Wednesday, 30 April 2014


We raced through the rapid wind that skimmed our skin and splashed across the muddy field. Our faces were pushed and the rain dripped on our heads as we struggled to do two laps of the field. Everyone else in the classroom was confused. We had chosen to do two laps of the field, and it had become a terror storm. Then, a shuffle of wind whipped out of the sky and rumbled, forming a large, screeching tornado.
"NOOO!" I cried as someone was sucked up into the air, screaming.
I inspected their face, but didn't know who it was.
"Run!" I demanded, noticing that the tornado, seemingly 200 metres away, could suck up people where I was standing.
And then it moved closer to us. We darted up the hill, some of us falling back and smacking down onto the green grass. I gazed back.
"Uh oh," I murmured.
It whipped through the air and sucked me in. I shut my eyes as I floated into the air, chunks of glass and wood scarring me for life. Then, as I struggled to get to land, a score of blue static lightning skimmed the air and bulged bright onto the tornado, making it electrical. Then, a fuzz of staticness washed over my body. The electricity burned me. I shut my eyes, and dropped.

The wind lashed through the trees and soured them to the ground, snapping thin, small twigs that lined up to hold the tree together. It bounced to the ground with a violent shake as I watched in terror as the electrical tornado rumbled toward me. I rolled over to my left as the tree, in the wild, dark weather waved through the air and suddenly blew up with a sparkle of a flaming coral, for those peaceful. And then, it blew wider into a tremendous explosion of crackling orange that spewed dark smoke out the top. Not for peaceful people; for people who liked hard-metal rock music, X-box, and action movies.
"Uh oh," I groaned, blinking both eyes open.
I was tired. I knew I was going to die. My leg was burnt, a bit of steam still boiling out as it was gruesome brunet. Then, a hand picked me up.
"Yes. . thank you," I whispered.
An electrical flame caught my head.
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" I screamed, dropping to the ground.

I woke up in hospital months later. I had surgery, with a breathing mask and a tablet to suck on so it wouldn't hurt. I didn't look at the crimson blood they inspected. I survived. My leg was replaced by a polished, grey robotic leg and I had a small plastic wrap around my nose so I could breathe. I wanted to thank whoever helped me from that storm that day. I would never forget that terrifying storm.
All thanks to my saver. Later, I became a fireman, cop, and doctor. I earned the nickname, "Doc cop Neb." (as in doc is short for Doctor, cop is another word for police officer, and Neb is backwards for Ben). But every time I stood on stage, I only said I was famous because of who helped me. And that even if someone has an advantage like me, you can still be one of those people. Even one of the savers.


Tweebee, the three year old boy, picked up the ketchup from the frost fridge, slammed the door shut, and licked his lips. In front of him was the left over fries. He turned the ketchup upside down. He squeezed it as hard as he could but nothing came out. He waiting, used all his strength, but nothing happened. A tear glistened in his eye. He started a wild tear tantrum, but no one heard him. He thumped off his chair and stumbled over to the dining room telephone, leaped up onto the kitchen bench, and punched in 111, then put it up to his ear.
"We are in a serious emergency! This better be important!" the phone coughed up the man's voice.
"Come quick! Tornado Alley U.SA one Earls street!" cried the boy.
It was the middle of the night. The police officer thought there was a tornado there, and quickly rammed to the scene with a bunch of other men. The sirens beeped and squealed as they halted in there tracks upon the driveway. The men clambered open the door, confused. They knocked on the door. The three year old boy opened it.
"I'm out of ketchup!" he screamed.

