HOTS OFF THE PRESS 2014 is is a magazine containing contributions from children and young people being taught by Edinburgh’s Hospital and Outreach Teaching Service. ese children and young people might be: • in the Royal Hospital for Sick Children • in the Schoolroom, CAMHS, Tipperlinn • Looked After (and Accommodated) • Gypsy/Traveller/Roma • excluded from school • taught at home due to their medical condition • taught in one of our Education Groups • part of the Young Mums’ Unit We hope you enjoy the magazine. Any feedback is always welcome. ank you and well done to all our contributors.
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Transcript
HOTSOFF THE PRESS 2014
This is a magazine containing contributions from children and young people being taught by Edinburgh’s Hospital and Outreach Teaching Service.
Shewasalreadyawake–notbecauseshewasreadytoseizetheday,butbecauseshehadbeenawakeallnightworryingaboutwhatwasaheadofher,orratherwhatwasnotaheadofher.Anotherday.Sherolledgrudginglyoutofbed.Hercoldempty flat seemed to enter her bodythroughthesolesofherfeet.Intheshowershetriedtoforceasmileandcaughther reflection in the glass door.AslowhourpassedinwhichJaneforcedherfaceintotheexpressionsthatpeopleexpected.CheerfulJane.HappyJane.InterestedJane.Thebittertasteofcoffeewastheonlythingable to properly get her ready fortheday.Drinkingcoffee
AtherdeskagainshewaspretendingtobeBusyJane.Darkrainfellfromagreyskyand battered against the small squaresmudgedwindowthroughwhichJanehadlookedeverydayforthelasttenyears.Shelookeddownatherskirt,smart and stylish the sales assistant had told her; but that wasalloffiveyearsago.Janewonderedwhatpeopleactuallythoughtofher.Shewouldbetwentysevennextweek.Thepeeling,yellowishradiatortoherleftwheezedstaledustyair in her direction as it had doneeverydayforthelasttenyears.Shethoughtofherself
earlier,outofbreathafterhavingclimbedthethreeflightsofstairs to the office as she had doneeverymorningforthelasttenyears.Behindher,asuddensqueakingfromhercolleagues’chairstoldherthatMrMorvernwasdoinghisrounds,ashehaddoneeverydayforthelasttenyears.Tenyears.
Janetookadeepbreathoffreshairandstartedwalkingroundthelakewhileeatingherlunchtimesandwich.Alightbreezetickledthewater’ssurfacecausingsmallwavestodance.Thesunsmileddownonthesedancerssoakingtheminsilverlight,reflectingtheirhappiness.Highoverhead,birdslaughedastheyswoopedthen soared up again into the blue.ThengreycloudsrolledinandJaneremindedherselfthatnothinggoodeverlasted;butthecloudsmovedonandthesunjustcarriedonplayingwiththewavesasifnothinghadhappened.
Mondaywaslooming.TherewasnoavoidingtheusualSundaycycletotheshoppingcentre.WithabigsighatthebusytrafficJaneputoutherhandtoturnleftofftheroundabouttowardstheneonlightsoftheshoppingcentre.Sheswervedslightlytoavoidhitting a shopping trolley on the road causing the man behind hertobeephishornloudly.Lightsflashed.Themanangrilyspedinfrontofherspittingoutabusefromhiswindow.Hisredfacewithnostrilsflaringandeyespoppingoutoftheirsocketsseemedtosearrightintoher.
Janepushedherbikeontothepavement.Shehadafewminutesfightingbackthetears and trying to get her breathingbacktonormalwhileshelockedherbike.Thenshewalkedthroughthesqueakingslidingdoorsontothefancymarblefloorofthecentrewithherheaddown.Shehadonherfavouritebootsbutshesuddenlyhatedthem.Shefeltahundredeyesonherbecauseoftheloudclackingshewasmakingonthefloor.Sheglancedupnervouslyandrealizedthatnobodywaslookingather.Nobody.ThenawarmlaughcausedJanetoturnaround.Awoman,smiling,onherphone,walkedconfidentlyintoanexpensiveclothesshop.Janewonderedwhoshewastalkingto.Herboyfriend?Herhusband?Bestfriend?Thewomandisappeared into the shop and wasgreetedbyasmilingsalesperson.
