The document is a magazine featuring contributions from children and young people in Edinburgh's Hospital and Outreach Teaching Service, discussing themes of resilience and personal struggles. It includes narratives from a young woman named Jane who battles feelings of loneliness and despair while reflecting on her life circumstances, as well as poetry and other creative works. Additionally, it touches upon various experiences, both joyful and melancholic, as the contributors express their thoughts through writing and art.

1. HOTSOFF THE PRESS 2014
This is a magazine containing contributions
from children and young people being
taught by Edinburgh’s Hospital and
Outreach Teaching Service.
These children and young people might be:
• in the Royal Hospital for Sick Children
• in the Schoolroom, CAMHS, Tipperlinn
• Looked After (and Accommodated)
• Gypsy/Traveller/Roma
• excluded from school
• taught at home due to their medical condition
• taught in one of our Education Groups
• part of the Young Mums’ Unit
We hope you enjoy the magazine.
Any feedback is always welcome.
Thank you and well done to all our contributors.

2. 2
‘Oh no, not again,’ Jane
thought to herself as the alarm
screeched loudly.
She was already awake – not
because she was ready to seize
the day, but because she had
been awake all night worrying
about what was ahead of her,
or rather what was not ahead
of her. Another day. She rolled
grudgingly out of bed. Her cold
empty flat seemed to enter her
body through the soles of her
feet. In the shower she tried
to force a smile and caught
her reflection in the glass
door. A slow hour passed in
which Jane forced her face into
the expressions that people
expected. Cheerful Jane. Happy
Jane. Interested Jane. The bitter
taste of coffee was the only thing
able to properly get her ready
for the day. Drinking coffee
gave her face the only truthful
expression of the day. What kind
of person was she, if a cup of
coffee was the only thing that
could make her smile?
At her desk again she was
pretending to be Busy Jane.
Dark rain fell from a grey sky
and battered against the small
square smudged window
through which Jane had looked
every day for the last ten years.
She looked down at her skirt,
smart and stylish the sales
assistant had told her; but that
was all of five years ago. Jane
wondered what people actually
thought of her. She would be
twenty seven next week. The
peeling, yellowish radiator to
her left wheezed stale dusty
air in her direction as it had
done every day for the last ten
years. She thought of herself
earlier, out of breath after having
climbed the three flights of
stairs to the office as she had
done every morning for the last
ten years. Behind her, a sudden
squeaking from her colleagues’
chairs told her that Mr Morvern
was doing his rounds, as he had
done every day for the last ten
years. Ten years.
Jane soon drifted off into raw
reminiscences. As a child she
hadn’t been unhappy; but she
also hadn’t been happy. Growing
up in a foster home had been no
fun, but as a child she had found
it easier to have fun and easier
to imagine her future. So, what
could make her future happy
now? Certainly not this job.
Growing up she had imagined
herself in various exciting jobs
as all children do. But these
imaginary jobs hadn’t been
based on any skills she actually
had. When she left school and
was more sensible she had to
think of what skills she actually
had. There had once been so
many ‘if’s and ‘if’ seemed a
positive word, full of possibilities.
She had always liked school but
had never managed to settle and
finished fourth year with only
grade 4s and 5s. Her foster mum
had told her that she would be
lucky to get any job with grades
like that. From then on ‘if’ was
no longer a positive word.
A sudden jumble of happy
sounds signaled to Jane that it
was lunchtime. At first, she had
felt lucky to get this job. It had
meant she could move into her
own flat and start her life. But
now she didn’t feel luck was
playing a part in her life at all.
Another Day
by Millie McLean – Chapter 1

3. 3
Did luck just happen? Or did
she have to make luck happen?
Jane took a deep breath of
fresh air and started walking
round the lake while eating
her lunchtime sandwich. A
light breeze tickled the water’s
surface causing small waves to
dance. The sun smiled down
on these dancers soaking them
in silver light, reflecting their
happiness. High overhead,
birds laughed as they swooped
then soared up again into the
blue. Then grey clouds rolled
in and Jane reminded herself
that nothing good ever lasted;
but the clouds moved on and
the sun just carried on playing
with the waves as if nothing had
happened.
“Do you want to be my friend?”
A curly haired little boy with a
half chewed bright red lollipop
in his hand was looking up at
her and smiling. Something
tugged at her heart. Yes, she did.
“Look at that!” said Jane,
pointing.
A remote controlled toy yacht
had appeared from nowhere
and drifted past them on its
way towards the other end of
the lake. Its white sail waved
goodbye. Jane waved back.
“I’d love to go on a real yacht.
Do you know that I have never
even been to the seaside? I’ve
seen it on the TV but it must be
different...” she said, turning and
looking down at the little boy;
but he had already run back to
his parents.
Monday was looming. There
was no avoiding the usual
Sunday cycle to the shopping
centre. With a big sigh at
the busy traffic Jane put out
her hand to turn left off the
roundabout towards the neon
lights of the shopping centre.
She swerved slightly to avoid
hitting a shopping trolley on the
road causing the man behind
her to beep his horn loudly.
Lights flashed. The man angrily
sped in front of her spitting out
abuse from his window. His
red face with nostrils flaring
and eyes popping out of their
sockets seemed to sear right
into her.
Jane pushed her bike onto
the pavement. She had a few
minutes fighting back the
tears and trying to get her
breathing back to normal
while she locked her bike.
Then she walked through the
squeaking sliding doors onto
the fancy marble floor of the
centre with her head down.
She had on her favourite boots
but she suddenly hated them.
She felt a hundred eyes on her
because of the loud clacking
she was making on the floor.
She glanced up nervously
and realized that nobody was
looking at her. Nobody. Then
a warm laugh caused Jane
to turn around. A woman,
smiling, on her phone, walked
confidently into an expensive
clothes shop. Jane wondered
who she was talking to. Her
boyfriend? Her husband?
Best friend? The woman
disappeared into the shop and
was greeted by a smiling sales
person.
As Jane walked on it was the
stench of stale grease from the
Burger Palace that greeted her.
A small man from the cheap
perfume stall walked over to her,
gently guiding her with his hand
towards his perfumes.
“Doesn’t a pretty gal like you
need a pretty perfume like this?”
the man said as he sprayed her
with a foul smelling concoction.
His gold tooth flashed in the
harsh lights of the mall.
Jane shook her head and quickly
walked away towards the
toilets. Her eyes stung from the
perfume. At the sink she bathed
them with cold water and then
glanced up. A mess looked back
at her. Puffy, bloodshot eyes, red
hot cheeks with mascara running
down her face, and behind this
reflection two old ladies gazing
at her sympathetically. Jane
grabbed a fistful of paper towels
to cover her tears and went as
quickly and unobtrusively as she
could back to the bike stand. She
could make do with toast and
baked beans for dinner.
Jane didn’t go to work that
Monday. Or Tuesday. Or the rest
of that week. She didn’t even
phone in. Her phone had rung
a few times on Monday. She
hadn’t replied and it had not
rung since. By Thursday she had
made her mind up. The empty
fridge and cupboards had
helped, or forced her to decide.
She slipped a note through her
landlord’s door, withdrew all her
money from the bank, stuffed it
in her backpack and headed to
the station to catch a train to the
coast.

