Peace and quiet. Finally! I’m home alone, my father has gone to stay at my grandmothers for a night over. He didn’t take me. I hate going places. When I was younger, my mother took me everywhere; she didn’t care how I felt. I remember, about seven years ago, my father and siblings were at a relatives house, as there was a wedding. My mother didn’t want to go, and when she called my father and said she wanted to go now, he said he wasn’t there because he’d been called for a business meeting to, east Manchester. My mother decided to entertain herself and went to an old ladies’ Kitty Party.
And she took me along with her! None of the other ladies bring anybody with them except their daughters, and I’m a boy! I was bored out of my wits, until something happened at the party. A girl died, just like that. The police said she caught fire. But I never met the girl or, in that case, see her die. So I don’t really know what happened. Since then my parents don’t take me anywhere. Nobody does. But I don’t really mind that. I know their scared of me seeing something else somewhere. But even though they’ve never taken me out, I’ve never enjoyed peace and quiet at home. But now I have the house to myself.
My kettle began to pipe. I poured the boiling water, from the kettle, into a blue, china mug. One of my mothers’ antiques; she’ll kill me if she found out I was using it. I poured a sachet of powdered tomato soup into the mug and stirred it. I filled my soup with croutons. I can’t have soup without bread or croutons; it just tastes too bland and yuk! I took my mug of soup into the living room and switched on the television. I took my place by the fire in my grandfathers wooden rocking chair. I sipped my hot tomato soup from the mug in my left hand and changed the channels with the remote control in my right.
Ning! Nang! Nong! Blooming guests! I can’t stand them! Every time you want to do something, a guest arrives. Mother said there was nothing wrong with guest. Yeah right! I say there’s nothing right with guests. Guests prevent you from doing anything: you can’t eat in front of them unless their eating because it’s disrespectful, you can’t watch television in front of them because you are disturbing their conversations. You can’t talk to someone else in their presence because you’re ignoring them; you can’t even leave their presence if they’ve seen you or you become the gossip of the town.
Mother always says guests are a blessing! Puff! Such blessings that sticks a permanent, humourless smile on your face and doesn’t even let you go to the toilet! Yeah, a real blessing! ZUT! Weird. The electricity just went. The rain outside splattered onto the window and began to get worse. I remained in the chair and threw the remote onto the table. Great! No, literally, I’m not being sarcastic. At least the guest at the door cannot knock anymore. SNAP! SNAP! Damn it! I forgot we had a letterbox! I didn’t budge. Why should I?
I don’t want to let in whoever wants to at the door to make my night a nightmare. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! Oh for crying out loud! I got up from the rocking chair and stumbled over to the door, nauseously. I pulled the wooden doo’r which seems to have expanded due to the cold winter. With all the strength on the right hand side of my body, I heaved the door towards myself. Some of the soup and croutons spilled over the rim of the mug, over my left hand and onto the floor. Then… the entire mug tilted sideways, emptying itself. It hung by my finger which remained on the handle of the mug. “…
as if to be a paranormal presence, the hooded, Goth-like girl, in the dark robes, steadily paced forwards, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night… ” My eyes could not endure the pain of looking at this image. Yet I stared. The very girl I saw in that dark alley. Her ebony black hair hung over her face, her dark eyes looked up at me. “May I come in? ” the girl asked. My eyes had not yet recovered from her image. Taking advantage of this, she barged in. Realizing what had happened, I let the girl pass. I quickly shut the door behind her and got the girl into the seating area.
From then on, I could smell gas. I could never tell where it was coming from. The girl took off her long black coat, as I saw something glisten. Was that a knife. Taking the coat from her, I saw something glisten on the coat. It was writing in silver. Narisone Platinistraxon. “Narisone,” I said. “Yes,” She replied. She wore a black gypsy top and gypsy skirt, With black velvet boots. “That’s my name. We are the only Platinstraxon’s in this country. But we’re not initially English, you see. We have a mixture of Turkish and Scandinavian blood. ” In an unusual manor, the fire began to roar towards me.
I went and put Narisone’s coat away. A strong pigment was dripping from her coat. Probably its colour was running, as I’d kept her in the rain for a long time. When I came back into the living area Narisone was not there. I could hear her washing something in the kitchen. As I advanced towards the kitchen, I saw some thing. Something to do with the cooker. I stood there when I realized what she had done. One of the dials on the cooker was turned to full power. Oh-my GOD! The girl was mad. The pigment from her coat was gasoline; the glistening ornament was a sparkling lighter.
Now the cooker dial! This girl was about to blow this entire block up! I had to do something. I realized the electricity was still out. I grabbed a television wire, which hung behind it and broke it off. Before I could stop myself, I crept up behind the Goth girl. As quick as lightening, I wrapped the wire around Narisone’s neck; strangling her. Narisone suffocated and fell. She lay dead on the floor. A puddle of dark blood grew around her head. I stood reminisced what I had just done. In order to sigh, I took a deep breath in… and then everything went black.
I woke up. Gas had filled my lungs in the house. But… where was I? I was lying on a dry pavement. Policemen were arriving. I got up. “What happened boy, why are you in the abandoned block? ” Said a fat constable as other officers arrived. “Abandoned block? ” I stared back. It was obviously not long after I fainted. But somebody had dragged me out of the house. I turned to see the house burned down completely. The constable wanted to hear everything. He told me that somebody found a light fire in the house and dragged me out. Then he called the police.
I told the police everything in detail. Their reaction to my story was unbelievable. They looked me up and down and started laughing. “WHAT IS SO FUNNY? ” I screamed “Son,” said the policemen. “Narisone Platinistraxon, along with her mother and all members of the Kitty Party, was burned alive, with gasoline, cooker gas and a sparkling lighter. The fire took down this house, and all this happened seven years ago. ” I stood there, in absolute shock. This can’t be true, it just can’t be. How can this be. I wasn’t dreaming. I can still smell the gas in my lungs. Something’s wrong.
Something is very wrong… I sat there as my father discussed with the warden what should happen in the future. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why am I here? Why am I at the Juvenile Mental Health Centre for the Criminal Minded? My father was walking away now, leaving me in this prison. I just hope its not another seven years before he takes me out again. Show preview only The above preview is unformatted text This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Miscellaneous section.