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Hi,
It was a dumb idea posting this, but here is the latest peice of GCSE English coursework I have done. Seven pages *groans* - did it on a long, long car journey on dad's laptop.
Anyway, i doesn't have a title and if anyone actually can be bothered to read it, please suggest one!
Thanks,
BLAHpro.
____________________________________________________________
Michael Fisher’s heart began to beat harder and faster as his seat began to rumble and he was pushed forward into his restraint. He felt a bump as he hit the ground and suddenly, he heard a voice speaking from above.
“Thank you…” boomed the voice in a heavy American accent, “…for flying with American airlines. We hope you have a safe journey home from the airport. The time is 16:50 and the outside temperature is minus 4 degrees centigrade. Once again, thanks for flying with us!”
Michael’s father had just got a new job as a stockbroker in New York and had persuaded the family to emigrate to America to live with him.
Michael waited as his mum opened the over-head compartment to take out their hand luggage.
“Help me with some of these, Michael” asked his mum as she lifted down her husband’s laptop bag. Michael took the bag and joined the slowly moving line to escape the confinement of the plane. A wall of ice and snow hit his face as he stepped outside in to the blizzard of a New York winter. Edging down each of the steps, one by one, he stepped onto the ground and boarded the airport bus with his parents for the short trip to the main terminal of JFK.
After passing through passport control and grabbing their luggage from the carousel, the deep inviting warmth of the arrival lounge greeted Michael and his family with open arms.
“I’m off to grab a drink – can I get you two anything?” enquired Michael’s dad. His mum whispered something in Michael’s ear (to which he responded to with a nod of his head) before answering.
“Yes please – can we both have a hot chocolate?”
Michael looked around the inside of the terminal and could see an unhappy customer complaining to the lady at the flight desk about his luggage:
“I am sorry, Mr. Nickelson, we are doing everything we can to locate your luggage but if you just fill out this form we can…” Michael didn’t listen to any more of their conversation – he was too busy looking other parts of the building.
“Ok, here you are, two hot chocolates.” His dad had returned with the drinks and saw he had a newspaper in his hand. He took a slurp of his drink through the creamy foam on top and tipped his head to an angle to read the headline on the front page of The New York Times. It read ‘Third Child Missing from NY School in Week’ and a short paragraph in quite large bold type followed.
“In the last week, three students have gone missing from South Bank High School. Forensic evidence shows that a strand of hair found in store cupboard has been found to belong to one of the missing children by and four members of staff including the principal are being questioned. The police told The New York Times that as of yet, there is no evidence to show the identity of the kidnapper. ”
Michael finished his hot chocolate and followed his parents as they climbed into the bright yellow taxi outside the main airport building. It was late at night – not long before he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
A bell rung – Michael’s first lesson at his new school was about to begin. Back in England, he enjoyed science but all he could feel here was nervousness. As he walked down the corridor to the science room he could see some older boys leaning up against the lockers and a group of girls talking so fast in such a strong American accent that he could not understand what they were saying. He was late for his first lesson; he could see the other lessons beginning in the rooms around him and quickened his walking pace.
As he entered one of the science rooms there was a turning of heads and only his polite mumble broke the silence. “Errrm…” he started as he scuttled into the room, “…sorry I’m late sir.”
Avoiding embarrassment was not Michael’s primary talent; the teacher spoke out to the class. “All right class, I would like you to meet our newest student, Michael Fisher”. Michael raised his hand quickly as a sort of ‘half-wave’ and quickly made is way to a free desk.
“Now, last time we were studying how light is split using a Perspex prism…” Michael’s new science teacher had started the lesson but he wasn’t listening. He stared outside into the playground. He could see some people walking in their warm coats and gloves in the snow along the small street behind the wire fence that encapsulated the school. He noticed that up on a tall post in the far corner of the playground was a white security camera, slowing turning every now and then to get a different view of the school’s grounds. Michael already knew that fence or no fence, camera or no camera, three students were already missing from is school. He shuddered at the thought of how the parents and family of the missing children were feeling – just as if he was shuddering in the freezing cold outside. The parents must know that their children are probably not alive but still desperately hang on to a thin strand of hope that they would see them again – or at least find who killed them.
“Michael, can you tell me what the first three colours as they leave the prism?” Michael sat there, searching his brain for the answer (he had learned this only the year before).
“Red,” he paused, thinking for the next colour, “Orange…and Yellow”, he finally spat out unconvincingly.
The bell rang and the other students in the class packed their things into their bags. Michael did the same and left the room quickly to get to his next lesson. Luckily, he managed to survive the rest of the day without any more embarrassing situations!
As the bell rang at the end of the last lesson of the day, Michael walked into the corridor and joined the river of other students making their way to the exit. He waited outside into the gently falling snow for his mum’s car to arrive at the school entrance. He sat alone looking at a robin hop about the floor for about five minutes after the last bright yellow school bus had left and was wondering where his mum was. He jumped off the snow-covered wall he was sitting on and went inside the main school building to ask a teacher if he could use a phone to phone his parents – not that he knew his new number – he knew the school must have it on file somewhere
He wondered the main corridor of South Bank High in search of a teacher as he came across another student. Well, actually the correct term would be ‘ran into’, I think.
“Oh, I am so sorry…” began Michael apologetically to the only student he had opened his mouth to since he had arrived at his new school.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! Hi, my name is Steve.” Steve seemed friendly enough but as Michael was about to reply a teacher (holding a cup of dark black coffee) came up to him from round a corner at the end of the corridor and said,
“Are you Michael Fisher?” Michael gave a short nod. “Well, your ma rang to say that her car got stuck in the snow. She said that she’s called the recovery van and she’ll have to walk to pick you up. Would you mind waitin’ about forty-five minutes?”
“Sure…” he replied – probably in the most confident tone he had spoken to anyone in since he had been at his last school back in the UK. The teacher walked off, taking a sip from his coffee as he walked into the nearest classroom.
“That’s Mr. Johnson,” said Steve waving his finger in the direction that the teacher had gone, “He’s and awfully nice guy – great sense of humour!”
“Thanks,” began Michael, not really knowing what to say next, “Whatd’ya think about all these kids going missing from this place – I’m a bit scared! Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, kinda, some of us think it’s not a person. Ya see, apparently this place used to be a special school for children with mental disease or something – some of the teachers say that sometimes we act like it still is! Anyways, loads of the kids here had nightmares and stuff ‘bout the place. They figured that it was doing the kids more harm that good so in the end, the state shut the place down. Me and some of the other kids think it’s whatever gave these kids nightmares.”
“Really?” asked Michael almost in disbelief?
“That’s what us lot think….”
“…Who’s us lot?” Michael butted in.
“Aww, just me and some of my friends,” said Steve, “we wanted to go down in to the school’s cellar to check it out – to see if there is anything down there. We wanna find some clues or something. Some of my friends are over in the library waitin’ for me to go take a look down there.”
“Are you actually gonna go down there?” asked Michael, almost sceptically.
“I would, but I’m too damn scared!”
“Ok, why don’t we go meet your friends?” It was almost as if Michael was trying to save Steve from whatever was down in the cellar.
As Michael followed Steve into South Bank High’s library, he could see two other boys, about the same age as him. One was quite short with dark black hair, blue eyes and small black glasses. His face was riddled with spots and he sat on a low bench with his legs slightly apart and his elbows resting on his knees – looking very bored. The second boy was taller and wider than the first and had very short brown hair. He had puffed out cheeks and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed – as an important businessman would.
Steve introduced his two friends, the short one lifted his hand to Michael, as if to wave.
“This is Jacob.” Said Steve, pointing at the shorter of his friends. His finger moved along to point at the larger boy; “This is Will”. Will stood up smiling and shook Michael’s hand.
“Did ya go down there?” Jacob asked?
