Task 16-Foster Home

Family Affair
It's not fair! I don't understand why mum and dad keep on arguing. Mum said that everything was alright, but daddy just gave her a shifty look and fiercely slammed the door behind him. Although she kept on reassuring me that 'mummy and daddy are just having a loud disccussion' I didnt believe her, not one bit! Dad said they were having a strongly worded duh-mes-tik or how ever you say it. I think all these words that adults seem to be using are very complicated and I don't think it makes much sense to me. I really actully don't know what it means, but I have an awful feeling that it's not all that worthy...
I can't believe it, it happened again, however this time dad started to hurt her; slapping, punching and even kicking. It made me cry. I could feel the teardrops welling up it my eyes almost instantly-I couldn't stop it, and without warning, warm streams of flooding water poured down my face.

I dont think I can handle it!
It's like having too much weight being put on my shoulders it's a tryant!

the "foster home"...

"its ok, come sit down they aren't all monsters" her warming voice easing my nerves.But the rumors and speculation i had heard about this place swarmed my head,canceling out all other thoughts "24 hours behind bars" "treated like animals". i would need to strong,keep my guard up at all times; i didn't want to make friend with these people. sitting alone in the corner next to the window,my mind seemed to shut down closely followed by my eyelids.i pressed every button i could think of to try and restart it but my efforts were in vain and i feel asleep unaware of my surroundings.

* * * *
"Johnny go to your room now!"her voice echoing around the house.Now it was daddy's turn...
"you think your so clever calling the police,well johnny's staying with me". mummy's turn...
"shut up hes my son and ill tell him what to do" mum replied. it was daddy's turn again.
"thats your problem you always (bleep) telling me what to (bleep) do and I'm you (bleeping) husband" daddy said a swear word so he misses his turn.over to mummy...
"thats because your always drunk" mummy again...
"its over Greg, im taking johnny and leaving you until your clean"now daddy could come back...
"thats what you think!"daddy shouted
i think mummy must have been cheating because daddy got his "mans drink" and chucked the bottle at mummy's head,she fell on the floor.the policeman came and chased daddy around the house(must be playing tag now).Mummy got taken away in the ambulance and then they brought me to this place called a foster home.Daddy said its where the weird kids with no parents go and that if i didn't behave I'd have to go there.The lady came to pick me up and as i walked through the doorway one last time i stared out the window longing to see my mums little red ford pull up and save me.

****
"johnny, johnny!!! wake up"the care worker said.
my head jolted forward as i sprang back into reality."your room is this way"she finished and slowly lead me away.as i walked out of the room im glanced out the window one last time longing to see my mums little red ford pull up and save me.

Task 16

Incident Report:

Name: Tommy Book
Age: 8
Date: November 1st 2007

What happened?... well mummy and daddy had an argument. I don't know how it started i was colouring and didn't care at the begining because it always happens. I don't like it. I think its stupid and fightings bad. Daddy said mean stuff about Mummy and then Mummy cried but said mean stuff back. Something about Mummy wasting everything of Daddys. It got too scary after a while so i cried too then Billy came and told them to shutup and he had a headache. Then everything went silent and dad went to bed even though he just got back from work.

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Incident Report:

Name: Tommy Book
Age: 9
Date: November 2nd 2007

It happened again today but worse. Today was my birthday and i was really exited but Daddy came late and we were waiting. When he came at night Mummy got angry and started shouting at him about coming late. Daddy shouted back. I was still sitting there waiting to cut the cake and waiting for them to stop and everything will be back to normal in a while. But then Daddy slapped Mummy and pushed her onto the floor and swore at her. Then he looked at me and just walked out. I miss Daddy i want him back. Can somebody help?

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p.s: sorry for late reply interenet was off.

Task 16

I see darkness arriving, like an army going to battle. Hate surrounded us everywhere. Where did that love go? My family was broken into bits and pieces and the only thing we did was watch it end. I miss my mother’s smile and the time we used to spend together as the ‘happy family.’ The laughter was gone and now there was only hate and sadness in the atmosphere.