“Doesn’taprettygallikeyouneedaprettyperfumelikethis?”the man said as he sprayed her withafoulsmellingconcoction.Hisgoldtoothflashedintheharshlightsofthemall.
Janedidn’tgotoworkthatMonday.OrTuesday.Ortherestofthatweek.Shedidn’tevenphonein.HerphonehadrungafewtimesonMonday.Shehadn’trepliedandithadnotrungsince.ByThursdayshehadmadehermindup.Theemptyfridgeandcupboardshadhelped,orforcedhertodecide.Sheslippedanotethroughherlandlord’sdoor,withdrewallhermoneyfromthebank,stuffeditinherbackpackandheadedtothe station to catch a train to the coast.
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National Poetry Day October 2013 This year’s National Poetry day was all about water. At the beginning of the lesson, Gillian showed us the Water Cycle because it was linked with the theme. We looked at many different kinds of poems. We looked at a poem written in Gaelic and then read it in English. We also listened to poems including the Loch Ness Monster’s Song.
We all read out our poems that we had chosen. Then we made up our own acrostic poems all about different types of water, here they are:
Loch Rippling Softly Waterfall
Acid Rain Burning Animals
Kayak Drifting Together
Embrace a fish life Everyone
Reunite
Lakes lie still
Overflowed with water Over the world
Choking with life Cold and Cautious
Help it screams Everlasting and eternal
Ageless and Alluring
Never-ending
We were surprised to discover that National Poetry Day occurs every year and that the theme changes. We really enjoyed the theme of water.
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Inthatmoment,thegleamofthe amethyst in my palm shone intoeverycornerofthedim,half-decoratedroom.IwasinthewomanIoncecalledaunt’shouseseekingouttheyearsofhiddentruthsthatlayinsideit.Thesilverringclaspedthegemtightly,afraidofbeingapartfromit.Asifenoughhadn’talreadybeenseparated.Moreliketornandbrokenintwo.Liketherestoftheroom,thevelvettheringhaduncomfortablynestledinto,sagged,tiredandwornfromtheweightofthesecretburiedwithinitsfolds.Tentatively,IloweredthelidofthechestbutthegentlenessofmyactionsurprisedmeasIdidnotfeelanycaretowardsitatall.Thethickcloakofdustontopofitwaseasilyreplaced,Isweptalayerfromtheshelfaboveandsmotheredtheboxonceagain.There.Thesinistertranquillityoftheroomwasrestoredbutwithadifference.Iheldthevital,sparklingpieceofthatdarknessthatcouldnowreturntoitsrightfulowner.
Iopenedmyhandagaintoseethebeautifultwinkletheringgave,eveninthepoorlight.Itwasthesametwinklethatmymother’seyeshadhad,ever-present through my childhood butsincethatday,onlyinherbestmomentswhichwerefewandfarbetween.Now,notatall.Asingletearholdingathousand
memoriesslithereddownmycheekbutIwasquicktoreassuremyselfthatalthoughitwasladenwithsadness,somepeacewasnowtobefound.Ialwayswonderifmymotherwasevergoingtotellmethestorybehindhersorroworthereasonwhysheheldherhandlimply as she stared at her ring finger,theabsenceofthejewelleryalltoomuch.Themissingpiecewasdrainingtheenergyfromher,herdaysspenthopeless,frailwithillnessevenbeforeshebecamesick.Shehadonlyunlockedthestorytomefromthedarkatticinherheadwhenshewasatherweakest,certainherdeathwasimminent.Mymotherhadalwayspredictedeventswellthough,hadn’tshe?
griefwhilemyfatherlookedon,hiseyesunfeeling.Ihadn’tbelievedhewascareless,hewasclearlyjustnumbfrommyaunt’sout-of-characterappearance.Determinedtoshakemyfather’sblankstareoutofmymind,Ihadburiedmyheaddownintomylapandhummedmymother’sfavouritetune,Ididn’tknowshewouldneverdancearoundourhometoitagain.Myauntwasstopped dead in her malicious confrontations,shehadseenme.Iremember,shehadthrownherhandsupandwailedthatIhadseentoomuch.ThepurplebeautyoftheringwassnatchedupbythewomanIhadnowilltocallmyauntanymoreandtheyhadleft,ithadonlyfeltlikeanexitinaplay,justfiction.
