Few little snippets (1 year!!)

Hello there!! I just realised it has been an entire year since I started this blog! No one reads it but haha still. In honour of the fact that I have been blogging (inconsistently) for a year, here are a bunch of random bits of writing.

#1

Mr Chicken and his chicken-ness (a story that was never planned, just a simple stress buster).

Mr Chicken was a very kind young man. People called him “Chicken” lovingly because of how scared he was. His real name was actually Jacob Leboot! But he was a very scaredy-cat —uhm chicken. 

He was so angry about the nickname, but he never told anyone. How silly! He cried at home because of the nickname but was too chicken to tell them. 

One day, a bright young man approached his house. 

“Tap, Tap, Tap,” his knuckles rapped against his teakwood door. 

‘Mhm,’ The young man tapped his foot on the marble opening of the cosy looking Vermont home. 

Mr Chicken had just wept about the nickname and had taken to his warm bed with white linen pillows and fluffy blankets. ‘What now?’ he asked, sadly taking himself out of the very soft bed. 

He opened the door, with his grumpy face, wrinkled hair, and mishappen beard and gray robe. 

‘I apologize!’ the bright young man said very brightly even though the weather was very glum. 

‘Oh you notorious chap!’ he exclaimed very angrily which was quite unlikely for Mr Chicken who had just wept his dear kind heart into the cushions of his sofa and climbed his tall bed that had become at this very moment warmer than the furnace humming quietly behind him. 

‘Oh you grump chicken…’ The bright young man’s face had turned quite red at being called a “notorious chap”. ‘I am here, sent by the government and yet you turn me out as if I am nothing but a chap! How very wicked of you!’

Mr Chicken’s face grew grey at the thought and had turned chicken once again. ‘I’m very sorry, bright young chap, I…wish that you forgive me for my wrongsaying.’ 

But the bright young chap just glared angrily. ‘Why bother call me a chap? I have lived for thirty-five summers and have not once been called a “chap”!’ He threw a brown package at the old chicken. 

Mr Chicken burst into sad tears. The thirty five year old man patted him on the head and walked away while Mr Chicken wallowed at his misery. 

#2

A practice story for an english assessment, did not help a LOT but was fun planning with some friends.

John shivered with sheer fear engulfing from all sides. The air was thick and humid so much that it could be cut with a knife.

He sat up, the winds swaying his oversized shirt that was damp with humidity. 

His hands examined the desert floor, searching for all his lost belongings.

What happened to the cruise? Was there its shipwreck nearby? 

His hand caught hold of something small. He rejoiced with glee. 

‘Oh my ham radio!’ he gasped with an excited sense of hope.

He presses buttons all over the device but the static just buzzes. He tried with all his might, like a lion pursuing a cheetah and failing. ‘Hello? Hello? Anyone? Can someone hear me?’ He called, exhilarated. 

John dropped the radio, desperate but despairing. His fingers tightened running into his hair. He screamed. 

As if on accord, the radio gave out a shrill piercing sound. He stopped his scream midway and threw himself into the ground a new hope arising in his soft heart, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

He pulled the device close into his ear. 

“Where is it?” A voice asked, daring. 

“What?” he asked. 

The winds made it harder to hear. 

A second voice came through, sounding lazy, “Mm, must be somewhere here,”

“What?” He repeated.

“Eureka! We hit the jackpot!” A new voice said.

“Guys, seriously…on a serious note–” a cracking sound was heard. “–where is it?! We need to hurry!” The voice was clear and loud. 

“Hello? Anyone there?” John asked, curiously.

*

“Did you hear that, or was it just…’ Henry Tong said suddenly 

Everyone paused, straining to hear. A loud silence followed. 

A muffled voice called. “Nn y eer mm?” 

Mr Threadgold stood up, “Miss LaTullipe, pass me that radio,’ his voice was coated with fearful urgency. 

Miss LaTullipe, also known as Lucy was a tall woman with a pointed nose and had long dark hair. She stood up swiftly, ceasing the radio from the mantlepiece. She handled the device with caution as if it were a timed bomb bound to explode. 

Mr Threadgold handled it with equal cautiousness and with a shaky voice, he spoke. 

“Yes, we can hear you? And who may you be?” 

“I’m John!” cried the man on the opposite line. “You can hear me? Oh, lord, lord, this is…” 

#3

Another thing for school assignment. Thought it was good but haha not anymore.

She paused to catch her breath. Her eyes fell on the large gloomy building that stood before her eyes. Now, she held her breath. She inspected the large van-dyke-brown door, looming and horribly large, its ghostly swirls of smoke dancing at the rim. 