4. 4
National Poetry Day
October 2013
This year’s National Poetry day was all about water. At the beginning of the
lesson, Gillian showed us the Water Cycle because it was linked with the theme.
We looked at many different kinds of poems. We looked at a poem written in
Gaelic and then read it in English. We also listened to poems including the Loch
Ness Monster’s Song.
We all read out our poems that we had chosen. Then we made up our own
acrostic poems all about different types of water, here they are:
Loch Rippling Softly Waterfall
Acid Rain Burning Animals
Kayak Drifting Together
Embrace a fish life Everyone
Reunite
Lakes lie still
Overflowed with water Over the world
Choking with life Cold and Cautious
Help it screams Everlasting and eternal
Ageless and Alluring
Never-ending
We were surprised to discover that National Poetry Day occurs every year and
that the theme changes. We really enjoyed the theme of water.

5. 5
A
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6. 6
In that moment, the gleam of
the amethyst in my palm shone
into every corner of the dim,
half-decorated room. I was in the
woman I once called aunt’s house
seeking out the years of hidden
truths that lay inside it. The silver
ring clasped the gem tightly, afraid
of being apart from it. As if enough
hadn’t already been separated.
More like torn and broken in
two. Like the rest of the room, the
velvet the ring had uncomfortably
nestled into, sagged, tired and
worn from the weight of the secret
buried within its folds. Tentatively,
I lowered the lid of the chest
but the gentleness of my action
surprised me as I did not feel any
care towards it at all. The thick
cloak of dust on top of it was easily
replaced, I swept a layer from
the shelf above and smothered
the box once again. There. The
sinister tranquillity of the room
was restored but with a difference.
I held the vital, sparkling piece
of that darkness that could now
return to its rightful owner.
I opened my hand again to see
the beautiful twinkle the ring
gave, even in the poor light. It
was the same twinkle that my
mother’s eyes had had, ever-
present through my childhood
but since that day, only in her
best moments which were few
and far between. Now, not at all.
A single tear holding a thousand
memories slithered down my
cheek but I was quick to reassure
myself that although it was laden
with sadness, some peace was
now to be found. I always wonder
if my mother was ever going to tell
me the story behind her sorrow or
the reason why she held her hand
limply as she stared at her ring
finger, the absence of the jewellery
all too much. The missing piece
was draining the energy from her,
her days spent hopeless, frail with
illness even before she became
sick. She had only unlocked the
story to me from the dark attic
in her head when she was at her
weakest, certain her death was
imminent. My mother had always
predicted events well though,
hadn’t she?
Although I do remember being
there that day, I was young and
was obviously too sheltered
from deceit to understand
until then, when the door into
that knowledge was sharply
forced open and smashed my
innocence. I was, however,
an inquisitive child and was
curious to know why my father
had been missing from home
for a while and had stolen my
mother’s happiness. They were
all gathered in the kitchen,
my mother, father and aunt,
the atmosphere dense with
uncertainty on my mother’s
part. I could see they must
have been unpleasantly warm
because drips of condensation
rolled down the window from
the recent cooking, still left on
the stove, routine interrupted by
this abrupt visit. Carefully, I had
perched myself on the edge of a
step of the tall, winding staircase
and when I thought more about
the situation later, was surprised
they had not noticed me, my
pale complexion against the dark
wood. My father started, slow,
trying to be diplomatic when my
aunt, irritated by his hesitation,
cut him off, an unusually
harsh tone in her voice. A long
argument followed, so long it
became just a rattle to my ears.
I had zoned out from what they
were saying, my eyes transfixed
on the creases of concern on my
father’s face and a somewhat
guilty expression. The fierce blue
in my aunt’s eyes had made my
head spin, the colour as harsh
as the blank white of her skin.
My nightmare of a daydream,
my shield, was shattered with a
piercing shriek that had erupted
from my mother.
It had been a blur through the
tears that had welled up in my
eyes. A bang. Metal hitting wood.
A sound not too dissimilar from
when my mother dropped the
keys on the side table when she
returned home, though that
was a warmer memory. I had
gasped, gaping at her ring finger.
The only time I had seen it bare
before was when she had let
me try it on, pretending to be
a princess. There, it had been
crushed of all the affection by
the words hissing from my aunt’s
tongue. My mother had slumped
down, her shoulders heavy with
The Ring
by Amy Sinclair

7. 7
grief while my father looked
on, his eyes unfeeling. I hadn’t
believed he was careless, he was
clearly just numb from my aunt’s
out-of-character appearance.
Determined to shake my father’s
blank stare out of my mind, I had
buried my head down into my
lap and hummed my mother’s
favourite tune, I didn’t know she
would never dance around our
home to it again. My aunt was
stopped dead in her malicious
confrontations, she had seen me.
I remember, she had thrown her
hands up and wailed that I had
seen too much. The purple beauty
of the ring was snatched up by the
woman I had no will to call my
aunt anymore and they had left, it
had only felt like an exit in a play,
just fiction.
Our home now my mother’s and
my house.
That was it. Just like that and
they were gone. I had buried
my anger and exchanged it for
the care of my mum. I was still
caring for her now, this ring will
be returned to her after all this
time of sorrow and sickness. I
couldn’t give it back with the
stale coldness of the nightmare
lingering on the supposed-to-be
everlasting promise though, I
placed it snugly on my finger, my
love locked into it. The warmth
of my loyalty would stay with her
forever. The icy cold of outside
once I stepped out of the equally
emotionless house, clutching the
ring, was now bracing instead of
the unforgiving chill that I was a
victim to when I stepped in.
She could now finally rest in
peace.
What is…the Moon?
The moon is a bright white marble
rolling across a black floor
It is a silver bullet
shot into the night sky
It is a silver hook
catching a grey cloud
It is a slim shiny sliver –
a pencil curve on paper
Rory Kemp

8. 8
Marvel Comic (Anger)
by Jack Hedley
Jack Hedley, in P7 at Stockbridge Primary used Comic Life to make an amazing Marvel style comic,
explaining anger and ways of keeping cool under pressure.

9. 9
The little child found himself in
a gloomy, foreboding graveyard.
He looked around, stone and
earth surrounding him. The boy
knew he shouldn’t be there.
Something told him to run, to
flee this place of fear and death.
But his legs became cement and
his feet seemed to rot into the
ground. His insides churned
as if they were in a washing
machine and his palms started
to became clammy and shaky.
The boy’s breathing became
shallow as the pale face of light
from the fingernail of the moon
disappeared behind the dark
clouds.
Suddenly, the boy noticed a
figure moving out the corner of
his eye. He whipped round and
saw the figure a few meters away
from him. The moon reappeared
from the misty masses and the
boy, in the dim light, saw a pale,
tall, well-built man, with jet-
black, well sleeked back hair
and a beautiful pristine cape,
the colour of red wine. That or
blood. Crimson red blood…
The figure was a vampire.
The boy’s heart raced as the
being looked up at him. The
vampire’s fang’s shot out into
place and he suddenly started
towards the boy, cackling as he
ran.
The child stared at the creature
racing towards him. Adrenaline
shot through his veins. Fight or
flight? Flight or fight?
Flight.
The boy gave a yelp and all at
once, his cement legs became
soft, working muscle and skin.
He began to run, he took flight,
unsure of where to run to. The
exit was behind him, the walls
too great to climb. Where was
he to go? What would he tell
people IF he escaped? He threw
these questions away as he kept
trying to escape the vampire, his
legs had a life of their own.
The boy hastily looked over his
shoulder to see if the creature was
still after his blood. The vampire
had vanished, like Scotty had
beamed him up to the Enterprise.
Theboywhippedround,laughing.
He had escaped!
Or so he thought…
Just as the boy was going to pull
the brakes on his whizzing legs,
he knocked into something and
flew backwards into the soft
turf beneath him. Dazed and
confused, he slowly but surely
propped himself up onto his
shoulders. Stupid branch.
As he rubbed the egg shaped
lump on his forehead, a shadow
crossed his frame. He flipped over
onto his front, to see the outline
of the vampire. As the boy’s vision
sorted itself out, he could see the
face of this creature of evil. The
vampire had a smile playing on
his lips. Not one of happiness. But
one of satisfaction.
The vampire edged closer and
closer and closer to the child,
as the boy’s eyes filled with fear.
All at once, the vampire lunged
towards the boy and sank his
pristine, pearl fangs into the
neck of the child, sucking the
crimson, creamy blood out of
the vein.
The boy tried screaming out, but
his voice didn’t want to leave
his body. He tried to struggle,
but his arms and legs wanted to
relax. Relax…
Relax…
Black.
The Chase
by David Chipakupaku