“No, I was hoping that Michael here would come down with me,” Steve paused in embarrassment, “…as a witness.” Steve smiled to himself as if to congratulate himself for making that last part up – he knew that he was just to scared to go down the cellar himself.
“Aww, you can’t drag someone else into this as well,” Will said to Steve. He turned round to Michael. “I wouldn’t go if I were you! This crazy fool here says he’ll go down there to see if there’s anythin’ outa place.”
“Yeah,” started Jacob, “I wouldn’t go down there. No one’s been down there in years – probably for a good reason!”
“Shut up!” said Steve; he turned to look at Michael. “Well, you wanna go down there with me?” Michael didn’t know what to say - he didn’t really believe that there was something was down there so he agreed, almost pressurised by Steve to do so.
“Sure.” he said, trying to sound cool in front of his new friends. Michael and Steve left the library, leaving Will and Jacob to wait for them. As they left they heard Jacob shout at them with a friendly tone:
“Fools!”
“Shut up, Jay!” replied Steve with a slight laugh in his voice.
* * *
They stood in front of a door that came off of the school’s long main corridor and Steve took a key from out of his right trouser pocket and placed it neatly and slowly in the lock.
“Ready?” Steve asked.
“…As I’ll ever be”, replied Michael with a tone of scepticism in his voice. Steve slowly turned the key until he heard the click of the door unlocking. He continued to turn it until he could take the key out - which he then slipped back into his pocket. Michael followed him into the room and saw him take a small black Maglite torch from his other pocket. He twisted the end and a thin beam of yellow light shot out the end. Steve then turned and gently shut the door behind them. Wherever the torch beam shone, all the dust they had just disturbed glistened in the air. They crept forward down a set of old and creaky wooden steps; neither Steve nor Michael said a word, a mixture of listening for any noises and fear kept them quiet.
When they reached the main part of the cellar, Steve shone the torch all around him. All him and Michael could see was old globes and sports equipment. There were racks of old pantomime costumes and a rusty old bike with only one wheel. They could see over in the corner a huge box covered in a white sheet – at least it used to be white. Now it was soiled with dust that had been exposed to the moisture and dampness of the room.
“Hey,” whispered Steve, “look at that – I’ll go check it out, you stay watch here.”
“Ok – sure thing.” Replied Michael; there was a lot more confidence in his voice. “There’s nothing down here – it’s just a cellar!”
Michael sat at the base of the stairs in almost darkness – there was a small amount of light seeping through the gaps in the door that they first came through at the top of the stairs. Michael thought of how the day had gone. It wasn’t what he was expecting for his first day of school but at least his mum was right – he had made some new friends.
Suddenly, there was a large BANG. Michael turned his head around to see what had happened but all he saw was the beam of light from Steve’s torch shining along the floor.
“Steve?” Michael shouted. He paused. “Steve!” There was no reply. Michael’s heart stopped as he feared the worst.
He heard the sound of wind rushing through an alley and could feel a breeze blowing in his face; getting stronger and colder as he stood frozen stiff. He could feel the adrenaline being pumped into his bloodstream. He was trying to stand as still as possible, listening for the sound of movement, even though the heavy pounding of his heart was all he could hear. Suddenly, he heard second BANG and the adrenaline he had was put to good use. He legged it up the stairs; two, maybe three steps at a time. Then, he ran and launched himself at the door at the top of the stairs. The rotting doorframe gave way, exploding in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Michael saw where he was going to go – he ran to the nearest classroom, ripped open the door and jumped over desks and chairs to get the back corner of the room. Panicking, he crouched down in the corner; pulling all his limbs close into his shivering body.
All of a sudden, the room fell silent. The noises and the strong wind stopped and after a while he slowly stood up and crept to the door. He opened the door of the classroom and stuck his head out. He looked left – nothing there. He turned his head and looked right – nothing there. He legged it out of the classroom and up to the light and security of the main school office. Sitting on a blue chair there was his mum.
“Where were you?” She asked, almost angrily.
“I was, I was…” He didn’t get a chance to finish.
Before he could think of what to say, there was a third BANG and a sudden torrent of confusion. The floorboards beneath him collapsed and after what seemed like an eternity of falling, he hit the floor with a thud. His body was cloaked in a blanket of dust and pieces of broken floorboard as he slowly opened his eyes. He let out a deep moan as he stood up – dusting himself off. He felt as if he had broken every bone in his body. He looked around and saw that he had fallen into a long, dusty corridor. There were flaming torches at even intervals along the old stone wall, each enclosed in conical tarnished brass cages.
Michael staggered down the corridor until he came to a crossroad in the labyrinth of tunnels that he appeared to be in. He turned left and continued to limp on. All Michael could think of was getting out quickly – he doubted it though. He knew that he was about to find out what happened to all those children that had gone missing from South Bank High. Not a nice thought – it sent an evil chill down his already frozen spine – it was still minus three degrees outside.
After about twenty meters, he came into a larger room. It was illuminated with at least fifty candles in such a way so that you could only see part of the way up the ceiling. There were candles on stands, in dishes on the floor and even on small rotting wooden shelves that had been nailed to the room’s roughly shaped stone wall. The room smelt of rotting meat and dampness and the floor was covered in small wood shavings – it reminded Michael of a horse’s stable. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw something metallic glisten in the light of the candles. He turned to face it and saw it to be a chain running from a large wheel mounted on the wall, up and up until it faded up into the darkness.
Slowly, he walked up to the wheel, step by step and took hold of the wheel with both hands. Straining, he turned it a quarter way round. He heard the noise the chain gong through some sort of pulley system above him. He looked up, squinting into the darkness but he couldn’t see a thing. He turned the wheel through a quarter turn again but this time, the wheel continued to turn after he had let go of it. He looked up and could see something lowering out of the darkness – two human legs. They continued to lower – but then stopped suddenly with the sound of metal grinding on metal as the pulley system above him jammed. He heard a creak and a snap as the chain broke and the legs fell to the floor.
The legs were attached to a human child’s torso, which was connected to a bloodstained head - Steve’s head. Michael shrieked in terror, hobbling as fast as he could out of the room in terrible pain. He launched himself over the crossroad and into a medium lit room on the other side. The room was full of Bunsen burners and test tubes filled with strangely coloured liquids making up an intricate glass network of scientific equipment. On the desk opposite all of this, there was a skinned rat lying in a large tin kidney dish surrounded by blood stained instruments of all shapes and sizes.
Michael’s heart stopped suddenly as he heard the scraping sound of stone on stone. He turned round slowly, petrified with fear to see that the stone door had locked shut behind him. He walked up to the door and rest his ear up against it – he could hear footsteps. A draught came from behind him and he started to shiver. Draught became a breeze and the breeze became a gust of wind. Michael heard a fourth BANG and the wind stopped, whatever had been lighting the room was extinguished and once again, Michael’s heart stopped – this time for real. His cold limp body hit the hard stone floor with a thud.
* * *
In a small garage in central New York, Mr. Johnson stepped out of his shiny new car and began to fill it with unleaded fuel. New York’s blizzard was over and the snow on the roads had already started to melt into a freezing cold slush. After his car was full, he walked briskly into the kiosk and stepped up to the counter. He handed over thirty dollars for the petrol and the attendant tapped some numbers into the till. Mr. Johnson took his change and wandered over to the newspaper rack.
The headline of the newspaper on the top of the pile read:
“State shuts down local high school after two more students go missing – bringing total to 5”
It was a dumb idea posting this, but here is the latest peice of GCSE English coursework I have done. Seven pages *groans* - did it on a long, long car journey on dad's laptop.
Anyway, i doesn't have a title and if anyone actually can be bothered to read it, please suggest one!
Thanks,
BLAHpro.
____________________________________________________________
Michael Fisher’s heart began to beat harder and faster as his seat began to rumble and he was pushed forward into his restraint. He felt a bump as he hit the ground and suddenly, he heard a voice speaking from above.