Here we go again but today was going to be different than any of the other days. I wanted to close my eyes, as I watched them shouting, roaring and tearing each other apart but I fail to. Tears fell down my brother’s face; he was too innocent to understand what was going on around him. I kept close to him and made sure he was alright. Another vase broken and the roses inside it is no longer the beautiful bright red, instead it was lifeless. I would rather be watching a scary movie than this. I watched in horror as my mother was force to the ground, with blood all over her hand. I looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes and I knew deep inside she was crying out for help, even though she was strong enough not to show it on the outside.

My life became a living hell. I could no longer take it. “Stop it, Stop it, STOP it.” I shouted at them. They didn’t care about me or my little brother at all, just carried on with their war. I thought that my mother could be more understanding and caring but she turned out to be the worst one. Well, it wasn’t really her fault she became like this. I think it was dad’s fault, we all knew where he was going late at night everyday. The thought that mum knew where he was going; droved her mad and she couldn’t stop herself from it.

The war ended but it destroyed every little happiness we once had. She didn’t even say goodbye, just closed the door and never came back. Dad sat there on his special chair. He looked at us. I could see that was not what he wanted. Deep inside his heart, he still had feelings for mum. I stood there…in silence. I didn’t say a word and left him there so that he can think about the disaster he caused.

The last words of my mother was, “I will come back for my children and that day you will paid for the damage you caused.” My father didn’t care; he carried on with his life and tried to bring things back to normal. I was left in tears and pain which no one would understand.

Where did that love go? I still ask myself that question.

Daddy?

The celebration has begun.Trust my family to go for the works on my graduation day.Well that's Asians for you.
Mum is there the tears of joy in her eyes.My grandparents aka extra parents are there smiling at me in admiration for my achievements.Aunties and uncles with my presents.Siblings and cousins up to no good.As always.Well that's my family and I love them.I wouldn't change them for the world.
I wonder what it would be like if my biological father was here.
He'd probably take the glory for himself.
I remember the days when I was a child.The slamming doors.The walking on eggshells.The tension in the air.The days dad used to live with us.
No one really listened to victims of domestic violence then.They wanted everything to be black and white.Must be lots of bruises as proof.My mum lived in silence for ten years but then he really did it.

"Look woman.Whatever I say you do,you understand!"
No comment
"I click my fingers and you run behind me."
"Or what!you think I'm staying silent any longer."
He wasn't expecting that
"You bloody embarrass me in front of my family.You beat the shit out of me.You treat my daughter like shit just because she isn't as close to you as your other 'princess'.Oh and don't forget the time you bloody hit me while i was pregnant with your heir as you say-"
"STOP woman!This is my house and I will do as I like."
"Correction this is my house.Look at all the bills and letters and you will find that it is MY house."
"Well if it is YOUR house you won't need me then wuill you."
"No I won't .Pack your bags and leave me and my children.Don't ever think of coming back into our lives again"
"Fine!But remember this.Without me, you and your children will become nothing.Your daughters will be housewives and your son will be working in Asda or Tesco,putting away people's trolleys and baskets.Remember that"

I remember that night like it was yesterday.I remember having to protect my brother and sister and try to put them to sleep despite the noises coming from downstairs.
I remember the words "Without me, you and your children will become nothing.Your daughters will be housewives.
I remember these words while I'm at my graduation party having graduated and become a Doctor.

Family Warfare

The ear shattering silence is suspiciously unnerving, and there is no doubt about the obvious volcanic currents brewing beneath its immaculate surface. The grandfather clock is idly ticking away, totally oblivious to the bloody battle that inexorably draws nearer with every little jerk of its hands.
The clock chimes eight and I wince as my heart violently convulses; the peal reminiscent of a bell before a boxing match, I stare on in dread as my father takes his corner and my mother reluctantly takes hers.
My little sibling is gazing at me with his bottom lip trembling in terror; he is too young to fully understand why my father and my mother can’t help but to partake in this daily sparring match.

The fear and panic swirling in the depths of my mother’s eyes are apparent, as my father opens his mouth and fires sharp bullets of verbal abuse and expletives at her with palpable force.
She bears the hit like that of a true soldier and fires back with her own damaging grenades full of corrosive wounding words coming from her heart.
Seeing the challenge in my mother’s eyes my father seems surprised at her boldness, but he immediately recovers from the shock and prepares to bombard her with his biggest attack yet.
My mother doesn’t give him a chance as she lays her own nuclear mine in his path; the explosion that comes from this confrontation results in the instant destruction of the happy family image that we had all strived to achieve.
They both cease fire acutely aware of the devastating wreck that they have caused.
I glance at my brother who is clinging to my side with tears rolling down his pudgy cheeks, and I know that the damage done here today is irreversible.

My father and my mother stand still, both panting and both glaring accusingly into the eyes of the other.
My father is the first to break the stare realising that my mother has become just as tough as him in battle.
He turns stiffly on his heal and retreats.

Task 16

Roar.

Hiss.

Roar.

Hiss.

The predators are ready for attack. Both their eyes burning with fury. Two beasts out to get one another but I feel that really I’m the prey. They both wish for ‘happy families’.

Happy my arse… She is sharpening her liquored claws as he grips his feet into the ground. I can almost hear both their hearts pounding synchronized with each other. Oh, this is tense; the fight of the century.

They Charge. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Hiss. I usually feel safe here, my haven, but now, its but a war zone. The violent movements increase. I’m warm but the screams I hear are cold and bitter. I feel a thud and she is on the ground…as well as me. At this point, I want to break free and stop this violence. But, I am weak and powerless.

My mother is paralyzed on the floor. I kick to try and conscious her; she does not stir. Father has killed my home, my tranquility, my life. My little heart is pounding wildly. Then, silence…

Task 16: Satin

I think she thought she played me, But who turned out to be the lucky one; who has the children, who ended up with the money, who has the new and definitely improved wife. I know it’s not her, God knows where she is, probably half way around the world in a dustbin. Your probably wondering who I’m talking about or what I’m talking about…satin, otherwise known as my ex wife she was the salt in my coffee, the sugar on my chips, the pepper up my nose she was my anomaly. Until the best thing in my life happened, SHE LEFT.

It all started with her ridiculous argument; “Darling I don’t think we should move house, I like it here” she said after somehow persuading me to put the down payment on a £250,000 house, so me being the lovely husband I was I replied “Sugar Muffin, we put the down payment on the house yesterday but I’ll see what we can do tomorrow” so the bitch replies “Tomorrow, but baby I want to sort it out now” so I reply “Honey drop the estate agent is closed now I can’t do anything until tomorrow” that’s when it turned nasty she dropped the darling and the baby and replaced them with stupid little twit and ugly bastard ( I know, it’s a very big leap ain’t it ). By the time the argument had finished she had accused me of killing her slowly, cheating on her and apparently it was my fault that there was no world peace and to top it all off to put the cherry on top of the cake our children were sitting with us on the wobbly unclean dining table watching with disbelief as their mother gradually turned into the hulk.

And then after getting a “touch” angry she patted the children’s heads and said to them “It’s not mummies fault that daddy doesn’t make her happy.” I sat there and watched as she tried to convince our children that I was Dr. Evil and she was just a female Austin Powers, but obviously it didn’t work so she packed her Luis Vuitton luggage set and headed off, and I’ve never seen her since but I’m not complaining as I said; who turned out to be the lucky one, who has the children, who ended up with the money, who has the new and definitely improved wife. I know it’s not her, Because she’s gone trust me she’s gone far.

MONEY:S

money.the amount of hate i have for that. i don't understand what people love about it. what pleasure and good does it bring to them? every bloody evening they fight over over it. i thought my dad was going to tear my mum's hair out today, that's how serious their arguments have become. they do this all the time. they fight over the littlest of things, always causing problems for me and my younger sister. it's always us that has to suffer in the end. always us that are forced to stay up at night not able to sleep because of all the sceaming and shouting. we use to stay up at night hoping and wishing that they will stop, stop bloody fighting. why can't they just stop?

today dad came home and they were at it again. for hours they were screaming and shouting at each other, but today they just went too far.he exceeded the limit. i
think my mum was actually bleeding. when i saw her it felt like my heart was being ripped out of me. i couldn't belive he would go that far. i couldn't even look at him, he knew what he had done was that horrid. he couldn't even face looking at the pain and damage he caused my mum and us. he just walked out in the end. out of our lives, all because of money. money.... yeah, that really doesn't give you pleasure i know that better than anyone.

