Wirral Young Writers

I have just attended a fantastic event organised in the Wirral. A group of authors assembled to work with 180 gifted young writers from all over the area. Over the next few weeks, I will be posting some of the young writers’ work. Here is the first:




Inspired by Alan Gibbons
Written by James Hall
As the boat chugged back to the mainland we all thought of what everyday things we have missed. The soft shiny feel to our mobiles, the rubbery TV remote buttons.
The land looked empty and as the boat approached the shore, no coach came, not even a beech warden. Mike looked at me frowned then carried on rowing the boat closer ashore. The teacher on our boat Mr. Battler got onto the land and took charge he balled “stay in your seats I’m going to see were the coach and it’s lazy driver have gotten to”.
The second Mr. Battler was out of sight the children aboard including me franticly searched for our phones which we had not been on for a whole week. We were searching for our phones like our lives depended on it. The phones whirled into action and the whole boat was alive with the sound of start up tones but then we looked at our signal bars and nothing we all thought it was strange but never the less we continued playing with our phones.
We all got off the boat after about an hour of waiting for Mr. Battler, but we looked and we could not see him we could not see any cars, trains, busses or aeroplanes the sky and streets were silent, it was like we had come ashore to another planet. Nothing was to be heard not a sound nothing but the loud drone of silence.
Later on we saw a figure in the distance, the figure was stumbling side to side and we ran to it, it was Mr. Battler we ran to him and noticed a change in him he spoke in growls and looked dazzled. Then he collapsed at our feet.
As he collapsed we noticed his right arm had a big gouge missing out of it, and the blood dripped out of it and onto the cold grass and as it did so it dissolved into the morning dew.
We ventured out about twenty miles from our boat and the corpse of Mr. Battler taking us to late afternoon. We felt like we were being watched and by now we were fully aware of something being wrong, and wishing we were still on the island from which we came.
We could hear dead leaves crunching behind us and yet no one was there. We then felt the presence of a warm breath. A chilling whisper. Then a scaled body slithered down me like a snake and as I looked there were ten of these horrible creatures. They sniffed each one of us and then they fixed there red angry eyes on Bob who was at the back of our classes line. Bob was as scared as a rabbit in a fox’s mouth. He screamed upsetting the beasts and with that they tore open his chest eating every scrap of his organs including his still beating heart, then the other critters started eating every part of him including his bones. The beasts next bit off the head of Lauren who stood next to me and as they did so her warm blood splattered across my face and her insides burst leaving all the juices on me. The only thought I had was they will eat me next because I smell like blood which they like to eat. They fast approached me and ripped off my arms legs and cut open my chest and ate my ribs the pain was like sticking a needle into the centre of your eye ball a thousand times. By now I had just seconds to live and my beating heart was nearly hanging out. The last thing in my memory was darkness as the Zombies ate my eyes.


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