“Thank you…” boomed the voice in a heavy American accent, “…for flying with American airlines. We hope you have a safe journey home from the airport. The time is 16:50 and the outside temperature is minus 4 degrees centigrade. Once again, thanks for flying with us!”
Michael’s father had just got a new job as a stockbroker in New York and had persuaded the family to emigrate to America to live with him.
Michael waited as his mum opened the over-head compartment to take out their hand luggage.
“Help me with some of these, Michael” asked his mum as she lifted down her husband’s laptop bag. Michael took the bag and joined the slowly moving line to escape the confinement of the plane. A wall of ice and snow hit his face as he stepped outside in to the blizzard of a New York winter. Edging down each of the steps, one by one, he stepped onto the ground and boarded the airport bus with his parents for the short trip to the main terminal of JFK.
After passing through passport control and grabbing their luggage from the carousel, the deep inviting warmth of the arrival lounge greeted Michael and his family with open arms.
“I’m off to grab a drink – can I get you two anything?” enquired Michael’s dad. His mum whispered something in Michael’s ear (to which he responded to with a nod of his head) before answering.
“Yes please – can we both have a hot chocolate?”
Michael looked around the inside of the terminal and could see an unhappy customer complaining to the lady at the flight desk about his luggage:
“I am sorry, Mr. Nickelson, we are doing everything we can to locate your luggage but if you just fill out this form we can…” Michael didn’t listen to any more of their conversation – he was too busy looking other parts of the building.
“Ok, here you are, two hot chocolates.” His dad had returned with the drinks and saw he had a newspaper in his hand. He took a slurp of his drink through the creamy foam on top and tipped his head to an angle to read the headline on the front page of The New York Times. It read ‘Third Child Missing from NY School in Week’ and a short paragraph in quite large bold type followed.
“In the last week, three students have gone missing from South Bank High School. Forensic evidence shows that a strand of hair found in store cupboard has been found to belong to one of the missing children by and four members of staff including the principal are being questioned. The police told The New York Times that as of yet, there is no evidence to show the identity of the kidnapper. ”
Michael finished his hot chocolate and followed his parents as they climbed into the bright yellow taxi outside the main airport building. It was late at night – not long before he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
A bell rung – Michael’s first lesson at his new school was about to begin. Back in England, he enjoyed science but all he could feel here was nervousness. As he walked down the corridor to the science room he could see some older boys leaning up against the lockers and a group of girls talking so fast in such a strong American accent that he could not understand what they were saying. He was late for his first lesson; he could see the other lessons beginning in the rooms around him and quickened his walking pace.
As he entered one of the science rooms there was a turning of heads and only his polite mumble broke the silence. “Errrm…” he started as he scuttled into the room, “…sorry I’m late sir.”
Avoiding embarrassment was not Michael’s primary talent; the teacher spoke out to the class. “All right class, I would like you to meet our newest student, Michael Fisher”. Michael raised his hand quickly as a sort of ‘half-wave’ and quickly made is way to a free desk.
“Now, last time we were studying how light is split using a Perspex prism…” Michael’s new science teacher had started the lesson but he wasn’t listening. He stared outside into the playground. He could see some people walking in their warm coats and gloves in the snow along the small street behind the wire fence that encapsulated the school. He noticed that up on a tall post in the far corner of the playground was a white security camera, slowing turning every now and then to get a different view of the school’s grounds. Michael already knew that fence or no fence, camera or no camera, three students were already missing from is school. He shuddered at the thought of how the parents and family of the missing children were feeling – just as if he was shuddering in the freezing cold outside. The parents must know that their children are probably not alive but still desperately hang on to a thin strand of hope that they would see them again – or at least find who killed them.
“Michael, can you tell me what the first three colours as they leave the prism?” Michael sat there, searching his brain for the answer (he had learned this only the year before).
“Red,” he paused, thinking for the next colour, “Orange…and Yellow”, he finally spat out unconvincingly.
The bell rang and the other students in the class packed their things into their bags. Michael did the same and left the room quickly to get to his next lesson. Luckily, he managed to survive the rest of the day without any more embarrassing situations!
As the bell rang at the end of the last lesson of the day, Michael walked into the corridor and joined the river of other students making their way to the exit. He waited outside into the gently falling snow for his mum’s car to arrive at the school entrance. He sat alone looking at a robin hop about the floor for about five minutes after the last bright yellow school bus had left and was wondering where his mum was. He jumped off the snow-covered wall he was sitting on and went inside the main school building to ask a teacher if he could use a phone to phone his parents – not that he knew his new number – he knew the school must have it on file somewhere
He wondered the main corridor of South Bank High in search of a teacher as he came across another student. Well, actually the correct term would be ‘ran into’, I think.
“Oh, I am so sorry…” began Michael apologetically to the only student he had opened his mouth to since he had arrived at his new school.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! Hi, my name is Steve.” Steve seemed friendly enough but as Michael was about to reply a teacher (holding a cup of dark black coffee) came up to him from round a corner at the end of the corridor and said,
“Are you Michael Fisher?” Michael gave a short nod. “Well, your ma rang to say that her car got stuck in the snow. She said that she’s called the recovery van and she’ll have to walk to pick you up. Would you mind waitin’ about forty-five minutes?”
“Sure…” he replied – probably in the most confident tone he had spoken to anyone in since he had been at his last school back in the UK. The teacher walked off, taking a sip from his coffee as he walked into the nearest classroom.
“That’s Mr. Johnson,” said Steve waving his finger in the direction that the teacher had gone, “He’s and awfully nice guy – great sense of humour!”
“Thanks,” began Michael, not really knowing what to say next, “Whatd’ya think about all these kids going missing from this place – I’m a bit scared! Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, kinda, some of us think it’s not a person. Ya see, apparently this place used to be a special school for children with mental disease or something – some of the teachers say that sometimes we act like it still is! Anyways, loads of the kids here had nightmares and stuff ‘bout the place. They figured that it was doing the kids more harm that good so in the end, the state shut the place down. Me and some of the other kids think it’s whatever gave these kids nightmares.”
“Really?” asked Michael almost in disbelief?
“That’s what us lot think….”
“…Who’s us lot?” Michael butted in.
“Aww, just me and some of my friends,” said Steve, “we wanted to go down in to the school’s cellar to check it out – to see if there is anything down there. We wanna find some clues or something. Some of my friends are over in the library waitin’ for me to go take a look down there.”
“Are you actually gonna go down there?” asked Michael, almost sceptically.
“I would, but I’m too damn scared!”
“Ok, why don’t we go meet your friends?” It was almost as if Michael was trying to save Steve from whatever was down in the cellar.
As Michael followed Steve into South Bank High’s library, he could see two other boys, about the same age as him. One was quite short with dark black hair, blue eyes and small black glasses. His face was riddled with spots and he sat on a low bench with his legs slightly apart and his elbows resting on his knees – looking very bored. The second boy was taller and wider than the first and had very short brown hair. He had puffed out cheeks and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed – as an important businessman would.
Steve introduced his two friends, the short one lifted his hand to Michael, as if to wave.
“This is Jacob.” Said Steve, pointing at the shorter of his friends. His finger moved along to point at the larger boy; “This is Will”. Will stood up smiling and shook Michael’s hand.
“Did ya go down there?” Jacob asked?
“No, I was hoping that Michael here would come down with me,” Steve paused in embarrassment, “…as a witness.” Steve smiled to himself as if to congratulate himself for making that last part up – he knew that he was just to scared to go down the cellar himself.
“Aww, you can’t drag someone else into this as well,” Will said to Steve. He turned round to Michael. “I wouldn’t go if I were you! This crazy fool here says he’ll go down there to see if there’s anythin’ outa place.”
“Yeah,” started Jacob, “I wouldn’t go down there. No one’s been down there in years – probably for a good reason!”
