4 May, Week 1 - Fish out of water 

Rosebud Evergreen yawned as the cock began to crow. She hurriedly got out of bed and opened the curtains and watched the sun rise. Rosebud was a pretty 10 year old girl with long, curly, brown hair and brown eyes. As she hurriedly got dressed and combed her hair, she wondered about what she would do that day. Then she heard her dog, Rover, barking and smiled. “He’s barking at the chickens again,” she thought. She hoped her uncle wouldn’t send him away as he had threatened to do, when Rover had once chased the cockerel. She quietly sneaked downstairs, trying to sneak out before her Aunt Abigail caught her and got her to do her chores. Luckily, Aunt Abigail was still getting dressed. As Rosebud could hear her upstairs, she quickly opened the front door and ran out. Rover jumped up and licked her face like he hadn’t seen her for a year. Rosebud giggled. “Come on, Rover” she said. “Let’s dig a hole in one of Uncle’s fields and pretend we’re archeologists and we’re digging for treasure.” She quickly ran off to find a spade in one of the sheds, Rover tagging along. “I wonder which field we should dig in, Rover” she said, as she found a big spade and a hand trowel in her uncle’s shed. “I know! Let’s dig in the big one that’s besides the cow’s field.” They quickly set off. Soon they got to the field – an old, disused one. She quickly dumped down her tools and looked around to see where she should dig. “Let’s dig right here, okay?” she said to Rover. She started to dig a small hole with the hand trowel. Rover, catching her drift, barked excitedly and started pawing at the ground too. Soon they made a very big hole. “Okay, Rover. Let’s use the big spade now.” she said. They made good progress and soon they had a quite a big hole in front of them. “Okay, Rover. One more spadeful and we’re done for the day” Rosebud said. As she dug the spade in, she heard it clink against something metal. “I wonder what we found, Rover.” she said. She quickly uncovered it with her hand trowel. It was an old looking metal box. “It looks gold” she thought. It had a big red ruby on the front of it. Rosebud pressed the ruby accidently and all of a sudden, the box yawned open and there was a beautiful golden ring inlaid with all sorts of beautiful jewels. It was lying on a red velvet cushion inside. Rosebud knew there was an old legend that if someone found an old ring on one of the fields on the mountain (for the field was on a mountain near her home) that if they said a magic sentence that no one knew, they could travel back in time but the only way back was to find another magic ring identical to the one Rosebud had found. Rosebud quickly put the ring into her pocket to show her uncle later in the day. She quickly skipped home where her aunty was waiting, very cross. “Rosebud, you naughty thing!” she shouted. “Come in here and do your chores. It’s almost lunchtime!” Rosebud frowned. “And if you don’t do your chores you won’t get any lunch!” Rosebud went inside and started to do her chores. She was starving she realised. She had forgotten to have breakfast in her rush to get out before her aunt got her. Chapter 2

Eliza liked her birthday no more than she liked to see peasants kneeling before Princess Mindy. Tears stained the dusty faces of the peasants as they presented their valuable possessions and gold to the Queen and Princess. “Please Mindy!” Eliza’s voice was shaking with frustration “Taking the people’s money like this is no way to treat your equals!” Mindy stared at Eliza with confusion. “Eliza that is no way to speak to your Princess,” the Adviser retorted with a terrible slack grin. He was a slim man with long purple robes, his ice-cold bony fingers curled around Eliza’s shoulder sending a shiver down her spine. “Equals...’ he scoffed. “They are nothing but pests, rats, vermin… girl you have no manners at all” “Away with you, go to your room” the Adviser whispered into her ear. Eliza stormed off her face burning, red hot with anger. The hallways glistened like an early sunrise, filling the citizens with joy and hope. Eliza always used to look down at the city, the streets filled with sadness and poverty, but she was determined to know the truth about the city, Eliza merely glanced at the famished people. Forcing herself to move on, Eliza came across a small chain hanging limp from the windowsill, it was pale gold and it smelt of the dungeons, but she strangely desired to keep it forever. "Eliza come closer", it seemed to whisper to her through the silence. Eliza stumbled towards it, grabbed it, then she was gone.

My Drawing Holocaust Historical fiction Description Heike Fisher is an eleven year old Jewish girl living in Modern Dachau. She's an absolute bookworm and loves being out in nature. She has a 4 year old brother, Fynn whom she is very close too and enjoys running around and playing with him in their local park, a memorial of Dachau Concentration camp. She has never been told much about her families history and doesn't know much about the Holocaust until she is transported through time and space back to 1939 were she becomes her great aunt Ruth Neumeyer a Jewish girl growing up during the devastating times of the Holocaust. She then travels via Kindertransport with her brother Raymond to Cambridge where she lives happily and safely through out the war while still remaining to keep in contact with her beloved parents Hans and Vera who are still stuck in Dachau. This book is based on the incredible real story of Ruth Neumeyer and her precious letter. It is a story of loss, grief, hope, kindness and how the Holocaust should never be forgotten. Chapter 1 Searching I run past tree after tree hoping to see Fynn's chubby smiling little face waiting behind it and yet it never does. Where could he be? Why does he have to keep disappearing like this? And why is this place so big and so full of memorials, monuments and old buildings? It feels as if I've been running in circles forever, my legs are growing tired, my panting is getting louder and my worry about Fynn is getting worse with each step I force myself to take. I got one more idea of where he may be. One more fragment of hope. I glance over to Fynn and my favourite place, the Lesen Tree, A massive old tree where me and Fynn use to play. Years ago. As I soak in it's cool shade I'm also greeted with the familiar and relieving sound of Fynn's laughter. I quickly lunge forward, in the process tripping on one of it's thick tree roots which is bulging innocently out of the soil. I fall forward right into the trunk. I close my eyes. My head aches, but Fynn's voice is gone. It's silent. Too silent The ground shakes. I open my eyes.

The Greatest Grandfather Clock By Angus J Icklebog Manor was as cold as a frozen yoghurt in the world’s coldest freezer. The faint sound of a tap dripping could be heard from where Isla Icklebog was standing. At 12 years of age, she would rather write a book or eat than explore a creepy old family mansion. This mansion gave her the heebie-jeebies! Isla suddenly felt tears well in her eyes. She had spotted her grandfather’s urn from last year. With the death of a much-loved relative on her shoulders, she wasn’t sure she could continue this exploration. Isla pressed on. After approximately 10 minutes, she came to a dead stop, for an ancient grandfather clock confronted her. Isla stood there, fixed to the spot, staring at the ancient grandfather clock that stood about 1 or 2 metres from where she was standing. The clock itself looked old enough to have been around when Buckingham Palace was built! It was only then that Isla realised that one of the cogs had stopped working! She wondered if she could try and fix it. She leant toward the door of the clock and opened it. CRREEAK! Isla’s eardrums rattled with the impact. She put one hand to her ear while the other remained on the door handle. Sounds and lights suddenly sounded from the old clock. Isla was now not only focused, but utterly intrigued. She stepped inside the clock, not knowing what was in store…

A Grave-y Flu I was sitting at the dinner table with Mum and Dad. "Can you pass me the gravy Mum?" "Here you go Edith darling" said Mum as she passed me the gravy. I poured it all over my pork chops. “I love gravy,” I said. When dinner was over I went to do my homework. "What is your project about?" Mum asked. “It’s supposed to be about the Spanish flu,” I sighed. "You finding year five hard huh?" "No," I lied “just a bit boring”. "When's it due?" she asked. "Monday next week," I replied. "Well what about you drop by at Old Mr Tibbler's and ask him if he knows anything cool about the Flu?" "Ok,” I agreed. Old Mr Tibbler was a positively ancient man with smiling blue eyes. He ran an antique shop down on Chestnut Avenue and he knew lots of things about the olden days. Mum's idea was a good one. The next day after school I parked my bike outside the beautiful shop. The bell tinkled as I stepped inside. I wandered up to the dark mahogany desk and waited, after a moment Mr Tibbler came out from the store room. "Oh hello Edith,” he said, the wrinkles beside his eyes crinkling. “What brings you here?’’ “Well I am doing this assignment for school and I couldn’t get any ideas.” “Aha, well what exactly is the project about?” Mr Tibbler asked. “It is about the Spanish flu but I don’t really know anything about it.” “Well I have some items from the time, here I’ll show you,” he led me over to a shelf that was decorated with old news clippings about the flu. “See here this gravy jug and this cotton mask?’’ “What was the gravy jug used for?” I asked. “Well you know back in those days we didn’t have a great understanding of medicine and the OXO gravy company claimed, A cupful of OXO two or three times a day will prove an immense service as a protective measure. Obviously it didn’t work though. Want to have a closer look?’’ he asked. “Sure,” I said. He picked up the chipped porcelain jug and placed it in my hands. My stomach lurched and I was spent spinning. I slammed down hard on the ground. When I came to my senses I was lying on a dirt road. I stood up and shook the dust from my clothes, when I saw what I was wearing I almost cried out in shock. I was wearing a pale floral dress with a square collar lined with lace. The houses on the street were old fashioned and some of them had red crosses in the windows and the curtains drawn. I knocked on one of these doors and a woman shouted about having the flu and to go away. Where on earth was I? I tried a door without a red cross and woman came to the door. Before opening the door she shouted, “Are you diseased?” “No!” I shouted back. “I am lost. Could you help me?” The woman cautiously opened the door. She was wearing a face mask, but it was not like the clean looking blue and white ones we wear during covid, but dirty and made of greyish cotton. “Why are you wandering around? Doesn’t your family obey the curfew?” “What curfew!” I thought. “What year is it?” “Why its 1919. Are you ok love?” I wasn’t lost in space, I was lost in time... The woman, who’s name was Doris, told me to come into the house. I picked up my school bag which lay on the ground and had turned into a small leather satchel. She took me into the house and lay me down on a lumpy bed and put a wet rag on my forehead. “Dear dear, my I hope you don’t you have the influenza, dear dear.” “What influenza, hang on 1919 - no no no no not the Spanish Flu, I need to get back to 2022.” “2022?” said Doris disbelievingly. “Dolly come and help me this poor girl isn’t right in the head!” A girl, perhaps a few years younger than me, came out of the side room. She looked much like Doris except here eyes were blue instead of hazel. I stayed with these kind people for a few days, then on the third day Dolly became ill with a high fever and a terrible headache. These were both flu symptoms and Doris and Mr Thompson (Doris’s husband) were terribly worried she had the flu. Dolly also had two brothers but neither of them were sick. The next day Mr. Thompson came home with a packet of OXO gravy. “Your not using that for Dolly’s flu are you?” I asked remembering what Mr. Tibbler had said. That all seemed like another life. 1919 was so different to 2022. There wasn’t much room and I slept with the boys Jeramiah and George. They were noisy and, well I guess they were just boys . Anyway I told Mr. Thompson that gravy would not do anything and rest and lots of water would be more useful and less expensive. He still gave her a cup of gravy but I did notice that he made sure Dolly had a good sleep gave her lots of water. And in a few days Dolly started getting better. We had a roast pork on Sunday night to celebrate, for by some miracle Dolly had fully recovered. I was shocked when Doris set the table. It was there in the very centre of the table, the very same gravy jug which had bought me here in the first place. All of a sudden I felt so home sick I almost burst into tears but instead I said, “Where did you get it?” “What?” asked Doris. “That gravy jug,” I almost shouted with excitement. “Oh it’s a family heirloom. My great, great grandfather got it on a ship when he came here as a convict.” I was now so excited that I almost interrupted her story about her great great grandfather. “Is there any other one like it?” I asked. Doris seemed to take a century to answer my final question. “No its hand made English porcelain, one of a kind.” I reached for the gravy jug and picked it up... I was back in 2022. I had done my job. I had helped cure little Dolly and I knew that I had gone back to 1919 for a reason. I looked up at Mr. Tibbler. There was a twinkle in those smiling blue eyes, eyes that I had seen on only one other person. That person was Dolly Thomson.

