introduced himself as Dr Franks and led them both through the large door leading to the inside of the hospital. The door groaned subtly as they passed through. Dr Franks was tall. Silas noticed this whilst walking down the corridor. The man was colossal, his height prodigious, yet he looked wary and cautious with every step he took. What looked like bite marks were very visible on his hands, just as the scratches and scars were on his face. The screams were becoming louder now: louder and louder and louder until the screams were no longer bearable for the child. Neither Franks nor his mother seemed to be in any pain from the shrilling noise, or even appeared to be hearing it whatsoever, so Silas kept his agony to himself. After a few seconds it stopped, and there was utter silence. Creaking. Except the creaking. The creaking of the wooden floor as all three crept down it, in silence. fter exiting from the corridor, Franks led the others into an office. He introduced his colleague, a man named Dr Karl Schiz. To Silas the name sounded German. He had heard of the Germans, about how they had just started to try and build a navy of the same size as the great British fleet, and to him it was obvious that this situation with the Germans would end up in a painful experience. Pain… Dr Schiz and Arabella talked for a while. Throughout the conversation, the doctor looked at Silas constantly, almost examining him, checking him out for all his flaws and wonders. Silas found it amusing, and enjoyed being the centre of this stranger’s attention, though he wasn’t fully focused on the gaze of Schiz. Around the office he could see many tools: wrenches, hammers and straps, machines he hadn’t seen before too with wires coming out of all sides. He pondered what they could be used for. Pain… Yes, pain. Silas’ mother handed the bag to Dr Schiz. She looked at her son, emotionless, and walked towards him. She hugged him once and was then escorted out by Franks. Silas didn’t look at his mother as she left. Instead, he stared at the bag, and asked the doctor still in the room whether he had just arrived at boarding school. He very much hoped he had. ‘Well,’ said Schiz in thick German accent, ‘one could perhaps say it is similar to a school here, yes? Wilkommen, Silas Taye. You are now at St Mary Bethlehem Hospital, but we prefer to call it Bedlam.’ A
The Smiler
Loore Onabolu Year 9
ucy was an introverted child. Her mother died during the agonising procedure of giving birth so she had lived with her father ever since. Although she had never met her mother, ten years of her father’s brutal living conditions left her wondering what her life would be like if her mother had lived. Would they dwell in a warm, heated mansion, overlooking dazzling skyscrapers rather than their miniature flat in Peckham? Would she have a warm shoulder to lean on while they struggled through the bitter, British L
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