Win Win Win!Win one of two copies of Nadia Shireen's Good Little Wolf ... These copies, and a few other goodies kindly supplied by the publisher, will be sent to the first two names to be drawn from the 'jaws' of those who have found all the little wolves we have hidden around the site.  Send your answers to armadilloeditor@gmail.com by 22nd July for a chance to win. Time Travel Competition Winner!Congratulations to Tillsy Braven-Ayres, whose short story Dad’s accidental time machine is the winning entry in our historical fiction competition. She wins the super set of seven time machines (books). I think you’ll agree we have a writing superstar of the future on our hands here! Special mention goes to our runner up Brittany Moore, who said ‘If I could travel anywhere in the world (and time), I would want to travel to Spence Academy for Young Ladies from the Gemma Doyle trilogy. I love the magic and mystery of the place and that is my favourite time period.’ We quite agree! Brittany wins a copy of Sally Prue’s Ice Maiden.
Dad’s accidental time machine By Tillsy Braven-Ayres Dad invented the time machine by accident. He was actually trying to make a crow – catcher with a special electronic mechanism to zap the birds. When he caught his first bird he was so excited – and then the bird wasn’t even there. Dad was gutted, but I went and had a look inside, just to check. The dial on the roof said 2099. Then I started to smell a rat. A big fat rat with a twitchy nose and whiskers. So I climbed in and l twiddled the dial all the way to 2081. And I left the boring old world of 2011. The wind whistled in my ears, stars flying past me like tiny specks of glittering dust. The time machine didn’t really seem to be there anymore. It was just me, alone in space. Thwump. I landed in the middle of a busy path. People edged around me, cursing my stupidity and whacking me with silver briefcases. I stood up nervously and looked around. Huge glass buildings were crammed into every available space, the roads and motorways wiped out by towering skyscrapers. The motorways were long black caterpillars on railway lines far up above my head, zooming anywhere and everywhere like sinister James Bonds on wheels. Minus the bow tie. And then there was the fashion. Apparently platform heels were completely in style, because everyone was wearing them. Paired up with ankle – length raincoats in shocking pink or emerald green. Women had gelled up their hair in teetering rainbow spikes while the men had shaved their heads bald and clearly polished them to the height of perfection. My jeans and ponytail seemed incredibly boring compared to them. One of the trains skidded to a halt near me. A little screen next to it flashed up: Square X People filed on neatly, scanning in a little black card to get on. Each time they did this, a little gate opened and closed. There was no way for me to get on. Except... The second door leading onto the train was broken. The metal was mangled and twisted, open just wide enough for a smallish person to get through. No-one would notice me, I was certain of that. Nobody stopped long enough they could even draw breath. I slipped through and sat down. The train – if you could really call it that- was more of a luxurious penthouse. Instead of sticky foam rows of seating, there were clean leather armchairs and polished glass tables with small glasses of lemonade and champagne. The lighting was scarce; tiny star-shaped lights dangled from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the oak floor. Adverts for perfume and phones darted around on screens above the seats. I stood there and gaped. The rusty dusty greasy tubes of the London Underground were a world away. I hardly dared sit on the pristine sofas and armchairs for fear of dirtying the scrubbed leather. There was a jolt at the tube whizzed down the rail. The elegant glasses of champagne stayed perfectly still and a small strawberry cupcake materialised in front of me, spinning slowly as if yelling ‘Vicki! Eat me!’ I plucked it from the air and nibbled it cautiously, peering around. Most people weren’t eating; instead sucking from large polystyrene cups. I looked closer and realised each one had a small picture on the outside. A roast dinner. An ice-cream sundae. Pizza. Cornflakes. Confused, I took another bite of my cupcake, just as the train skidded to a halt at square X. To my surprise no-one got out. They huddled inside their raincoats and hid behind their hats. I walked out cautiously. The train sped off. A vast expanse of concrete greeted me. On a small metal sign the train times told me that the next tube was in three days. Groaning, I took a step forward, wishing that I had saved that yummy cupcake... I had been walking for about ten minutes when I got a peculiar feeling that I was being watched. I stopped. Looked around. In the distance, something moved. I took a shaky step forward. Suddenly there was a colossal explosion and a tall thin transparent woman appeared in front of me and I screamed. With a strangely cold hand she covered my mouth. I tried to bite her but instead one of my teeth snapped. The cold person clicked her fingers and it grew back. With a shock, I realised that she was made of glass! Her long hair was pale brown, like that brown you get when you dip a dirty paintbrush into a clean glass of water. Her clothes were the same, except they were a bland green and blue. Her shoes were probably once silver but had faded to a murky grey. It looked as if someone had filled her with water and all the colours had run. But her eyes... such a piercing violet! The darted everywhere, seeing everything, like a crazy computer mentally storing every drop of information. Then they fixed on me. A pure look of hatred shot through. ‘Come with me.’ She said, in a voice like silver bells. ‘You are a prisoner now.’ And then she took hold of my arm and led me away. |
|
|
|
|
competition2 |