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Examples of students' work

Emma French, 3rd March 2006

Rhiannon crept silently and unsteadily into the house; it was very late and she hoped her mum wouldn't hear her. All the rooms were silent and she made it to her room, unnoticed. 'It's Janie's fault,' she told herself angrily, 'it was her party!'

She was so tired and drunk from the cider she had downed earlier that night that she didn't notice the other shadows on the wall as well as her own. Nor did she notice the man standing behind her. She was about to lie down, fully dressed, on her bed when the sack plummeted downwards over her head.

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Anne-Marie, Rhiannon's mother, had been so exhausted herself after working long shifts at her take-away that she didn't remember that Rhiannon had left for a party she'd forbidden her to go to. But, like she always did on a morning, she went into her daughter's room to say good morning.

The bedroom window was open, purple curtains floating in the spring breeze, and the bedraggled cluttered pink carpet was covered in strange randomly placed black stains, the sign of a struggle. There was no Rhiannon,

Anne panicked, her daughter was nowhere, and she was only 15! She checked
everywhere in the house, even the serving area where Rhiannon said she would never be seen dead in, before running back up to her missing daughter's room. On the floor there was a note, on stained tattered parchment. Anne-Marie picked it up and started to read...

She's gone. You took our children back then and now we take yours. You now know how we feel; I hope you are miserable for the rest of your pitiful life.
Go to hell,
Πνππψ
Your enemies

Anne did not recognize the name the note was signed with, but she got the gist of the letter, and gasped in pure horror,

Rhiannon had been kidnapped.


Death

Alexander was lolling about on the sofa, checking his bids on 'EBay' from his laptop. His organ harvesting business was going down the drain, also his fridge was filling up with blood and other debris. The T.V. was on but he wasn't watching it, as a very boring documentary was coming on about how to paint ducks by Simon Pullman.

Suddenly a very sharp thud was heard, and almost straight after that a very loud hammering sounded this disturbed him greatly. He had not made any 'Dates' recently and not many visitors came at 11 o'clock at night. Yet his gruesome mind got the better of him. "Yes!" he thought, "More stock for me!" He jumped up and made his way to the door. It opened and there stood two stubby policemen. Alexander reeled back in shock.

"Err, yes my fine gentlemen" he stuttered "How may I help you?" They were oblivious of the panic in his voice.
"Is this the residence of Mr Alexander Graham Fistlemire Pearson?" they inquired, their dark eyes piercing the darkness and their sinister figures blocking the only remaining light from the street lamp outside.

"Yes" He replied, his eyes darting from one policeman to the other. Taking in their appearance and the approximate size of their kidneys, as that was the in thing those days!

"We have some important business with him; please alert him to our presence." And with that they walked inside. They did not note the evil grin plastered on Alexander's face or the rapidly growing stench wafting in from the over-stuffed fridge.

Alexander strolled towards them and said, "While you're waiting for Mr Pearson would you like some sort of refreshment?"
"Yes thank you," they answered together "That's very kind of you."

He walked into the kitchen, trying his best not to puke at the smell. Bending far back into the cupboard he took out a small bottle of sleeping dust. Then he took out a packet of biscuits and some milk. He sprinkled some dust onto the biscuits and took them into the sitting room. He laid them on the table and went back for the glasses of milk. When he finally came out of the kitchen balancing a jug and two glasses of milk, he found that the biscuits lay untouched. Frowning he set the milk on the table as well "Is anything the matter gentlemen'?" he enquired, hoping that they hadn't sensed the disgusting odour drifting through the air from the kitchen.

"No, no!" they replied.” Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to know what type of biscuits these were. I didn't recognise the smell."
Alexander rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "I wonder why... Well, help yourself gentlemen!"
Slowly they both picked up a biscuit. Steadily they both began to chomp away. Their heads began to sway. One of the policemen clutched his stomach All of a sudden they both dropped to the ground.
"And they're DOWN!" Alexander exclaimed. "And now for the kidneys." He shouted out aloud whilst reaching down for his readily sharpened incision knife, He kneeled down and began to cut. Blood spurted out of one of the sleeping bodies. The kidneys were out and in a glass pickle jar. He bent over the other body and slit open the head to remove the brain. The policeman let out a slow moan; Then it was over.

By Amber Rizvi and Kloe Rich

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