Task 16

Spears of rain pummelled the window, the deluge sounding like feet thundering down the road, and a thousand tiny arrows hitting a corrugated iron roof all rolled in to one, and being unleashed in one continuous ear-splitting wave.

Of course this loud outbreak of noise from the rain sounded like a small trickle to my ears. What really hurt my pale and transparent ears were the two women arguing downstairs. They were arguing about who was to have the pet dog. I rolled over in my sleeping place trying to get back to the eternal peace of a ghost sleep. I’d nearly dropped back off the pitch blackness just brushing my fingertips when,
“OI! Don’t turn your back on me!”
rose up through the floors and slamming into me and propelling me away from my peaceful sleep.

I glided downstairs invisible and hovering approximately 10cm from the ground to see who these two people were and why they were arguing. My pellucid body barely visible at all in the bright light. Suddenly for no apparent reason the dog lying at the bottom of the stairs started to bark and growl as if an intruder was trying to come in. Its fur practically standing vertically on end, and its barks were the warning sort. Loud and meaningful. The two women came to see what had made the dog start to bark. As there was nothing to see they soothed the dog by petting it and whispering kind words to it. Once the dog was calm they continued with their argument. By now I had named the two women. One I had called Frizzy because of her springy and buoyant hair. The other I had named Slippers because of her thick and woolly slipper socks.
“I hate you so much!” Frizzy was shouting when I glided into the room.
“To tell you the truth I stopped caring ages ago” Slippers said this with complete calmness, and with an artic wind. From this I guessed they had moved on or sorted out who was to have the dog, and now they were arguing about something totally different.
“You never listen to me! You always manipulate my words so they fit to your liking! I absolutely ha….” Frizzy stopped in mid sentence. While they were busy squabbling I had crept up to the glass of wine that was resting on the table and flung it across the room. It flew through the air like a golden eagle and smashed into the clean white wall painting red wine all over it. They were both speechless.
“Arhhhhhhhhhh! This place is haunted! I’m not staying in this freak house for another second!” screamed Frizzy.
With that she bolted for the front door and dashed out of the house.

“Finally!” I thought as I drifted back up stairs avoiding the dog that was sleeping on the top step stretched out like a barrel. I glided swiftly up through the ceiling to my little sleeping space and promptly fell asleep.

Task 16

They're there again. I hope I can slip past without them noticing me. Oh no, they've seen me, RUN!!!! That never works either. I mean they're award winning runners on the school athletic team, and i'm just the girl who hides in the library corner reading a book. My main intention in life is to remain invisible. And most of the time it works. Except when i walk along the corridors. Then they see me, all four of them. Rachel, Carol, Jane and Paige. The most feared people at school.

Even at home i seem invisible, Dad's always too busy fighting with my brother. And mum's always too drunk too take any notice. So it's always me on my own. I spend 90% of the day locked in my room trying to block the outside world. Life seemed to stink, like the dustbin I landed in yesterday breaktime.

I had already made five attempts to end this torture. Yet I always did it at the wrong time. My mum came in from the pub and barged into the room, the slits starting to show on my neck. James kicked his football through my window and and nocked the bottle of pills over.

Everyday things get worse, it started with names, then threats but then it happened, the slaps, the kicks, the punches across my face. No one noticed when I wasn't at school from a broken arm, and no one noticed when I would bunk to try and get away from them, to everyone at school I was known as the freak. Even the teachers didn't know who I was.

If I'd known today was going to be the last that I would have to suffer I would have made something special of it. On my way home, the burn from their punch this breaktime made my face feel like it was on fire. I would always try to be as far away from them as I could. Seeing them at the end of the road made me panic.Without thinking, I ran across the road, not seeing the big double decker bus in my way.