But his legs became cement and hisfeetseemedtorotintotheground.Hisinsideschurnedasiftheywereinawashingmachine and his palms started tobecameclammyandshaky.Theboy’sbreathingbecameshallowasthepalefaceoflightfromthefingernailofthemoondisappearedbehindthedarkclouds.
Wearesurroundedbynegativemessages.Assoonasyoufinda grey hair on your head you havetodyeit.Youhavetobeacertainsizetowearthatoutfit.Youhavetobetonedlikethatmodelonthatadvertisement.Negativebodyimageisanissuethatisonlygettingworse.Themedia should stop promoting it andstartpreventingit.
Whenyouwalkalongastreetthemediaisinyourface.Advertisementsonthesideofbuses,taxisandbussheltersdisplaying unnatural images ofbeauty.Shopwindowsfilledwithmannequinsthatarenotthesizeofanaverageperson.Pharmaciesadvertisingdietpillsandcosmetics.Innocentpeople are being bombarded
withalloftheseideaswherevertheygo.
Whenthetelevisionisswitchedonweseethesamething.Celebritiesareconstantlyappearingwearingnexttonothing,convincingustolookthatway.CarynFranklin,formerClothesShowpresentercommentedonthis:“Youngwomendonothaveenoughfemalerolemodelsshowingthemactionorintellect.Intheir place are scantily clad celebrities.Sadly,youngwomenarewronglylookingtofashionforsomeguidanceofwhatitistobefemale.”
The truth about images produced by the media is thattheyarefake.Themodelsand celebrities that appear everywherehavesatthroughhoursofhairandmakeupto then be manipulated by a computeronPhotoshop.Itisnotpossibletojuststumbleoutofbedandlookthatway.Theseimagesaredistorted.KaseyLSerdarquoted:“Therehasbeenaplethoraofresearchtoindicatethatwomenarenegativelyaffectedbyconstantexposuretomodelsthatfulfiltheunrealisticmediaidealof
beauty.”TheBritishMedicalAssociationalsoagreethatsuchimages are not healthy: “The degreeofthinnessexhibitedby models chosen to promote productsisbothunachievableandbiologicallyinappropriate.”
“Weareseeingchildrenasyoungassix,sevenandeight-years-oldwhoareexposedtopicturesofthinmodelsfromaveryearlyage,”quotedbyDrDeeDawsonwhotreatschildrenwitheatingdisordersatRhodesFarmClinic.Nochild should be so concerned about their appearance that theyendupwithanillness.Youngergenerationsarebeingbrainwashedbythemedia.DrAdrienneKeyfromtheRoyalCollegeofPsychiatristsagreesthatthemediaismakingpeopleunwell:“Thereisagrowingbodyofresearchthatshowsthe media plays a part in the developmentofeatingdisordersymptoms–particularlyinadolescentsandyoungpeople.”
Undoubtedly,somethinghastobedone.Iftheseimagesaredepictedanylonger,howwillthenextgenerationseethemselves?Insteadofinsistingthatthepubliccoverthemselveswithbeautyproducts,themediashould encourage people to
enhancetheirnaturalbeauty.Weshouldnotbetoldthatgrowingoldisunattractive,itisaperfectlynaturalthing.Thefashionindustryshouldhire models that are a healthy weightandstopcallingaveragesizewomen‘plussize’.RobynLawleywhoisclassedasa‘plussize’modeltriestopromotehealthybodyimage:“I’vebeentryingtodojusttheopposite:Iwantmythighstobebiggerandstronger.Iwanttorunfasterandswimlonger.Isupposewealljustwantdifferentthings,butwomenhaveenoughpressureasitiswithouttheaddedburdenofachievinga‘thighgap’.”