In the parents room . . .
"What was that? Someone opened our door?" groaned the three year old boy's Father, Sirus.
"I don't know," yawned his wife, "Get your gun out."
Sirus tentatively squirmed across the hallway, picked up his AK - 47 and pointed it right at the three men walking in the house. They heard other police sirens.
"Hey! The police must be looking for those kidnappers!" exclaimed Sirus' wife.
"Yip," murmured Sirus.
He then felt sweat dripping down his cheeks as he pulled the trigger back.
"Yay!" cheered Sirus, not seeing his little boy sneak past him and into bed.
Sirus' wife picked up the telephone and called the cops.
"Hello? I think you're meant to be coming to Tornado Alley, Earls street number one," she called.
"Yip," answered the voice at the other end, "What happened there?"
"A murderer came into our house and tried to steal things and rip our place apart," exclaimed his wife.
"Is he John Spielus?" asked the police man.
"Uh . . I think so," she replied.
"Well," started the officer, "I'll be there right away."
The police officer surged into their driveway and knocked on the door. It was clambered open by Sirus.
"Hello, here's the body," smiled Sirus, showing the darkened body.
But it was dawn now, and the body was in the light: It was a police officer.
"Uh oh."

Tuesday, 29 April 2014

Huocow: Cow of Doom III/Finale

The finale of my epic book Huocow: Cow of Doom.

“Any news of Ilum yet?” Jock IV asked, concerned at the idea of losing a team at the hands of Huocow.
For a moment, the world was silenced.
“Any?” urged Jock impatiently.
“No news,” spoke the man softly.
They were the kingdom, on a stairwell made of rusty steel and shut doors. It was completely dark except from the small light blazing from under the door.
“No news,” sighed Jock, “Your team will double their search with ten times as much men.”
“Sir, all your men that volunteered, out of say . . ten percent, 0.5 have come back alive, most injured,” said the news reporter, “They have tried so hard. Some broke their legs and they’re still on the-”
“Yes, sir,” nodded the man, eerily opening the door, “Goodbye, Jock.”
Jock shook his head in disapproval. They called him Jock!? He was the King! He deserved better than this. He sighed for what seemed like the 500th time today. He sat down on the dirty step, and stared into nowhere.
“What shall I do?” he whispered to himself, “What shall I do.”

“We need ten times much men as last time,” called the man across the twenty men, “We had 400 men men originally, and now we need 800, maybe a thousand. It is a law made by the King that every single male in this town has to contribute in the search for Huocow.”
Every single male?” offended a man, shaking his head to the ground, “They’ll break their bones just like us.”
The whole 20 men started screaming stuff like, “Does that mean we can retire?” and, “I’ll tell those other males about this!”
The news reporter gritted his teeth, and his eyebrows gazed down in anger.
“STOP!” He growled, and everyone went quiet, “You will tell everyone about it, but if they refuse, they will be slaughtered.”
“Oh,” muttered the crowd.
“Now,” he said, cuddling himself from the whistling wind, “Go tell everyone else.”


Four dozen ladies hugged themselves. They had blankets around them, and they sat on gnarly, broken timber logs around a hot, burning fire. Their children sat on the ground, with dirt cramming in their pants. The boys told spooky stories that reminded the ladies of their husbands, and tears glistened down their eyes.The night was flooded with darkness. The news reporter, a butler, and the King were the only males who weren’t out finding the cow. The stood silently in the background of the forest.
“Has Ilum been found yet?” asked Jock hopefully.
“No, sir. But we do have important news that Homey’s house was destroyed by Huocow, sir,” replied the news reporter.
“Continue your search. Huocow must be found,” Jock demanded.
“Yesmy lord,” nodded the news reporter.
They were in the thin, dense trees swaying about with dead leaves. Suddenly, Jock backed away from the conversation, and disappeared through the forest.
“So,” started the reporter, “How’s it being the King’s man for twenty years?”

It was time for Huocow to destroy the village. From his instincts, he had decided that it would leave him safe. A lot of the men who had gone after him were dead. Huocow scanned his destination; a wiped out, muddy, and lonely town. Smoke spewed out darkly from the chimneys, trees, fallen onto the ground, twigs scattered around everywhere. A rubble home of crumbling white stone, and a bunch of sizzling brown skeletons worn out on the muddy hill. He had destroyed this city a while ago, when he was still half Human, speaking English. He had so many friends, he could talk, until, once you get older as a Human cow, you start to change. Change into a cow. Now he could only moo, he had no friends. Back then, he had become ugly. Everyone laughed at him, thought he wasn’t the man he used to be, and Huocow had become a loner. And he destroyed the place. A tear glistened in his eye. Why? Why did he have to be a Human cow? Why did he have to be a predator? Why couldn’t people just accept how he’d changed? They hunted him down, thinking he was that carnivorous enemy. It was sad. But what Huocow needed was vengeance. This town was the to-be Arliv town, but because of it’s destruction, they moved it. Huocow had grown up in Arliv. All those sweet friends, those who cared. Now, they’d be destroyed. Huocow could list all those kind people; Ilum, Susan, Frank, Bob, Trever, Christopher, Johnson Jr, and so many more. He picked up his boiling coconut bomb, his knives, backpack, gear, and he was all set. He trotted down the muddy hill, squashed his feet in it, snapped some twigs, and slipped through the trees of echoing tweets from the birds. He dodged branches waving about, and finally got through the forest. He saw the amazing view of hills, houses, but he didn’t admire it. He leapt into the air, swirled through the cold wind, and gazed up at the sky. Dusk was falling into a dark sleep, creating a puff of brunet black. Then, he knew the moment was coming. He had butterflies in his stomach. He pulled out the old, sharp coconut bomb and flamed it to the village metres below. Then . . .
The bomb shattered on an old timber building, creating a wide explosion of firey red, crackling hotly. It burnt, created a river of fire extending across the place. Residents were screaming, not knowing what was happening. A big tantrum was heard. Huocow recognized it. Frank’s baby boy. Huocow could do no more. But the fire was waving closer and closer to the edges, and it would soon collapse the whole town. The castle would be destroyed. But now, he couldn’t give up. Then, well he was leaping in the wind, he heard someone. He froze. It was Frank.
“Huocow!” he cried, “Come!”
Huocow stared back at Frank, who now had a wrinkled face and flat brown hair.
“Moo?” he replied, trying to speak English , “Fr-o-a-nmoo?”
“I know what you’re saying,” shouted Frank, “My name. BUT STOP IT!”
“My name!” Huocow blurted English out for the first time in two and a half decades.
Frank looked surprised.
“Moo name!”
“Huocow,” gulped Frank.
Huocow growled angrily, and flew down toward him, skidded his feet on the grass, and stood right in front of him.
“My name.”
“Sammer,” Frank whispered.
“Moo the-Moo, MOO!” Huocow fluttered.
Huocow’s stomach urched, grumbled, and then, a river of rotten brown milk squirted out. It looked like vommit as it splattered over Frank, splashing him with the soggy and disgusting milk.
“Aw, gross!” Frank admitted as he wiped it away, “Look, Sammer, I remember those great times - those wonderful times, but we could still have those times if you weren’t so mean as a cow! Look, please,” paused Sammer, gazing into his home of fire, “My family’s in there! I have a family!”
“And I moo n’t!” Huocow shouted, punching Frank in the stomach and holding him by his shirt.
“Sammer!” coughed Frank, “I’m your fr-friend!”
Then, Huocow dropped Frank to the ground carelessly, his eyes shot, his body strangled and . . the doom words. He was dead. But the fire was making ultimate destruction. Smoke peered out the top of the fires, people were screaming as houses were destroyed, and the cliff was about to collapse into rubble. It slowly shifted violently, a shake. Suddenly, solid rock started crumbling.
Uh oh.
Then, the whole cliff snapped off and smacked to the ground with a mass of dust, rocks falling, smashing, and it went silent. Huocow thought he had one. Then, screams were head. The vengeance screams. They came running out from underneath, came leaping up onto the cliff, and came coming for Huocow.
How do I escape?
Huocow scanned the town. No escape. Suddenly, he blurted out his brown milk and it slid across the cliff. All the people slipped up onto the gooey milk. As he held them back, Huocow paced back, clung onto a rock, and started climbing up the broken edge toward the forest. As he pulled himself up, the residents started advancing. They gained on him, and also climbed up the muddy edge.Then, Huocow gripped the top, and leapt up triumphantly. He gleared down. They were coming. He sprinted down through the forest, tripped over leaves, and finally skimmed down the hill.He came to the deep, blue river and knew he was at home. He dropped his feet into the water, held his breath, and jumped in, swimming further and further until . . . Kapew.
One of the residents had a bow, and he shot Huocow right on spot in the stomach. The scene was gruesome because the steel arrow had gone right through. Blood softly floated out, and Huocow’s body calmly lapped down the river. Everyone was sad except for the murderer, and a smile dialed on his face.
“James Parkinson Louis,” started the judge, “You have been convicted of murdering Huo Sammer.”
“I did it for life,” muttered James, who had used his bow to kill Huocow.
“And what you did was death, Louis. Our bid is started for years in prison,” the judge smacked his hammer down with an echoing clack.
“5 years,” said a man instantaneously.
Immediately, a woman suggested, “20 years.”
And it went silent. Not one small sound until the judge slammed his hammer on his desk. They were in the old house of Frank Viz, Huocow’s friend. It was broken timber, only a small room with about 10, 000 guests. The judge sat on the table, with Louis sitting on a chair. Then, two grim faced men stomped over, clutched onto James Parkinson Louis, and pulled him away.
“Hey! I bet you would’ve killed Huocow!” screamed Louis.
But as soon as the doors screeched closed, he was never heard again. The judge jumped to the ground, and announced, “This a funeral for those who died at this incident. It will become a graveyard, a place to remember. For Sammer Huo, who died from sadness and wrath. From now on, if we find a rare Human Cow like Sammer, we will treat it nicely. Bring in the coffins.”
And the sadness begun, the long walk to victory. . . to restart Arliv completely.