“Shut up!” said Steve; he turned to look at Michael. “Well, you wanna go down there with me?” Michael didn’t know what to say - he didn’t really believe that there was something was down there so he agreed, almost pressurised by Steve to do so.
“Sure.” he said, trying to sound cool in front of his new friends. Michael and Steve left the library, leaving Will and Jacob to wait for them. As they left they heard Jacob shout at them with a friendly tone:
“Fools!”
“Shut up, Jay!” replied Steve with a slight laugh in his voice.
* * *
They stood in front of a door that came off of the school’s long main corridor and Steve took a key from out of his right trouser pocket and placed it neatly and slowly in the lock.
“Ready?” Steve asked.
“…As I’ll ever be”, replied Michael with a tone of scepticism in his voice. Steve slowly turned the key until he heard the click of the door unlocking. He continued to turn it until he could take the key out - which he then slipped back into his pocket. Michael followed him into the room and saw him take a small black Maglite torch from his other pocket. He twisted the end and a thin beam of yellow light shot out the end. Steve then turned and gently shut the door behind them. Wherever the torch beam shone, all the dust they had just disturbed glistened in the air. They crept forward down a set of old and creaky wooden steps; neither Steve nor Michael said a word, a mixture of listening for any noises and fear kept them quiet.
When they reached the main part of the cellar, Steve shone the torch all around him. All him and Michael could see was old globes and sports equipment. There were racks of old pantomime costumes and a rusty old bike with only one wheel. They could see over in the corner a huge box covered in a white sheet – at least it used to be white. Now it was soiled with dust that had been exposed to the moisture and dampness of the room.
“Hey,” whispered Steve, “look at that – I’ll go check it out, you stay watch here.”
“Ok – sure thing.” Replied Michael; there was a lot more confidence in his voice. “There’s nothing down here – it’s just a cellar!”
Michael sat at the base of the stairs in almost darkness – there was a small amount of light seeping through the gaps in the door that they first came through at the top of the stairs. Michael thought of how the day had gone. It wasn’t what he was expecting for his first day of school but at least his mum was right – he had made some new friends.
Suddenly, there was a large BANG. Michael turned his head around to see what had happened but all he saw was the beam of light from Steve’s torch shining along the floor.
“Steve?” Michael shouted. He paused. “Steve!” There was no reply. Michael’s heart stopped as he feared the worst.
He heard the sound of wind rushing through an alley and could feel a breeze blowing in his face; getting stronger and colder as he stood frozen stiff. He could feel the adrenaline being pumped into his bloodstream. He was trying to stand as still as possible, listening for the sound of movement, even though the heavy pounding of his heart was all he could hear. Suddenly, he heard second BANG and the adrenaline he had was put to good use. He legged it up the stairs; two, maybe three steps at a time. Then, he ran and launched himself at the door at the top of the stairs. The rotting doorframe gave way, exploding in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Michael saw where he was going to go – he ran to the nearest classroom, ripped open the door and jumped over desks and chairs to get the back corner of the room. Panicking, he crouched down in the corner; pulling all his limbs close into his shivering body.
All of a sudden, the room fell silent. The noises and the strong wind stopped and after a while he slowly stood up and crept to the door. He opened the door of the classroom and stuck his head out. He looked left – nothing there. He turned his head and looked right – nothing there. He legged it out of the classroom and up to the light and security of the main school office. Sitting on a blue chair there was his mum.
“Where were you?” She asked, almost angrily.
“I was, I was…” He didn’t get a chance to finish.
Before he could think of what to say, there was a third BANG and a sudden torrent of confusion. The floorboards beneath him collapsed and after what seemed like an eternity of falling, he hit the floor with a thud. His body was cloaked in a blanket of dust and pieces of broken floorboard as he slowly opened his eyes. He let out a deep moan as he stood up – dusting himself off. He felt as if he had broken every bone in his body. He looked around and saw that he had fallen into a long, dusty corridor. There were flaming torches at even intervals along the old stone wall, each enclosed in conical tarnished brass cages.
Michael staggered down the corridor until he came to a crossroad in the labyrinth of tunnels that he appeared to be in. He turned left and continued to limp on. All Michael could think of was getting out quickly – he doubted it though. He knew that he was about to find out what happened to all those children that had gone missing from South Bank High. Not a nice thought – it sent an evil chill down his already frozen spine – it was still minus three degrees outside.
After about twenty meters, he came into a larger room. It was illuminated with at least fifty candles in such a way so that you could only see part of the way up the ceiling. There were candles on stands, in dishes on the floor and even on small rotting wooden shelves that had been nailed to the room’s roughly shaped stone wall. The room smelt of rotting meat and dampness and the floor was covered in small wood shavings – it reminded Michael of a horse’s stable. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw something metallic glisten in the light of the candles. He turned to face it and saw it to be a chain running from a large wheel mounted on the wall, up and up until it faded up into the darkness.
Slowly, he walked up to the wheel, step by step and took hold of the wheel with both hands. Straining, he turned it a quarter way round. He heard the noise the chain gong through some sort of pulley system above him. He looked up, squinting into the darkness but he couldn’t see a thing. He turned the wheel through a quarter turn again but this time, the wheel continued to turn after he had let go of it. He looked up and could see something lowering out of the darkness – two human legs. They continued to lower – but then stopped suddenly with the sound of metal grinding on metal as the pulley system above him jammed. He heard a creak and a snap as the chain broke and the legs fell to the floor.
The legs were attached to a human child’s torso, which was connected to a bloodstained head - Steve’s head. Michael shrieked in terror, hobbling as fast as he could out of the room in terrible pain. He launched himself over the crossroad and into a medium lit room on the other side. The room was full of Bunsen burners and test tubes filled with strangely coloured liquids making up an intricate glass network of scientific equipment. On the desk opposite all of this, there was a skinned rat lying in a large tin kidney dish surrounded by blood stained instruments of all shapes and sizes.
Michael’s heart stopped suddenly as he heard the scraping sound of stone on stone. He turned round slowly, petrified with fear to see that the stone door had locked shut behind him. He walked up to the door and rest his ear up against it – he could hear footsteps. A draught came from behind him and he started to shiver. Draught became a breeze and the breeze became a gust of wind. Michael heard a fourth BANG and the wind stopped, whatever had been lighting the room was extinguished and once again, Michael’s heart stopped – this time for real. His cold limp body hit the hard stone floor with a thud.
* * *
In a small garage in central New York, Mr. Johnson stepped out of his shiny new car and began to fill it with unleaded fuel. New York’s blizzard was over and the snow on the roads had already started to melt into a freezing cold slush. After his car was full, he walked briskly into the kiosk and stepped up to the counter. He handed over thirty dollars for the petrol and the attendant tapped some numbers into the till. Mr. Johnson took his change and wandered over to the newspaper rack.
The headline of the newspaper on the top of the pile read:
“State shuts down local high school after two more students go missing – bringing total to 5”
Sylphetic wrote:
> Ahhh! Very cool. You're a really good writer BP... Bet you'll get an
> A. Anyway as for a title... How's about "The Cellar" or
> "4 Shots". Dunno... I'm not the best with titles :(.
I got A* is all my other English coursework so I'm hopin' to get one for this!
Wish me luck!
> Ahhh! Very cool. You're a really good writer BP... Bet you'll get an
> A. Anyway as for a title... How's about "The Cellar" or
> "4 Shots". Dunno... I'm not the best with titles :(.
I got A* is all my other English coursework so I'm hopin' to get one for this!
Wish me luck!
Sylphetic wrote:
> Ahhh! Very cool. You're a really good writer BP... Bet you'll get an
> A. Anyway as for a title... How's about "The Cellar" or
> "4 Shots". Dunno... I'm not the best with titles :(.
I already thought of the cellar, (put thatnas the title on my draft!)
Thanks for your feedback anyway!