Theissueofnegativebodyimage is influenced greatly by themedia.Ofcoursebeingself-conscious about appearance wouldexistwithoutthemedia,but it is heightened by pressure fromtheillusionofperfection.Weshouldnotbefrightenedofageing,orfeelasifwehavetobeacertainshape.Insteadweshoulddecidewhatbeautyisandacceptwhoweare.Weshould not let industries decide forus.
ThisChristmastheyoungpeoplefromCAHMSschool-roomallworkedtogethertoorganise a charity raffle to raise moneyforEdinburghYoungCarersProject(EYCP).WedecidedonthischarityaswewantedtosupportotheryoungpeopleandsomeofushavehadexperiencewithEYCP.
Ashewalkeddownthewetpavementthecoldairhitagainst him chilling him to the bone.HecametotheheavyIronGatethathadrustedwithage.Nobodyeverwentintothatcemetery,theysaiditwascursed.Curiositybegantobuildupinsideofhim.Hepushedopenthegateandwalkedalongthewetgrassandtookinthe
deepsmellofmossandage.Hecouldn’tseeathing.Itwastoodark,gloomclungintheairandtheboystartedtohavesecondthoughtsaboutbeingthere.Suddenlysomethingmovedwithintheshadows.Fearoverwhelmedhimandallofasuddeneverythingjustseemedthatlittlebitmoresinister.Hespun round on his heel and brokeintoasprint.Heheardthewhispersofthegravestonesandthemockingofthetrees.Intheblinkofaneyeashadowyfigureappearedinfrontofhim.Hecouldn’tseemuchbuthesawenough-palecomplexionandsharpcanineswereenoughtomakehimturnandrun.Little
Thiswasn’tmytypicalSundaynight.I’mnormallyrelaxedandnotnervousatallbutthisspecificSundayIwasnervousandmymindwasnon-stopthinkingaboutallthepossiblesituations that could happen thisweekahead.
TwoweeksbeforeIhadbeentotheschooltogetworkandmy guidance teacher had told meaboutworkexperience.ShesaidIhadtodoitbutitwasmychoicewhereIwantedtogo.IimmediatelyknewwhereIwantedtogo.
OnthefirstdayofworkexperienceIwentstraightuptotheofficetospeaktothestaffandtofilloutinformationinmyworkexperiencebooklet.Istartedat2:30alongwiththreeotherstaffmembers.Ifeltlessnervousasthetimewenton.Isatdownwiththeplayleadermanagertogooverall the rules and to set my day todaytasks.OnMondayIwasintroducedtohealthandsafetyandgottoknowthechildrenandparents.Ihadtosetmyselfthreetargets.Minewere:
Tuesdaywasalittlebitdifferent.Iwasn’tasnervousbecauseIroughlyknewwhattoexpect.Iwasdoingsnackwithanothermemberofstaff.Snackisn’tjustaboutgettingthefoodready.Youhavetomakesuredaysbeforethatyouhavetherightamountoffoodforthatdayandenoughjuice.Onthedayyouhavetomakesureyouhaveeverythingreadyontime.Youalsohavetochecktheallergyandinformationsheettocheckwhoisn’tallowedtoeatthesnackthatdaybecauseofcertain medical conditions or religious/culturalbeliefs.Snackwentverywell.Mostofthekidswantedit.
Oneofthelittlechildrenhadanaccident.Myselfandthefirstaiderforthatdayhadtotakethe child to the toilet to change him.Ihadspentabitoftimewiththischild,buildingupatrusting relationship because thedaybeforehestartedcryingneartheendofthedayuntilhismumcametocollecthim.IbuiltthisrelationshipwithhimbecauseIdidn’twanthimtogetupsetagain.Ithinkthatbyspendingtimewithhimitgavehim enough trust in me to let metakehimtothetoilet.
ThenextagaindayIfeltquitenervous.Iwasonsigningin/outandheadcounts.AlthoughIwouldbeshadowedbyanothermemberofstaff,itwasstillquiteconfusing,rememberingwhosemum or dad is at the door and doingaheadcountevery15minutes.Doingtheheadcountandsigningin/outwashardtodoatthesametimebutIhad
allthestaffhelpingmewhenIneededtheirhelp.ThestaffmemberthatwasshadowingmewouldalwaysmakesurethatIhadsignedthechildrenout at the right time and they doublecheckedtheheadcountaswell.AttheendofthedayIfeltconfidentenoughtodotheheadcountsandsigningin/outbymyself.
been interested in childcare foryearswhichiswhyIwenttoGingerbread.
AssistwiththeriskassessmentandthefiredrillwereFriday’stasks.Thefiredrillwentverywell.IwasonlyonworkexperiencesoIdidn’tgettodoallofthefiredrillmyself.Ishouted‘fire’thengotthechildrenlinedup.ImadesureIhadthefirstaidkit,themedication,thesigningin/outthen led the children outside to thefurthestawaywall.Istoodin-betweenthechildrenwiththeothermembersofstaffwhilsttheplayleadershoutedoutthechildren’snames.
Heputonefootinfrontoftheotherandwalkedatinystepclosertothestrangehouse.Hedesperately needed to get his footballback,itmeantsomuchtohim.Helookedatthegroundandnoticedthereweremudfootstepsonthepathway,whichmeantonlyonething…someonewasinthehouse.
Roorie was alone in the old, dark cemetery. Ahead, the sky was dark and gloomy, shadows of spider’s webs appearing on crumbly gravestones.
Roorie stopped. What was that? A movement. Over by the chapel. A sinister flicker of red in the moonlight. Blood red.
Roorie’s heart was pounding in his small, tight chest, and it seemed as though his body was quivering with fear.
Another movement – close, this time. Footsteps. A man’s stature silhouetting in the darkness. Closer. A beam of lightning illuminated the old cemetery, revealing the man’s face: pale, as white as milk. With hair as black as the coals in Roorie’s fireplace back home. And the eyes. Such daunting, dark eyes which would haunt you forever.
Suddenly, the man lurched forwards, sprinting towards a petrified Roorie. The man was gaining on him! He was so close now that Roorie could feel the breath, pricking up the hairs on his neck. Roorie stumbled over a rock, he could feel his body falling – falling to the earthy ground, tumbling into darkness, crazing into death.
The man’s teeth sunk deep into the helpless boy’s neck. Spasms took over Roorie’s body, jerking uncontrollably through his muscles, the poisonous venom seeping into his bloodstream, until finally, Roorie, limp and now lifeless, lay quite still, as dead as the once-people buried under the ground around him.
**Charliefoundhiswayupthestairs.Hewalkedalongthecorridorandoutofthecornerofhiseye,noticedsomethingshiny.Curious,hewalkedtowardsit.Hewalkedintoaroomthatwasfilledwithsheetscoveringthings.Onthewalltherewasaverydisturbingportraitofanoldman,holdingaskullinhishand.Charlieshiveredatthesightofit.Helookedaroundtheroomandfoundtheshinythingthatcaughthiseye.Thetipofitwasshowing,sohepushedthedirtysheetaway,andgaspedwhenhesawwhatitwas.Asword.Thetipwasshinybuttherestoftheswordwascoveredinwhatlookedlikedryblood.Charliestartedtofeelanxiousandhispalmsbegantogetsweaty.Hisheartwasracing.Heturnedaroundandsawsomethingmovebeneaththesheetscoveringsomethingtall.Hewalkedbackwardsawayfromitand bumped into another tall thingcoveredwithasheet.Hescreamed.Charliewasterrified.Hehadtogetoutoftheroom…
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Kirstystoodatthekitchenwindowstaringoutintothefrostygardenclutchingherwarmcoffeecup.ShehadbeenstayingatherfriendCasey’shousesincetheaccident.Afterfinishinghercoffeeshemovedtothebackdoor,wincingatthecoldtouchofthedoorhandleunderherwarmhand.Shesteppedoutcautiouslyintothewhitegarden,thegrasswasblanketedwithalayeroffreshfinesnow.Reachinguptotouch the rippled icicles hanging overherhead,sherealisedthatitwasthefirsttimethatshe’dbeenaloneinawhile,actuallyithadbeenawhilesinceshe’devenbeenoutside.Sheshiveredat the thought tugging her warmhoodiearoundherthinframe.FeelingadeepsadnessinthepitofherstomachKirstyturned,trudgedbacktothewarmpromisinglightspilling
fromthedoorwayoutontothe garden path and sat on the couchthinking.KnowingshewasstayingatCasey’shomeforareasonbutshecouldn’tfindthemeaningshedidn’tactuallyknowwhyshewashere.