10. 10
Madagascar
by Euan Beveridge
Euan Beveridge researched and made an excellent Keynote presentation all about Madagascar.
Here is part of it.

11. 11

12. 12
We are surrounded by negative
messages. As soon as you find
a grey hair on your head you
have to dye it. You have to be a
certain size to wear that outfit.
You have to be toned like that
model on that advertisement.
Negative body image is an issue
that is only getting worse. The
media should stop promoting it
and start preventing it.
When you walk along a street
the media is in your face.
Advertisements on the side of
buses, taxis and bus shelters
displaying unnatural images
of beauty. Shop windows filled
with mannequins that are not
the size of an average person.
Pharmacies advertising diet
pills and cosmetics. Innocent
people are being bombarded
with all of these ideas wherever
they go.
When the television is switched
on we see the same thing.
Celebrities are constantly
appearing wearing next to
nothing, convincing us to
look that way. Caryn Franklin,
former Clothes Show presenter
commented on this: “Young
women do not have enough
female role models showing
them action or intellect. In
their place are scantily clad
celebrities. Sadly, young women
are wrongly looking to fashion
for some guidance of what it is
to be female.”
Men are affected just as much as
women. A study featured in Seed
magazine looked at one hundred
and eighty four male college
students. When the students
watched more television and
music videos researchers found
that the students felt more
self-conscious about their
appearance.
On magazines you will find that
every page is full of pictures
displaying false beauty,
persuading you to look this
way and buy the product being
advertised.
Beauty is in the Eye
of the Beholder
by Chloe Duenas

13. 13
However, the editor of Vogue,
Alexandra Shulman argues
this case: “All we are doing is
showing images of women we
regard as interesting or beautiful
or fashionable. But we are not
saying you have to be like this.”
If this was true, why not show
an average person not masked
in makeup? Why is it that we
find people who look unrealistic
more attractive? We have been
led to believe that beautiful
means altering our appearances
to become something that we
are not.
The truth about images
produced by the media is
that they are fake. The models
and celebrities that appear
everywhere have sat through
hours of hair and makeup
to then be manipulated by a
computer on Photoshop. It is
not possible to just stumble
out of bed and look that way.
These images are distorted.
Kasey L Serdar quoted: “There
has been a plethora of research
to indicate that women are
negatively affected by constant
exposure to models that fulfil
the unrealistic media ideal of
beauty.” The British Medical
Association also agree that such
images are not healthy: “The
degree of thinness exhibited
by models chosen to promote
products is both unachievable
and biologically inappropriate.”
As a result of these views, people
are becoming ill. The portrayal
of body image leaves many
people with low self-esteem,
and a growing number of people
suffering from mental illness.
This issue is affecting young
children as well as adolescents
and adults.
“We are seeing children as
young as six, seven and eight-
years-old who are exposed to
pictures of thin models from
a very early age,” quoted by
Dr Dee Dawson who treats
children with eating disorders
at Rhodes Farm Clinic. No
child should be so concerned
about their appearance that
they end up with an illness.
Younger generations are being
brainwashed by the media. Dr
Adrienne Key from the Royal
College of Psychiatrists agrees
that the media is making people
unwell: “There is a growing
body of research that shows
the media plays a part in the
development of eating disorder
symptoms – particularly in
adolescents and young people.”
Undoubtedly, something has
to be done. If these images
are depicted any longer, how
will the next generation see
themselves? Instead of insisting
that the public cover themselves
with beauty products, the media
should encourage people to
enhance their natural beauty.
We should not be told that
growing old is unattractive,
it is a perfectly natural thing.
The fashion industry should
hire models that are a healthy
weight and stop calling average
size women ‘plus size’. Robyn
Lawley who is classed as a ‘plus
size’ model tries to promote
healthy body image: “I’ve been
trying to do just the opposite: I
want my thighs to be bigger and
stronger. I want to run faster and
swim longer. I suppose we all
just want different things, but
women have enough pressure
as it is without the added
burden of achieving a ‘thigh
gap’.”
The issue of negative body
image is influenced greatly by
the media. Of course being self-
conscious about appearance
would exist without the media,
but it is heightened by pressure
from the illusion of perfection.
We should not be frightened
of ageing, or feel as if we have
to be a certain shape. Instead
we should decide what beauty
is and accept who we are. We
should not let industries decide
for us.

14. 14

15. 15

16. 16
John Anger
John Bulloch created this abstract life size painting which shows how his body feels when he is angry.

17. 17
This Christmas the young
people from CAHMS school-
room all worked together to
organise a charity raffle to raise
money for Edinburgh Young
Carers Project (EYCP). We
decided on this charity as we
wanted to support other young
people and some of us have had
experience with EYCP.
Once we had all agreed to
support EYCP, we then designed
raffle tickets, contacted EYCP
and wrote letters to local
businesses asking them to
donate goods.
Next a few of the young people
went out into the community
with their letters to ask the local
businesses for gifts for the raffle.
We all enjoyed this part even
if it was a bit nerve-racking at
times. The outcome was worth
it, as we received generous
donations.
The following shops kindly
donated:
• The Mulberry Bush
• Nippers
• Waitrose
• Lucas
• Dominion Cinema
• Toys Galore
• Domino’s Pizza
• The Edinburgh Bookshop
The last step was to print the
tickets and then sell them. We
sold the tickets to family, friends
and hospital staff.
The raffle was drawn on Tuesday
the 17th of December 2013. We
raised £360 for Edinburgh Young
Carers Project. The money was
used to buy Christmas presents
for young carers.
Designed by Caitlin Dorrian
Designed by Jo Clark
CAMHS Charity
Raffle
Designed by Molly Greene

18. 18
The Museum on the Mound
by Dylan Robertson
The day I visited the museum on the mound with Sarah, I put one pence in a machine and
it came out a different shape. There was a booklet that had a big pound coin on it and a big
pound coin in real life and you had to draw over it to get the shape of a real one. The million
pounds was made up of twenty pound notes – there were fifty thousand twenty pound notes in
a million pounds. You couldn’t have stolen them because they were in a big glass case. It has
‘cancelled’ stamped on them to show you can’t get them sold to shops.
There was a safe and you had to guess the code for five bits of money chocolate. I got the
chocolate in one go. We saw the Queen’s big red chair with a crown on the top of it. It said
‘don’t touch’ so I didn’t. There was a model that you could build of the bank from big bits of
plastic like big Lego. The worst thing – I lost my fiver as I had a hole in my pocket. Funny – I
saw a million and lost a fiver.
£1,000,000

19. 19
He had to get away, he couldn’t
be there anymore. He hated this
date. A year today his dad had
just disappeared never to be
seen. He kept seeing his mum
curled up on the corner of the
couch just as he had sneaked
out of the door.
As he walked down the wet
pavement the cold air hit
against him chilling him to the
bone. He came to the heavy
Iron Gate that had rusted with
age. Nobody ever went into
that cemetery, they said it was
cursed. Curiosity began to build
up inside of him. He pushed
open the gate and walked along
the wet grass and took in the
deep smell of moss and age. He
couldn’t see a thing. It was too
dark, gloom clung in the air and
the boy started to have second
thoughts about being there.
Suddenly something moved
within the shadows. Fear
overwhelmed him and all of a
sudden everything just seemed
that little bit more sinister. He
spun round on his heel and
broke into a sprint. He heard the
whispers of the gravestones and
the mocking of the trees. In the
blink of an eye a shadowy figure
appeared in front of him. He
couldn’t see much but he saw
enough - pale complexion and
sharp canines were enough to
make him turn and run. Little
did he know it was too late and
he had no hope.
He could hear the footsteps
quickening behind him and
before he could take his next
breath he was yanked back.
He barely had a chance before
he could fight back. The sharp
deathly teeth sank into his neck
draining every inch of his life
out of him. Death had come,
peace at last, or so he thought…
A Sinister Story
by Natasha Stevenson

20. 20
This wasn’t my typical Sunday
night. I’m normally relaxed
and not nervous at all but this
specific Sunday I was nervous
and my mind was non-stop
thinking about all the possible
situations that could happen
this week ahead.
Two weeks before I had been
to the school to get work and
my guidance teacher had told
me about work experience. She
said I had to do it but it was my
choice where I wanted to go.
I immediately knew where I
wanted to go.
As soon as I got home I told my
mum all about my day. I told
her about the work that I got, I
also mentioned going on work
experience. She thought that
it was a great idea and that it
would boost my confidence.
I said that I wanted to go to
Gingerbread. Gingerbread is a
lone parent organisation which
provides advice and support for
single parents.
The next again day I went up to
the main office at Gingerbread.
I spoke to the boss and she said
that she would be delighted for
me to do my work experience
with them. I walked out the
office and felt a bit of relief. I
felt like a big weight had been
lifted off my shoulders. I was
so grateful that I was allowed
to do my work experience with
Gingerbread. There was nowhere
else that I wanted to go.
Leading up to my work
experience, the closer it got the
more nervous I felt. I couldn’t stop
thinking about all the things that
could go wrong.
On the first day of work
experience I went straight up to
the office to speak to the staff and
to fill out information in my work
experience booklet. I started at
2:30 along with three other staff
members. I felt less nervous as the
time went on. I sat down with the
play leader manager to go over
all the rules and to set my day
to day tasks. On Monday I was
introduced to health and safety
and got to know the children and
parents. I had to set myself three
targets. Mine were:
1 Confidence
2 Attendance/commitment
3 Find out about all that is
involved in childcare.
I set these as my targets because
they all mean something to
me and I knew that I would be
challenging myself but I also knew
that I could accomplish them.
There was so much information
to take in and to remember.
Some of it was easy to remember
but some of it I had to re-read for
it to make sense to me.
Work Experience
by Lisa Reid

21. 21
Tuesday was a little bit different.
I wasn’t as nervous because I
roughly knew what to expect. I
was doing snack with another
member of staff. Snack isn’t
just about getting the food
ready. You have to make sure
days before that you have the
right amount of food for that
day and enough juice. On the
day you have to make sure you
have everything ready on time.
You also have to check the
allergy and information sheet to
check who isn’t allowed to eat
the snack that day because of
certain medical conditions or
religious/cultural beliefs. Snack
went very well. Most of the kids
wanted it.
One of the little children had an
accident. Myself and the first
aider for that day had to take
the child to the toilet to change
him. I had spent a bit of time
with this child, building up a
trusting relationship because
the day before he started crying
near the end of the day until
his mum came to collect him. I
built this relationship with him
because I didn’t want him to
get upset again. I think that by
spending time with him it gave
him enough trust in me to let
me take him to the toilet.
The next again day I felt quite
nervous. I was on signing in/
out and headcounts. Although I
would be shadowed by another
member of staff, it was still quite
confusing, remembering whose
mum or dad is at the door and
doing a headcount every 15
minutes. Doing the headcount
and signing in/out was hard to
do at the same time but I had
all the staff helping me when
I needed their help. The staff
member that was shadowing
me would always make sure
that I had signed the children
out at the right time and they
double checked the headcount
as well. At the end of the day I
felt confident enough to do the
headcounts and signing in/out
by myself.
Thursday was exciting for me.
It was my day to do the activity.
I set the table up, got the paint,
paper and water ready. The
activity had already been set for
that day, I didn’t want to change
it so I did the painting task. I
let the children use their own
imagination when painting their
pictures. Most of the children
that painted asked to do another
picture. I was more than happy
for them to do another picture. I
thought that the task went really
well. I was very pleased with
myself.
When I filled out my book at the
end of the day one part said ‘I
would/ would not like to do this
kind of a job for a living because
…’ I circled I would because I
really want to go into childcare.
I have always wanted to work
in an after school club. I have
been interested in childcare
for years which is why I went to
Gingerbread.
Assist with the risk assessment
and the fire drill were Friday’s
tasks. The fire drill went very
well. I was only on work
experience so I didn’t get to
do all of the fire drill myself.
I shouted ‘fire’ then got the
children lined up. I made
sure I had the first aid kit, the
medication, the signing in/out
then led the children outside to
the furthest away wall. I stood
in-between the children with
the other members of staff
whilst the play leader shouted
out the children’s names.
For the risk assessment myself
and the staff member delegated
to the task went around the
room checking everything on
the sheet and making sure it was
all how it was supposed to be.
As the week went on I felt
less nervous. I still got a little
nervous when I had to do
certain tasks but I started
to feel more confident. I felt
that the staff had a lot of
confidence in me and that then
had positive effects on me. I
learnt a lot about myself and
gained a lot more confidence at
Gingerbread.
My future is definitely in
childcare. I would love to
work at Gingerbread. At first I
thought that I wanted to work
with babies and toddlers then I
decided that I wanted to work in
a primary. Being at Gingerbread
has made me realise that I want
to work with all ages.

22. 22
He knew what he was going to do.
He had set booby traps all around
the house. He could see the boy
gradually moving closer towards
his house. He felt anger and
excitement. How dare someone
kick their ball into his house?
People were actually stupid
enough to think that he was
dead. He laughed to himself. The
boy was going to have the most
frightening experience of his life…
**
Charlie gulped as he looked up
at the abandoned house. He was
shaking with fear but he knew
he had to go get his football. The
house creaked as the wind blew.
Charlie shivered. The house
was a mystery. Nobody had
been inside it for years since the
owner died a very strange death.
Everyone was too terrified to
even go near the house.
He put one foot in front of the
other and walked a tiny step
closer to the strange house. He
desperately needed to get his
football back, it meant so much to
him. He looked at the ground and
noticed there were mud footsteps
on the pathway, which meant
only one thing… someone was in
the house.
**
He growled with anger. There
was another stupid kid staring
at his house. He watched the
child from a hidden window
and chuckled. He bounced
the football in his hands and
laughed again. He was going to
make sure this kid went through
hell.
**
Charlie sighed as he thought
about the football. About how
much it meant to him. He knew
that if he didn’t get it back, he
would be devastated.
Charlie had decided. He was
determined. He was going to
get his football back, no matter
what.
Charlie was now by the steps to
the door. He took a deep breath
and pushed it. To his surprise
it wouldn’t budge. He sat down
on the steps and thought. He
wasn’t actually sure where his
football was, but he was certain
it had fallen through the big
hole in the roof.
Charlie noticed, out of the
corner of his eye, that the
ground floor window was wide
open. He walked over to the
window and pushed it open
even more and climbed through
it.
**
He heard the window close with
a bang and chuckled. He made
his way up to the attic and sat
down in front of the hundreds of
computer screens. He opened
a packet of crisps and began
munching on them. He watched
the computer screens like a
hawk watching his prey. The
stupid boy didn’t even know
that he was watching his every
move...
**
Charlie looked around the
old house. It was hard to see
anything as it was so dark. He
looked around for a light switch
and turned it on. Charlie got the
fright of his life when he turned
around, and was faced with a
statue of a screaming angel.
He was shaking with fear and
his heart was beating at a rapid
pace. The angel had an evil look
The Abandoned
House
by Chloe Mantle

23. 23
A Sinister Event
By Hilary Elliott
Roorie was alone in the old, dark cemetery. Ahead, the sky was
dark and gloomy, shadows of spider’s webs appearing on crumbly
gravestones.
Roorie stopped. What was that? A movement. Over by the chapel. A
sinister flicker of red in the moonlight. Blood red.
Roorie’s heart was pounding in his small, tight chest, and it seemed as
though his body was quivering with fear.
Another movement – close, this time. Footsteps. A man’s stature
silhouetting in the darkness. Closer. A beam of lightning illuminated
the old cemetery, revealing the man’s face: pale, as white as milk. With
hair as black as the coals in Roorie’s fireplace back home. And the
eyes. Such daunting, dark eyes which would haunt you forever.
Suddenly, the man lurched forwards, sprinting towards a petrified
Roorie. The man was gaining on him! He was so close now that
Roorie could feel the breath, pricking up the hairs on his neck. Roorie
stumbled over a rock, he could feel his body falling – falling to the
earthy ground, tumbling into darkness, crazing into death.
The man’s teeth sunk deep into the helpless boy’s neck. Spasms took
over Roorie’s body, jerking uncontrollably through his muscles, the
poisonous venom seeping into his bloodstream, until finally, Roorie,
limp and now lifeless, lay quite still, as dead as the once-people buried
under the ground around him.
about it and it freaked Charlie
out. He noticed some stairs
which were draped in cobwebs
and walked towards them.
**
He laughed with excitement. He
was so amused by the fact that
this boy had no clue what was
going to happen…
**
Charlie found his way up the
stairs. He walked along the
corridor and out of the corner
of his eye, noticed something
shiny. Curious, he walked
towards it. He walked into a
room that was filled with sheets
covering things. On the wall
there was a very disturbing
portrait of an old man, holding
a skull in his hand. Charlie
shivered at the sight of it. He
looked around the room and
found the shiny thing that
caught his eye. The tip of it was
showing, so he pushed the dirty
sheet away, and gasped when
he saw what it was. A sword.
The tip was shiny but the rest of
the sword was covered in what
looked like dry blood. Charlie
started to feel anxious and his
palms began to get sweaty. His
heart was racing. He turned
around and saw something
move beneath the sheets
covering something tall. He
walked backwards away from it
and bumped into another tall
thing covered with a sheet. He
screamed. Charlie was terrified.
He had to get out of the room…

24. 24
Kirsty stood at the kitchen
window staring out into the
frosty garden clutching her warm
coffee cup. She had been staying
at her friend Casey’s house since
the accident. After finishing her
coffee she moved to the back
door, wincing at the cold touch of
the door handle under her warm
hand. She stepped out cautiously
into the white garden, the grass
was blanketed with a layer of
fresh fine snow. Reaching up to
touch the rippled icicles hanging
over her head, she realised that
it was the first time that she’d
been alone in a while, actually
it had been a while since she’d
even been outside. She shivered
at the thought tugging her
warm hoodie around her thin
frame. Feeling a deep sadness
in the pit of her stomach Kirsty
turned, trudged back to the
warm promising light spilling
from the doorway out onto
the garden path and sat on the
couch thinking. Knowing she
was staying at Casey’s home for
a reason but she couldn’t find
the meaning she didn’t actually
know why she was here.
After a short while, the
television droning on in the
background, Kirsty was still
sat on the couch mindlessly
tapping her fingers on the coffee
table. Letting her mind turn
and look back she figured that
although she enjoyed being
blissfully unaware, she liked not
knowing but at the same time
she couldn’t help but want to
know the horrible truth. She had
always been like this, forever
curious. Whilst thinking her
mind caught on the word family
and no matter what she did
she couldn’t get past such an
insignificant word. Such a tiny
word. The English language is a
very powerful thing. One word,
so many meanings. Thinking of
her family she arose from the
soft couch and decided that it
was finally time to leave Casey’s
watchful eye. Packing what little
belongings she had, her mind
wandered back to the summer.
She allowed herself a memory.
Feeling the sun glare onto her
face Kirsty slipped back into
the stairwell of the flats she was
staying in. It was her very first
house alone and her family
had temporarily moved into
a neighbouring flat to support
her until she got back onto her
feet. They were meeting her
downstairs for an outing to the
beach in the heat.
Standing in the doorway
Kirsty shouted up the stairs
to her father and her younger
siblings enquiring if they
needed anything from the
shop before they set off. Upon
hearing no reply she set off
down the road. Being seventeen
years old she easily passed for
eighteen prompting her to buy
cigarettes, soft drinks for the
kids and a magazine for the car
Remembering
Summer
by Natasha Johnston

25. 25
journey along with an array of
unnecessary items. Chatting to
the shopping assistant Kirsty
exited the tiny air conditioned
store into the warm heat,
humming a tune in her head
and swinging her shopping bags
around her legs.
Turning the corner Kirsty was met
with a loud crack. Ears ringing,
she fell to her knees and let out
a cry. The shopping bags hit the
floor and the cans of soft drinks
made contact with the pavement
instantly bursting and spilling
lemonade everywhere.
Phone in hand and rucksack at
her feet Kirsty sat on a roadside
bench with her head in her
hands as an attempt to calm her
breathing. Her hands slipped
over her ears as the dull hum of
memories played through her
head. She had to keep moving.
Unsure of where she was going
something clicked in Kirsty’s
aching head and she turned
around. She couldn’t quite put
her finger on it but something
was prompting her to the block of
flats she once called home. Acting
on impulse alone she navigated
through the frosty streets to
find her way back. It felt good to
be free. She laughed to herself
and touched a frozen plant by
the path. It was cold, it was so
very cold but the warmth of the
memories playing in her head
distracted her from the bitter cold
that was nipping at her fingers.
Kirsty’s mind was drifting as
she crossed the street towards
the blacktop that was once her
home. Confidently stepping
out across the blacktop, a noise
rattled through her ears. A
familiar noise. It was the creak of
the swing set settling as a small
girl jumped off and ran to catch
up with her mother. It was only
a noise. Just a noise, but Kirsty’s
heart jumped and she froze.
There was nothing there, she
recognised that and the noise
had stopped but it was sudden
and the creak reverberated
through her ears. There was
something about it, just a tiny
detail she couldn’t put her finger
on it but she knew that it was
important so she made her way
to the little red frame.
Once she reached the old frame
of the swing set, she felt a pang
of familiarity deep inside.
Touching the rusted red frame
she immediately knew. This red
frame was the same frame that
she had rested against when she
was watching her little brother
and sister swing as high as they
could. The very same frame that
the paramedics propped her up
against for stability to take her
blood pressure and check her
obs. The memories drifted back
faster than she could have ever
imagined.
Struggling, gasping for breath,
Kirsty pulled herself to her feet
and swayed. Dizziness came over
her in waves so she just waited
until she felt she was stable
enough to walk there was a pain
in her arm that was indescribable.
It hurt so much but she carried
on. Her eyes darted around as
she tried to figure out what could
make such a violent sound and
from where it came. Ears still
ringing she made her way back
to the safety of home. Turning the
corner stumbling away, unsure of
where her mind was wandering
to. She reached her corner and
stumbled through the smoke
billowing from the remnants
of her home. Her head was
pounding, she had hit it when she
was knocked down. The block of
flats that once stood proud and
tall lay in crumbles and pieces,
there were people screaming
everywhere. Paramedics, Fire
Service, and Police vehicles
were littered around the place.
Soon enough a paramedic
came towards her at a rush but
cautiously, asking if she lived in
the block. Kirsty couldn’t answer,
stunned, she let out a whimper
and began to cry. The paramedic
explained that an occupant in the
centre of the building had a major
gas leak and as a result there was
an explosion and he needed to
assess her to see if she was hurt.
He propped Kirsty up against the
nearby swing set. Kirsty barely
heard a word, but nonetheless
she allowed him to bandage
her bloody head and look at her
right arm. Still whimpering it
dawned upon her that her family
was gone. Completely gone.
She was all alone. It was so hot,
Kirsty found it hard to breathe
and slipped out of reality as the
paramedic slipped the oxygen
mask over her face and bundled
her into an ambulance.
She felt awful, sitting propped
up against the swing set in the
same position as the paramedic
had her. Holding her head in
her hands it all came flooding
back. She now knew what had
happened. She had filled the
gap in her memory that taunted
her for so long. Kirsty sat in the

26. 26
cold snow for hours and hours
remembering feeling the heat
from the fire licking what was left
of the building. Remembering
the heat on her face, she didn’t
even notice her fingertips slowly
turning a vague shade of blue
and her body shaking violently
with the cold. Kirsty flicked a
piece of hair from her face and
caught sight of a familiar figure
running towards her.
Casey appeared from nowhere,
unaware of the time Kirsty
thought she should have been
at work when in reality the sky
had darkened to a disgusting
grey-black and it was far later
than she had thought. As Casey
held her Kirsty couldn’t help but
whisper “It’s going to be okay
now isn’t it.”
Warming her up Casey took
care, tip-toeing around the
subject of family and what had
happened, but Kirsty chattered
away, still feeling the cold. It
appeared as though she was not
hearing a word that Casey was
saying. She was lost in her own
head, trapped in her memories.
Taking time Kirsty crept back to
normality - taking baby-steps.
She started to notice things
about herself. Like the tiny scar
that resided on her forehead
just at her hairline and the scar
that dragged lengthways up her
right forearm from the surgery
required to fix the broken arm.
Soon enough she began to
speak again and found refuge in
Casey’s arms most of the time.
The only way was up, and she
was going to make it. She was so
sure of it.
Rory’s Haikus
Purple crocuses
Dancing in the warm sunlight
A dark grey cloud looms
My fingers go numb
Freezing slushy snow drifts past
Flickering red flames
Beautiful tulips
Springing from the damp dark dirt
Purple, pink and red
Red and orange leaves
Gently float down and settle
Making amber paths
Yellow sunflowers
Tilt heads to the golden sun
Watching the sunset

27. 27
Bang! Smash! Jonney heard his
mum SCREAMING, “You’re
looking the wrong way!” Then
suddenly in a flash Jonney got
hit at 40 miles per hour. The car
stopped instantly. Jonney was
screaming and shouting, “HELP!”
The driver jumped out of his car
and phoned an Ambulance. He
said to the little boy, “I’m so sorry
I hit you.” The driver was in fear
in case he made the boy disabled.
Jonney’s mum ran over as fast as
she could and saw her son’s legs
covered in blood and his bones
sticking out. “Mum I can’t feel my
legs!”
The Doctors in the hospital said,
“We have never seen an injury like
this.” His mum said to the Doctors,
“Is he going to be ok?” Then the
Doctorsaid,“Itis50/50.”Suddenly
Jonney’s attitude changed. Then
he said, “I don’t need you mum,
the Doctors are here, so just go!”
His mum was confused but she
said, “It makes me sad but you
don’t feel like my son now.”
Jonney became more and more
nasty by the minute. He shouted
at the Doctors, “I don’t need you,
I can do it myself!” He picked
up needles and jagged all of the
Doctors. On the second throw he
hit them on the back of the neck.
In seconds they were on the floor.
Jonney chose red and black
colours for his stooky. He started
to draw evil pictures on his stooky.
The dye went into the wounds
of his slashed legs. It rose and
changed his blood into the son
of the devil. Then Jonney’s brain
got taken over so he started to
go crazy. He spray painted a car
saying, “The devil is coming to kill
you!” He popped the tyres and
smashed the locks.
But Jonney still had a piece of
his brain that was not evil so
he started to remember things.
Because he was so focused on
looking at the house belonging to
the owner of the spray painted car,
he ran onto a speedway and was
hit by another car!
His stooky smashed into tiny
pieces! The place that was not
evil started to come back. But the
blood of the devil’s son went to
his heart. Then Jonney discovered
that the car which had hit him was
his mum’s! Jonney said, “I love you
mum,” then he passed out and his
pulse stopped.
Jonney woke up in hospital with
tubes all over his body. He was so
lucky he survived but he paid the
ultimate price, he had two broken
arms and legs. He said to his
mum, “Thank you so much mum,
when you hit me with your car
the devil left me!”
The
Evil
Stooky
by N D

28. 28
She stared into the darkness.
“Who’s there? Mum, Dad. Is that
you?” Claire was suddenly at the
top of the stairs.
“Oh, darling, we didn’t mean to
scare you.” her Mum said as she
fell over the stairs coming up.
“I-I wasn’t scared, mum.” Claire
said it quickly although she
almost wet her pants.
Tommy then came out of his
room saying “Ha-ha. Claire wet
her pants, You’re a baby, you’re
a baby.”
“Oh I’m going to kill you!” Claire
said so madly chasing her little
brother around the house.
“Get to bed you two kids I have a
headache.” Mum shouted.
Claire and Tommy rushed to
their rooms quickly.
The next morning Claire woke-
up and thought about last night.
“I knew I heard someone from
downstairs but it came from the
basement and Mum and Dad
came from the kitchen.’ Claire
had her suspicions.
About a month later she heard
the very same noise.
Claire thought to herself,
“There’s that noise again”. Claire
was yet again at the top of the
stairs.” Ah”, Claire screamed as
she got pulled down the stairs
by what seemed like nothing-
thin air. She was pulled down
to the basement and the door
slammed shut.
“Claire, Claire.” Claire’s Mum
and Dad shouted after her. All
they could hear was the terrified
scream and cry of the child.
They felt completely helpless.
Just sitting there next
to the basement.
Rosalenda their
housekeeper tried to
wake them up.
The next day their housekeeper
came in and found Claire’s
Mum and Dad sitting on the
floor eyes shut. Just sitting there
next to the basement. Rosalenda
their housekeeper tried to
wake them up, “Sir, Sir wake up
Madam, madam wake up”, cried
Rosalenda.
Rosalenda was very concerned.
She was not sure what had
happened. Suddenly there was a
noise from the basement.
“Uh, Claire, Claire is that you”,
Claire’s Mum cried.
“Yes Mum, is something
wrong?” Claire said unnaturally
as she emerged from the
basement. Claire had red eyes at
this moment where before she
had soft blue eyes.
“Claire, Claire I’m so glad you’re
ok. How are you feeling? What
happened to you down there?
How did you get back up here?
We need to take you to the
hospital. They can check you
over. Ok Claire?” Claire’s mother
spoke very firmly.
“NO!” Claire snapped back at
her mother as if she knew her
mum was on to her.
“YES you will. I’m not taking no
for answer, so come on, get your
stuff together and get a move
on,” Claire’s mum said sharply
and very firmly.
Claire then grabbed her mother
The Demon
Inside Me
by Nina Slater