Her fingertips brushed the golden pattern that looked dull against the black door. This, she thought, is the best place to stay. She stepped behind and gripped the door handle. The door opened with an eerie creek that made her want to run back into the woods. Her eyes caught the large avalanche chandelier that only glowed at its tips. The rest of the room was dull with no light at all, in fact, it was dark. Even though the faint glow of the chandelier still glowed faintly, it felt darker than the woods she had taken refuge in. 

She took a deep breath, inhaling a ghostly smell. She could not think any further than that. Nothing can describe the smell of ghosts. She was worried for a brief moment but her mind went back to what would happen if she did not hide. She shivered.

A voice said in a spine chilling, shrill voice, “Arose, tuart tehy lorsaane,”

She hurriedly pressed her back against the wall only to realise there was no wall. She fell back onto something. Her hands analysed the structure. A desk. 

She tried holding on to it and suddenly the floor was just a blank sheet of nothingness. She fell through the void. 

After what felt like infinity, her eyes flew open. She lifted her head and hit something solid. There was light. Artificial light– not the sun or moon or the stars, simply light from light bulbs. Eased herself out of desk and saw a young boy with prominent freckles like water droplets sprinkled all over a leaf and red hair on the desk beside the one she had emerged from. She had not seen a human being ever since…

The boy turned to his side and snapped his head again as if in awe. ‘Wh-wh–’ 

Her eyes gave out a fearful warning and a sharp long finger to her lips. The boy turned back to his work but she could feel him constantly looking towards her.

The next morning, the girl reported missing was found dead in a building that was a local school. But the mystery still remained open.

#4

Okay I saved the worst for last, I was 10 so don't judgeee. One of my first books (only 50 pages) but hmm here: Alright, I named this No Mistakes (full of mistakes, no pun intended) and pretended I was Anna B Rose, a 10 year old who has never read murder mysteries but still wrote on e anyway. Anyway, without further ado...(brace for cringe)

Sadie heard sounds from the kitchen. She wondered why Millie was up so early. She walked slowly to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She started slightly as she saw Sandy rummaging through the drawers as if desperate to make breakfast.

She walked toward her and said, “Where is Millie?”

“Good morning,” said Sandy in a loud tone.

“Okay, okay, good morning,” said the frustrated young girl. “But where is Millie?”

Sandy was quiet for a couple of minutes. A little more frustrated, Sadie repeated it in a loud and angry tone.

“Sadie,” said Sandy putting her arm around Sadie’s shoulder. “She is... er... in heaven,” she said.

“Who-what? Who?” Sadie was confused. “B- but how?” she asked.

“M-murder,” she stammered. Sadie was horrified.

“It is NOT true,” she said shaking.

“But my dear you have to accept it-it is true,” Sandy whimpered, “we have-um evidence, I mean pictures.”

Sadie left Sandy without a reply and walked to the hall. She slumped onto the cream coloured settee. She was sure her day was ruined already.

Just then Briana appeared she said, “Sadie, I have got some news for you.”

Sadie turned her face away “I know, Mummy, don’t tell me.”

Briana was perplexed, “No-no, me, and your dad planned this last night before we went to bed. But whatever, it is about travelling.”

Sadie turned to her mother. Briana had caught her attention.

“We are planning to send you to London- “

“Who will come along with me?” she interrupted.

“Let me finish! You will go with your aunt, Uncle, Brittany and Bella.”

The sunlight had just hit below the curtains and pierced through the window creating a rainbow spectrum on the floor. Briana walked towards the curtains and pulled them open, the pomegranate tree, aloe vera, basil, jasmine, and rose plants adorned the window.

She pretended to be amused by how the rose had grown. “It’s grown now!” she exclaimed half to herself.

She let Sadie think over her parents’ decision. Sadie stared at her mum. “Since when did Mum admire plants?” she thought.

She could not help but remember when her father travelled somewhere in Asia and told her mum to take care of the kitchen garden, when he returned weeds had all over and the grow bags were dry.

After Briana finished ‘admiring’ the plants, she sat in front of Sadie again and said, “So, what do you think?”

Sadie stared at her fingernails, she thought over it again. If she left her parents and Sandy, who would help Sandy with breakfast or the dishes? Who would see Briana if she were sick? Who would play with baby Chase when Aunty Cynthia was at work?

“What do you think?” Briana interrupted her thoughts.

14

“I don’t know.” was Sadie’s plain answer “Maybe I’ll go with Sandy.”

“What?” said Briana, astonished.
Just then Sadie realized what she said.

“Oops,” she thought.

Reading this, I realised that I certainly did not take murder seriously and underestimated adults. Which adult tells a ten year old that her cook has been murdered. And why does Sadie not feel anything besides her day being ruined?

Nonetheless,

Love always,

Naba.