Afterashortwhile,thetelevisiondroningoninthebackground,Kirstywasstillsat on the couch mindlessly tappingherfingersonthecoffeetable.Lettinghermindturnandlookbackshefiguredthatalthoughsheenjoyedbeingblissfullyunaware,shelikednotknowingbutatthesametimeshecouldn’thelpbutwanttoknowthehorribletruth.Shehadalwaysbeenlikethis,forevercurious.Whilstthinkinghermindcaughtonthewordfamilyandnomatterwhatshedidshecouldn’tgetpastsuchan
Feeling the sun glare onto her face Kirsty slipped back into the stairwell of the flats she was staying in. It was her very first house alone and her family had temporarily moved into a neighbouring flat to support her until she got back onto her feet. They were meeting her downstairs for an outing to the beach in the heat.
Standing in the doorway Kirsty shouted up the stairs to her father and her younger siblings enquiring if they needed anything from the shop before they set off. Upon hearing no reply she set off down the road. Being seventeen years old she easily passed for eighteen prompting her to buy cigarettes, soft drinks for the kids and a magazine for the car
Remembering Summerby Natasha Johnston
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journey along with an array of unnecessary items. Chatting to the shopping assistant Kirsty exited the tiny air conditioned store into the warm heat, humming a tune in her head and swinging her shopping bags around her legs.
Turning the corner Kirsty was met with a loud crack. Ears ringing, she fell to her knees and let out a cry. The shopping bags hit the floor and the cans of soft drinks made contact with the pavement instantly bursting and spilling lemonade everywhere.
PhoneinhandandrucksackatherfeetKirstysatonaroadsidebenchwithherheadinherhands as an attempt to calm her breathing.Herhandsslippedoverherearsasthedullhumofmemories played through her head.Shehadtokeepmoving.UnsureofwhereshewasgoingsomethingclickedinKirsty’saching head and she turned around.Shecouldn’tquiteputherfingeronitbutsomethingwaspromptinghertotheblockofflatssheoncecalledhome.Actingonimpulsealoneshenavigatedthroughthefrostystreetstofindherwayback.Itfeltgoodtobefree.Shelaughedtoherselfandtouchedafrozenplantbythepath.Itwascold,itwassoverycoldbutthewarmthofthememories playing in her head distractedherfromthebittercoldthatwasnippingatherfingers.
rattledthroughherears.Afamiliarnoise.Itwasthecreakoftheswingsetsettlingasasmallgirljumpedoffandrantocatchupwithhermother.Itwasonlyanoise.Justanoise,butKirsty’sheartjumpedandshefroze.Therewasnothingthere,sherecognised that and the noise hadstoppedbutitwassuddenandthecreakreverberatedthroughherears.Therewassomethingaboutit,justatinydetailshecouldn’tputherfingeronitbutsheknewthatitwasimportantsoshemadeherwaytothelittleredframe.