*So sad!*

Huocow: Cow of Doom II

Part II of my epic blockbuster book Huocow: Cow of Doom.
               THE SEARCH FOR HUOCOW

“Look, Jock,” I sighed, “We can’t kill a cow.”
“Can so,” he said, “Let me show you.”
Jock snapped his fingers and two stiff men marched in the room holding rusty chains that clung to a calf’s neck. The calf choked.
“Oh, dare Jock, you wouldn’t possibly do it to me, eh?” Leonardo shivered in fear.
“Yes I would,” smiled Jock evilly.
“Please!” sobbed Leonardo.
A guard threw a sharp axe to Jock.
“PLEASE!” I cried.

The men trudged through the muddy pools of water as rain drops dribbled on their helmets as mudslides shifted toward them. All of them were groaning, gripping their spears.
“Are we there yet?” asked a sloppy old man.
“No!” scowled Ilum, “Not yet.”
Ilum was 34, a prickly face of a growing moustache, and a bald head with small eyes coloured ebony.
“I - I’m sorry,” he muttered.
It was another Winters day searching for Huocow. Most men thought snowflakes were dropping, but that was a mirage. Half of them were dead. Ilum ran and ran as fast as he could, looking for that devastating cow. It had been two weeks now. Not one glimpse of Huocow.

Huocow glared through the shrieking timber doors out to the tiny ants coming for him. His massacre would begin in only minutes. After a few minutes of watching, Huocow got impatient. Then, the upper doors squirmed open eerily. In came Homey.
“AAAAAHHHH!” he cried, “Please, not me!”
And Homey leapt out of sight. Huocow suddenly heard faint voices behind the door. He glanced back, and slowly paced backwards. They were right outside. He hid in a cabinet, and the door smacked open loudly. Huocow heard Homey whisper inside the cave’s upper doors.
“Oh no! He’s coming back!”
Ilum went up the stairwell and opened the door, and noticed a frightened Homey. Homey was like 500 billion years old (by the looks of it). He had a seriously wrinkled face that looked like vivid markings, and it was completely pale from his worn out years. He had straight white hair and wore bright red boxers all day.
“Oh, a cow’s coming!”
“What cow?” cocked Ilum.
“Human cow!”
“He’s here!” yelled Ilum to his men, “Scan the area.”
“In my house?” said Homey grumpily, “I will not allow it.”
“Hey, Hands-On-Hips man,
I’m a cop, and I officially fine you of 300 credits from your abusive offense against a loyal leader,” scowled Ilum.
“No!” Homey sobbed.
The men continued to search the building. The old man who was an impatient walker went right next to Huocow’s cabinet and bumped his foot on it, but it wouldn’t go back.
“Moo!” screamed Huocow, jumping out.
He growled at the old man, who shivered his teeth.
“Please, I’ll help you.”
“Help him!!??!!!!?!?” It seemed as if Ilum’s echo had gone mad, “You would help him!??!!?!!?”
Ilum clacked his gun, pushed open the door, and pulled his trigger at the old man, but then gasped. He saw Huocow. Huocow ran straight into a stand that held up the whole cave, and it collapsed into rubble, flying with dust. The whole cave broke down, crunched, and a fire began, crackling orange. It started Huocow’s massacre. The cave was now only held up by the strong dirt, but then it fell in agony. The whole thing smashed violently onto the grass, the fire going deadly. Smoke peered out darkly and zig zagged through the air. Now, all was left was a hill of gravel sparkling on the ground, melting into the cold and frozen pools of mud, and it was gone.

Huocow huffed. He pushed with all his might to get out of this strong stone pushing him down. He lifted himself up, and crawled under the blanket of solidness. Then, he grabbed the grass, and climbed out. He would get revenge, but right now, he had slow breaths breathing in. . . and out. Homey, Ilum, and Ilum’s gang were most likely dead. Soon, the whole town would be dead. Crushed. Vengeance is what matter. Huocow licked his lips at the thought of that.

Monday, 28 April 2014

Huocow: Cow of Doom

This is my Huocow story! Enjoy!
                          Chapter 1
The Chasing Cow
Huocow trudged around the forest, the birds chirping, the echo of a waterfall swallowing down the peaceful pace of clear water. The trees were gnarly and old, but at least they gave him some fresh air, some shadow. Dappled light squirming in to leave a leaf of light across the wide landscape of trees. It was Huocow’s favourite place to stay, in the quiet lands where he could stroll around, predicting his future. His feet crackled on the leaves beneath his feet as he moved closer to the clearing. he had soft, brownish pale skin with dark black dots spotted across his body, and glowing orange eyes pinning around him in a perimeter of safety. On his back, he was stiff and sharp, like a hidden bad side of his identity. His mouth was massive, cold blue lips hiding in.
A Human and a Cow, he snorted to himself, Just what everyone needs.
Suddenly, his heart was lit up from a pink puffy skyline slowly drifting below the mountains, the last of starving and enslaved workers trotting back into their houses in the world below.
Wish I was one of them.
The king’s tower lay stretching and groaning high above the small and rotten houses, where the King, his royal name Jock, would triumphantly get his best man to roll up his hair, get his shower ready and make his bed. Huocow raged at the thought of it. No Human needed that. He twirled around, and realized how terrible the forest was; darkened, dense, a wave of dead flowers, and broken and snapped trees. He quickly turned the other way and shuffled down the slippery slide of bushes and vines skimming across the ground. He shoved through the gravel at top speed, and noticed the thump of rock sticking out from the mouldy floor of the mountain side.
“Moo,” he sighed.
Just as his foot clambered on the solid shell of rock, he lifted off into the sky, noticing that this was everyday life. A beautiful scene, a gruesome man. But suddenly, his stomach grumbled. Something was wrong. He was urged to a side, his stomach clutching onto the last drops of food that moved up to his throat, lacking against his side.
Oh no.
He was out of control. He was going too fast! He rumbled toward the bushes ahead, shut his eyes from the violence, and tumbled into the bushes scratching and scraping himself with red scars.
Just so inappropriate.
Then, his stomach bursted out that gooey, sticky and brownish milk that soured onto the plants with the most disgusting sound ever, and his swift body crashed into it, falling unconscious.

“Just a moment,” replied Leonardo Briffsul.
His cow moaned impatiently, stumbling across the eerie timber flooring of Leonardo’s farm house. The cow had stiff, muscly legs that cracked the floor every second. The room was shabby, mouldy floors, blue painting quickly stuck on the walls, and a bed unmade with its sheets scattered across the floor.
“Moo!” grunted the cow.
“Please, shut that chattering mouth!” he scowled.
The cow nodded with the clack of its neck. Leonardo loved cows. They softly mooed, they lay down, they had milk, and they just helped him in those hard times in life. Through the window, the sun hung high in the sky, blazing down like yellow fingers touching down on him
“Alright,” grinned Leonardo, “Like it?”
With no reply, Leonardo paced down the shadowy hallway and made it into the soft green grass with a MASSIVE steep hill, and over that, the busy town made their way to work. At first sight, Leonardo found himself glearing out into the waving branches of the forest.
“Well,” he muttered, “Time to set off.”
Leonardo was young, tall, and stiff with a soft face of paleness, frizzy brown hair of golden streaks, and staring iceberg blue eyes. He wore a ripped buttoned T - shirt with mud squished across it you couldn’t even see its original colour. He wore broken green sticky shoes and denim shorts. He took big leaps into the forest, skidding down the valley, and leaped across the fresh river of water, then made his way through the bamboo trees and bright white bushes. The birds tweeted at each other at the clear blue sky. But then, through the swaying grass, he noticed a groaning animal lying pitched on the ground. He pushed his hand through the harsh green grass, and noticed a brown cow lying half dead on the ground, a squirm of maroon blood pouring out.
“Oh, you poor thing,” sobs Leonardo.
The thing had furry brown spots with gooey limey blood that looked like ice cream spilling. He had a tinge of ginger in his white skin. Leonardo paced toward it, swiped beside the annoying harsh bushes, a slowly knelt beside the cow. Except, the cow’s four legs . . . were two. He had arms stiff that were straight out in a muddy pool of water. His eyes were sharp, just like a Human’s. Leonardo nearly stomped away, but he could never put down a cow. Not even if it was the most weirdest cow he’d ever seen on Earth. After he glared down at it in concern, he gazed up at the dappled light climbing in through the vines, noticing his son who had awoken.
“Dad?” he called, shaping his hands around his mouth in an echo, “What are you doing so early?”
“Son,” gulped Leonardo, “A cow.”
Leonardo had adopted this boy at the young age of 20, when he was 10. Although he wasn’t allowed, he had defiantly broke the rules and accused the orphanage of ‘not giving him a life’. Now, Leonardo was 26, with a son that was 16. His son groaned, and strolled back inside the house to pull out the usual: bandages, a rope, a knife, and a net. Minutes later, he returned, misplaced his foot, and tumbled through the mud and bushes, snapping twigs. Finally, he came down with a muddy face and twigs stuck up his nose and mouth. His Father laughed.
“You look stuck up,” he snorted like a pig, “With those stuck up twigs.”
His son growled, gritting his teeth, and nearly punched his Father, but sighed at the moment of echoing laughter and passed him the equipment, then he disappeared in the trees. Just as he left, the cow mooed softly.
“Oh,” smiled Leonardo, surprised, “Hi little fella.”
But then he scanned the whole cow like a robot, seeing his bigness.
“Or . . . big fella.”
Then, he turned his face, twitched his nose, and looked at Leonardo, pinning his eye on him.
“Uhh. . . . .”
Then, he jerked up, waved his legs in the air, and then leapt into the air on his stumps like a Human. He looked very triumphant, but then gruffly stared out Leonardo, and jumped toward him. A violent crash sent Leonardo flying in the cool air, and he smacked into some bushes, skimming his back.
“YOUCH!!!!” he screamed.
THe cow tromped up the hill toward him. Leonardo gazed up, and saw his only escape was climbing the whole way. Then he felt Huocow’s warm breath huff against him, and he knew if he looked one tinsy bit back - he would be dead. He sprinted up the hill, crackling his feet on the leaves, and shut his eyes, hoping to get up the hill and find the King. He felt like he was gonna die. And he didn’t want to. Finally, he shoved his legs up into the blazing sun and ran. As fast as he could. He used all of his strength, despite the excruciating pain of the stitch. He gripped his chest. He would fall soon. He took a swift jerk back, and noticed Huocow gaining on him, a massive body weight tumbling across the grass floor. Then, Leonardo felt his foot misplace ont a more slightly angled hill. He peered up, and noticed that he was getting closer. He had to stop. He was panting, slowly turning into a jog. He was broke. Then, in agony, his foot snapped up a log and it rolled down the green grass. Huocow leapt over it. Then he finally made it over to the beautiful scenery of a morning sky. He noticed some people clinging to a metal kite. The cliff dropped into a long river of dusty gravel, which you would not wanting fall into. He moved his direction toward the kite, and the locals were confused at seeing a Human Cow. They weren’t even worried about the kite as they let go just as Leonardo jumped onto it, flying through the air. He pulled himself up from the rapid wind, and banged his foot on the metal like a bell.
Bang!People from below gazed up at the sky, noticing the kite ripping through the wind. But even more interesting; a man was on it. Leonardo whirled through the air, gripping in the kite, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t drop. He knew he was. He climbed to the top of it, and jumped into the air, landing on his legs as they clunked onto the steel kite. He scanned the area, and noticed he was just living the cliff side. Up ahead, he saw the vast brick kingdom that stuck to the side of the steep hill where the king of the land, Jock IV, probably sat in his chair sipping a cup of dark coffee, admiring the view wearing his night gown and eating some pancakes. Leonardo’s kite zoomed through the sky, straight for the castle of rusty red brick. He got a glimpse of the king freezing in fear, dropping his coffee on his night gown, and screaming as he ran through the kingdom, crashing into his servant, tripping up, splatting into a banana . . and, I think that’s pretty good payback coincidence for now. But then I noticed I was only ten metres away from the glass wall.
You need to jump! I warned myself.
To be honest, I was pretty scared. I neared it . .  only centimetres . . . then. . .
I leapt into the air and pulled my hands up with all my might to the balcony floor, then, with my all my might, scraped my fingers onto the balcony walls, and threw myself over the wall, onto the balcony. A gruff and old man with a wrinkled face and curly grey hair, wearing a black and white tuxedo and bow tie, hands on hips.
“Excuse me, Leonardo,” he shook his head in disapproval, “What are you doing?”
“Everything,” I giggled.
He still growled.
“No sense of humor, I sighed, “What a shame.”
“I reckon you should be charged,” he suggested, “They’d give you a lot junk pay.”
“They wouldn’t dare meddle with me, the cow - man,” I told him.
He nearly punched him, but he realized he was 83 years old, so he turned around, and strolled away toward the King. I was left on the balcony, but then I yelled, “Wait!”
He halted, but didn’t turn around. We were in silence for a moment until I said, “A Human cow has come rummaging in our woods, and . .”
“What?” cocked the servant butler.
“He’s a predator.”
“Predator?” gasped the butler in belief, but then he silently giggled, “What a lie.”
“SERVY!” echoed Jock from inside the castle walls, “GET ME A NEW GOWN!!!”
“Why?” spoke the butler.
“You don’t wanna know. Now - GET TO IT!” he demanded.
The butler sighed, but the way he glared at me told me that he was going to tell Jock. I stayed there, waiting.

