The Idle Toad
Lucas C.

"I'm bored" muttered the boy to his brain.

"Really?" replied the brain somewhat indignantly. "Why is that?"

Pondering on the exact reason for his boredom, and after careful deliberation, he reached his conclusion.

"Dunno, just am. Nuttin’ to do, I guess."

The brain, somewhat taken aback by this statement, returned fire at this impetuous youth.

"Nuttin’ to do? What do you mean ‘nuttin’ to do’? There’s plenty of things to be done. For example, you can, erm... practise your times tables."

"Yeah, but they're boring, aren’t they?" replied the child in disgust.

"Ok", pondered the brain. "Why are they so terribly boring?"

"Dunno. They're just not exciting, so they must be boring."

If it were possible for a brain to raise its eyes heavenward, the brain would have done so. But instead it attempted yet again to get this idle youth motivated.

"So you want to do something exciting, eh? Why don't you draw a picture?"

"Don't feel like it" said the child mopishly.

"Reading?" suggested the lobeal entity.

"Nah."

"Singing?"

"Can't.

"Erm, how about..."

"No, boring."

"Ok, you try and find something fun to do, then!" growled the brain.

"I'm too bored. I can't think of anything. Life’s sooo boring!"

"Ok" sighed the brain, "What’s on T.V.?"

"Dunno. Let’s see."

"Anything good?" asked the brain.

"Wha?"

The one-eyed monster stared at the child, held in its hypnotic gaze, as images played on its glowing eye.

"They always come back to me" whispered the television.


 

Chess: The Game
George T.

Wow-wee, what a game is chess
Eventhough I usually end up in a mess!

Chess is a very ancient game indeed
From great players you take heed.

My favourite piece is a rook
Who would make a stealthy crook.

And the queen with her power
Can easily move, take, devour.

Must have skill and tactics too.
Know the rule book through and through.

Look at how the play will go
Work out moves to lay him low.

For chess was always my best game.


Chess forever, shine in fame.
 

The Night
Eamonn B.

The night is a scary place.
All sorts of things appear.
Your imagination goes wild
But also can be clear.

I don’t like the nighttime.
It scares me and makes me mad.
All the time I think of things
And most of them are bad.

I’ll just wait till day.
Honestly, it’s not far away.
I’ll just scrunch up in my bed.
‘Goodnight’, I said.

 

The Bullet
Ronan M.

Anxiety build up,
A flash in my mind.
My body implodes,
Then it leaves me.

My flesh torn,
My senses buzzing.
Muscles tense,
My brain on autopilot.

My body switches off
And is pulled to the ground.
Like the gravity of the sun
My joints collapse.

I feel the numb slap from the floor,
And my fingers feel the dents in the pavement.
I turn my head to the light,
But I can’t focus.

I start feeling cold and strangely damp.
As I feel the flow of blood I start to panic.
My screams wail out like a little girl.
I try and pick myself up unsuccessfully.

My calls are answered by a tall shadow,
And my eyelids are dragged down.
It’s too much effort to move them.
He puts pressure on my wound. I have to trust him.

A group huddle around me,
And many blankets are put on me.
People communicate,
But the words are too distant.

And my mind starts to wander,
About soft yellow beaches and blue waters,
Which drowned my pain away.
I manage a faint smile.

Till I was jolted up into a vehicle.
I felt tired and knew I was going.
I was floating in a dream world.
I was too comfy to move.

Tyranid Attack extract
Dominic B.

John pulled up his rifle. In the far distance he could see the Tryanid Genestealers mobilising. The Tyranids must have been only three hundred paces away, but to John it felt that they were already too close. He had been told only to shoot from two hundred metres, but he kept his lasgun aimer fixed into the middle of the distant mob.

Suddenly, without warning, the Tyranid scum leaped forward. They were much quicker than any man could run. Looking around him, John could see his whole unit. Ten men were all they had. There must have been about forty Tyranids. Kneeling behind half a trench, he set his aimer straight again.

‘Fire!’ screamed the sergeant. Immediately ten lasguns shot out. It was like a single cannon firing at once. However, the shots seemed to have little effect on the Tryanids. The alien scum were now only a hundred and twenty metres away and were quickening the pace. ‘Fire at will!’ commanded the sergeant.

John found that he could not reload fast enough. He began to fumble about, shaking with fear. The aliens were now only fifty metres away and so broke into a deadly sprint. John fired again and managed to catch an alien in the head, spraying his twisted brains all over his fellow warriors.

Already some of the Tyranid mob had broken into the line of men. John glanced to his side for a split second. He watched a friend, Michael, get ripped apart by the alien’s many claws. Blood sprayed out in many directions as Michael’s limbs were torn apart. As the alien licked his lips at his prize catch, John pulled out his machete. All fear had now long gone from him, pure anger and hatred turning into a frenzy.

Unleashing his anger, John jumped down onto his prey. With all his might, John thrust the long blade deep into what seemed to be the alien’s back-bone. Blood oozed out of the ghastly wound and poured down the creature’s back.The paralysed creature fell instantaneously to the ground, giving out a small whimpering cry.

John took a look around. It was a scene of disaster. Half of his unit lay dead on the ground, big open wounds cut across their faces and bodies. Some limbs lay scattered around. The worst thing was the amount of blood. It flooded the battle scene and oozed out of every body.

