(A collaborative short story by the children from Chasing Driftwood Writing Group)
Bleary eyed, I went down for breakfast. The house was empty…even the furniture had gone…I ran out the front door, realising even the car was gone. I turned and looked at the house. It was slowly fading as if it hadn’t been there at all. A small pain occurred in my head. I started to wonder what I was looking at. I had never seen that house. Memories exploding, I ran, forgetting everything I had previously seen…
Even though I had forgotten things, I remembered just one tiny thing…the strange house. I went inside and saw and heard a time machine. I got in, strapped myself in and clicked on a place in history to go to…
A shrill cry echoed in the mist…History…But not as I knew it. Children screaming ran in my ears, the stench of death filled my nostrils. Pterosaurs, Napolean, Emporers, Pharoahs and the Black Death laid before my eyes. There was another ear piercing cry as a blistered child fell beneath my feet. What happened?
I screamed and jumped back. Ugh, I couldn’t stand death. I had to get back home. Well, what used to be my home. A sharp pain ran down my arm. My eyes slowly glanced to it but what I saw wasn’t my skin. I’d seemingly aged about 46.7 years.
Slowly, I limped back to the time machine, ready to punch in the year number. But my hand was so weak, it just touched the button and crumpled up. I was trapped in London ith the Black Death right beside me. I couldn’t decide what to do. So I dived into the River Thames.
I got stung many times by strange fish. I found land and got out. A scary character flung itself out of nowhere and nearly killed me…
Then all of a sudden, the character disappeared. Gone. I dragged my feet along the ground as water dripped from my hair. ‘ Wales’ I sighed, as I noticed a sign in the corner of my eye for Swansea. ‘God, I hate Swansea.’ I sighed once more as I slumped down beside the sign, surrounded by used needles.
‘Oh God, I hate needles,’ I groaned to myself, pushing the pile away. At the bottom was something shining. I picked it up, my hands shaking. It was a knife, covered in fresh blood. My eyes rolled into my head and I blacked out.
When I work up, I found the knife again, but this time, it was in me.
(Written by Eleanor aged 14, Daisy aged 14, Eleanor aged 10, Dylan aged 10)