Today’s ‘Five Things To Make Your Day’, my new wellbeing campaign.

1. I live to love and I love to live
2. Mothers are like buttons, they hold things together
3. A Father is a son’s first hero and a daughter’s first love
4. When you’re alone, you don’t have to be lonely
5. Family is like a tower of rocks. If you pull out the bottom one, the others fall down

My blog: My life of Environment, books and everything in between

Hey guys! I’m so glad to be back! I’m feeling a bit guilty that I haven’t posted for months, so I decided a new very special blog post today.
I’ve heard of the BBC 500 words contest, where every year children can upload short stories with up to 500 words. I think there’s one this year, so I’ve written a short story for it.
I have written it here. Please feel free to comment if you see it has more than 500 words, if you see any spelling mistakes, or if you just like it! Hope you like it Xx
PS this is not a true story

I curl up on the abandoned bench under the weeping willow after school. It’s the perfect hiding place to express my feelings without bullies or nosy people bothering me. My insides feel crushed and I just want to stay on the bench forever. Nothing had gone right.
“Hello?” she calls. I look up, suddenly aware of my puffy, red eyes and tear-stained face. I wipe my runny nose on the back of my hand and sit up.
I’ve never seen her before. I’m not even sure she goes to this school, but she’s wearing the same red uniform as me. Her hair is long, blonde and silky, as if she just washed it. Her eyes are sky blue. She smiles at me with her pink lips and crystal teeth, and I see kind dimples in her rosy cheeks. “Hi,” I mumble. She sits down next to me. “What’s your name?” she asks. I think she’s a new girl, trying to make friends, so I have to be friendly. But it’s hard, with all these thoughts jumbling up my brain. It’s like my skull is a blender, mashing all the bad thoughts with the good ones until it’s all just horrible.
“I’m Amelie,” I sigh. She takes this as an offer to sit down, and she does. “What’s yours?” I try to be polite. “It’s not my name that matters, but what I’m here for,”. Okay…we’re silent for a little while. “Amelie, what are you here for?” She asks it as if it’s not the most random question ever. “Um…do you mean school? Er, to learn and to ‘have fun’,” I make rabbit ears with my fingers. “Only that’s not going so well,”.
“I see,” she nods as if she understands the whole of my worries and thoughts. She doesn’t. She can’t. No one can.
“Well, I’m here for you,” she says. I jump up. “No you’re not! I’m fine, I don’t need help. And that’s a lie, because everyone’s here for themselves. Not anyone else,” I shake my head vigorously. She looks up at me, or perhaps past me, into the dangling, drooping leaves of the weeping willow. “Oh really?” she says after a while, “Follow me,”. She links arms with me like we’re BFFs and we walk a few steps over to the beautiful creek that the willow hides from the naked eye. I don’t even think the headmaster knows about it, since he’d have put up WARNING signs. I notice she gives off a strange warmth, not body warmth, but more of a tingling sensation. Like hope. Like friendship. Like love.
A grand, elegant swan floats calmly into view. It’s so perfect, like the opposite of me. “How, if I have a brain ten times bigger than hers, can she be so much more perfect than me?” I ask. It feels like she knows the answer. “Let me show you,”.
She takes my hand and, calm as anything, steps onto the water. I half imagined us the stay standing on the surface, but we plunge down fast. I never realised how deep it was, and soon I touch the bottom with my black school shoes. My short, ginger hair flies around me and my black-rimmed glasses come of. I hold my breath so hard and wait to bob back to the surface. I never do.
She taps my shoulder quickly. I am so shocked I open my eyes and open my mouth. I wait to start drowning-maybe this girl is an apprentice murderer, used to lure me in?-but never do. I can breathe. Underwater! “Ha! Ha ha! This is amazing!” I shout, running along the riverbed. She grins and points up to the surface, where the swan is. I see the legs, kicking and thrashing, and nod in understanding. It might look perfect, but the kicking and thrashing goes on on the inside.
A few seconds later we’re on the riverbank. We’re completely dry, like it never happened. But it did happen…I look at her in confusion. “What? What just happened? Huh…who are you? Because I know you must be someone, even if you won’t tell me who!” I yell, but not angrily. More…confused. She looks past my glasses, past my green eyes, past my bones and muscles and organs…into my soul.
She stays silent for a moment as we watch a bundle of signets cuddle up to the mother swan. “Look. She’s only here for them. That’s her purpose,” I point out. I look back at her and she takes her eyes off of my soul for a moment. She looks and she listens. “You said your purpose is me. How?” I question. She takes my hand and takes a deep breath. “Amelie. Things are going on for you that other people don’t take seriously. They think they’re just little things. Friendship issues, being left alone, being shouted at by teachers…but inside you, they’re scrunching you up,”. I listen hard. She knows, I know, no one else knows. “Well, the swan is here for her signets. I am your swan. I’m your positive thoughts. I’m here to help you. And when you’re done with thought friends and imaginary friends like me-I’m not saying I’m imaginary, I’m just saying-remember, reach out to your real friends. Because your friends and family are her to help you, to care for you and to love you,” she explains. Tears well up in my eyes and we embrace.
I check my watch. “Half 4! I need to get home!” We race out from the weeping willow and speed down the path, nipping around sharp corners and leaping over roads. I only catch my breath when I get to the familiar blue door. I knock, knock, knock and both of my parents stand there. I throw my arms around them, squeezing them tight. A little taken aback, they hug me. “Mum, Dad, I love you,” I smile. They’re 100% happy.
(Okay, I admit, the ‘I-love-you’ from their too-cool 14-year-old daughter made them a bit shocked, but only 5%!)
“Hey, come meet my new friend…” I gesture behind me. But when we look, she’s gone.

Hello everyone!
I am pleased to announce I am back, but I also have sad news.
I am no longer in the Old Poetry and Rap Society, due to my busy life (read my blog to find out just how busy!).
This also means there is a spare space in the society. I am pretty sure the manager of the society, brilliant rapper Director Birthday-Cake Pudding-Basin, will write a message about the spare space. If not, you can consult DBCPB in the comments or in your own post.
I hope you’re all well. I missed you all!
EMCC

A coals dream
By Director Birthday Cake Pudding Basin

I dreamed I could see the endless darkness
Like a wooden blanket wrapping me within
I dreamed I could feel a miners axe
Like a gnat picking my skin

I dreamed I heard the rumble
The growl of the miners creaky cart
I dreamed I felt the love of my brothers
And a spark of fire lit my heart

I dreamed I was carried through market
And taken home to spark a fierce fire
I dreamed it was heat for a loving family
And then all was quiet

Then I was back in the dark
An endless black was all I could see
All I am is a piece of coal
That has dreamed a coals dream