Mrs Hamilton’s blog

 I watched the ball soar through the air. I jumped and directed it into the back of the net. The small crowd cheered frantically from around the sides of our small, rundown pitch. The rain poured through the cracks in the corrugated iron roof of the stand; so that the unlucky fans would have been better off out in the rain, rather than under the leaks. I had surely scored the winning goal. It was only 10 minutes from full time and I had surely captained our team to victory. We had won the league.

 After the celebrations had finished I drove back to my flat. I got home and got ready for work the next day.  When I looked in the mirror, my reflection, a tall man with brown hair and blue eyes stared back at me. I realised that I had achieved enough in the past 22 years of my life, but I was just the average person. I wanted to be good at something. I went to bed thinking of all the possibilities.

 In the morning I drove to my work, at the Mercedes Benz Design Department Building in London. It was quite a mouthful to say, but I liked the big building looking over the Thames. I liked my job too, but later that day I found a letter on my desk. It was written in ink and on expensive paper with a watermark. I knew exactly what this letter was, and I was surprised – I was not expecting the letter.

 I had been made redundant. I had 6 weeks to look for work. I was never going to be able to do that in this financial climate. I drove home in my prize Merc. What a way to celebrate a birthday – Winning the league, then losing my job, maybe things would brighten up for the big day tomorrow.

 I woke up when the postman came and realised that I was late for work. It was only when I was eating breakfast when I saw the letter and was reminded that I was not going back to work, or not until I got a new job at least. I opened the parcels: an Amazon voucher from my parents; a new pair of football boots from the team and a Go-Carting voucher from my friend Alan. He phoned later that day to wish me a happy birthday and suggested that we went Go-Carting the next day.

 I enjoyed Go-Carting. I was competitive and loved driving. We entered a race and the prize for the winner was a lesson with Emanuel Datbrick – The current Formula 1 World Champion. I told Alan that I would be the one who won the lesson, but he said that he would easily beat me. We stepped into the Carts and started doing our qualifying laps. It took me a lap or two to get used to the track, but after that I sped my way easily around the track. I won qualifying by a whole two seconds and I was already looking forward to the lesson. There were only 30 laps between us.

 About an hour later we were ready to go. The lights went green and all I could do was concentrate on the track. By the time I was on my 12^th lap I had lapped everyone. I then looked at the fuel I had left and decided that it was time for a fill-up. I needed to use less fuel. The man doing the petrol was no Formula 1 mechanic and I got annoyed at how long it took him to fill up the one tank.

 The racer behind had almost caught up. I realised that it was Alan. He would need to get more petrol sooner or later. I kept going until the last lap, where my car needed more petrol. As the worker was filling up tank I kept an eye on Alan. Nothing was going to get between me and my prize.

 He just managed to get ahead of me. It was all or nothing as we approached the finish line. Suddenly Alan’s rear wheel got caught in the tyres at the side and he swerved round. I just managed to dodge him. It was an easy run to the finish line.

 Once I had finished I took to the podium and claimed my prize. I was going to see Emanuel Datbrick at Silverstone.

William was lying in bed stoking the gold case of his feathered pillow. The sun was shining bright threw the window as it bounced from his mirror to his face. William was now awake although he still feels like something is missing. He buzzed for ‘Raffeale’ to bring up his breakfast: lightly scrambled eggs with freshly backed bacon with a touch of basil. The usual. His bags were already packed for him and the private jet was ready to leave at exactly 12:13 to New York. They were going there for a couple of weeks to check on a branch of the family business—which he was to take on later—to see if everything was going ok. But William on the other hand wanted to go to New York for a completely different reason…

Sprinting down the dark, cobbled street; the industrial part of Glasgow. It was around six o’clock at night and he could hear the heavy footsteps of the person chasing him – hot on his heels. Bang! He smashed the faded, yellow football in between the goal keepers legs. As Darren, the keeper, jogged down the street to retrieve the ball, Kyle celebrated with his mates.

Kyle had short, blond hair, deep, dark brown eyes and had his left ear pierced. He said his goodbyes to his mates and pulled his old, tatty  sweatshirt over his head to cover up his Rangers t-shirt – It was a long walk home, it was late and he didn’t want to run into trouble.

 Kyle’s eyes flickered open. He listened to the footsteps outside his bedroom window walking towards his house. The doorbell rang and he listened to his Mum welcome his Grandpa into the house. The bright light was shinning through the window, lighting up his dark room. Kyle rolled out of bed and staggered towards the door, still half-asleep.

He went downstairs and through to the kitchen. His Grandpa and Mum were sitting at the round table.  Kyle’s Grandpa was dressed in Jeans, a polo t-shirt and a blue and white stripy jumper. He was sipping a mug of coffee. Kyle’s Mum was still in her dressing gown and looked half asleep too. Kyle helped himself to a glass of cold orange juice from the fridge, gave his Grandpa a high-five and headed back upstairs to get dressed.

After a minute or two sitting on his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Kyle stood up and walked over to his wardrobe. He took out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, boxers, socks and his pair of white trainers. He put his clothes on and after a moment of hunting, found his Rangers t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He had worn the same t-shirt a few nights before.

