A selection of creative writing completed by students attending Bright Side Creative Writing for Well-being Sessions, Ilkeston Library, Tutor Chrissie Hall
A Crocodile Story
Through the water the sound came, waking him from his sleep. His den was an island situated in the middle of the river. Large trees and bushes sheltered his green rough skin from the blazing sun, it was quiet and peaceful.
His long tail twitched in response to the sound of a motor. His eyes slowly opened wide, redness looked on searching the area, his long jaw opened, his tongue tasting the air. He rose up on his two front legs and waited; as the boat came closer he slowly made his way to the sandy edge.
The tour boat sliced through the swampy waters, coming to a halt near the Island. On the boat the tourist looked on noticing the large trees, some watched the waters. They saw the green moss log sitting on the sandy bank. The guide called, holding a piece of meat on end of a pole, he called again. The log moved as he slowly entered the water and floated towards them, slowly rising showing his jaw and red eyes glaring, watching, the ranger called out and he moved to the sound, the calling, as he approached he knew he was there for the show. He ate the food given him, showing his razor-sharp teeth to the crowd, he noticed that some looked scared others curious. He stared at the guide, they had trust, but his natural instinct was calling one word Fall. Fall.
By Paul Parkin
The chattering of the birds was absorbing, welcoming, mesmerising. The bubbling stream running by Aurelia’s house was everything she and her husband Kyle, dreamed of. Every morning they awoke with the songs of the birds, every night they slept with melancholy calls of the night birds.
“I’m going to clear the stream something keeps damning it up, back in an hour,” he’d told her “When I come back we’ll barbecue.” So why was Kyle missing? Aurelia lazed on the soft grass, no noise here only the whispering of the wind and always the birds. One hour turned into two, two into three. She wandered down to the stream looking for Kyle. The dam was there Kyle wasn’t.
All night Kyle didn’t come home. “The jeep’s still here there’s no other way off this mountain. Where’s he gone?”
All week Kyle did not return. “I can’t drive I’m trapped.” Terrified, Aurelia returned to the stream as if the water might hold the answer. The dam was gone and the water was swirling, churning ominously. The further she walked the wilder the water was becoming. Back in the garden she slumped onto the grass. The wind was still, the skies silent not one single bird twittered. Aurelia jumped, startled by a touch on her shoulder. “Kyle?”
The solitude was abruptly shattered. Aurelia turned quickly into the heart of the screeching, seething mass of angry birds. As they enveloped her in their wings she saw Kyle’s face staring out at her.
“There’s no way back, my love.”
by Marilyn Lucia Keates
The Greatest Bully on Earth
How will this end? You’re being bullied. No two ways about it. Your loved ones are suffering. Worse than suffering. They are dying. Hundreds of thousands of them as time ticks on. Yes, you weep. And I weep with you. But this has to stop. If it doesn’t end, soon, then you’ll die too, and me. And all of the others. But they don’t realise that yet. Instead they keep taking. Always taking.
And you keep giving. But soon you’ll have nothing left to give.
Our beautiful Earth. You’ve given us food and shelter as we’ve grown and grown. Satisfied our material wants. But our population is soaring, the cracks are appearing. We’ve wanted too much. The holidays abroad and never-ending business flights. The pre-packaged sandwiches and plastic bottled drinks. The pesticides that kill our much-needed pollinators. The destruction of forests, and the animals that call them home, to provide for our artificial needs. Always eating too much, buying too much, throwing away too much.
Could you start afresh? How would things differ? It’s not right that everything else, all of your wonderful plants and animals, should suffer at the hands of a bully. A bully that is stronger and more powerful than any of you. If only that powerful bully would act responsibly. Yes, dear Earth, you are being bullied. By us, humankind. We certainly haven’t been kind to you.
By Beth Edson