Wednesday, 22 April 2009

Halloween Troubles

The night sky was pitch black and the atmosphere was gloomy. "Risha. Risha. I am so scared. Let's all go home," came a little voice, barely a whisper. "Risha, can't you tell your sister to be quiet? She's ruining our fun. Why did your mum say she has to come with us?" Hary grumbled. "Yeah," said Samie, who was standing at the doorstep, waiting for someone to open the door.
"Anjali, it's Halloween! Oh, fine then. Let's go home, back to Mummy, ok? Don't worry, Risha's here," Risha said, comforting her younger sister. As Risha was speaking, Samie, Hary and their other friends Harold and Victoria started slipping away. They didn't want to stick around with a girl who had to look after her younger sister. They didn't want to go home, not yet anyway. They wanted to have fun. "Let's go to another house," Victoria said to Samie. "No one's answering here,"
What was that? Samie thought. Not to worry, it was just the wind.
"I'm going to get you. Yes, you. Samie, Hary and Victoria..."
Suddenly, someone leapt forward and grabbed all three of them, using only one arm. The last sound heard from them was screaming and yelling. All three of them were wearing white hoodies, and they had white face paint on their faces to make them look like ghosts. They went missing last October, on Halloween. If you have seen them, please return them to their rightful homes.
Maybe they should have listened to my sister.

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

Happily Ever After

My body was wooden with fright, worry. I saw them coming towards me, evil smirks on their faces. They knew I was their property, and they could do whatever they liked to me and I would keep quiet. When I look back at this, I think about how I was a weak, cowardly boy. If I knew that boy back then I would have shook him on the shoulders and told him to do the right thing and tell someone.

They demanded my lunch money, they demanded my new trainers, they demanded me to wipe their shoes until they were sparkling. I got pushed against the wall while the whole gang threw sticks at my face. This happened daily. Even at the weekends, the gang would get their older brothers and cousins to come and scare me while I was out doing the weekly shop with my mother and older sister. My mother and sister saw what was happening, but what could they do? They were both timid and innocent. My sister sometimes pulled me away from the boys but then all they did was laugh, saying that I was stupid. I endured this from the young age of 10 all the way until I was 16. The only reason the bullying stopped was because I finally told a teacher. I told Miss about the sticks. I told Miss about the pushing. I told Miss about the lunch money. At the end of my story I was reduced to tears. I realised how much I had suffered. I used to accept the bullying as part of life, something that everyone goes through. When the kind teacher told me what to do, I saw tears in her eyes.

The next day, the boys were called to the Headmaster's office. They shot me horrible looks as the pushed passed all the pupils. A few minutes later, I was called in the office.

Surprisingly, as I entered the office, I did not get any nasty looks or glares. Finally, after a minute of silence, I heard a voice. "I'm sorry,"

Then I heard someone say "Me too,"

Soon many choruses of "Sorry,"

"I feel ashamed,"

"You're a good lad, really,"

Suddenly, everything came in to focus. All the boys were apologising to me. The Headmaster smiled at me, and then I knew everything was good.

Ten years later, me and the boys are still good friends. We meet up at least once a month and talk about our lives and families.

The moral of this story is speak up if you are being bullied. You never know, you might end up being friends with the person/people who bullied you, like I have.


My Escape

All this time, I turned a blind eye. All those years, working for those rich people, sweeping and dusting and cleaning and cooking. I didn't get money. Instead I got a room, the size of a cupboard, to live in. I got a toilet, that I had to share with 12 other servants. In fact, I shared the room with 6 other servants. One tiny room, and 7 people. I got beat up, if I didn't work hard enough. Forced to sleep in the attic with the rats if I was ill. If I ever vomited after eating the raw, several weeks old food, I would be not given any food for a week.

All that suffering. All those canes and sticks, slaps and kicks. None of our lot were allowed to respond back to Master. He was king, and we were his dirty pests. He even treated us like pests. I remember when a male servant was thrown against the wall and pushed repeatedly and repeatedly. This was Master's entertainment for the night. He invited his friends from the casino and all of them were cheering and jeering, laughing and cackling while Master was beating the servant.

Last year, I escaped. Escaped from hell on Earth. I was awake, the whole night. Thinking what Master would do to me if he found me trying to escape. I imagined him giving me a slow, painful death. I knew that sooner or later, if I stayed here, I would be killed anyway, for fun. This is when I decided to escape.

I escaped from a window, which I had scrubbed so clean that day my skin was raw and chapped with all the effort. I remember feeling the joy, as I felt the fresh air hit my cheek. I hadn't felt fresh air in years. The only air I felt was dusty and unclean, as whenever we had finished scrubbing and cleaning Master would deliberately make the place dirty again the next day.

This is my story. Now, after many years, I am free. I have a family again, with my husband and two children. I have a home again, clean and fresh. I have a life again, perfect and beautiful.

Tuesday, 7 April 2009

Rhea to Stranger- Help me please

Hi. Like the signature? If you would like to make your own signature go to

To Stranger,

I sat down on the bed, silently counting over and over in my head. Why was I here? I had made a big mistake and was now suffering the consquences. It started when I joined Myspace, a site where you can talk to and make friends with other people around the world. I got chatting to a girl who was 13, the same age as me. She had the same interests as me and we agreed to meet up at a nearby shopping centre.