> Ahhh! Very cool. You're a really good writer BP... Bet you'll get an
> A. Anyway as for a title... How's about "The Cellar" or
> "4 Shots". Dunno... I'm not the best with titles :(.
I already thought of the cellar, (put thatnas the title on my draft!)
Thanks for your feedback anyway!
Ahhh! Very cool. You're a really good writer BP... Bet you'll get an A. Anyway as for a title... How's about "The Cellar" or "4 Shots". Dunno... I'm not the best with titles :(.
BLAHpro wrote:
> Hi,
>
> It was a dumb idea posting this,
ok I won't read the rest then.
> Hi,
>
> It was a dumb idea posting this,
ok I won't read the rest then.
Obviously so...
Has everyone just decided to stop writing decent stuff and just copy and paste their GCSE coursework today?
Thanks for reading it! Nice title names, thanks...
I only scan-read it but something alone the lines of, 'The Discovery' or 'The Student' or 'New Kid'.
However I don't know :-S
I enjoyed reading it though, good stuff :-)
However I don't know :-S
I enjoyed reading it though, good stuff :-)
Hi,
It was a dumb idea posting this, but here is the latest peice of GCSE English coursework I have done. Seven pages *groans* - did it on a long, long car journey on dad's laptop.
Anyway, i doesn't have a title and if anyone actually can be bothered to read it, please suggest one!
Thanks,
BLAHpro.
____________________________________________________________
Michael Fisher’s heart began to beat harder and faster as his seat began to rumble and he was pushed forward into his restraint. He felt a bump as he hit the ground and suddenly, he heard a voice speaking from above.
“Thank you…” boomed the voice in a heavy American accent, “…for flying with American airlines. We hope you have a safe journey home from the airport. The time is 16:50 and the outside temperature is minus 4 degrees centigrade. Once again, thanks for flying with us!”
Michael’s father had just got a new job as a stockbroker in New York and had persuaded the family to emigrate to America to live with him.
Michael waited as his mum opened the over-head compartment to take out their hand luggage.
“Help me with some of these, Michael” asked his mum as she lifted down her husband’s laptop bag. Michael took the bag and joined the slowly moving line to escape the confinement of the plane. A wall of ice and snow hit his face as he stepped outside in to the blizzard of a New York winter. Edging down each of the steps, one by one, he stepped onto the ground and boarded the airport bus with his parents for the short trip to the main terminal of JFK.
After passing through passport control and grabbing their luggage from the carousel, the deep inviting warmth of the arrival lounge greeted Michael and his family with open arms.
“I’m off to grab a drink – can I get you two anything?” enquired Michael’s dad. His mum whispered something in Michael’s ear (to which he responded to with a nod of his head) before answering.
“Yes please – can we both have a hot chocolate?”
Michael looked around the inside of the terminal and could see an unhappy customer complaining to the lady at the flight desk about his luggage:
“I am sorry, Mr. Nickelson, we are doing everything we can to locate your luggage but if you just fill out this form we can…” Michael didn’t listen to any more of their conversation – he was too busy looking other parts of the building.
“Ok, here you are, two hot chocolates.” His dad had returned with the drinks and saw he had a newspaper in his hand. He took a slurp of his drink through the creamy foam on top and tipped his head to an angle to read the headline on the front page of The New York Times. It read ‘Third Child Missing from NY School in Week’ and a short paragraph in quite large bold type followed.
“In the last week, three students have gone missing from South Bank High School. Forensic evidence shows that a strand of hair found in store cupboard has been found to belong to one of the missing children by and four members of staff including the principal are being questioned. The police told The New York Times that as of yet, there is no evidence to show the identity of the kidnapper. ”
Michael finished his hot chocolate and followed his parents as they climbed into the bright yellow taxi outside the main airport building. It was late at night – not long before he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
A bell rung – Michael’s first lesson at his new school was about to begin. Back in England, he enjoyed science but all he could feel here was nervousness. As he walked down the corridor to the science room he could see some older boys leaning up against the lockers and a group of girls talking so fast in such a strong American accent that he could not understand what they were saying. He was late for his first lesson; he could see the other lessons beginning in the rooms around him and quickened his walking pace.
As he entered one of the science rooms there was a turning of heads and only his polite mumble broke the silence. “Errrm…” he started as he scuttled into the room, “…sorry I’m late sir.”
Avoiding embarrassment was not Michael’s primary talent; the teacher spoke out to the class. “All right class, I would like you to meet our newest student, Michael Fisher”. Michael raised his hand quickly as a sort of ‘half-wave’ and quickly made is way to a free desk.
“Now, last time we were studying how light is split using a Perspex prism…” Michael’s new science teacher had started the lesson but he wasn’t listening. He stared outside into the playground. He could see some people walking in their warm coats and gloves in the snow along the small street behind the wire fence that encapsulated the school. He noticed that up on a tall post in the far corner of the playground was a white security camera, slowing turning every now and then to get a different view of the school’s grounds. Michael already knew that fence or no fence, camera or no camera, three students were already missing from is school. He shuddered at the thought of how the parents and family of the missing children were feeling – just as if he was shuddering in the freezing cold outside. The parents must know that their children are probably not alive but still desperately hang on to a thin strand of hope that they would see them again – or at least find who killed them.
“Michael, can you tell me what the first three colours as they leave the prism?” Michael sat there, searching his brain for the answer (he had learned this only the year before).
“Red,” he paused, thinking for the next colour, “Orange…and Yellow”, he finally spat out unconvincingly.
The bell rang and the other students in the class packed their things into their bags. Michael did the same and left the room quickly to get to his next lesson. Luckily, he managed to survive the rest of the day without any more embarrassing situations!
As the bell rang at the end of the last lesson of the day, Michael walked into the corridor and joined the river of other students making their way to the exit. He waited outside into the gently falling snow for his mum’s car to arrive at the school entrance. He sat alone looking at a robin hop about the floor for about five minutes after the last bright yellow school bus had left and was wondering where his mum was. He jumped off the snow-covered wall he was sitting on and went inside the main school building to ask a teacher if he could use a phone to phone his parents – not that he knew his new number – he knew the school must have it on file somewhere
He wondered the main corridor of South Bank High in search of a teacher as he came across another student. Well, actually the correct term would be ‘ran into’, I think.
“Oh, I am so sorry…” began Michael apologetically to the only student he had opened his mouth to since he had arrived at his new school.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! Hi, my name is Steve.” Steve seemed friendly enough but as Michael was about to reply a teacher (holding a cup of dark black coffee) came up to him from round a corner at the end of the corridor and said,
“Are you Michael Fisher?” Michael gave a short nod. “Well, your ma rang to say that her car got stuck in the snow. She said that she’s called the recovery van and she’ll have to walk to pick you up. Would you mind waitin’ about forty-five minutes?”
“Sure…” he replied – probably in the most confident tone he had spoken to anyone in since he had been at his last school back in the UK. The teacher walked off, taking a sip from his coffee as he walked into the nearest classroom.
“That’s Mr. Johnson,” said Steve waving his finger in the direction that the teacher had gone, “He’s and awfully nice guy – great sense of humour!”
“Thanks,” began Michael, not really knowing what to say next, “Whatd’ya think about all these kids going missing from this place – I’m a bit scared! Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, kinda, some of us think it’s not a person. Ya see, apparently this place used to be a special school for children with mental disease or something – some of the teachers say that sometimes we act like it still is! Anyways, loads of the kids here had nightmares and stuff ‘bout the place. They figured that it was doing the kids more harm that good so in the end, the state shut the place down. Me and some of the other kids think it’s whatever gave these kids nightmares.”
“Really?” asked Michael almost in disbelief?
“That’s what us lot think….”
“…Who’s us lot?” Michael butted in.
“Aww, just me and some of my friends,” said Steve, “we wanted to go down in to the school’s cellar to check it out – to see if there is anything down there. We wanna find some clues or something. Some of my friends are over in the library waitin’ for me to go take a look down there.”