I bit my lip. The school was enourmus, let alone the bustling city. Our small,urban cottage was nothing compared to this. Nothing. My old school was online, so by the time I turned five, I knew a computer like the back of my hand. But this was ... Let's face it, different. Sydney was nothing like the country. My heart pounded against my chest. "Hâo lē ma?" Mum called.Are you ready.Closing the window, I stumbled down the apartment stairs, dragging my schoolbag as I went along.The navy-white chequered uniform hung over my shoulders, almost touching the floor. I tucked a strand of charcoal curls behind my ear. "Melody." Mum smiled, fishing something out of her pocket and clasping it around my wrist. A bracelet.The Antique sported patterns of beads, each with a carving of a farm on them. "For you," she whispered, " to go back to history." "Back to history," I repeated, and suddenly,the world went black.

Prologue Three years earlier Lights flickered. Branches rustled. Eyes watched, unseen, as the wind whispered secrets that carried through the forest. Something was afoot, it was clear from the enveloping, echoing silence which seemed to stretch for miles. It was broken only by the rustle of the wind, as if all life had been spirited away from the ethereal wood. Shrouded in an enveloping, midnight blue cloak, a hooded figure moved through the trees. Gnarled branches reached out leafy hands towards this enigma, but their aura of mystery seemed an almost tangible - yet untouchable - thing. They continued to move, striding through the thick, stifling undergrowth as they trod a precarious game trail. Eventually, a clearing came into view. Crystalline, a waterfall rushed down a sheer cliff into the glittering lake far below, which reflected the night sky’s infinite canopy. Pausing a moment to take in the idyllic scene, the figure continued their brisk walk until they reached a narrow ledge in the rock face. Inching carefully along the edge, they reached a fissure in the rock which opened into… A library. Two facing walls were covered in all manner of books with stately cloth and gilt-edged binding, and even the occasional yellowed scroll. Another wall contained a crackling hearth and featured a polished desk of elm littered haphazardly with papers and the occasional stray flask of phial. Instead of a final wall, however, the comfortable cave had a curtain of water - the other side of the waterfall. Not bothering to take in their surroundings, the figure grabbed a book off one of the shelves and flicked through the pages with a sense of urgency until reaching the one they sought. Text in some ancient tongue flowed across the pages of the tome as the cloak-wearer stepped into the centre of the room, murmuring under their breath in an eldritch language. There was a flash of light, and a faint whoosh! Then they were gone… Part One - A Stitch in Time “Come on, slowcoach,” teased the curly-haired boy standing a few metres below her. “We’ll never defeat the orcs if we can’t even make it past one teeny cliff!” Lottie rolled her eyes, judging the distance. Where her brother Jamie had scampered down the rock face like a mountain goat, she preferred the way of caution. Around five metres - not particularly difficult for experienced rock climbers like them, especially given the gentle angle. Still, she tucked her golden hair behind her helmet straps before beginning the climb. It was a nervous habit, and Jamie knew it. “James Watson, Orc Slayer, is about to go official!” “But all the more discerning readers have noticed that Charlotte Watson does all the work. Kind of like Hermione Granger.” She slipped down to join him. “I still beat you here,” Jamie said, smirking. That smirk was wiped right off his face, however, when she noticed the cave. A narrow opening in the cliffside, which they cautiously moved towards. Every time they thought they’d discovered every cave on their family’s enormous estate, they were proved wrong. But this one seemed different. Different in a way which sent tingles running across your skin and ice flooding your veins. Moving as one, the twins slipped through the narrow opening and were stunned to find… a library? “It looks like a wizard’s study,” Jamie mumbled. Lottie nodded, speechless. (Jamie, of course, was never speechless, but rather lost the ability to speak coherently on occasion.) Timidity evident in his posture, Jamie immediately gravitated towards the large desk across the room, where a book lay open, dust motes dancing around pages which had remained untouched for what seemed like years. The words were in Latin - a language which the unfortunate children were quite familiar with, thanks to their overbearing tutor. “Divisio temporis ante me aperta est, et introibo per providentiam.” Lottie whispered the words and felt something, some power, coursing through her. She slipped her hand through her twin’s. “Tintagel Castle. Anno DCL. In mense oct- nono? Via sapientium coniungitur infirmis, ut omnes bene faciant.” Jamie added, reading from what seemed to be a handwritten portion. He reached for the book. “The way of the wise is to unite with the weak, that all may prosper? What does that mean? And what about that thing you read before, about time and-” A flash of light. Then they were gone, leaving no trace… Radiant. Light blossomed across every surface like a slow-motion explosion. It was a sweet, pure light, like a star - a star which was going supernova all around him. Images streamed across Jamie’s consciousness: a man with a long grey beard, bent before a simmering cauldron; a hooded figure moving through a wide, cobbled street; a dungeon, heavily barred; a lonely tower rising out of thick trees. They passed too fast for Jamie to register any details, and then he was dissolving, particles of light glimmering around him as if refracted from some unseen prism. All he was aware of was Lottie’s hand, tight around his own. Until the blinding light dimmed, revealing…

The Antique Clock RINGGG!!! The school bell rang to end the day. Lizzie scooped up her book and shot down the hall to the exit. She dashed home as fast as she could ,as she had something waiting for her to see. As she slowly opened the front door she heard the beeping of her sister’s alarm.( yes she wakes up this late ) Lizzie groaned as it was so annoying and her sister still never wakes up anyway. She flew up the stairs and shoved her door open, and there it was, the thing she had been waiting for this whole day…………a box. Not a normal, boring box. A fancy box with colours so vibrant that they would blind your eyes. She carefully lifted the box lid and then, WHOOSH! She was gone. She was teleported to the 1700’s, when her great great grandmother was the Queen. Seeing everyone dressed so formally made her look down to what she was wearing, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. She saw a formal women and went up to her and asked her where her great great grandmother was. The women looked at her like she had three heads, “ What in the history of heavens! “, she exclaimed. Everyone looked over and all of their jaws dropped. She smiled at them but the were frozen in shock. She started walking to the nearest bathroom but their eyes were glued to her. She turned round the corner to the bathroom and stepped right in. She could hear that all the royals were whispering about how she was dressed. She locked herself in the cubicle and started thinking about why she came here in the first place. She suddenly realised that she was here to fix a mistake that an unknown person made. She flew out of the bathroom and ran in a random direction. She soon came to a dead end; turned around back to where she started. She saw her great great grandmother’s horses and followed them and arrived at the palace. She walked up the the entrance and introduced herself to the guards. She was accepted and walked in proudly. She knew which room she would need to find and she knew where it was. She ambled off………….

Chapter I A small, skinny boy raced across the pavement to somewhere, anywhere, that would provide shelter from the horrible, lashing, PETRIFYING, rain. “Aaaahhh!” Screamed the small, skinny boy. The small boy’s name was Peter, and he suffered from full-blown aquaphobia, a morbid fear of water. Like rain. “Help!” He was seen as a complete misfit in the school playground, which was also why he wasn’t stopping to shelter under a tree or his raincoat, because he had a gang of school bullies hot on his tail. Peter was puffing like a steam train, and the bullies were catching up. Peter saw an open door up ahead, so he turned sharply into the doorway, slammed the door behind him and barricaded it with a heavy armchair. Peter held his breath as he heard the stomping footsteps grow louder and louder… then softer and softer. ‘ He then exhaled so much air he could have blown out all the candles on an immortal jellyfish’s birthday cake. He looked out a window. The dreaded rain was still bucketing down, so Peter decided to explore. The room was one big library, with seemingly endless rows of shelves. It looked quite old fashioned, and was dimly lit by a small chandelier hanging from the roof, and a few scattered candles. Even though the rain was still lashing outside, everything seemed eerily quiet. After his eyes adjusted to the low light, Peter saw that there were little white specks rising out from the books, and drifting slowly along the rows. On closer inspection, they were actually letters and numbers and symbols, in random orders, floating gently. He decided to follow them. They seemed to be moving towards a strange pulsating glow of golden light. The light was coming from a large, leatherback book with a title written in golden, classical letters: The Time Book. The letters and numbers flowed into it, seemingly being absorbed by it. As Peter edged closer, the book opened and flicked its pages gently. He opened up the book, which seemed to warm the air around it, and flicked over to the contents page. He skimmed over it, looking for something interesting. It seemed to start at the origins of the Earth to what was happening right that second. At the end of all of that, there was a chapter entitled “Alternate Realities”. “Cool!” Thought Peter. He traced the dotted line over to the page number. Page 912! Peter huffed in amazement as he flipped over to page 912. The first part of the chapter was, “A world without land” And had a picture of these strange, amphibian-like beings that seemed perfectly adapted for life in an ocean. They seemed to be hanging out in this high-tech looking underwater lab, that had a few of the tallest bits poking out. The only thing that abnormal was that it seemed so realistic, so vivid, so real; that Peter couldn’t help but reach out a hand and touch the beautiful drawing. Suddenly, and invisible force clamped onto his arm and yanked him into the picture, slamming the book shut in the process, leaving no trace that Peter had ever stumbled upon the strange library, and changing his life forever. Peter yelled louder than he ever had. He felt like he was being thrusted backwards, through time and space. He didn’t know for sure, but he felt like he was being squashed and stretched in all the wrong directions, images flashing before his eyes, the G-force rippling his cheeks. He didn’t know it, but this was time travel. But Peter felt like he wasn’t going forwards and backwards. He felt like he was going sideways in time. Suddenly, he felt himself stop. He was in outer space, looking down on the Earth. “Alternate Realities” He whispered breathlessly as he was yanked back down to Earth.