I bit my lip. Why on earth was a old man walking towards me, smiling in a horrible manner? Suddenly, he bent forward and grabbed a firm hold on my shoulder. "Come with me," he said. "Now," I tried to walk back but he followed me. He pushed me into a dirty white car with black-out windows. "Get in. Don't make a noise!" he whispered furiously.

Sweat began pouring down my face as the old man started the engine. I was frightened, but I quietly asked him who he was and where he was taking me. "I am Rupali. The girl you talk to on Myspace. I am taking you away. Kidnapping you. Now be quiet, you scumbag," the man said angrily.

It was only a few minutes later I began to realise what had happened. The old man had pretended to be a girl called Rupali, to get close to me. I was being kidnapped, taken away. I wished I had my mobile so I could have texted my father and tell him I was in danger. All I had was the clothes I was wearing, and some loose change I had in my pocket.

We stopped at a tall looking mansion. The man opened the door of the car and pulled me out violently. He opened one of many doors on the mansion and told me to go inside. I looked around and all that was in the room were a small bed and toilet. Nothing else. The man closed the door. The last noise I heard were keys jangling when the man locked the door.

I know you are thinking that I should have screamed, asked for help. But that was not possible. If you were in my position at that time you would have been so frightened, so scared, you wouldn't have the courage to scream for help. So this is why I am asking you for help. Help me, please.


Monday, 6 April 2009

Bunking Of School

"Father. I have something I wish to tell you," said Puja.

"What is it, dear. Hurry up, I must go to the office,"

"Yesterday, I didn't go to school,"

Father glanced up from his office worksheet. "Was it Inset Day, Puja?"


"Then what was it?" Father looked irritated. He wanted to get back to reading the worksheet.

"I bunked off,"

Father frowned. "What is the meaning of bunked, dear?"

"I did not go to school yesterday,"

"You were ill...? Should have told me, I would have booked Doctor Zia right away," Father said, looking concerned.

"No, I wasn't ill," said Puja, waiting to continue speaking.

"Then what, dear? Look, this worksheet is very important. If you please, hurry up,"

"I didn't go to school because I didn't want to!"

"Say did not, not didn't. We are not tramps like those homeless beggars,"

"It doesn't, oops, I mean does not," Puja started, sarcastically. "Matter!"

"It does,"

"Forget about grammar! What punishment are you going to give me?"

"What punishment? What did you do?" asked Father.

"You weren't listening! I talked non-stop for 10 minutes and you weren't listening!"

"Oh! About not going to school?" Father questioned.


"What punishment did you get from school?"

"I was expelled. Now, what punishment will I get from you?" Puja spoke, looking Father in the eye.

"You were expelled?"

Spoiled Rich Kid vs Strong Smart Girl

Clothes, makeup, jewelery, money. Me and my sister get whatever we want, whenever we want. I'm 13 and so is Sasha, my sister. We aren't twins, like everyone assumes. I'm exactly 9 months older than Sasha and at the moment we are at a rare period of time when we are the same age.
Today, we wanted to go bowling, so our dad took us to the poshest, most expensive bowling place in London. He said he'll try and pick us up at midnight and if he can't, Anna, our stepmum will.
We're in the toilets, putting on our makeup and perfecting our hair, looking in the mirror to see if we look good. I saw this girl who was with her 3 friends in the toilet tell them how we looked slutty. She kept staring at me with beady eyes in the mirror. That's when I couldn't take it anymore. "Why are you wearing red, pink, black, green, blue, brown all at once? You look like a tramp," I said.
"Why you wearing so much makeup on your face?" She replied in a split second. I could hardly believe that she had tryed talking back to me.
"Why have you got a hairy face, like a monkey's bum," Sasha spat at the girl. I could see the girl raise her hand, ready to slap Sasha. That's when I kicked the girl. Really hard. I was wearing red heels. The girl fell back, and suddenly got back to her feet and punched me, right in the heart. I can't remember what happened next, as I was unconsious, but Sasha told me it was a bloody site, pulling hair and kicking, the girl's friends were just standing in the corner doing nothing while their friend was in a fight. "Really?" I said, amazed.
"Yeah. But the girl didn't need any help. She was really strong, I have to admit. She punched, kicked, slapped, pinched me. I didn't mind her beating me but I couldn't take it that she had punched you and made you unconsious. You were just in a pile on the floor. So I pushed her, hard against the wall. She slammed her head against the wall and was bleeding. Then I remember how she and I were taken away, by the police. Someone had phoned the police. Mary, I'm going to jail next month,"
"Wh-wh-what?" I said, stuttering and crying.

Sunday, 5 April 2009

DIY Necklace Holder

To make a easy necklace holder, all you need is:

  • A rectangle of pretty cardboard, paint if necessary (4 inches long, 2 inches wide)

  • 5 paper clips in assorted colours

  • Scissors

1. Poke 5 holes through the cardboard using the scissors

2. Get a paper clip and pull open (look at picture) the bottom part of the wire so it looks like a L. Repeat with all paper clips

3. Put all the paper clips into the holes however you like (just make sure the L part is on the front of the cardboard), the L part is where your necklaces will stay on each paper clip.

4. Secure on a wall with Blu-tak and hang all your necklaces on the holder.

Note: this holder can hold bracelets too.

Note 2: men/boys, make this for your sisters or any other close family or friends!


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