Kyle washed in the small bathroom and walked down the stairs. His Grandpa was standing at the front door with a long brown coat. Kyle put on his Super Dry jacket and did up the zip, but not so far up no one could see his t-shirt.

The night was pitch black with not a star visible in the murky sky. A thick layer of cloud killed all light that would normally of sparkled across the dense snow-topped forest and in its place was left some terrible abyss of seeming nothingness. The air was frighteningly cold and to someone underdressed would bring the end of them in little under an hour. The trees swayed softly yet let out no noise adding to the already brooding silence that mesed with a man’s wits, setting them constantly on edge. However, to Alex the silence made him feel calm, reach an inner peace that was bliss during such struggles of war. Reluctantly he took a step forward through the heavy snow. This small act felt like sacrilege, to bring to an end the peaceful silence with the crunch as his thick furred boots met snow. The trees seemed to voice a complaint for destroying their silent seclusion by swaying all the faster and with seeming aggression. The forest seemed devoid of life by the lack of noise and movement yet little tracks in the snow clearly suggested a small badger or rabbit and been out scavenging for food through the bitter frost. Alex hoped that whatever it was had some sort of burrow as digging on this ground as it was would be close to impossible due to the chill. Letting out a small sigh he set off towards the distant mountains which peaks were hidden in the clouds. These mountains were disastrous at the best of times to climb in such weather. But Alex had been commanded. So he must go.

“Obliterate”, Rachel shouted with enthusiasm over the countdown man’s voice at her dated, chubby TV. Had the weather not been so overcast, although she had been asked to clean a house in Newlands – one of those upmarket deals -  she would have been outside having lot of fun and a lovely long walk with her two year old corgi – Ash.  Rachel was very excited as this was her first ‘posh’ house and she had a break in life for once. A chance to prove her to the world, and she thought that making a good impression would be key to success here. To clam her nerves, she decided to take out Ash for his third walk of the day before letting him come back in to divulge himself in his pedigree dog food. Only the best for Rachel’s dog. No one would come between these two best buddies. Ash was separated from his twin at birth. The only item that Rachel cared  more about than herself. She had Ash and he had Rachel. He went everywhere he could with her – watched the TV with her, slept in the same room as her, even ate at the same times as her, although sometimes slightly earlier if Rachel’s food wasn’t ready.

‘What should i wear . . . what should i wear?’ Rachel whispered aloud. If that didn’t know her was watching her they would think that she was mad. You would have to know Rachel really well to know who she was talking to, and only a few people in the whole world knew her this well.

As the dark clouds approached I continued walking down the ally way. I heard footsteps of a group behind; if these people were who I thought they were I had to run.

I stopped running as the old grey building came into sight, this was known as Melltree high school, the place which made my happy life a disaster. When the bell rang I rushed into the building, I could still here the group trembling behind. It’s as if my whole life is overshadowed by these 6 people, at least since the start of first year. No one understands how I feel these days and I can’t tell my parents, there’s no point. See my parents are loving, caring but very protective and if I told them I’d never hear the end of it. They would want to move house again but my dads just started a new job here and he loves it, I couldn’t take that away from him, it’s not worth it. These boys are dodgy, there not afraid to do anything as long as it means them getting there own way and I was just beginning to realize that.

It was a very warm day of May, the sun was shining, kids were outside having fun and Calvin, my brother was inside playing Call of Duty, in the dark, by himself. Calvin is not always like this, when he has friends over he would not touch the Xbox unless they wanted to play but when no one’s over then it is just CoD this and CoD that. (not that he has many friends over though) It might have been my fault that he is like this now, I told him to start playing CoD online and he has gotten kind of addicted to it now, plus, i broke his arm two months ago and all he could do was play CoD for five weeks, that made him look like the average stay at home gamer, playing the Xbox in the dark with leftover dominos’ and bottles of Pepsi everywhere.

Standing outside the principal’s office he felt no fear. He had been there many times. He struck terror through the school. The infants’ milk curdeled at his name. He was Tyler Burnett. Not very tall, well built and a mean swagger. That sums up Tyler’s physical appearance.

David Wilson is the latest victim added to his long list. Tyler had broken two things: David’s jaw and a very unfortunate chair marked with obscure images, “do you know why your here?” the headmistress asked with a tone of resignation. Tyler blanked her then she got angry,”Tyler! I am serious! You may not care but I will tolerate you constantly injuring pupils” After glancing at her coldly he yawned, “ok, whatever I’m going” Getting angrier still the headmistress replied, “Yes, and your not coming back for two weeks!”

This was the second time he’d been suspended, as he walked down to the bus stop listening to candy he saw a sight that struck him with awe, it was the most infamous, dangerous boy in Hackney, Tony Wilson, brother of David Wilson

I’m walking down the corridor; the girls are watching me as I go past, I can tell. I’ve got my right hand man, Leroy, walking behind me. I see the terror in the geeks’ eyes as they hurriedly move out my way. The guys brave enough, or cool enough, give me a slap on the back or cheer my name. Someone opens the door for me. I feel the cool breeze against my face as my hair brushes against my ear. I can hear the girls giggling, and the guys staring at me with such desire; everyone wants to have me, or wants to be me, Liam King.