I sat there imagining it to be a sitcom. A delightful inconsequential flick through the, lets face it, constant barrage of negativity that life is. It played out smoothly, failing to acknowledge the flaws of character revealed by the situation. The argument, sparked by the presence of rosemary on the chicken that we had layed in front of us after ' slaving in front of a ten million degree sterilisation machine for five damn hours'. The only thing my father failed to remember after being in front of the oven for an hour and a half was that if my mum came into contact with the aforementioned herb she would sneeze violently for fifteen minutes straight
(CANNED LAUGHTER).
Me and my sister lau ghed cautiously watching as my dad sighed, waiting for the blood that was rapidly reaching boiling point opposite him. She stood up and silently walked into the kitchen. Dad stayed and and mindlessly twiddled a cube of parsnip with his fork.
' I think she wants you to go in there dad' my sister blurted out, lifting her eyes from her roasted allergen.
' did she think that maybe i want her to come back in here and behave like she isn't five' (CANNED LAUGHTER).
Then mum burst in, her face blood red;
'how dare you undermine me in front of my children'
' i'm sorry, did you mean our children? the only things that have stopped the last fifteen years of my life being a pissing shambles'. This was followed by an unimaginable silence which didn't cease to plough through the butter like tension of this last supper.
I decided to block out the rest of the evening, sweeping the trauma under the carpet. Even though the lump under the carpet is still there, ten years on i don't mind lying on it, stepping on it or even lifting it to take a look at the lump before i take the carpet to get washed.

Falling Apart

I try so hard not to hear but they’re so loud. Their piercing sounds fill my ears leaving me in doubt. The only goal is to keep this family from falling. With no love left how can we be saved, from this aching loneliness that comes our way? They don’t understand what it’s doing to us. They carry on for hours while my brother and I starve. I try to put him to sleep and tell him “everything will be fine”; though I know he is much smarter than he looks. Yet he forces himself to believe me and pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on; whilst I lay there in silence remembering the good times.

Everything now silent I only hear cries. I stand still in wonder. The front door slams shut, with a sound like thunder.

one nights tale

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
When the children were tucked up with care
A problem between their parents began to stir,
‘Your good for nothing, cold as the wind that blows’
‘You cannot repay me the personal debts you owe’.


As the snow started to fall it blanketed the world from the heated debate
But as the clock struck ten the argument reached its fate.
‘It can’t end this way’ he howled, but it came to no avail
‘You cant leave me! I’m much too frail!’
With bags in hand she braved the snow,
Twas only now that heart rates began to slow.

With his head in his hands he began to think,
Think of the times he had pushed her to the brink.
It was only now that he could understand
How all he used to do was command.
All the more he sat there, it became clearer
Whose heart he valued all the more dearer.

As the clock struck eleven all were at rest,
Heads down. Lights out. Asleep in their beds
They were still unaware of the forthcoming quest.
As Father Christmas swooped above their heads.

Now Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring.

Not even a mouse.

Task 16- A friend of mine

The story didn't go the way it should have, it wasn't like in the movies. There should have been a warning. The sky should have turned dark and the wind should of picked up, Depressing music should have been playing in the background and I should have walked slower through the woods, I should have paused before walking into the ruins of the factory- to build up the suspense and create tension.
It wasn't like in the movies at all. The sky was a brilliant blue, There was a gentle breeze and the only music in the background was the sound of the childish laughter and screams of joy coming from the nursery down by the river.

She was a selfish, heartless cow and I started to really hate her. I know it wasn't her fault, really. It was that boyfriend of hers, he wasn't as perfect as she tried to pretend he was and he didn't stand by her when it happened.
Of course we where friends before the drama, but you don't remember the good times once hate fills your head. Once everyone is on your side, you can't stop and say "Okay, Im sorry. Let's make up and be friends again and I'll be there for you, like you were there for me." I should have... But I didn't And I wasn't there for her when she needed a friend.