“Are you actually gonna go down there?” asked Michael, almost sceptically.
“I would, but I’m too damn scared!”
“Ok, why don’t we go meet your friends?” It was almost as if Michael was trying to save Steve from whatever was down in the cellar.
As Michael followed Steve into South Bank High’s library, he could see two other boys, about the same age as him. One was quite short with dark black hair, blue eyes and small black glasses. His face was riddled with spots and he sat on a low bench with his legs slightly apart and his elbows resting on his knees – looking very bored. The second boy was taller and wider than the first and had very short brown hair. He had puffed out cheeks and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed – as an important businessman would.
Steve introduced his two friends, the short one lifted his hand to Michael, as if to wave.
“This is Jacob.” Said Steve, pointing at the shorter of his friends. His finger moved along to point at the larger boy; “This is Will”. Will stood up smiling and shook Michael’s hand.
“Did ya go down there?” Jacob asked?
“No, I was hoping that Michael here would come down with me,” Steve paused in embarrassment, “…as a witness.” Steve smiled to himself as if to congratulate himself for making that last part up – he knew that he was just to scared to go down the cellar himself.
“Aww, you can’t drag someone else into this as well,” Will said to Steve. He turned round to Michael. “I wouldn’t go if I were you! This crazy fool here says he’ll go down there to see if there’s anythin’ outa place.”
“Yeah,” started Jacob, “I wouldn’t go down there. No one’s been down there in years – probably for a good reason!”
“Shut up!” said Steve; he turned to look at Michael. “Well, you wanna go down there with me?” Michael didn’t know what to say - he didn’t really believe that there was something was down there so he agreed, almost pressurised by Steve to do so.
“Sure.” he said, trying to sound cool in front of his new friends. Michael and Steve left the library, leaving Will and Jacob to wait for them. As they left they heard Jacob shout at them with a friendly tone:
“Fools!”
“Shut up, Jay!” replied Steve with a slight laugh in his voice.
* * *
They stood in front of a door that came off of the school’s long main corridor and Steve took a key from out of his right trouser pocket and placed it neatly and slowly in the lock.
“Ready?” Steve asked.
“…As I’ll ever be”, replied Michael with a tone of scepticism in his voice. Steve slowly turned the key until he heard the click of the door unlocking. He continued to turn it until he could take the key out - which he then slipped back into his pocket. Michael followed him into the room and saw him take a small black Maglite torch from his other pocket. He twisted the end and a thin beam of yellow light shot out the end. Steve then turned and gently shut the door behind them. Wherever the torch beam shone, all the dust they had just disturbed glistened in the air. They crept forward down a set of old and creaky wooden steps; neither Steve nor Michael said a word, a mixture of listening for any noises and fear kept them quiet.
When they reached the main part of the cellar, Steve shone the torch all around him. All him and Michael could see was old globes and sports equipment. There were racks of old pantomime costumes and a rusty old bike with only one wheel. They could see over in the corner a huge box covered in a white sheet – at least it used to be white. Now it was soiled with dust that had been exposed to the moisture and dampness of the room.
“Hey,” whispered Steve, “look at that – I’ll go check it out, you stay watch here.”
“Ok – sure thing.” Replied Michael; there was a lot more confidence in his voice. “There’s nothing down here – it’s just a cellar!”
Michael sat at the base of the stairs in almost darkness – there was a small amount of light seeping through the gaps in the door that they first came through at the top of the stairs. Michael thought of how the day had gone. It wasn’t what he was expecting for his first day of school but at least his mum was right – he had made some new friends.
Suddenly, there was a large BANG. Michael turned his head around to see what had happened but all he saw was the beam of light from Steve’s torch shining along the floor.
“Steve?” Michael shouted. He paused. “Steve!” There was no reply. Michael’s heart stopped as he feared the worst.
He heard the sound of wind rushing through an alley and could feel a breeze blowing in his face; getting stronger and colder as he stood frozen stiff. He could feel the adrenaline being pumped into his bloodstream. He was trying to stand as still as possible, listening for the sound of movement, even though the heavy pounding of his heart was all he could hear. Suddenly, he heard second BANG and the adrenaline he had was put to good use. He legged it up the stairs; two, maybe three steps at a time. Then, he ran and launched himself at the door at the top of the stairs. The rotting doorframe gave way, exploding in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Michael saw where he was going to go – he ran to the nearest classroom, ripped open the door and jumped over desks and chairs to get the back corner of the room. Panicking, he crouched down in the corner; pulling all his limbs close into his shivering body.
All of a sudden, the room fell silent. The noises and the strong wind stopped and after a while he slowly stood up and crept to the door. He opened the door of the classroom and stuck his head out. He looked left – nothing there. He turned his head and looked right – nothing there. He legged it out of the classroom and up to the light and security of the main school office. Sitting on a blue chair there was his mum.
“Where were you?” She asked, almost angrily.
“I was, I was…” He didn’t get a chance to finish.
Before he could think of what to say, there was a third BANG and a sudden torrent of confusion. The floorboards beneath him collapsed and after what seemed like an eternity of falling, he hit the floor with a thud. His body was cloaked in a blanket of dust and pieces of broken floorboard as he slowly opened his eyes. He let out a deep moan as he stood up – dusting himself off. He felt as if he had broken every bone in his body. He looked around and saw that he had fallen into a long, dusty corridor. There were flaming torches at even intervals along the old stone wall, each enclosed in conical tarnished brass cages.
Michael staggered down the corridor until he came to a crossroad in the labyrinth of tunnels that he appeared to be in. He turned left and continued to limp on. All Michael could think of was getting out quickly – he doubted it though. He knew that he was about to find out what happened to all those children that had gone missing from South Bank High. Not a nice thought – it sent an evil chill down his already frozen spine – it was still minus three degrees outside.
After about twenty meters, he came into a larger room. It was illuminated with at least fifty candles in such a way so that you could only see part of the way up the ceiling. There were candles on stands, in dishes on the floor and even on small rotting wooden shelves that had been nailed to the room’s roughly shaped stone wall. The room smelt of rotting meat and dampness and the floor was covered in small wood shavings – it reminded Michael of a horse’s stable. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw something metallic glisten in the light of the candles. He turned to face it and saw it to be a chain running from a large wheel mounted on the wall, up and up until it faded up into the darkness.
Slowly, he walked up to the wheel, step by step and took hold of the wheel with both hands. Straining, he turned it a quarter way round. He heard the noise the chain gong through some sort of pulley system above him. He looked up, squinting into the darkness but he couldn’t see a thing. He turned the wheel through a quarter turn again but this time, the wheel continued to turn after he had let go of it. He looked up and could see something lowering out of the darkness – two human legs. They continued to lower – but then stopped suddenly with the sound of metal grinding on metal as the pulley system above him jammed. He heard a creak and a snap as the chain broke and the legs fell to the floor.
The legs were attached to a human child’s torso, which was connected to a bloodstained head - Steve’s head. Michael shrieked in terror, hobbling as fast as he could out of the room in terrible pain. He launched himself over the crossroad and into a medium lit room on the other side. The room was full of Bunsen burners and test tubes filled with strangely coloured liquids making up an intricate glass network of scientific equipment. On the desk opposite all of this, there was a skinned rat lying in a large tin kidney dish surrounded by blood stained instruments of all shapes and sizes.
Michael’s heart stopped suddenly as he heard the scraping sound of stone on stone. He turned round slowly, petrified with fear to see that the stone door had locked shut behind him. He walked up to the door and rest his ear up against it – he could hear footsteps. A draught came from behind him and he started to shiver. Draught became a breeze and the breeze became a gust of wind. Michael heard a fourth BANG and the wind stopped, whatever had been lighting the room was extinguished and once again, Michael’s heart stopped – this time for real. His cold limp body hit the hard stone floor with a thud.