The other half of the unit had run. They screamed for their lives and ran faster than they had ever done before. The Tyranids were close behind and catching up quickly. John tore his eyes away from the horrific scene and quickly sprinted into the jungle in the hope of escape.

The Treasure of Quetzlacotla
Lucas C.

The ancient passageway echoed with time as the small band of figures made their way clumsily yet cautiously down the neatly paved flooring. Polished over time by countless polishers who once served in the archaic complex. The torchlight danced upon the walls, skipping across carved symbols and tattered wall hangings.

They had already managed to penetrate to the heart of the temple and had “retrieved’ the golden artefact within its hallowed chamber. It was conveniently placed in the centre of the room where a shaft of sunlight happened to land on it. Where the ray of sunlight came from is anyone’s guess, but this they ignored. Now they were busy retracing their steps, following the path of bread crumbs that they had carelessly dropped as they ate their lunch.

Suddenly, the merry little band of bread-eating, crumb-dropping, ‘treasure-retrieving’ explorers halted, stopped by the eldest and most bearded of the bunch. He held his torch out in front of him hoping to peer through the gloom, but only succeeded in dazzling himself with the bright light.

“What is it, Fred?” A foolish question posed by a fool to a fool.

“I can feel a fresh breeze.”

At the response of Fred, the others in the group all looked at each other and nodded in excitement.

“Which way now?” said the young idiot as he stared down the long straight (un-branching) passageway.

“We’ll carry on straight” said beardy, rather smugly.

Again they looked at each other and nodded in excitement.

Half-way to starting off again a sound from deep within the complex found its way to their sticky ears as it bounced and flopped against the walls like a soggy tennis ball. SWISHHH!

“Hurry!” yelled beardy, his eyes still temporarily blinded by his torch.

As the others broke into a run he broke into a wall. That is to say he ran into a pillar hidden in the shadows and broke his nose. By the time old beardy came round he realised he was all alone...(or was he?). Then came the sound again but a little closer.

SWISHHH!

Wide-eyed and bent-nosed, he stared down the passageway. An eerie almost ethereal light shimmered and moved slowly but purposefully down the passageway.

SWISHHH!... Beardy almost grovelled with fear.

“Crumbs! CRUMBS! And muddy footprints!” bellowed the spirit. “For 10,000 years I lay at rest, so who has disturbed my slumber?”

Beardy had now realised the advantages nappies brought in such situations, and vowed never to forget them again.

“For 10,000 years this floor has been spotless, and now look at it!” boomed the voice for a second time. “Crumbs! CRUMBS! And muddy footprints!”

SWISHHH!

Slowly and purposefully the apparition advanced on the hapless and nappiless man.

Dr Fred was never seen (or smelt) again and the treasure he ‘retrieved’ from the temple is now on display in the British Museum, on a small plinth with a half-polished plaque at the base which reads:

Ancient gold artefact rescued by Dr Hilbert Winos from the ruined temple of Quetzlacotla

Wag Wan
Andrew M & Andrew Mo

OVERHEARD CONVERSATION ON DA STREET

A yall listen up rude boyz!

Yall saw how England kicked butt at da World Cup. All u rude bres out dere saw how dat FLAWLESS, GHETTO Jonny Wilko scored dat heavy drop kick and killed dose aussie bres!

Yall kno dat 2 ur authors Adam and Andrew are ghetto, flawless, superstars. Dey both is M.C’s wiv Bling Blings, fast cars and bare heads.

Dese blood clots is da ruddest, baddest bres in da whole of da West Side! Dey got backin from-Jay Z, Nelly, Ja Rule, 50 Cent, Beyonce and J-lo!

Dese two bres ave been arrested more times den uv ad hot dinners son!

CONVERSATION AS COVERED BY THE BBC

Listen here, guys!

You all saw how England triumphed in the World Cup. All you guys out there saw how that unbeatable Jonathan Wilkinson hoofed that super drop kick that had the beating of those Australians.

You also all know that your writers here, AM1 and AM2, are undisputable superstars. They’re both disc-jockeys bedecked with jewelry, drive fast cars and are friends of many.

These good mates are, in fact, the most unruly young men with attitude this side of the west. They are friends of Daisy, Nelly, Gerald, Vincent, Nancy and Julie.

These two mates have been in trouble with the police more times than you have had piping hot dinners, bres.

For Further Study

GLOSSARY
yall - you all
rude - with attitude
boyz - young men
u - you
bres - people
dere - there
dat - that
flawless - supreme
ghetto - really good
dose - those
ur - your
dey- they
MCs - master of ceremonies in clubs
wiv - with
bling bling - look at our expensive chains
bare heads - lots of people
dese - these
blood clots - blood brothers to the death
west side - our place
backin - support
hoof - feet found on some animals
hail - frozen raindrops
piping - length of tubing

The Kelston Reading Ring circulates among members books to review from leading titles for their age group. Each person reads and reviews a book in his own time and that review will go on The Reading Ring page of the Kelston website www.kelston.org.uk. He then passes on the book to someone else to do the same. When the book has been around the ring, then we shall decide together whether to purchase the title for the Kelston library. We will then have trips around second-hand bookshops to find the books. All Kelston members and their friends can apply to join The Reading Ring.

Tom’s Midnight Garden
by Philippa Pearce