THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
TyWatson Year9 Encounters CREATIVE WRITING
A
dishevelled gull, which may have once been white, now scampered and scavenged across the cobbled street. A lone man, dressed in a suit, leant against the wall of a faded, teal pub, smoking a pipe. An empty stall, selling curiosities, remained from the earlier fair on the sidewalk.
confection was placed on a pedestal at the front of the stall, showing off its glamour and craftsmanship.
‘Ooh,’ the cyan-dressed lady swooned, ‘You’re going for something fancy.’
I drifted down to the marina.
The baker ignored them.
Fog enveloped the boats, and the lighthouse barely managed to puncture it. On one particular boat, a small but sturdy- looking yacht, a man remained. He was wearing plain blue overalls and, like the man next to the pub, was smoking a pipe. Back on the high street, the man was gone. The streets were empty, and save for the occasional squawk from a seagull, everything was silent. It seemed that even the weather knew something was wrong – the fog turned to rain and the cobbles shone slick. * * * It was a Victoria Sponge type of day; the sky was clear, with the exception of a creamy, fluffy cloud infrequently visiting the area, and the sun was beating down. Two women strolled past: one was dressed in an elegant, floral yellow dress, with her son and daughter clasped onto each arm; the other was clothed in a simpler, cyan dress (which inconsequently coordinated with the inn opposite), with only one child to whom she had already gifted a couple of shillings. The two ladies were gossiping about their ‘friends’ and the rest of the townsfolk, as they reached a patisserie stall.
‘Um, excuse me, how much is this one?’ she repeated.
Again, the baker ignored her.
Thinking that somehow the baker hadn’t heard her or even noticed that she was there, she reached out to tap the baker on the shoulder to grab her attention.
Her finger went through the baker.
It didn’t just pass through, however, it squashed through. As if through a cake. The woman was horrified. Jam and chunks of Victoria Sponge oozed out. The yellow-dressed lady turned around and buried her face into her friend’s shoulder with fear. She felt something sticky on her face, and took a step back. She looked at her friend, and saw the indentation she had made on her friend’s shoulder. She screamed. The cyan-dressed woman toppled over backwards in a stiff mannequin-like position and fell apart. The front of her body imploded leaving a roughly human- shaped knickerbocker glory on the floor. The yellow-dressed lady was speechless. She fell backward onto the stall, which collapsed under her and covered her with jam. She fainted. When she woke up, it was dusk. She made her way through the throngs of frozen fair-goers, being careful not to touch anyone, and spotted her son. She staggered up to him and tried to shake him, hoping with all hope that he would somehow wake up from his paralysed state, but with no luck – he crumbled into a sloppy mess at her feet, kicking up a cloud of icing sugar. She was in a daze. She started picking up the pieces of jam and cake and squashing,
‘Hm,’ the floral-dressed woman muttered, ‘James’ birthday is tomorrow.’
The children’s laughs echoed from the merry-go-round.
‘How much is this one?’ she asked, pointing to a sponge cake. The cake had a thin layer of jam through the middle and a coating of icing sugar on top. The raspberries, slightly indented into the top of the cake, looked succulent, and as though they would pop at any moment. The
Image: Elie Esber (Year 10)
50
51
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker