The village square
by Martha

You are wondering absent-mindedly round the silent, desolate , gloomy village square. The wild sky is quickly darkening and the air is extremly tense. The only light shining through the windows of the cosy houses seems silvery and ghostly. The glass-like fountains shimmer as the orange , evening sun sinks lower and lower. The pavement is freezing cold beneath your feet and your breath rises in a foggy mist before you. The neatly cut , green hedges in the tidy , pleasant gardens look still and unwelcoming. You wander through the streets and eventually crouch in a shadowy corner, cold, wet and dredfully tired.

You listen to the church clock chime twelve. Desolate black clouds cover the shining, gliterring, sparkleing, shimmering and glissening moon . Out of the corner of your eye you see the hardware shop , its windows a glow . The hardware shop always stays open till very Late . Your brain wizzes. Ideas of rescueing your parents surf round your brain. You could rescue your parents with an axe. You feel in your pocket for money. You find a 20 pound note and 5 pound coins in there. You hope it will be enough.

Pulling yourself to your feet you stagger towards the lighted shop. You step inside and catch sight of a row of hammers and run across to see the price. It is reduced and you can afford one.

Do you want to go to the bakery, hardware shop, sweet shop, or leave the village