29. 29
by the neck and said “I said
I’m not going to the hospital.
Do you understand me”, Claire
said as she plunged her sharp
nails into her mum’s small white
neck. She just simply dropped
her to the ground.
“I said do you understand me?”
Claire shouted in her mum’s face.
“Crystal clear,” her mum said
delicately.
“Good. Now get up instead of
just sitting there and go and get
me something to eat now. I’m
hungry!” declared Claire.
Claire’s mum got up quickly
and went to the fridge, picking
out Claire’s favorite food but
unfortunately Claire didn’t like
the normal food that humans
liked any more.
“What is this? I asked for food,”
Claire said sharply.
“It’s your favourite, mac ‘n’
cheese,” Claire’s mum said softly.
“I want BLOOD! And I want it
now!” Claire was very angry.
“I’m sorry, I just thought…”
“Just thought, just thought. Well
don’t... go and get me some
blood,” Claire said furiously.
“Ok but …”
“But...But. Was that a but I just
heard?”
“Well Yes....”
“Uh, no! Go and get me some
from.....oh.....I don’t know A
HOSPITAL....Go now,” Claire
said nastily.
“O....o...ok. I will be five
minutes,” Claire’s mother said
nervously.
“Well move quickly,” Claire
snapped.
“Claire, make my breakfast. I’m
hungry!” Tommy declared as he
walked down the stairs.
Claire turned around in disgust.
“What do you think I am? Your
slave!” Claire said this in an
angry voice as if Tommy was to
know something had happened
to her. But he didn’t because
he was sound asleep when
everything happened.
“Yes, you heard me. Now chop,
chop.” Tommy said it quickly
and snappily.
Claire picked up the chair she
was sitting on and went to hit
her little brother with it.
“No please no. I didn’t mean to
be nasty when I said that. I’m
sorry. You’re my big sister and I
love you,” Tommy cried.
Claire then lowered the chair
but not to hit Tommy, just to
put it on the ground. Claire
then started crying, tears of
blood rolling down her cheeks.
Just at that very moment in
time as Tommy was going to
give her a cuddle and tell her
everything would be all right,
something stopped him. He
noticed an image or a shadow
coming out of his sister’s body,
a bit of a blackish colour, then
it just vanished and Claire fell
to the floor with a nasty thump.
Tommy tried to wake his big
sister up but she didn’t say a
thing, not a nasty word, not even
a nasty face pulled. Nothing.
She just lay there.
“Hi Claire are you feeling better
now?” Tommy said happily.

30. 30
Craig was digging in the garden
when suddenly the fork struck
some thing. He couldn’t see
what it was but for some strange
reason he knew that his life
would never be the same again.
He put his hand in to the earth
and suddenly he found a magic
sword.
Craig was really happy. He was
23 and had ginger hair. He wore
a green t-shirt and jeans. He had
a sister called Lauren and she
was 27 and she was very kind.
She had long dark hair right
down to her waist and was quite
slim.
Craig had sneaked into a rich
man’s garden and dug in the
mud next to the trees to see if
he could find treasure. The mud
was wet and sticky because it
was a rainy day. He had found
a piece of paper in the street
which told him where to dig.
He didn’t find treasure but he
found a magic sword. It was a
knight’s sword and it was very
shiny. God had left it there for
him to find. It began to glow. He
found out it could do anything
when he tried to chop a tree
down and the tree turned into a
house.
He made a BMW blue car. His
sister decorated it with fire and
a picture of a sword. They went
a round the world to feed poor
people with the food made from
the sword.
All the poor people had the
biggest and nicest houses in the
whole world and they made a
spell with the sword so nobody
was ever hungry again.
The Miracle
by Arafat – Longstone Primary School

31. 31
Pous lay doun in the sunsheen tae
dover eftir his brakfast o’ birselt
choukie an scrammelt eggs.
“TWEET! TWEET!” “TWEET!
TWEET!”
It wiz the blue bunnets comin
back tae nest again. This wiz the
year he wid hinderly claucht
a babbie blue bunnet for his
denner.
Sax weeks efter, fower eggs had
hatchit, an pous wiz climbin
up the rone-pipe tae the nest.
When he wiz awmaist thare, he
haurd a CRAIK, then a CRACK,
then wi a suddentie, pous wiz
danglin frae a brak rone-pipe.
Then a whappin SPLASH as he
drappit intae the gairden dub.
The neist day pous wiz inchin
his way doun the sclate ruif tae
the nest. He raucht the rone and
leukit doun and see’d an oozie
pauchle with fower screichin
nebs. As pous raucht oot his
spag, his airse cowpit ower his
heid and he tummled doun wi a
SPLOSH intae the birdie bath.
The neist day pous wiz buncin
up and doun on the gairden
trampoline which he had just
stanced ablo the nest. Ilka
bunce teuk pous closer and
closer tae the nest till his spag
titcht it. Just one mair bunce!
But pous buncit tae hard and
went fleein through the air and
ower the hoose wi’ a WHINNER.
Then wi a CRASH he landit in
the neebours dug kennel.
The neist day pous wiz in the
gairden ludge buildin himsel a
cattie; the day efter, the cattie
wiz ready. He haled back the
cahootchie and sat doun in the
chyre. PING! Again pous wiz
fleein straucht throu the air tae
the nest. Pous lickit his lips. Soon
he wid be eatin’ a tuithsome
babbie blue bunnet. SPLAT!
Pous crashit intae the windae an
sliddert doun intae a flouer pot.
Ane week efter pouz wiz hoverin
in a helicopter abuin the nest.
He lookit doon an see’d fower
pudgetie birdies happit wi
feathers. Pous fleed closer till he
wiz richt by the nest. He reachit
oot his spag tae heftit ilka birdie
an find the maist gurthie. Pouz
chuised ane an pickit it up by the
cuff. CHUG! PUT! CHUG! PUT!
Pous drappit the birdie an birlt
throu the air an rattlet intae a tree.
The neist day pous wiz in the
hoose ettlin his neist attack.
“TWEET! TWEET!” “TWEET!
TWEET!”
Pous lookit up an see’d fower
growed birdies lookin in the
windae while lauchin an pyntin
there wee weengs. Pous foondert
ontae the fluir an fell tae sleep.
Neist year he wid git thaim…
Cheetie-Pousie an the
Blue Bunnets
Selina Sode-Woodhead

32. 32
We are in the midst of one
of the biggest debates ever
to be discussed at Holyrood
and Westminster. A topic
that divides Scotland –
independence. Do you want
independence? I strongly
believe that a break from
the union, a yes vote for
independence, would be the
worst decision we have ever
made as a country and only the
first in a string of irresponsible,
risky and unnecessary decisions
that are undoubtedly to follow
sending us down a dark road
with an uncertain, unstable
future for Scotland. Alex
Salmond preaches how an
independent Scotland will lead
to a better, stronger Scotland
but he is coming up with a list
of promises that are unlikely to
be possible to wrap you round
his finger. Alistair Darling is
certain that a break from our
big brother, Westminster, will be
detrimental to the integrity of
Scotland and its strength.
My first point is that at the
moment we get the ‘best
of both worlds’ that we will
definitely lose if we break from
the UK. To prove this point is
simple. Not only do we have
a say in the vast majority of
events in Scotland with our
Scottish Parliament, Holyrood,
making decisions about things
important to us as a country but
we also reap the many financial,
social and cultural benefits of
being part of a bigger, more
diverse, picture. Many people
underestimate how much say
Scotland gets with the running
of our country. Yes Scotland
say that the main benefit of
becoming independent would
be our increase in say about the
running of our country:
‘The reason being independent
will be better for you and for
Scottish Independence
Persuasive Essay
by Jo Clark

33. 33
Scotland is simple. Being
independent will mean the
people who care most about
Scotland – the people who live
in Scotland – will be taking the
decisions about our future.’ – yes
Scotland
Here they deceitfully makes
it sound like we have no say
what so ever in the running of
Scotland when in reality we
have plenty. We have complete
control over affairs in health,
our fishing, our education and
our sports and arts.
Alex Salmond has no plan
B in terms of currency. Alex
Salmond says independence
is in Scotland’s best interests
but losing the pound would
definitely not be putting
‘Scotland’s interests first’. For
many people whether we stay
with the pound or not in the
event of independence is a
big deciding factor. But the
fact that we have not been
provided with a currency plan
leads me to ask once again,
what are we voting for? We
have not been given a clear, full
information and what we have
been told has holes all over the
game plan. George Osborne
has made it very clear that a
currency union in the event
of Scottish independence is
completely out of the question
meaning that we would lose
the pound:
‘If you leave the UK, you leave
the pound’ – Gorge Osborne
(Chancellor of the Exchequer)
This means we would have two
choices, join the Euro which
would be pretty disastrous
considering the mess the Euro
is in or make our own currency
which is very risky. This is yet
another major decision, maybe
the most important, that has not
been made with fewer than 200
days to go utill the referendum.
This sends alarm bells ringing
and shows once again that Alex
Salmond is making it up as he
goes along leaving even more
ambiguity in what yes voters are
actually voting for:
‘Alex Salmond can’t get away
from the fact that no matter
how much bluster we get from
him, that he can’t answer the
most important question –
what currency are we going
to use? … Alex Salmond just
hasn’t worked out the basic
facts’ –Margaret Curran (better
together campaign) – BBC
news
There are many undeniable
social and cultural benefits of
being in the Union that are at
stake. There are many things
we take advantage of being in
the UK from team GB to the
BBC. We would lose the well-
loved BBC that provides us not
only with the best of British
media but also educates us with
happenings down south. We
would be waving goodbye team
GB that brought us 65 medals
as opposed to the mere 13 we
would have got without the rest
of the UK. What about financial
backing, financial aspects?
Official figures show we get
£62bn from England but give
only £45bn back meaning we
get a subsidy of at least £17bn a
year. That is a lot of money to be
replaced and with no mention
of tax rises or anything, what
are we going to fill that gap
with? No union, no British
armed forces, no British music,
no British art and many other
things that we would throw out
the window, never to be seen
again.

34. 34
Liz
It was a normal, casual Sunday
night watching horror movies
such as the Candy Man and
Chucky. As usual I got ready
for bed and remembered that
I hadn’t shut the window. I felt
weird like something bad was
going to happen I didn’t know
what it was. As I was pulling the
window towards me I jammed my
finger in it. It was agony! It was so
sore that I forgot to check the door
was shut.
John
As I was walking to my front
door I saw that my neighbour’s
door was wide open so I
decided to go in. I was going
to alert the person but then I
thought about all the things I
could spend their money on – a
brand new 50 inch TV, a laptop,
the latest clothes and Nike
shoes. I looked in her handbag
and saw an iPhone so I took it
then rummaged in her jewellery
box and took her Coco Chanel
necklace.
Liz
I heard a noise. I didn’t know
what it was. I thought I was
going crazy. Suddenly I saw a
shadow in the hallway. Now I
was thinking ‘so I’m not crazy
after all!’ I leapt out of my bed
but the person ran away. They
must have been quick! I felt like
I knew the person. I felt like it
was all a weird dream. I saw that
my Gucci bag was open and that
my jewellery box was broken.
I went to phone the police but
couldn’t find my iPhone. I felt
suspicious so I decided to go
next door to my neighbour to
borrow his phone.
John
She’s coming up the path way!
My nerves were exploding
like a firework. I didn’t know
what to do so I confessed that
I took it all. The expression
on her face showed that she
was shocked. I felt guilty and
ashamed. I apologised and gave
her possessions back to her. I
wanted to make it up to her so
I decorated her house. We got
to know each other really well
and ended up getting married
and having two children called
Benjamin and Victoria.
The Burglary
by Juliet Scheffler (Brunstane PS)
In conclusion, without a doubt
Scotland should stay part of the
UK. Why change things when
they are running smoothly? I
feel very proud to be Scottish.
I feel very British also though
and I would be devastated if I
had my British identity robbed
of me in the event of a yes vote.
Our mountains won’t crumble
and our lochs won’t evaporate
if we stay in the union. You
could think of the union like
an army. An army of 60 million
(the UK) is stronger than one
of 5 million (an independent
Scotland) without a doubt.
Not only do you have strength
in numbers but you also have
diversity. You have many
different people specialised in
different things, with different
skills, with different beliefs
and backgrounds but bring
that together and you have
something quite extraordinary.
A strong, secure fighting force
with millions of idiosyncrasies
as opposed to a homogenous
mass:
‘Being part of the United
Kingdom is good for Scotland,
and Scotland being part of the
United Kingdom is good for the
rest of the United Kingdom’ –
David Cameron
60 million individuals with one
thing in common. The UK.

35. 35
We did lots of work with our
HOTS outreach teacher and
we made a board game which
we called The Task. It helped
us learn our times tables
and improved our spelling.
Near the end of our outreach
support we made a Keynote
presentation about all we had
learned, which we presented
to our class.
OUR GAME – The Task
By Declan Anderson and Louis Davidson
I made my game to help build the
players’ self-esteem and that’s
why I called my game ‘Esteemily’.
First my teacher and I played a
different self-esteem game and we
made notes of what we liked and
disliked about the game. Then
we started to plan a new game to
build confidence, and I designed a
board a bit like Monopoly. Instead
of money I created tokens.
We got ideas for the self-esteem
and problem cards from the first
game we looked at and changed
them to make them more
suitable. We added fitness cards
(for example stretches).
My teacher and I think my game
is so good that my school gets
a copy, my teacher gets a copy
and I get a copy!
ESTEEMILY
by Rhys Cassidy

36. 36