I heard them by the old tire swing near the opening of the woods. We used to have so much fun there.. The swing went so high, you couldn't help but laugh once you got off. The woods were one of my favorite places to be, Even when I moved 2000 miles away, when I came to my Grandma's for the summer, I loved the woods. The memories, the echos of the laughter..
I heard them arguing, I heard him shove her and roar at her like the animal that he was. Through the muffled sounds of her cries I could make out the threat of suicide and his reply of "I dont give a fuck, do it."

My 'friends' laughed. They laughed when I told them what I saw. They said she deserved everything she got after she abandoned us like that.
"Friends don't just leave you for some stupid guy" they said.
"What did she think was going to happen, she gets knocked up and he stays with her and the baby for ever?"
Of course he wouldn't. She was stupid to think he would, blinded by that sickening disease people call love...
Guess what I did? Not wanting to feel bad about not going after her, and not wanting to look like I care; I laughed too. An empty laugh.

Going home that day, I took a shortcut through the woods and something caught my eye inside the 3 walls and ruins that we still referred to as 'the factory'. My curiosity got the best of me and I went to have a look.
It wasn't like in the movies at all. You see, in the movies, the actors, they never get it quite right. They neck isn't actually snapped and they aren't actually stone-cold dead. In the movies there isn't as much blood all over the walls and floor or, there is too much. In the movies the rope they use isn't the one you held on to and laughed while sitting on that tyre swing you loved so much as a child...
I broke down, and just sat there staring at her. It wasn't the dead fetus hanging off her that got to me the most though, it wasn't even the sound of blood dripping off her corpse. It was the sadness in her eyes. Those eyes that haunt my dreams and make me re-live that moment every night. Those eyes that make me feel more guilt then you can imagine.
I am forever condemned. I don't hear the echos of laughter in those woods anymore. The woods forever mourn the loss of an angel. My friend..

Demolished

A blue ford.
An old, rusty, blue classic ford.
I never thought I’d be sitting in one. It could have been any other car, just not this one.
Dented doors with scratched paintwork, and nothing but a feather duster in the back seat to clean the windows. My knowledge hasn’t expanded more than eleven years, so why me? She got to stay with my aunt, who hasn’t realised that she’s nothing more than hard work.
The sky shouldn’t be blue. Dark blue maybe, but I prefer black.
Birds shouldn’t be birds; they should be magpies searching for their last piece of silver to crave the satisfaction. Satisfaction that they never get.
They couldn’t just shut up once could they? Evening after evening, I sat there, at the top of our mahogany staircase, staring at what was supposed to be the anniversary gift from June. A glass vase. Nicely shaped with a high opening, and every Saturday, filled with a fresh bunch of sunflowers. Until one Saturday, they weren’t there.
I could never forget that Saturday. An autumn day with what seemed to be a magnificent dinner. Gosh, I should’ve put my plate in the sink that night. Maybe mum wouldn’t have ended up with two scars for life, running like the wind down her face. And maybe dad wouldn't have-oh, never mind.

Those hot tears, scorching every inch of my skin as I covered my ears from those cries. She never knew what was happening, I could have held her, told her it was okay, but what kind of big sister am I? One who ends up like this, staring out of the window in a stranger’s car.

Flashbacks. Fragments of hate bouncing off the walls, I never knew it would have come to that.

“I should’ve known you would never stick it out! The girls? This house? What the hell have I lived for all these years? You come home, stinking of beer! I-“
“DON’T YOU EVEN DARE PIN THIS ON ME! WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”
“Your wife! I couldn’t cope when she came along, I should have just run away then. You and your sluttish girlfriend.”
“SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND! DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER SLUTTISH.”
“Take a look around Dean! Who the hell doesn’t know? You’re just fooling yourself now, take a look at yourself-“
The shattering of china came next. Followed by the repetition of the same thing, like a broken record. Every portion of my breath flew into my head, gasping for the realisation of what had happened. I remember flinging down the stairs. So fast that I didn’t even feel my ankle twisting, that came later when the police took me to hospital.
Looking into my father’s face, nothing but pain and sadness and torment.
All I could conjure up at that point was the fury, the anguish I felt. But my mother told a different story. Lying on the floor beneath a pile of demolished china plates, she seemed so helpless. The mother I had always known, so willing and dedicated, she just went out of the window with what was left of her. The blood was enough to know what had happened.