Onceshereachedtheoldframeoftheswingset,shefeltapangoffamiliaritydeepinside.Touchingtherustedredframesheimmediatelyknew.Thisredframewasthesameframethatshehadrestedagainstwhenshewaswatchingherlittlebrotherandsisterswingashighastheycould.Theverysameframethatthe paramedics propped her up againstforstabilitytotakeherbloodpressureandcheckherobs.Thememoriesdriftedbackfasterthanshecouldhaveeverimagined.
Struggling, gasping for breath, Kirsty pulled herself to her feet and swayed. Dizziness came over her in waves so she just waited until she felt she was stable enough to walk there was a pain in her arm that was indescribable. It hurt so much but she carried on. Her eyes darted around as she tried to figure out what could make such a violent sound and from where it came. Ears still ringing she made her way back to the safety of home. Turning the
corner stumbling away, unsure of where her mind was wandering to. She reached her corner and stumbled through the smoke billowing from the remnants of her home. Her head was pounding, she had hit it when she was knocked down. The block of flats that once stood proud and tall lay in crumbles and pieces, there were people screaming everywhere. Paramedics, Fire Service, and Police vehicles were littered around the place. Soon enough a paramedic came towards her at a rush but cautiously, asking if she lived in the block. Kirsty couldn’t answer, stunned, she let out a whimper and began to cry. The paramedic explained that an occupant in the centre of the building had a major gas leak and as a result there was an explosion and he needed to assess her to see if she was hurt. He propped Kirsty up against the nearby swing set. Kirsty barely heard a word, but nonetheless she allowed him to bandage her bloody head and look at her right arm. Still whimpering it dawned upon her that her family was gone. Completely gone. She was all alone. It was so hot, Kirsty found it hard to breathe and slipped out of reality as the paramedic slipped the oxygen mask over her face and bundled her into an ambulance.
Shefeltawful,sittingproppedupagainsttheswingsetinthesame position as the paramedic hadher.Holdingherheadinher hands it all came flooding back.Shenowknewwhathadhappened.Shehadfilledthegap in her memory that taunted herforsolong.Kirstysatinthe
Insecondstheywereonthefloor. Jonneychoseredandblackcoloursforhisstooky.Hestartedtodrawevilpicturesonhisstooky.Thedyewentintothewoundsofhisslashedlegs.Itroseandchanged his blood into the son ofthedevil.ThenJonney’sbraingottakenoversohestartedtogocrazy.Hespraypaintedacarsaying,“Thedeviliscomingtokillyou!”Hepoppedthetyresandsmashedthelocks. ButJonneystillhadapieceofhisbrainthatwasnotevilsohestartedtorememberthings.Becausehewassofocusedonlookingatthehousebelongingtotheownerofthespraypaintedcar,
Clairethoughttoherself,“There’sthatnoiseagain”.Clairewasyetagainatthetopofthestairs.”Ah”,Clairescreamedasshegotpulleddownthestairsbywhatseemedlikenothing-thinair.Shewaspulleddownto the basement and the door slammedshut.
bytheneckandsaid“IsaidI’mnotgoingtothehospital.Doyouunderstandme”,Clairesaid as she plunged her sharp nailsintohermum’ssmallwhiteneck.Shejustsimplydroppedhertotheground.
Theneistdaypouswizbuncinup and doun on the gairden trampolinewhichhehadjuststancedablothenest.Ilkabunceteukpouscloserandcloser tae the nest till his spag titchtit.Justonemairbunce!But pous buncit tae hard and wentfleeinthroughtheairandowerthehoosewi’aWHINNER.ThenwiaCRASHhelanditintheneeboursdugkennel.
Theneistdaypouswizinthegairden ludge buildin himsel a cattie;thedayefter,thecattiewizready.Hehaledbackthecahootchie and sat doun in the chyre.PING!Againpouswizfleein straucht throu the air tae thenest.Pouslickithislips.Soonhewidbeeatin’atuithsomebabbiebluebunnet.SPLAT!Pouscrashitintaethewindaean
sliddertdounintaeaflouerpot.