Night had fallen. I was in my shadowy room in the King’s castle with a whispering candle by my side, twitching through the wind. I shoved the duvet over my face and nearly fell asleep. But I was haunted. Was my son alright? I couldn’t stand it. I pushed off the covers ruthlessly and stared out through the glass wall, seeing the amazing scene of my town. I then glanced at the ripped kite next to me. I was tempted to fly back, but I couldn’t. I was so warm in my bed. Through my thinking, I drifted off.

“Ywa!” I groaned, hearing the cheerful tweets of the birds.
I pulled off my covers and picked up the clothes next to me on the desk. They were sparkling. I put them on in my warm bed, and then the butler came only, smiling, and holding a timber tray of porridge and pancakes.
“Oh, thank you,” I pleaded.
“You’re welcome,” He bowed, handing it to me, then walking off.
I ate it in no time. I was super hungry. Eventually, I hopped out of bed, down the carpet corridor, and saw the balcony. Except the King was there with his royal guards and the butler, shouting down at someone. I poked my head out, and saw all the ants crowding around his castle.
“A cow has come,” he shouted, “To kill us.”
I heard some snorts from the crowd.
“He is a Human Cow, whom I liked to call Huocow,” he explained.
Jock had a pale face, flat brown hair, and a gown of curly cotton blue strings with a glinting golden crown with diamonds poking out the top, bounding out their crystal blue.
“And what can he do to us?” shouted a resident.
“He can kill us,” Jock gazed at me, “Come here, Leonardo Briffsul.”
I nervously strolled onto the deck, and the crowd gasped.
He saw it. Cowman,” exclaimed Jock, “And we will fight back!”
Jock triumphantly clenched his fist and threw it in the air, roaring proudly. Everyone copied him, jumping in the air.
And it was all about vengeance.

Thursday, 24 April 2014

April Fool's Prank Poem

I know April fools day is way past but I just wrote this poem :)

"I'm really REALLY sick," I say. "I CANNOT go to school."
"Alright." my mum agrees. Little did she know that it's april fools.
I ran into my sister's room to tell her what I did.
She said "Are you crazy in the head?! Go tuck yourself back into bed."
I clutched my stomach tightly, and tiptoed down the hall. When I got to my room, I collapsed against the wall. I regained and got back into bed, and then my mum came in and said;
"April fools! I know you're not sick. You're going to school instead."

By Sophie :)

Saturday, 19 April 2014

HAPPY HOLIDAYS- Homework reminder


Hey guys! (I've put this post on the homework page too) I hope you have a super holiday. As you know there was no homework sheet for the holidays- instead you have the opportunity to work on the following things

1. Measurement Revision Work- our measurement post-test will be in the first week or two of term two so use this opportunity to study so that you can get the best mark possible.

You could even have mum, dad or your older siblings come up with some extra practice questions for you too. Remember you all have access to the circle powerpoint too if you want to practice working with circles.

2. Short Story Competition- as I mentioned on Thursday everyone is going to be submitting a story for this... you're all fantastic writers and this is a great cause. We will conduct author circles and do the outside edits etc when we get back to school but take this opportunity to construct a story you are really proud of.

Remember it has to be 600 words or less.

3. Mathletics- there's always work to be done there (and what a great way to earn some extra $$ before our auction next term!)

By The Way... Don't worry I've got LOTS of homework too! I have two big assignments for uni due when we're away at camp so I need to get them finished super early so that I'm free to make your camp the best camp ever! I'll be spending my holidays doing HEAPS of homework! 

Thursday, 17 April 2014

Knock Knock, Whos there, please, Please Who? Please read my story

Knock Knock, Who's there, Kanga, Kanga Who? Kangaroo
Knock Knock, Who's there, Cow, Cow Who? Cows go moo not who
Knock Knock, Who's there, A herd, A herd who? A herd you were home so I came over
"Hey, Rhys we're did you get that funny Knock Knock Joke book?" Cooper asked.
"The school book fair why?"
"Because I want to get it it's awesome!"

So Cooper went to the library to buy the awesome book Rhys has. When Cooper got to the library the librarian Dalton said that he had just sold the last book to Jim. Cooper stomped out of the library, slammed the door and stomped back to his class.

The next day it was Cooper's birthday so all his friends came over but right before the cake the doorbell  rang.  It was Jim he was carrying a present he said that Cooper will like it. Jim rushed into the bushes. Cooper opened it and you wouldn't believe it it was the funny joke book. That's all Cooper really wanted and he got it!