My story's set in England in 1914, just before the war started. It's about two mean who basically fall in love even though it's illegal. Please say what you honestly think. Thanks 
Jonathon once told me it’s a dog eat dog world out there. At first I didn’t understand what he meant. I don’t think he fully understood it either. But now I do. We both do. But at this point in my story I didn’t know Jonathon; he was just another stranger in the street. He is in my story though, but not yet.
For now it is just me. No Jonathon, no Marie, no anyone. Just me, telling my story. And all stories must have a beginning. Mine is the day I was kicked out of my lodgings. That seems to be the reason why everything happened. So yes, I’ll start there.
I worked for a Mister Craig O’Hareling, a pawn broker in the East area of London. It wasn’t a big shop; in fact it was closer to the size of a broom cupboard than a shop. But we still managed to make enough money to keep it going. I didn’t get paid money for my job. Mister O’Hareling didn’t make enough for that. Instead, he offered me lodgings in his attic in return for my work. I didn’t particularly like the job but times were hard and I accepted. I grew good at my job and Mister O’Hareling was pleased with me. Unfortunately, there was an incident. A young lady accused me of molesting her in the shop which, I protested, was not true. I don’t know why she made up such an absurd lie and thought Mister O’Hareling wouldn’t believe it. But I was wrong, Mister O’Hareling sent me out of his shop and home without a second’s thought.
So there I was, homeless and hungry. Nowhere to go, I thought to myself. But then I remembered my brother George. He had connections running all over London and he would surely be able to get me a job elsewhere. So off I trudged through the darkened streets to George’s house. I say house, but the word mansion would be more suitable. Where I had failed at whatever I chose, George had succeeded with the utmost ease. It was just the sort of man he was; a git.
When I arrived at his “house”, the door was opened for me by Jeremy the butler. He led me into the hall and asked me politely to wait while he fetched my brother. I stood there for five minutes staring at the many paintings and decorations before my brother entered, a huge smile on his face.
“Brother!” he cried. “What brings you here?” He came up to me and clasped my hand in a firm handshake.
“Well,” I sighed. “I was recently fired from my job and lodgings and need a place to stay.”
“No problem at all. I’ll have Jeremy show you to your room. Now,” he added, eyeing the small bag of belongings I was clutching, “where are the rest of your things?”
“This is it,” I replied curtly. George didn’t seem to realise not everyone was quite as well off as him.
“Oh! Well never mind about that. Tomorrow we shall go out and buy you some new clothes.”
“Thank you,” I said politely, feeling intimidated.
Jeremy took me to my bedroom for the next week or so. It was a large room with dark green walls, ebony wooden furniture and a large four poster bed in the middle of the room. I had never stayed in anything quite as grand. I placed my bag on the bed and began to unpack my very few belongings. Then I returned downstairs for the most tedious dinner of my life.
George talked the whole way through as I silently ate my food, nodding and shaking my head when appropriate. I had no idea what he was talking about, stocks or something, but I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me further. My plan fell apart, however, when George asked my opinion on the current state of affairs. My reply went something as follows:
“Why yes, state of affairs these days. I can’t help but agree with you on that topic.”
George then told me he hadn’t given his view.
“Oh,” I replied. George laughed heartily.
“Never mind, old chap. I’ll help get you up to date with all the latest news.”
Terrific, I thought, just terrific.
When it was finally over we both departed to our rooms. I quickly got changed and once in bed began thinking through what I was going to do. Firstly, find another job. Secondly, find another home. I was not going to spend more time than necessary with dearest George.
Thanks J H
I'm only 14 and have been writing since I was 12.
Jonathon once told me it’s a dog eat dog world out there. At first I didn’t understand what he meant. I don’t think he fully understood it either. But now I do. We both do. But at this point in my story I didn’t know Jonathon; he was just another stranger in the street. He is in my story though, but not yet.
For now it is just me. No Jonathon, no Marie, no anyone. Just me, telling my story. And all stories must have a beginning. Mine is the day I was kicked out of my lodgings. That seems to be the reason why everything happened. So yes, I’ll start there.
I worked for a Mister Craig O’Hareling, a pawn broker in the East area of London. It wasn’t a big shop; in fact it was closer to the size of a broom cupboard than a shop. But we still managed to make enough money to keep it going. I didn’t get paid money for my job. Mister O’Hareling didn’t make enough for that. Instead, he offered me lodgings in his attic in return for my work. I didn’t particularly like the job but times were hard and I accepted. I grew good at my job and Mister O’Hareling was pleased with me. Unfortunately, there was an incident. A young lady accused me of molesting her in the shop which, I protested, was not true. I don’t know why she made up such an absurd lie and thought Mister O’Hareling wouldn’t believe it. But I was wrong, Mister O’Hareling sent me out of his shop and home without a second’s thought.
So there I was, homeless and hungry. Nowhere to go, I thought to myself. But then I remembered my brother George. He had connections running all over London and he would surely be able to get me a job elsewhere. So off I trudged through the darkened streets to George’s house. I say house, but the word mansion would be more suitable. Where I had failed at whatever I chose, George had succeeded with the utmost ease. It was just the sort of man he was; a git.
When I arrived at his “house”, the door was opened for me by Jeremy the butler. He led me into the hall and asked me politely to wait while he fetched my brother. I stood there for five minutes staring at the many paintings and decorations before my brother entered, a huge smile on his face.
“Brother!” he cried. “What brings you here?” He came up to me and clasped my hand in a firm handshake.
“Well,” I sighed. “I was recently fired from my job and lodgings and need a place to stay.”
“No problem at all. I’ll have Jeremy show you to your room. Now,” he added, eyeing the small bag of belongings I was clutching, “where are the rest of your things?”
“This is it,” I replied curtly. George didn’t seem to realise not everyone was quite as well off as him.
“Oh! Well never mind about that. Tomorrow we shall go out and buy you some new clothes.”
“Thank you,” I said politely, feeling intimidated.
Jeremy took me to my bedroom for the next week or so. It was a large room with dark green walls, ebony wooden furniture and a large four poster bed in the middle of the room. I had never stayed in anything quite as grand. I placed my bag on the bed and began to unpack my very few belongings. Then I returned downstairs for the most tedious dinner of my life.
George talked the whole way through as I silently ate my food, nodding and shaking my head when appropriate. I had no idea what he was talking about, stocks or something, but I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me further. My plan fell apart, however, when George asked my opinion on the current state of affairs. My reply went something as follows:
“Why yes, state of affairs these days. I can’t help but agree with you on that topic.”
George then told me he hadn’t given his view.
“Oh,” I replied. George laughed heartily.
“Never mind, old chap. I’ll help get you up to date with all the latest news.”
Terrific, I thought, just terrific.
When it was finally over we both departed to our rooms. I quickly got changed and once in bed began thinking through what I was going to do. Firstly, find another job. Secondly, find another home. I was not going to spend more time than necessary with dearest George.
Thanks J H
I'm only 14 and have been writing since I was 12.