Woodseats Young Writers

Crush Darren Harris was, in the opinion of Alicia, the best looking boy in class. School. Maybe even the whole world – to her knowledge. She’d spend most lessons shooting him glances, maybe even giving him the odd stare if she couldn’t get caught. She had his number, and she tried to text him but he’d either ignore her or give disinterested results. He must’ve had other people for his eyes to be on – like Fran Simpson, or Chrissie Bale. But all sweet, young Alicia wanted out of life was someone like him – or so she thought. If not handled delicately, a childhood crush can quickly become obsessive, or spiral out of control. Or even become a point to fixate decisions on; which is never the right thing to do, even if it seems to be at the time. Luckily, the young blonde hadn’t yet allowed herself to fall into such habits. But it was always a possibility. It was February 14 th , more commonly known as Valentine’s Day, and Alicia was walking to school with her older brother Bill...

If there was one story I'd like to state, It would be about why I was late. So, here I am to celebrate, The joys of being a headless date. I met her down in the pub. It was half past seven, I'd had some grub. She really did look very sweet, But I was late to the meet and greet. Like I've said, I'm a headless date, So I don't know why I was so late. I don't really know Why I really did go. It wasn't for a kiss. I have no lips. I don't know why I was so late. As I say, I'm a headless date. So, I shall stop blathering on. I think the date's back on.

The walls were pale, lifeless. Grime residue hid in corners and a nauseous antiseptic smell filled the room. There was only one window and it looked out on to a city doused in a derelict grey. Despite the beeping and whirring of various machines, there still seemed to be a silence so thick you could it with a knife. In the centre of the room on faded white sheets lay a shell of a man. Jack Floyd’s face was empty of colour, his ashen hair thinning and his lips a pale blue, their surface dry and cracked a million times over. His wrinkles had sunk so deep into his face it was like knives had carved them out. His eyes were closed and his skin was so starved of blood that you could see each little vein and capillary as it snaked along his eyelids. He was so still you’d think he was dead if not for the machine that occasionally rang out, announcing his heart had finally beaten once again. It was one machine in a battalion of them, each dedicated to providing or measuring something. An ...

Thunderstruck The owl flew over me skimming the trees with its foot. At last I had some peace. I stared up at the sky, not caring about the rain. Not caring that I was lost. Not caring about the storm. A flash of lightening lit up the sky and I counted for the thunder. 1, 2, 3, 4… and suddenly a great boom of thunder filled the sky with noise and I fell on my knees and fell to the ground… I’VE BEEN THUNDERSTRUCK… It had been 1 whole hour after the thunder that I woke up. I found myself somewhere else lying on a bench in a… in a forest. I jumped to my feet making my knees turn to jelly. What had happened? I ran as fast as I could, but stopped. Coming towards me was a pale shape illuminated by the light. I spoke out loud to it. “Who are you? Where am I?” The ghost wailed back “You don’t need to know who I am, where are you is another matter but I can solve that, you are with meeee!!”…. I woke up sweating but shivering. What was that dream? What did it mean?... By Django P...

A Horror Story                                                                                                                                                    In the darkness of the night, everything was quiet. Everybody was sleeping - at least that was what they all thought. I was awake that night looking out of the window into the dark night sky, unsure about what was going to happen when the sun came up. Then, all of a sudden, I heard a scr...

A Spooky Horror Story    In an old village on the brink of the sea, there lay an old manor home to an even older host. She had no family or friends but that was to be expected as all other inhabitants of the village had either fled or died, claiming the village to be possessed by a ghost who wanted the place for himself. This lady, who was called Claire, refused to believe in such rumours claiming, “that she had never seen the ghost nor heard it.” That was until one tragic evening.    Claire was doing her usual routine; blowing out the candles in each of the manors’ substantial rooms. The reason the house was run on candles was because as only one person lived in the village or in the proximity of a 3 miles radius the electrical company didn’t see it fit to install power supplies across the seaside so Claire had to rely on her own basic necessities. As she looked through the windows, she could have sworn she saw an old man full of white hair and wrinkles- w...

The casebook of Manduca and Hyde's paranormal investigations: Investigation 5 This was our most interesting case we had ever had. Let me recall it and write it down for you. We stepped into the house shutting the door straight away. It was dark and cold and musty; no-one had been in the house for years now. The woman had only phoned us earlier saying it was urgent. I checked the thermometer on my belt. It was a minus. Very unusual. I looked at Manduca, he looked strange. Scared, fierce I didn’t know what he really felt but I knew this would be strange. We moved further into the house, our iron rapiers at the ready. I pulled my coat further around me wishing for a fire. I wish I hadn't wished for anything because as soon as I said it, a white, pale shape shot at us. Shocked, worried and frustrated, I flew at it with my sword cornering it against the wall and threw a magnesium bomb at it. Whoosh, gone. I sank against the wall and looked around for Manduca. He wasn’t...