So now; I’m here.
Rewinding the past six months as the world carries on with another fantastic day.
Without me.

Task 16

Last night on the 15Th of October 2007 was the night Joanne Bingley and Derek Fortatude divorced leaving there children with Katherine Bingley for the night as the court case was taking place in Hertford Court on Liverpool Street.
Joanne told us: "We were all happy families until I met her, I won't name names because I am not like that (glares viciously at Derek). He saw her more and more until every night he came home late I knew where he was as it was quite bait."
Derek Fortatude said nothing in defences.
The Jury was becoming more and more frustrated because the normally should sign divorce papers but there was a jam in the waiting list and was forced into court.
There was a break half way through were we got an interview with the Judge:
"Do you believe any of the participants?"
"I believe Joanne more because she has more to say and complain about than Derek Fortaude, as he said nothing when she made her statement, so I think the Jury will believe her more than Derek."
So there we are the court judgement will be made next Wednesday, there is completely no romance or love in this couple its just a "Dry Stone" as Joanne told us, during the interview.

From Helena Redbridge
Hertford Court.

Screams

Screams. Screams. Screams. DON'T SCREAM. DON'T SHOUT. DON'T ARGUE. JUST STOP. I don't like it when you scream. WE don't like it when you scream. Evelyn don't cry. It's OK. Big brother Joseph is here. Why are mummy and daddy shouting? I don't like it when they shout. Mummy's so red right now her eyes look like they're about to pop out. Daddy says not to worry and that they're just having a 'heated discussion'. Mummy disagrees and says they're simply arguing and not to complicate or confuse our little minds with such 'complex' words such as 'heated' and 'discussion'. They argue some more. Evelyn cries so more. I cry some more. It's so late at night right now. We should be eating dinner round the fireplace right about now. As a family. A FAMILY.
"MAYBE YOUR WHOLE ATTITUDE TOWARDS ME WAS A FARCE! THE ROMANCE... THE LOVE... THE EMOTION!" shouts mother.
"MAYBE OUR WHOLE MARRIAGE WAS A FARCE!" Father shouts back. I hear a noise. A loud noise. It wasn't a noise of muffled screaming either. It was the sound of the front door going SLAM.

Task 16

"...You never look after the children!" 15-love.
"I never look after the children? Well maybe that has something to do with the fact that I work my arse off day in and day out unlike some!" 15-all.
"see here we go again, you always put work before the family!" 30-15.
"And what? You think I'd like to hop on a train every bloody morning and to be put under the watchful eye of my boss and have him breathing down my neck?" 30-all.
"As a matter of fact I do. Because while he's supposedly breathing down your neck during work hours, he's bloody on top of you in your lunch break!" 40-30.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. Late nights out, working late. You can't hide it from me, from us anymore"
"Well, that has to be your guilty conscience, or have you forgotten last year?" Deuse.
"I thought we wern't going to discuss the past anymore 'coz I could bring up a whole load of stuff about you, besides it was a misunderstanding with your mother" - advantage. "Just remember how I've helped you" Game. Only it isn't a game, it's real life. Dad walked off and mum sat back down at the table, sobbing, her eyes blinded by tears.

Everyone knew what mum was up to, they just couldn't bring it up - well not until now. We wouldn't know where to start. "Hey mum, you know Eric, the one your secretly having it off with behind dad's back? well, when can we meet him? Can he come in for a cuppa???" That wouldn't pan out to well. And anyway, turning a blind eye just made it easier for us all. We could enjoy pretending to be one happy normal family. Although I wanted to take my dad's side and question her 'til the cows came home, I couldn't. So i simply put my arm round her shoulder and hugged her. It wasn't her fault dad went out a lot, and didn't shower her with attention, it just wasn't him. He wasn't Romeo-like, he never did a romantic thing in his life. Even flowers still had the tesco value sticker on, revealing the slashed price. Fish and chips was his speciality, and a romantic gesture from him would be a chinese from Woo lot down the road. Soppy cards reading "roses are red, violets are blue, you are like honey and I love you" just wern't cutting it anymore. So it was understandable that Eric, who left her secret coded messages and bought her champagne, had swept her off her feet almost immediately.

