I was wondering if you could help me? I spent some of my Easter holidays writing a story, but before I could finish it, it was time to come back to school. Now, every time I try to finish it, I get writer's block. It'd be really helpful if you could read the start of my story and continue it for me. The more of you that try it, the more variety I'll have and I can choose the best one. I'll publish the chosen, finished story on my blog for anyone to read.
Here it is:
It was a wet and windy December evening and all through the grand Manor house, echos of thunder ripppled like a marching band disappearning into the distance. All was dark, except for the photographic flashes of light as the lighning scorched the trees in the grounds outside the stain-glass windows.
Mr. Simmons woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright in his four-poster bed. The bed had been a gift from his late wife many, many years earlier. He had not the heart to dispose of it, although to any outside eye, it was obvious it had seen better days. Not even Mr. Simmons' cat would sleep there.
With an uncharacteristic caution, Ben Simmons reached for the glass of water on his bedside chest. His mouth had become dry in the humid air. Feeling around in the dark, his hand passed over a jumble of items, always kept close to his bed: an old, dog-eared book (read so many times, that Ben knew every word and only turned the pages for effect), a hankerchief, neatly pressed and folded, the telephone (although it had been unreliable of late) and, of course, the gun…
As you all know Mr Newton loves cats. I've found two great cat poems that I thought could inspire you to write some cat poems of your own for Mr Newton to read, the funnier the better! Here are the two poems I found, I hope you enjoy writing some of your own in reponse to these, on our Blog.
Top of piano,
In the middle,
On the edge'
Lap will do,
Fitted in a
In the cupboard
With your frocks -
They don't care!
Cats sleep anywhere
At midnight in the alley
A Tom-cat comes to wail,
And he chants the hate of a million years
As he swings his sneaky tail…
He will lie on a rug tomorrow
And lick his silky fur
And veil the brute in his yellow eyes
And play he's tame, and purr.
But at midnight in the alley
He will crouch again and wail,
And beat the time for his demon's song
With a swing of his demon's tail.
From The Tom-Cat by Don Marquis