WriterGirrrl
New member
i posted a question earlier with the first part on, this is the second bit.
the first bit was a girl who was the last to leave school. she hears footsteps behind her and a shadow on the mirror in the toilets. when she gets to the playground the gates are locked. behind her a voice says " thats good, safely shut in for the weekend".
heres the next bit.
My stomach dropped to the floor with that steely tone of male voice. No. surely I was imagining it. But in my heart I knew I wasn’t. I heard about this sort of thing on the news all the time, especially in our area. This was it. My turn. An end to my misery.
I turned around, terrified, I gasped. I found myself looking straight into the cold green eyes of a man. His face was twisted and old-looking, he was clutching a bottle a beer in one gnarled hand as he staggered and spilt some down his ragged weather-beaten clothes. He reached out a shaking grimy arm and grabbed my arm. I noticed his outstretched arm and wrist were covered in holes and scratches. The arm of a heroin addict. I had seen enough of them to tell on people who came to see dad when he lived at home.
“ ‘ello darlin’, he said with a deep London twang.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you”.
thank you very much everyone that answered! i want her to be 15, but i didn't know how else to say playground.
the first bit was a girl who was the last to leave school. she hears footsteps behind her and a shadow on the mirror in the toilets. when she gets to the playground the gates are locked. behind her a voice says " thats good, safely shut in for the weekend".
heres the next bit.
My stomach dropped to the floor with that steely tone of male voice. No. surely I was imagining it. But in my heart I knew I wasn’t. I heard about this sort of thing on the news all the time, especially in our area. This was it. My turn. An end to my misery.
I turned around, terrified, I gasped. I found myself looking straight into the cold green eyes of a man. His face was twisted and old-looking, he was clutching a bottle a beer in one gnarled hand as he staggered and spilt some down his ragged weather-beaten clothes. He reached out a shaking grimy arm and grabbed my arm. I noticed his outstretched arm and wrist were covered in holes and scratches. The arm of a heroin addict. I had seen enough of them to tell on people who came to see dad when he lived at home.
“ ‘ello darlin’, he said with a deep London twang.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you”.
thank you very much everyone that answered! i want her to be 15, but i didn't know how else to say playground.