forward direction. Still a little blinded from the first attack, my surroundings consisted of colours: grey and blue - everything distorted. A huge swing, and I barreled toward the ground. The firm, solid ground. Once I could hear their footsteps abandoning this suspicious area, I lay there motionless, once again questioning why everything had happened.

I should not have left him.

Qadar, Gian and Brandon

Garden International School Kuala Lumpur

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