Author’s Note: A bit more of a sad story this time – I wanted to explore the concept of grief and coming to terms with death. I hope that I’ll do the concept justice! Trigger Warnings: Mentions of cancer and eventual main character death. ---o--- Cancer. One single word that changed my life – or, I suppose, limited it. Sitting in a doctor’s chair, my uncle at my side, my life suddenly had an expiry date. I went into shock, my entire body numb, only half-listening to what the doctor said. Late-stage cancer… caught too late… months to live. The car was completely silent on the ride home, both my uncle and I processing the news. Months to live – I mightn’t even reach my 16th birthday. I’d never get the chance to drive a car, go to university, date, fall in love, get married, or get a job. My entire future, snatched away by one single word. “Uncle Percy?” I asked, my voice small and scratchy. Receiving no reply, I glanced over at him. His slender hands were clenching the steering wheel, his jaw set and body taut. He was only barely holding it together, I realised with a start. He had raised me for most of my life – this would impact him just as much as it would me. Hot tears welled up in my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Perhaps I was dreaming? I pinched myself desperately, only to be met with pain shooting through my arm. Not dreaming, then. When the car stopped, I jumped out and ran into my room, unable to deal with the situation. Kicking off my shoes, I burrowed my way under the covers of my blanket, and finally allowed the tears to fall. I cried until there were no tears left, and sleep started to pull me into its warm, blissful escape. I awoke sometime later to a light knocking on my door. “Come in.” I called, my voice rough with sleep. Uncle Percy walked into the room, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. My heart clenched – he had been crying. I hated it, hated that he was suffering, hated myself for causing him pain. Uncle Percy gave a weak smile as he sat down on the bed next to me. “Hey Ashwind”, he said, his voice soft. “How’re you feeling?”. I gave a strangled laugh. “About as well as you’d expect.” I said, a bitter inflection to my tone. “Why is this happening to me?” I whispered, my face crumpling. “Oh, Ash.” Uncle Percy breathed shakily, pulling me into a warm, grounding embrace. I rested my head heavily on his chest and let myself forget about the world for just a moment. He pulled back, and gave me a soft, sad smile. “I know that this a big shock. But we’ll get through it together, alright? I’m going to do everything I can for you.” I nodded unsteadily, instinctively trusting him. After a few beats of silence, Uncle Percy spoke up again, his voice hesitant. “This really isn’t how I imagined it would go, but there is something that I’d like to tell you.” He said, a small spark of life returning to him. I looked at him expectantly, apathy making way for muted curiosity. He sighed. “I was going to tell you on your 16th birthday, but given… recent events, I thought I’d tell you now.” He paused momentarily, before giving me a small smile. “I’m a time traveller.” I stopped, blinking for a moment, while my brain caught up. “Sorry, what?” I asked, my brows creased in confusion. Uncle Percy gave a chuckle, although it was still tinged with sadness. “I’m a time traveller.” He repeated, an impossibly fond smile on his face. “A time traveller?” I said, my eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”. “Deadly.” He replied, before standing up and offering his hand to me. “Would you like to see?”. I nodded, my eyes lighting up as I pushed my inner turmoil to the side. As I reached up to grab his hand, I got the sense that I was about to go on the journey of a lifetime. ----o---- My uncle guided me into his study, and I looked around the familiar room in confusion. Surely there wasn’t a time machine in here? I watched as he walked around to the bookshelf behind his desk and pulled on H. G. Wells’s ‘Time Machine’. I gasped slightly as the cupboard next to it opened, revealing a small safe. Uncle Percy keyed in a combination before pressing his thumb to a small sensor. The safe opened with a small hiss, and I eagerly peered over my uncle’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of lay within. Two smartwatches were nestled into a small pillow, the face black. As he reached inside for the more feminine of the two, Uncle Percy closed his eyes slightly, taking a deep breath before carefully removing it and handing it to me. Carefully taking it, I inspected the object. The watchface was slightly larger than normal, and there was an extra button on the side, but apart from that I couldn’t see much difference. I flipped it over in my hands, and my breath hitched slightly at the inscription