Thursday, 16 May 2013


The Big Man

A long time ago in a land not unfamiliar to us, there was a man. Not a bad man or a small man but a big man, a very big man. He was a kind man but he didn’t get many visitors because of his gargantuan size.

He was getting tired of the constant turmoil between the sun and the trees. The sun would always burn the trees and the trees would complain and mock the sun. The big man was getting weary of the constant loathing between the two sides.

The big man could not understand why they engaged in this tumultuous activity. The trees were old and wise and the sun was mighty and looked over all things. Yet still they went on in this bickering and fighting. The big man wanted to end it once and for all.

That is just what he did. One morning he left his home and stood between the two raging sides and he explained the pointlessness of their hate and they listened but said they would not stop. The big man transformed himself as a barrier between them. The sun realised that it was lonely with out the trees and the trees began to miss the sun. Thus the sun and the trees made peace but the big man remained as a barrier between them. ‘Clouds’ is what people called him. He remained between the sun and the trees just in case they would start their fighting again. So ends the story of the big man.

Tuesday, 7 May 2013

A day in the life of a pencil (personification)


I feel used. What is my purpose in life other then to be used by others. I am a tool, nothing but something that benefits others, oh misery. My brother was chewed to death by a hairless ape, what fate will befall me. At night they come with their noisy machines and make me sharp again, it hurts but it keeps me alive, so I can be used another day. but without that machine I am pointless and if I am pointless then I am useless.I desire the touch of paper, it is relaxing for me. How long do I have left? How long until I feel the emptiness that is death? When I started off the days are long but now they are getting shorter I hear the etching away of life each day. Is this no better then being left in the dark dank desk with my friends, destined to die of boredom. But I cannot give up, if I fail the apes then I will be snapped but maybe that is better than tasting the bite of death around me and scratching away slowly. I'm getting shorter, what is the point to life, I feel used.