* * *
In a small garage in central New York, Mr. Johnson stepped out of his shiny new car and began to fill it with unleaded fuel. New York’s blizzard was over and the snow on the roads had already started to melt into a freezing cold slush. After his car was full, he walked briskly into the kiosk and stepped up to the counter. He handed over thirty dollars for the petrol and the attendant tapped some numbers into the till. Mr. Johnson took his change and wandered over to the newspaper rack.
The headline of the newspaper on the top of the pile read:
“State shuts down local high school after two more students go missing – bringing total to 5”
It was a dumb idea posting this, but here is the latest peice of GCSE English coursework I have done. Seven pages *groans* - did it on a long, long car journey on dad's laptop.
Anyway, i doesn't have a title and if anyone actually can be bothered to read it, please suggest one!
Thanks,
BLAHpro.
____________________________________________________________
Michael Fisher’s heart began to beat harder and faster as his seat began to rumble and he was pushed forward into his restraint. He felt a bump as he hit the ground and suddenly, he heard a voice speaking from above.
“Thank you…” boomed the voice in a heavy American accent, “…for flying with American airlines. We hope you have a safe journey home from the airport. The time is 16:50 and the outside temperature is minus 4 degrees centigrade. Once again, thanks for flying with us!”
Michael’s father had just got a new job as a stockbroker in New York and had persuaded the family to emigrate to America to live with him.
Michael waited as his mum opened the over-head compartment to take out their hand luggage.
“Help me with some of these, Michael” asked his mum as she lifted down her husband’s laptop bag. Michael took the bag and joined the slowly moving line to escape the confinement of the plane. A wall of ice and snow hit his face as he stepped outside in to the blizzard of a New York winter. Edging down each of the steps, one by one, he stepped onto the ground and boarded the airport bus with his parents for the short trip to the main terminal of JFK.
After passing through passport control and grabbing their luggage from the carousel, the deep inviting warmth of the arrival lounge greeted Michael and his family with open arms.
“I’m off to grab a drink – can I get you two anything?” enquired Michael’s dad. His mum whispered something in Michael’s ear (to which he responded to with a nod of his head) before answering.
“Yes please – can we both have a hot chocolate?”
Michael looked around the inside of the terminal and could see an unhappy customer complaining to the lady at the flight desk about his luggage:
“I am sorry, Mr. Nickelson, we are doing everything we can to locate your luggage but if you just fill out this form we can…” Michael didn’t listen to any more of their conversation – he was too busy looking other parts of the building.
“Ok, here you are, two hot chocolates.” His dad had returned with the drinks and saw he had a newspaper in his hand. He took a slurp of his drink through the creamy foam on top and tipped his head to an angle to read the headline on the front page of The New York Times. It read ‘Third Child Missing from NY School in Week’ and a short paragraph in quite large bold type followed.
“In the last week, three students have gone missing from South Bank High School. Forensic evidence shows that a strand of hair found in store cupboard has been found to belong to one of the missing children by and four members of staff including the principal are being questioned. The police told The New York Times that as of yet, there is no evidence to show the identity of the kidnapper. ”
Michael finished his hot chocolate and followed his parents as they climbed into the bright yellow taxi outside the main airport building. It was late at night – not long before he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
A bell rung – Michael’s first lesson at his new school was about to begin. Back in England, he enjoyed science but all he could feel here was nervousness. As he walked down the corridor to the science room he could see some older boys leaning up against the lockers and a group of girls talking so fast in such a strong American accent that he could not understand what they were saying. He was late for his first lesson; he could see the other lessons beginning in the rooms around him and quickened his walking pace.
As he entered one of the science rooms there was a turning of heads and only his polite mumble broke the silence. “Errrm…” he started as he scuttled into the room, “…sorry I’m late sir.”
Avoiding embarrassment was not Michael’s primary talent; the teacher spoke out to the class. “All right class, I would like you to meet our newest student, Michael Fisher”. Michael raised his hand quickly as a sort of ‘half-wave’ and quickly made is way to a free desk.
“Now, last time we were studying how light is split using a Perspex prism…” Michael’s new science teacher had started the lesson but he wasn’t listening. He stared outside into the playground. He could see some people walking in their warm coats and gloves in the snow along the small street behind the wire fence that encapsulated the school. He noticed that up on a tall post in the far corner of the playground was a white security camera, slowing turning every now and then to get a different view of the school’s grounds. Michael already knew that fence or no fence, camera or no camera, three students were already missing from is school. He shuddered at the thought of how the parents and family of the missing children were feeling – just as if he was shuddering in the freezing cold outside. The parents must know that their children are probably not alive but still desperately hang on to a thin strand of hope that they would see them again – or at least find who killed them.
“Michael, can you tell me what the first three colours as they leave the prism?” Michael sat there, searching his brain for the answer (he had learned this only the year before).
“Red,” he paused, thinking for the next colour, “Orange…and Yellow”, he finally spat out unconvincingly.
The bell rang and the other students in the class packed their things into their bags. Michael did the same and left the room quickly to get to his next lesson. Luckily, he managed to survive the rest of the day without any more embarrassing situations!
As the bell rang at the end of the last lesson of the day, Michael walked into the corridor and joined the river of other students making their way to the exit. He waited outside into the gently falling snow for his mum’s car to arrive at the school entrance. He sat alone looking at a robin hop about the floor for about five minutes after the last bright yellow school bus had left and was wondering where his mum was. He jumped off the snow-covered wall he was sitting on and went inside the main school building to ask a teacher if he could use a phone to phone his parents – not that he knew his new number – he knew the school must have it on file somewhere
He wondered the main corridor of South Bank High in search of a teacher as he came across another student. Well, actually the correct term would be ‘ran into’, I think.
“Oh, I am so sorry…” began Michael apologetically to the only student he had opened his mouth to since he had arrived at his new school.
“Hey, don’t worry about it! Hi, my name is Steve.” Steve seemed friendly enough but as Michael was about to reply a teacher (holding a cup of dark black coffee) came up to him from round a corner at the end of the corridor and said,
“Are you Michael Fisher?” Michael gave a short nod. “Well, your ma rang to say that her car got stuck in the snow. She said that she’s called the recovery van and she’ll have to walk to pick you up. Would you mind waitin’ about forty-five minutes?”
“Sure…” he replied – probably in the most confident tone he had spoken to anyone in since he had been at his last school back in the UK. The teacher walked off, taking a sip from his coffee as he walked into the nearest classroom.
“That’s Mr. Johnson,” said Steve waving his finger in the direction that the teacher had gone, “He’s and awfully nice guy – great sense of humour!”
“Thanks,” began Michael, not really knowing what to say next, “Whatd’ya think about all these kids going missing from this place – I’m a bit scared! Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, kinda, some of us think it’s not a person. Ya see, apparently this place used to be a special school for children with mental disease or something – some of the teachers say that sometimes we act like it still is! Anyways, loads of the kids here had nightmares and stuff ‘bout the place. They figured that it was doing the kids more harm that good so in the end, the state shut the place down. Me and some of the other kids think it’s whatever gave these kids nightmares.”
“Really?” asked Michael almost in disbelief?
“That’s what us lot think….”
“…Who’s us lot?” Michael butted in.
“Aww, just me and some of my friends,” said Steve, “we wanted to go down in to the school’s cellar to check it out – to see if there is anything down there. We wanna find some clues or something. Some of my friends are over in the library waitin’ for me to go take a look down there.”
“Are you actually gonna go down there?” asked Michael, almost sceptically.
“I would, but I’m too damn scared!”
“Ok, why don’t we go meet your friends?” It was almost as if Michael was trying to save Steve from whatever was down in the cellar.
As Michael followed Steve into South Bank High’s library, he could see two other boys, about the same age as him. One was quite short with dark black hair, blue eyes and small black glasses. His face was riddled with spots and he sat on a low bench with his legs slightly apart and his elbows resting on his knees – looking very bored. The second boy was taller and wider than the first and had very short brown hair. He had puffed out cheeks and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed – as an important businessman would.