on the back of the watch. “Time waits for no-one”. I gave a quiet, bitter laugh at the painful reminder of my reality, before once more pushing the knowledge aside and locking it down tight within me. I wouldn’t allow it to ruin my discovery of time travel. I glanced up at Uncle Percy, only to find him staring at me with a look of abject sadness. It was only there for a second – gone the instant he caught me looking – but it was there for long enough to make the harsh reality of my situation claw at its confines deep within me. I bit my lip, hard, and the pain was enough to quiet the beast. “Can we go on a time trip?” I asked, desperate to escape, even just for a while. Uncle Percy smiled slightly at me. “That was the idea.” He said, before holding his watch so that I could see. “Watch this.” He pressed the extra button, and an input field opened up. “You enter in a string of numbers that corresponds to longitude, latitude and time. I thought we might take a trip to one of my favourite places in history.” he said, before taking my watch and keying in numbers. I put it back on, marvelling at the small device. “Are you ready?” he asked me, his face lit up in excitement. I nodded despite the trepidation that was beginning to curl at the bottom of my stomach. Uncle Percy clicked a button on my watch, and a tendril of light began to curl up my arm from my watch. Within seconds, we were both engulfed in the light. With a resounding boom, we were gone.

The Inventor’s Paradise I crept down the basement, the wooden steps creaking eerily. What was in the basement? My mind went back to the night before… “Why are we so poor, Grandmother?” I asked while shivering near the meagre fire kindled by old newspapers. It was the coldest winter recorded in more than a decade, and we had no money to pay for the luxury of heaters. “I think you are old enough to know a bit about the family history, my dear Talia,” Grandmother Cordelia sighed. “Our family was famous for our skills in inventing. Your great-great grandfather, Dr Mark C Lidwell, invented the pacemaker at 26 years of age. Your great grandfather, George Kossof, had invented ultrasound and your grandfather, John ‘O Sullivan, had innovated wi-fi in 1977. Your father and his brother, Lars and Jens Rasmussen, had coded Google Maps in 2003.” Grandmother told as she pointed to the crippling photographs of our family. “We used to be very wealthy and prosperous until Lars and Jens had a fight, right after you were born. Huge fight it was, the media all going bonkers. No one actually knew what they were fighting about, but they all assumed it was over the rights to Google Maps or the inheritance of your grandfather. But, I knew my sons, they wouldn’t fight about something so materialistic. Anyways, your father died of a heart attack a few months later, the doctors said it was because of stress and overwork. Still, the media pointed fingers at Jens, for murdering him when that was not true. Well, Jens disappeared after your father’s funeral, never to be seen again. As for your mother, she died because of depression. So, then I was left with no source of income and a baby girl. So, you can imagine how one could survive. I had to sell everything, including rights to all the inventions our family created and the numerous mansions we owned. Before Jens left though, he told me the answer to it all was in the basement of the servant’s quarters. I scoured every item there, but couldn’t find anything. So, I kept this place, knowing it had some sort of significance and I have grown old trying to retrieve whatever the answer is,” she continued. I was shocked. What were Lars and Jens fighting over? What was ‘the answer’? My mind returned to the present day, the questions still echoing in my head. I reached the bottom of the stairs, the basement pitch-black. The candle that I had lit unnervingly illuminated the shadowy place adorned with cobwebs and insects. Not knowing what to look for, I rummaged through the dusty boxes, finding all sorts of weird and unusual contraptions. Most of them were useless, others were worn and rusted. This was truly an inventor's paradise. Then, I noticed something peculiar. Another source of light, far brighter than the candle. I looked for where the light was coming from, and behind a shelf, I spotted a beautiful red rose covered in an intricate glass case, ornate with all sorts of jewels. Some magical force pulled me towards the glistening rose like a magnet, and I tried to resist the urge to open the glass case. But I couldn't any longer. Before I knew it, I was inhaling the rose's ambrosial fragrance, worthy of the gods. Then, I was sucked into a vortex. My lungs were screaming, my heart beating like a gong and my eyes widening to the size of golf balls. What on earth was happening?!

The loud roar filled the circus tent, frightened children clung to their parents, screaming in terror as the ferocious beast lunged at them. The circus-goers all closed their eyes, all knowing that this was their end. There was a loud roar again, this time it sounded hurt. Eyes were opening everywhere, looking up to see the golden lion, roped around its neck, like a lead that most dogs in the tent had broken free of, in hope of escape, which was useless as the lion would not have hurt them. On top of the lion’s fiery mane sat a girl, long bronze curls, flying in the wind. Standing on the chest of drawers, still in her nightdress, Henrietta looked down at her dolls, that all lay motionlessly on the carpet. She stared down at the mouse in her hand, which looked like a pom pom with the lion-mane hat that Etta had sewn him. “Come on, Tony. Let’s go down to the kitchens, the cooks may have saved the leftovers.” The floorboards creaked as she walked past the dining hall, where Mr & Mrs Carlton, and Henrietta’s governess; Miss Hallen were discussing their plans for Henrietta’s education for the next few years. “Uhhhhh, why can’t they send me to an actual school with actual friends. No offense Tony.” She whispered to the blonde-furred mouse on her shoulder. At last the warm light of the kitchen came to view, “You going in first,” and when the mouse gave her a questioning look, “because they won’t notice you if they haven’t gone to their bedchambers yet.” The tiny mouse squeaked in agreement and scurried into the kitchens, when no shouting or banging of rolling pins could be heard, Etta went in too. Smells good and bad, raced to Henrietta’s now as she stepped into the yellow light of the kitchens. She looked around at the tables, where usually she’d find a slice of bread or a spare bowl of soup, but tonight the tables were spotless, not even a crumb was left on them. “Well Tony, I guess we’ll have to make our own midnight snack tonight.” All at once she and Tony were hurrying around the room to find the cooking materials to make a meal. Back to the table, they had only managed to grab two things, only one of which could be useful. Henrietta had found a cookbook that looked millions of years old, and Tony only managed to carry one tablespoon. “I think that we’ll be able to find something in here.” said Etta as she turned the first brown page of the book, Tony gave a squeak of agreement and peered over the thick pages of the book his mistress was looking at. They had gone over the 500 pages of the old cookbook ten times until they found a recipe that looked delicious: with Sourdough bread and for dessert, and a delicious jam and berry tart. On the corner of the wood coloured page was a scribbled handwriting saying, This is my favourite, please try. Arcelia Carlton Straight away Henrietta went to the cupboard where she’d found the book, and took out an equally old-looking frying pan. “Don’t worry,” she said before Tony had a chance to squeak in disgust, “It is perfectly clean.” The soup was made quickly and consumed in double that time along with the sourdough that Henrietta took from the 10 loaves of bread that her family owned. “Alright Tony, let's make this tart.” Around the room she and Tony went again, Tony watching Etta find the flour and strawberry jam and put them on the table. She threw the ingredients in the pan and mixed them up. It looked nothing like a pie, it looked like Henrietta was making a berry crumble. Warmth filled the little kitchen as Etta threw more wood into the stove. The pan sat on top, jam sizzling with heat. “Hey Tony, I’m going to try and see what’ll happen if I flip the pan like the cooks do with the eggs in the morning.” With no answer from Tony, Henrietta knew he meant no, but she flipped the pan anyway. The pan nearly fell as a tingly feeling crawled up her arm. Guessing it was only the heat, Etta flipped the pan again, the same tingle crawled its way up her other arm. Still thinking it was just the heat, she did it again. Suddenly the room was black and it felt as if she was buried in ice. All the sounds she’d heard before were gone, the sizzling of the pan, the occasional squeak from Tony. She was is a nowhere.

A few days ago were the weirdest days in my life. One day I was helping mum in the restaurant, the next day I was in an unknown world made from pixels. I wondered how I got into this mess. I looked around and saw everything had changed except my moon pendant. "Could this be the answer to this mystery?" I asked myself. I did experiments with the moon pendant in my free time until I was sure that this was what triggered me into the unknown world. The moon pendant was passed down from my Great-Great-Great Grandfather who found this when he was looking for gold near the rivers. Then another question came into my mind" Why was it a pixel world?"I thought. Then the answer came into my head I was playing a small video game that looked actually like the video game I played that other day." Whatever I think of when this moon pendant is on it will come true", I explained to myself. It was quite a case for me because this does not happen every day.

Vera awoke to the scent of semolina and fresh snowfall, blanketing the streets in a white, frosty cloak. She shrugged on her dressing gown, her feet pattered down the stairs- careful not to tread on the creaky step- slid on socked feet towards the rickety kitchen table. “Morning, Vera,” murmured Rosa, sprinkling sugar on the semolina porridge and pushing it towards Vera. Baby Alice burbled cheerfully in her chair, waving stubby fists at Vera. Gulping her porridge, Vera waved goodbye to her aunt and cousin, and rushed upstairs to her room. Taking off her dressing gown, she fiddled with the numerous ribbons, buckles and layers of the Russian skirt Aunt Rosa still made her wear. Then, lifting onto her tiptoes, she shoved the wonky ceiling beam that revealed a small hole in the roof slat. In here, Vera kept her three treasured possessions: an old string toy, a sticky lemon sherbet, and a tiny, golden, engraved clock with three hands. The last one of these was in her basket when her mother had left her at Alice’s door, with a note to look after Vera until she came back. It had been twelve years since that day. Vera’s mother wasn’t back. Vera sighed tragically. Her tragic sigh was rather good now, after ten years of practice. She twiddled with the three hands on the clock so they tinkled, ticked, and whirred. Why had her mother left her a strange old clock? Why had she left her at all? All of a sudden, the mysterious third hand started to spin violently and Vera Morozov was spat into darkness.

Valentina Bleech's flaming red hair streamed behind her, swifting in the cool breeze of the wind. Her light brown, bulging eyes narrowed at the sight of a stranger walking past holiding a cigarette in one hand a puffing woofs of grey substance from their mouth. 'Disgusting' she thought. Her outfit today, much like the one she wore last week at the park, consisted of a mid-thigh length plaid skirt matched with a black top and black Doc Martens. A smile grew amongst her face as she saw Danny; the son of the bookshop owner, at the counter of the bookshop. Valentina walked into the comforting bookshop, a feel of warm heat touching her skin at the entrance. Danny then spotted her and Valentina wandered to the counter. "Hey Val!" Danny welcomed. His hair was a dark brown, his eyes were pale green and he was wearing his favourite t-shirt; The Beetles. "Hi Danny." said Val; her eyes scanning his shirt. "Your dad let you wear that today?" "I was in a good mood." said a voice from behind Val. Val spun around and saw Mr Thomson - a tall man with black glasses and blonde hair smiled at her. "Hello, Miss Bleech. How are you?" "I'm quite fine, thank you Mr Thomson." replied Val. "Please, my darling, call me Tim." insisted Mr Thomson. "Are you here for a specific teacher, Miss Bleech?" "Um, yes. You have that book I asked for last week?" "Just came in stock. Danny," "Yes, dad?" Danny groaned. "Take Miss Bleech to the stock room." Mr Thomson ordered. A smile transformed on Danny's face. "Sure thing." Danny led Val passed the rows of endless books that showered the shelves. Val's eyes drew to a door with a gold panel on the centre frame. STOCK ROOM - STAFF ONLY. Danny pulled a key from his pocket and stuffed it in the keyhole. The lock turned with a click and the door opened smoothly. Val's eyes widened when she saw the shelves and boxes of brand new books. This was HEAVEN to her. Danny scanned the shelves and stopped at a rather old looking one. As he was looking for the book, Val spotted an unusual orb that sat on top of two rather large history books. It had a small christian cross placed on top of the orb. Small emeralds were lined along the belt of the orb. "Hey, Danny?" called Val. "Yeah?" "What's this?" she asked. Danny walked over and sighed when he saw the orb. "Oh, that. That's the 'Sfera di magia'. Sphere of Magic. Dad's obsessed with it. I never would touch it though. It's the most dodgy thing I have ever encountered." Val didn't know whether to laugh or not, but Danny kept going. "It's to be believed it cursed Fuoco Nobile. Most supersticiuos guy ever known to man. It has been around for centuries, this orb. At the faintest touch of skin, the orb spins and spins, and eventually you lose your memory and have absolutely no idea what is happening in your life. Dad thinks it makes this room look more... 'vibrant', but I think it makes it extremely unusual and just plain weird. Anyway," Danny started walking out of the room. "Found your book by the way. Let's go to the counter and scan it." Val supposed she was meant to follow, but stayed; her finger inches away from the orb. What would happen if she touched it? Would she really get cursed? Will she really lose her memory? What about Mum and Dad... and Danny? 'No.' Val decided. 'This is some frightening myth Danny has told me to scare me out of this room.' At that thought, Val reluctantly flicked the sphere and it wierdly started spinning. So did the world around Val. Everything seemed so dizzy and sickly. The sensation was burning her arms, legs and face, creating an estimate forty-five degree weather heat. Val could sense her long red hair blowing behind her and then in a blink of time, everything went black.