Aneweekefterpouzwizhoverininahelicopterabuinthenest.Helookitdoonansee’dfowerpudgetiebirdieshappitwifeathers.Pousfleedclosertillhewizrichtbythenest.Hereachitoothisspagtaeheftitilkabirdieanfindthemaistgurthie.Pouzchuisedaneanpickititupbythecuff.CHUG!PUT!CHUG!PUT!Pous drappit the birdie an birlt throutheairanrattletintaeatree.
Cheetie-Pousie an the Blue BunnetsSelina Sode-Woodhead
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WeareinthemidstofoneofthebiggestdebatesevertobediscussedatHolyroodandWestminster.AtopicthatdividesScotland–independence.Doyouwantindependence?Istronglybelievethatabreakfromtheunion,ayesvoteforindependence,wouldbetheworstdecisionwehaveevermade as a country and only the firstinastringofirresponsible,riskyandunnecessarydecisionsthatareundoubtedlytofollowsendingusdownadarkroadwithanuncertain,unstablefutureforScotland.AlexSalmondpreacheshowan
eventsinScotlandwithourScottishParliament,Holyrood,makingdecisionsaboutthingsimportant to us as a country but wealsoreapthemanyfinancial,socialandculturalbenefitsofbeingpartofabigger,morediverse,picture.ManypeopleunderestimatehowmuchsayScotlandgetswiththerunningofourcountry.YesScotlandsaythatthemainbenefitofbecomingindependentwouldbe our increase in say about the runningofourcountry: ‘The reason being independent willbebetterforyouandfor
There are many undeniable socialandculturalbenefitsof
beingintheUnionthatareatstake.TherearemanythingswetakeadvantageofbeingintheUKfromteamGBtotheBBC.Wewouldlosethewell-lovedBBCthatprovidesusnotonlywiththebestofBritishmediabutalsoeducatesuswithhappeningsdownsouth.WewouldbewavinggoodbyeteamGBthatbroughtus65medalsasopposedtothemere13wewouldhavegotwithouttherestoftheUK.Whataboutfinancialbacking,financialaspects?Officialfiguresshowweget£62bnfromEnglandbutgiveonly£45bnbackmeaningwegetasubsidyofatleast£17bnayear.Thatisalotofmoneytobereplacedandwithnomentionoftaxrisesoranything,whatarewegoingtofillthatgapwith?Nounion,noBritisharmedforces,noBritishmusic,no British art and many other thingsthatwewouldthrowoutthewindow,nevertobeseenagain.
JohnShe’scomingupthepathway!Mynerveswereexplodinglikeafirework.Ididn’tknowwhattodosoIconfessedthatItookitall.Theexpressiononherfaceshowedthatshewasshocked.Ifeltguiltyandashamed.Iapologisedandgaveherpossessionsbacktoher.IwantedtomakeituptohersoIdecoratedherhouse.Wegottoknoweachotherreallywelland ended up getting married andhavingtwochildrencalledBenjaminandVictoria.
The Burglary by Juliet Scheffler (Brunstane PS)
Inconclusion,withoutadoubtScotlandshouldstaypartoftheUK.Whychangethingswhentheyarerunningsmoothly?IfeelveryproudtobeScottish.IfeelveryBritishalsothoughandIwouldbedevastatedifIhad my British identity robbed ofmeintheeventofayesvote.Ourmountainswon’tcrumbleandourlochswon’tevaporateifwestayintheunion.Youcouldthinkoftheunionlikeanarmy.Anarmyof60million(theUK)isstrongerthanoneof5million(anindependentScotland)withoutadoubt.Notonlydoyouhavestrengthinnumbersbutyoualsohavediversity.Youhavemanydifferentpeoplespecialisedindifferentthings,withdifferentskills,withdifferentbeliefsandbackgroundsbutbringthattogetherandyouhavesomethingquiteextraordinary.Astrong,securefightingforcewithmillionsofidiosyncrasiesas opposed to a homogenous mass: