This is just a short lil' story we wrote at school. I thought it was quite good, but what do you think? Lol 
[SIZE=12pt]The Victorian,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=16pt]Emily[/SIZE]
If only she had noticed that her digital watch had said '12:62', she would have known something wasn't right.
Day-dreaming during History was something Annie did often. She had no intention whatsoever to learn about Victorians, what was the point? No point!
Mrs Meely was passing round old, clay pots and bits and bobs to the class. Sitting up straight, Annie clasped her hands on a plain, sand-coloured clay pot, and started inspecting it. Mrs Meely started droning on about what Victorians used to wear. Annie stopped looking at the pot and rested her head on its cool, smooth surface.
“Annie, what are you doing?” someone from Annie's table asked.
“Checking to see if it has a heartbeat,” Annie replied in a would-be serious voice, while grinning to herself.
Then suddenly there was a bright light. Annie was whizzing round and round. Feeling sick and confused, she shut her eyes against the light. What was happening? She was still clutching the pot. Annie stopped spinning.
“Hello?” Annie called, putting a hand up to her eyes and looking around. Walking away from the light, she found she was in a sort of room. It was a huge room, the size of (as far as Annie could see) a enormous factory. Everything was white; white walls, white ceiling, white floor. In the far right corner of the room was a small sphere, burning white-hot. This was the source of light.
In the nearer right corner a basin stood. It had small engravings down the leg. Annie's curious side took over as she edged towards it. Half way there she paused, and cried, “Hello?” again. Her voice echoed around the room. She carried on forwards to the basin.
Reaching it she realized it was not a basin, but a short, stone leg with a flat, round top.
She couldn't stop herself; slowly extending her arm Annie placed a hand on the surface.
A strange feeling erupted inside of her; a weird jerking round her hips and she felt as if her body had been filled with water. She felt relaxed and happy. Jelly-legs, jelly-legs, she thought childishly as she kicked her legs out in front of her.
Then a very odd thing happened: Annie started singing. She sang all the nursery rhyme songs, and made up words to 'Little Miss Muffet' and 'Hickory Dickory Dock'. All embarrassment (she had been embarrassed?) had been drained from her, she just wanted to sing.
Her feet hit hard ground, but still she sang on. People were looking at her now. So? They were staring at her, shaking their heads at her, some just laughing at her!
Something suddenly dawned on Annie. These people weren't from where Annie lived. Long dresses, parasols, stalls of fruit, horse-and-carts. She realized she had stopped singing.
“'Ay, 'oo! What 'appened to ya singin'?”
Annie took in that she had a crowd of children, all around her age by the looks of it, gathered around her. Some were staring at her watch, others playing with her hair, and some simply gawping up at her (or down, in the case of a very, very tall girl). She found
“What?” Annie snapped. “What are you looking at?” she jerked her head this way and that. These kids were all filthy, and their clothes dull and faded. The clothes weren't actually more then rags. She looked down at her red jumper with the school logo on. It was good as new. Her grey skirt was crisp and clean. Her school shoes were shiny. Where was she?
“'Scuse me, ya don't look like ya from 'round here. Where ya from?” a starved boy said.
“I... I'm... Ware,” she replied, half-heartedly.
“Yeah, where ya from?” the boy stared hard at her.
“I'm from Ware,” Annie repeated, “And will you stop that?” some girls had started playing with her hair again.
“Ya posh, are ya?”
Annie laid her eyes on a girl her height. She was beautiful.
Though her rag-clothing and dirty face made her look from afar like some filthy, homeless child, up close she was like an angel. She had a perfect nose and blue eyes, with silvery-blonde hair. It was knotted and dirty.
“N – no.”
“Why's ya dress so short? That's right rude, that is,” a boy commented.
“Well, let's get back to work, everyone!” exclaimed the pretty girl.
“Wait!” Annie didn't know what to say next. “Uhh... can I... work with you?”
The girl beamed.
“'Course ya can! I'm Emily, by the way.”
“I'm Annabelle. Annie for short.”
A few boys snorted. Annie glared at them.
Emily handed Annie a tray made of wood with some shrivelled and flimsy flowers in small, chipped clay pots. Then she lead Annie down a cramped alleyway. Emerging at the end, Annie found herself in a wide, dirty and bustling street.
A short, stout boy let out an ear-splitting whistle. For a second or two, the nearest people glanced up at him.
“Anyone for some flowers? Anyone at all?”
Suddenly, all the children around her were calling things out like, “Flowers! Get your flowers!” and “Beautiful flowers here!”. Annie hesitated until someone nudged her and she walked into the middle of the street and called out feebly.
A while later, after two short business men had sniffed her flowers and bought the whole tray, Annie heard a voice.
“Oi! Psst, Annay, or whatever!” Emily grabbed Annie's arm and whizzed down the street. Taking the money from Annie's hand, she stopped abrutely by a stall of grubby-looking fruit.
“Someone brought your flowers,” she whispered.
“Bought,” Annie corrected her.
“That's what I said.”
“What can I do you for, my young ladies?” the stall's owner said. His voice was rusty and quiet. He stood hunched, with a very old and battered hat on his balding head. A few of his teeth were missing.
“Two apples, please,” Emily smiled hungrily as the stall owner passed two bruised apples to Annie.
“And where would you be getting so clean, m'dear?” he eyed Annie greedily.
Emily held out her hand with the money in. The man took it without a word. Annie didn't reply.
Turning around swiftly, Annie clasped Emily's arm, and dodged down the hustling, bustling crowd. The sky was an inky blue already. What had happened to the time? When she arrived at... wherever she was, it had been midday! Now it was nearly night-time!
“Where do you live?” Annie whispered as soon as they reached the alleyway. She looked up at the tall town houses.
“I'm an orphan.”
“I.. oh... I'm sorry,” Annie looked at her shoes. There was a minutes' silence, before she looked up and saw Emily on the verge of tears. Emily broke the silent atmosphere.
“Well... we shouldn't stand round dawdling, it's getting dark,” with a reproachful nod at the sky, Emily marched purposefully down the dark alleyway.
The wind was like a knife on Annie's face and hands. Though Emily strode quickly in front of Annie, she could tell the orphan was suffering with the cold as well.
Appearing again at the place where Annie arrived, Emily led them both along a deserted street, round a corner and into a much wider, roomier alleyway.
Annie gasped.
There were children lying on the ground. Some were in cardboard boxes, some with ripped travelling coats wrapped round them and some slumped helplessly against the wall, shivering in the cold.
“Emily! Emily!” a young girl came hurtling towards Emily.
“What's up, Natalie?” Emily lifted the girl up.
“I got some boxes!! They're not the best, but they'll do!” she
burst out.
Emily appeared by Annie's shoulder and whispered so quietly Annie had to strain her ears to hear, “That was good of you. She hasn't eaten for weeks.” Assuming she was talking about Natalie, Annie smiled to herself. She had done someone some good in their life.
Annie followed Emily until she stopped at a large box with a teared blanket.
“You can have that one,” Emily gestured to a smaller box on the left of her own. Annie scrambled inside. There was no blanket in here.
“May the Lord God look after us all,” Annie jumped as Emily's voice carried down the alleyway, loud and clear. “Amen.”
“Amen,” chanted back the rest of the orphans.
It was silent after that. Cold and uncomfortable, Annie drifted into an awkward sleep, where Mrs Meely and the fruit stall owner found their way into her dreams.
A sudden gush of wind made Annie stir and awake. Shivering, she lifted her head. Her neck ached from lying in such a difficult position. She rubbed the little sleep she had from her eyes and crawled to the open side of the box.
Kneeling down and looking up at the towering town houses and slice of sky, Annie shivered more violently.
Suddenly a dazzling white light appeared in front of Annie, she let out a shrill cry and toppled over backwards. The box nearly tipped over.
There was a whooshing sound and Annie knew what was happening. She was going back!
She felt the sickening feeling as she whizzed round and round, while she closed her eyes against the light.
Her feet hit the white marble floor of the white room. Looking around, she saw the clay pot placed neatly in the corner diagonally opposite to the burning white sphere. She had a feeling she should take it back: Mrs Meely would not be happy if one of her Victorian pots went missing.
Annie scooped up the up the pot. There was a nudging urge telling her to walk towards the light. So, closing her eyes, she walked blindly to the light. Even though she couldn't see it, she could certainly feel it. Its warm radiations pulled her forwards in a way she could not describe.
Annie was plunged into darkness. She floated in space for a while, clinging onto the pot, for a minute or two. Then she was slammed into her school chair. She felt the pot float gently onto the desk in front of her.
There was a scraping of chairs. Annie opened her eyes. Her classmates were going to lunch.
“C'mon, Annie!”
“You look like you've run a mile and back!”
Annie smiled. She got up. Leaving the pot on her desk, she put on her outdoor shoes and straightened again. She ran to the door and hesitated. Annie looked back at the pot and if she was very much mistaken, its surface showed a very faint, very beautiful face winking at her. The Victorian, Emily.
[SIZE=12pt]The Victorian,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=16pt]Emily[/SIZE]
If only she had noticed that her digital watch had said '12:62', she would have known something wasn't right.
Day-dreaming during History was something Annie did often. She had no intention whatsoever to learn about Victorians, what was the point? No point!
Mrs Meely was passing round old, clay pots and bits and bobs to the class. Sitting up straight, Annie clasped her hands on a plain, sand-coloured clay pot, and started inspecting it. Mrs Meely started droning on about what Victorians used to wear. Annie stopped looking at the pot and rested her head on its cool, smooth surface.
“Annie, what are you doing?” someone from Annie's table asked.
“Checking to see if it has a heartbeat,” Annie replied in a would-be serious voice, while grinning to herself.
Then suddenly there was a bright light. Annie was whizzing round and round. Feeling sick and confused, she shut her eyes against the light. What was happening? She was still clutching the pot. Annie stopped spinning.
“Hello?” Annie called, putting a hand up to her eyes and looking around. Walking away from the light, she found she was in a sort of room. It was a huge room, the size of (as far as Annie could see) a enormous factory. Everything was white; white walls, white ceiling, white floor. In the far right corner of the room was a small sphere, burning white-hot. This was the source of light.
In the nearer right corner a basin stood. It had small engravings down the leg. Annie's curious side took over as she edged towards it. Half way there she paused, and cried, “Hello?” again. Her voice echoed around the room. She carried on forwards to the basin.
Reaching it she realized it was not a basin, but a short, stone leg with a flat, round top.
She couldn't stop herself; slowly extending her arm Annie placed a hand on the surface.
A strange feeling erupted inside of her; a weird jerking round her hips and she felt as if her body had been filled with water. She felt relaxed and happy. Jelly-legs, jelly-legs, she thought childishly as she kicked her legs out in front of her.
Then a very odd thing happened: Annie started singing. She sang all the nursery rhyme songs, and made up words to 'Little Miss Muffet' and 'Hickory Dickory Dock'. All embarrassment (she had been embarrassed?) had been drained from her, she just wanted to sing.
Her feet hit hard ground, but still she sang on. People were looking at her now. So? They were staring at her, shaking their heads at her, some just laughing at her!
Something suddenly dawned on Annie. These people weren't from where Annie lived. Long dresses, parasols, stalls of fruit, horse-and-carts. She realized she had stopped singing.
“'Ay, 'oo! What 'appened to ya singin'?”
Annie took in that she had a crowd of children, all around her age by the looks of it, gathered around her. Some were staring at her watch, others playing with her hair, and some simply gawping up at her (or down, in the case of a very, very tall girl). She found
“What?” Annie snapped. “What are you looking at?” she jerked her head this way and that. These kids were all filthy, and their clothes dull and faded. The clothes weren't actually more then rags. She looked down at her red jumper with the school logo on. It was good as new. Her grey skirt was crisp and clean. Her school shoes were shiny. Where was she?
“'Scuse me, ya don't look like ya from 'round here. Where ya from?” a starved boy said.
“I... I'm... Ware,” she replied, half-heartedly.
“Yeah, where ya from?” the boy stared hard at her.
“I'm from Ware,” Annie repeated, “And will you stop that?” some girls had started playing with her hair again.
“Ya posh, are ya?”
Annie laid her eyes on a girl her height. She was beautiful.
Though her rag-clothing and dirty face made her look from afar like some filthy, homeless child, up close she was like an angel. She had a perfect nose and blue eyes, with silvery-blonde hair. It was knotted and dirty.
“N – no.”
“Why's ya dress so short? That's right rude, that is,” a boy commented.
“Well, let's get back to work, everyone!” exclaimed the pretty girl.
“Wait!” Annie didn't know what to say next. “Uhh... can I... work with you?”
The girl beamed.
“'Course ya can! I'm Emily, by the way.”
“I'm Annabelle. Annie for short.”
A few boys snorted. Annie glared at them.
Emily handed Annie a tray made of wood with some shrivelled and flimsy flowers in small, chipped clay pots. Then she lead Annie down a cramped alleyway. Emerging at the end, Annie found herself in a wide, dirty and bustling street.
A short, stout boy let out an ear-splitting whistle. For a second or two, the nearest people glanced up at him.
“Anyone for some flowers? Anyone at all?”
Suddenly, all the children around her were calling things out like, “Flowers! Get your flowers!” and “Beautiful flowers here!”. Annie hesitated until someone nudged her and she walked into the middle of the street and called out feebly.
A while later, after two short business men had sniffed her flowers and bought the whole tray, Annie heard a voice.
“Oi! Psst, Annay, or whatever!” Emily grabbed Annie's arm and whizzed down the street. Taking the money from Annie's hand, she stopped abrutely by a stall of grubby-looking fruit.
“Someone brought your flowers,” she whispered.
“Bought,” Annie corrected her.
“That's what I said.”
“What can I do you for, my young ladies?” the stall's owner said. His voice was rusty and quiet. He stood hunched, with a very old and battered hat on his balding head. A few of his teeth were missing.
“Two apples, please,” Emily smiled hungrily as the stall owner passed two bruised apples to Annie.
“And where would you be getting so clean, m'dear?” he eyed Annie greedily.
Emily held out her hand with the money in. The man took it without a word. Annie didn't reply.
Turning around swiftly, Annie clasped Emily's arm, and dodged down the hustling, bustling crowd. The sky was an inky blue already. What had happened to the time? When she arrived at... wherever she was, it had been midday! Now it was nearly night-time!
“Where do you live?” Annie whispered as soon as they reached the alleyway. She looked up at the tall town houses.
“I'm an orphan.”
“I.. oh... I'm sorry,” Annie looked at her shoes. There was a minutes' silence, before she looked up and saw Emily on the verge of tears. Emily broke the silent atmosphere.
“Well... we shouldn't stand round dawdling, it's getting dark,” with a reproachful nod at the sky, Emily marched purposefully down the dark alleyway.
The wind was like a knife on Annie's face and hands. Though Emily strode quickly in front of Annie, she could tell the orphan was suffering with the cold as well.
Appearing again at the place where Annie arrived, Emily led them both along a deserted street, round a corner and into a much wider, roomier alleyway.
Annie gasped.
There were children lying on the ground. Some were in cardboard boxes, some with ripped travelling coats wrapped round them and some slumped helplessly against the wall, shivering in the cold.
“Emily! Emily!” a young girl came hurtling towards Emily.
“What's up, Natalie?” Emily lifted the girl up.
“I got some boxes!! They're not the best, but they'll do!” she
burst out.
Emily appeared by Annie's shoulder and whispered so quietly Annie had to strain her ears to hear, “That was good of you. She hasn't eaten for weeks.” Assuming she was talking about Natalie, Annie smiled to herself. She had done someone some good in their life.
Annie followed Emily until she stopped at a large box with a teared blanket.
“You can have that one,” Emily gestured to a smaller box on the left of her own. Annie scrambled inside. There was no blanket in here.
“May the Lord God look after us all,” Annie jumped as Emily's voice carried down the alleyway, loud and clear. “Amen.”
“Amen,” chanted back the rest of the orphans.
It was silent after that. Cold and uncomfortable, Annie drifted into an awkward sleep, where Mrs Meely and the fruit stall owner found their way into her dreams.
A sudden gush of wind made Annie stir and awake. Shivering, she lifted her head. Her neck ached from lying in such a difficult position. She rubbed the little sleep she had from her eyes and crawled to the open side of the box.
Kneeling down and looking up at the towering town houses and slice of sky, Annie shivered more violently.
Suddenly a dazzling white light appeared in front of Annie, she let out a shrill cry and toppled over backwards. The box nearly tipped over.
There was a whooshing sound and Annie knew what was happening. She was going back!
She felt the sickening feeling as she whizzed round and round, while she closed her eyes against the light.
Her feet hit the white marble floor of the white room. Looking around, she saw the clay pot placed neatly in the corner diagonally opposite to the burning white sphere. She had a feeling she should take it back: Mrs Meely would not be happy if one of her Victorian pots went missing.
Annie scooped up the up the pot. There was a nudging urge telling her to walk towards the light. So, closing her eyes, she walked blindly to the light. Even though she couldn't see it, she could certainly feel it. Its warm radiations pulled her forwards in a way she could not describe.
Annie was plunged into darkness. She floated in space for a while, clinging onto the pot, for a minute or two. Then she was slammed into her school chair. She felt the pot float gently onto the desk in front of her.
There was a scraping of chairs. Annie opened her eyes. Her classmates were going to lunch.
“C'mon, Annie!”
“You look like you've run a mile and back!”
Annie smiled. She got up. Leaving the pot on her desk, she put on her outdoor shoes and straightened again. She ran to the door and hesitated. Annie looked back at the pot and if she was very much mistaken, its surface showed a very faint, very beautiful face winking at her. The Victorian, Emily.