Steve introduced his two friends, the short one lifted his hand to Michael, as if to wave.
“This is Jacob.” Said Steve, pointing at the shorter of his friends. His finger moved along to point at the larger boy; “This is Will”. Will stood up smiling and shook Michael’s hand.
“Did ya go down there?” Jacob asked?
“No, I was hoping that Michael here would come down with me,” Steve paused in embarrassment, “…as a witness.” Steve smiled to himself as if to congratulate himself for making that last part up – he knew that he was just to scared to go down the cellar himself.
“Aww, you can’t drag someone else into this as well,” Will said to Steve. He turned round to Michael. “I wouldn’t go if I were you! This crazy fool here says he’ll go down there to see if there’s anythin’ outa place.”
“Yeah,” started Jacob, “I wouldn’t go down there. No one’s been down there in years – probably for a good reason!”
“Shut up!” said Steve; he turned to look at Michael. “Well, you wanna go down there with me?” Michael didn’t know what to say - he didn’t really believe that there was something was down there so he agreed, almost pressurised by Steve to do so.
“Sure.” he said, trying to sound cool in front of his new friends. Michael and Steve left the library, leaving Will and Jacob to wait for them. As they left they heard Jacob shout at them with a friendly tone:
“Fools!”
“Shut up, Jay!” replied Steve with a slight laugh in his voice.
* * *
They stood in front of a door that came off of the school’s long main corridor and Steve took a key from out of his right trouser pocket and placed it neatly and slowly in the lock.
“Ready?” Steve asked.
“…As I’ll ever be”, replied Michael with a tone of scepticism in his voice. Steve slowly turned the key until he heard the click of the door unlocking. He continued to turn it until he could take the key out - which he then slipped back into his pocket. Michael followed him into the room and saw him take a small black Maglite torch from his other pocket. He twisted the end and a thin beam of yellow light shot out the end. Steve then turned and gently shut the door behind them. Wherever the torch beam shone, all the dust they had just disturbed glistened in the air. They crept forward down a set of old and creaky wooden steps; neither Steve nor Michael said a word, a mixture of listening for any noises and fear kept them quiet.
When they reached the main part of the cellar, Steve shone the torch all around him. All him and Michael could see was old globes and sports equipment. There were racks of old pantomime costumes and a rusty old bike with only one wheel. They could see over in the corner a huge box covered in a white sheet – at least it used to be white. Now it was soiled with dust that had been exposed to the moisture and dampness of the room.
“Hey,” whispered Steve, “look at that – I’ll go check it out, you stay watch here.”
“Ok – sure thing.” Replied Michael; there was a lot more confidence in his voice. “There’s nothing down here – it’s just a cellar!”
Michael sat at the base of the stairs in almost darkness – there was a small amount of light seeping through the gaps in the door that they first came through at the top of the stairs. Michael thought of how the day had gone. It wasn’t what he was expecting for his first day of school but at least his mum was right – he had made some new friends.
Suddenly, there was a large BANG. Michael turned his head around to see what had happened but all he saw was the beam of light from Steve’s torch shining along the floor.
“Steve?” Michael shouted. He paused. “Steve!” There was no reply. Michael’s heart stopped as he feared the worst.
He heard the sound of wind rushing through an alley and could feel a breeze blowing in his face; getting stronger and colder as he stood frozen stiff. He could feel the adrenaline being pumped into his bloodstream. He was trying to stand as still as possible, listening for the sound of movement, even though the heavy pounding of his heart was all he could hear. Suddenly, he heard second BANG and the adrenaline he had was put to good use. He legged it up the stairs; two, maybe three steps at a time. Then, he ran and launched himself at the door at the top of the stairs. The rotting doorframe gave way, exploding in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Michael saw where he was going to go – he ran to the nearest classroom, ripped open the door and jumped over desks and chairs to get the back corner of the room. Panicking, he crouched down in the corner; pulling all his limbs close into his shivering body.
All of a sudden, the room fell silent. The noises and the strong wind stopped and after a while he slowly stood up and crept to the door. He opened the door of the classroom and stuck his head out. He looked left – nothing there. He turned his head and looked right – nothing there. He legged it out of the classroom and up to the light and security of the main school office. Sitting on a blue chair there was his mum.
“Where were you?” She asked, almost angrily.
“I was, I was…” He didn’t get a chance to finish.
Before he could think of what to say, there was a third BANG and a sudden torrent of confusion. The floorboards beneath him collapsed and after what seemed like an eternity of falling, he hit the floor with a thud. His body was cloaked in a blanket of dust and pieces of broken floorboard as he slowly opened his eyes. He let out a deep moan as he stood up – dusting himself off. He felt as if he had broken every bone in his body. He looked around and saw that he had fallen into a long, dusty corridor. There were flaming torches at even intervals along the old stone wall, each enclosed in conical tarnished brass cages.
Michael staggered down the corridor until he came to a crossroad in the labyrinth of tunnels that he appeared to be in. He turned left and continued to limp on. All Michael could think of was getting out quickly – he doubted it though. He knew that he was about to find out what happened to all those children that had gone missing from South Bank High. Not a nice thought – it sent an evil chill down his already frozen spine – it was still minus three degrees outside.
After about twenty meters, he came into a larger room. It was illuminated with at least fifty candles in such a way so that you could only see part of the way up the ceiling. There were candles on stands, in dishes on the floor and even on small rotting wooden shelves that had been nailed to the room’s roughly shaped stone wall. The room smelt of rotting meat and dampness and the floor was covered in small wood shavings – it reminded Michael of a horse’s stable. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw something metallic glisten in the light of the candles. He turned to face it and saw it to be a chain running from a large wheel mounted on the wall, up and up until it faded up into the darkness.
Slowly, he walked up to the wheel, step by step and took hold of the wheel with both hands. Straining, he turned it a quarter way round. He heard the noise the chain gong through some sort of pulley system above him. He looked up, squinting into the darkness but he couldn’t see a thing. He turned the wheel through a quarter turn again but this time, the wheel continued to turn after he had let go of it. He looked up and could see something lowering out of the darkness – two human legs. They continued to lower – but then stopped suddenly with the sound of metal grinding on metal as the pulley system above him jammed. He heard a creak and a snap as the chain broke and the legs fell to the floor.
The legs were attached to a human child’s torso, which was connected to a bloodstained head - Steve’s head. Michael shrieked in terror, hobbling as fast as he could out of the room in terrible pain. He launched himself over the crossroad and into a medium lit room on the other side. The room was full of Bunsen burners and test tubes filled with strangely coloured liquids making up an intricate glass network of scientific equipment. On the desk opposite all of this, there was a skinned rat lying in a large tin kidney dish surrounded by blood stained instruments of all shapes and sizes.
Michael’s heart stopped suddenly as he heard the scraping sound of stone on stone. He turned round slowly, petrified with fear to see that the stone door had locked shut behind him. He walked up to the door and rest his ear up against it – he could hear footsteps. A draught came from behind him and he started to shiver. Draught became a breeze and the breeze became a gust of wind. Michael heard a fourth BANG and the wind stopped, whatever had been lighting the room was extinguished and once again, Michael’s heart stopped – this time for real. His cold limp body hit the hard stone floor with a thud.
* * *
In a small garage in central New York, Mr. Johnson stepped out of his shiny new car and began to fill it with unleaded fuel. New York’s blizzard was over and the snow on the roads had already started to melt into a freezing cold slush. After his car was full, he walked briskly into the kiosk and stepped up to the counter. He handed over thirty dollars for the petrol and the attendant tapped some numbers into the till. Mr. Johnson took his change and wandered over to the newspaper rack.
The headline of the newspaper on the top of the pile read:
“State shuts down local high school after two more students go missing – bringing total to 5”