Beneath the Surface

By Alexander Parsonage Aged 9 when written

I have blond her, Blue eys and an infeckshos smill. Pealpie tell mum haw gorgus I am and is ent she looky to have me. But under the surface I live in a tumoyl. Words look like swigles and riting storys is a disaster area because of spellings. There were no ply times at my old school untill work was fineshed wich ment no plytims at all. Thechers sead I was clevor but just didn't try.

Shouting was the only way the techors comuniccatid with me. Uther boys made fun of me and so I beckame lonly and  mishroboll. it was like being jon a decert island lost and alone. Life was life and sckooll was sckool. Tings cangd when I moved to my new sckooll. I am the same inside new as I am out side. I can not reed and spell, well all most. I have frens and the teckhors all most never shout. They treet me as an intellejent person and not a zomby. I wish I new my fythor. I wonder wot will hapon to me when I have to leve. Will my in side sty the same as my

out side. Wat will be Beneath my Surface. I wish I new.

TOMORROW …..(THE FUTURE)

By  Alistair Lowndes-Knight

   

 Once a green, slimy, disgusting and forlorn  lonely goblin gazed into the crystal ball and glimpsed children happily playing with their friends.

Once a bloody hungry, murdering lunatic peered into the crystal ball and watched how it felt to be cold hearted killed .. .. ..

 Once a poor, cold, sad homeless orphanstared into the crystal ball and saw a warm home with a well fed family and kind parents .. .. ..

One day I decided to risk looking into the mist in the ball. As I cupped my hands I saw  disappointment embarrassment humiliation and frustration piling up for me.

 Then at the very end before the mist swirled back into dense foggy cloud I caught sight of a glimmer of hope.