Trouble was, where did all this mess leave me?

Task 16: Same Difference

The secret of successful writing is invariably not WHAT you write about (i.e. the CONTENT) but HOW you write about it (i.e. STYLE).

This week's task is a challenge in style - and, unlike other weeks, you will HAVE to read other people's attempts before you do your own. You are all going to write about the same content; but you must write about it in a different style to everybody else. In that sense, the sooner you post, the easier it will be. Those of you leaving it until the last minute will have the hardest job of all - because most of the good ideas will already be taken...

The piece of GCSE English coursework you will all complete in due course is described, in the syllabus, as ORIGINAL WRITING. And this is no accident. The way to impress the examiner the most is by making sure your writing is ORIGINAL; or, in other words, unique to you. And this week's task will help you.

Those of you familiar with the wiki may have seen a presentation of mine on the Explore, Imagine, Entertain page entitled 'Getting Started'. Here you will see five different attempts at beginning the same story - in that case, a story about a girl getting bullied. I suggest you visit the page, download the presentation, and study carefully how each opening is very different. This will help you tremendously with this week's task.

So how can you make your writing different? It is all to do with risk taking; experimentation: try playing around with some of the following:

• Tense: why not try the present tense? Or even the future? Either can be used to very good effect.
  
• Mood: most writing is Declarative (i.e. it is just a series of statements). Why not use the Conditional mood (e.g. he would); the Imperative (i.e. commands); or the Interrogative (i.e. questions)?
  
• Genre: Try exploring atypical/non-standard non-fiction genres for your narrative fiction. Anyone who has read Laura Esquivel's Like Water For Chocolate will know how the cookery recipe format can make for fascinating fiction. Or how about the school text book? Or a set of map directions? Or a news report? Subverting (i.e. twisting) non-fiction genres for fiction can be very effective.
  
• Narrator: 3rd person narratives are commonplace. How about using a 1st person narrative (i.e. I/me); or even a 1st person plural (we/us)? And what about the underused 2nd person narrative (you)? And who will be the narrator? Will it be the main protagonist? Or an onlooker? Or maybe there will be several?
  
• Fragments: Sometimes, full sentences are essential and de rigeur (i.e. necessary). However, it can be fun playing around with what Microsoft Word would call 'fragments'. Individual words and phrases which exist apart from any sentence. This can be very effective at times.
• Time: a linear narrative is easy to follow; but a narrative which starts at the end and works backwards can be much more fun. And what about parallel narratives (i.e. two thread which flit back and forth between each other)?
• Subverted stereotypes: try tricking us into assuming characters will behave a certain way and then showing them behave anything but...
• Setting: Try focusing on seemingly random objects or aspects of setting. Use them to explore emotions within the characters themselves. An ashtray, perhaps. A doorknob. The way the curtains never quite meet in the middle etc...
  

And these are just a few ideas.

A word of warning: different does not necessarily mean better. Indeed, you could use any or all of the devices above and your writing could fall flat on its face. But unless you experiment in the first place, you will never know what works and what doesn't; and, even worse than that, your writing could end up just ORDINARY. And WHO in their right mind would want to be ORDINARY???

So the only RULES this week are that there are NO RULES.

I am going to give you a simple plot synopsis. And then each of you need to tell the same story, but in a different style. Your own, original style. Your own ORIGINAL writing.

No need to write too much, by the way. It is definitely QUALITY over quantity I am looking for this week. It is fine only to begin the story, and to leave it unresolved - as long as your writing stands intact in its own right.

PLOT SYNOPSIS: Family conflict. Evening. Young children listen as parents argue. At end of argument, one parent leaves.

Deadline: Midnight on Saturday 22nd December (N.B. This is the deadline for ALL overdue tasks too.)