Saturday, 30 April 2011


The week is finally here! On Monday my family and I will be driving down to Edinburgh and receiving my certificate, after which I'll be going up to Inverness with my fellow prize winners! I can't wait! :D
This week has been really hectic. I was in the papers and now everyone seems to recognize me :) I'll also been busy with packing and shopping etc.. I got 2 new books today and lovely jacket from New Look. All this coupled with the Royal Wedding has made this week one of the most exciting in the year!
I've also held my promise, if anyone was wondering. I wrote a new story, the first one I have ever written especially for my blog! It's quite long, and I've tried to make it happier than my previous ones. Please give me feedback! Comments would be greatly appreciated :D                                          

Matt's Painting

A kaleidoscope of colourful spirals and swirls streamed onto the canvas. Blue, pink, gold, orange, mauve, turquoise – they were all there, in a wonderful array of shapes and shades. The harsh contrast of the bright green against the blaring white of the background stung Matt’s eyes as he peered at it thoughtfully, but he didn’t care. This was his creation, his masterpiece. Slowly he picked up his matted paintbrush and dipped it into red paint. He pressed it onto the canvas and closing his eyes, moved it gently around. Matt often painted like this. He gave his eyes a rest and let his hands feel the colours and see the swirls and shapes. A minute or so later, he opened his eyes and, smiling, lay down his paintbrush. He would continue painting later. He smiled again and walked out of his room, the colour and swirls still imprinted in his mind, like an everlasting memory.

Matt made his way downstairs, meticulously avoiding the piles of dust and dirty washing. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he peered cautiously into the living room. His dad lay slumped on the couch, snoring, while a reality programme flashed on screen. His mum was in bed. Sighing, Matt turned and walked into the kitchen. A blue, fuzzy mould hid behind the fridge, poking its ugly head out onto the worktop. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink and the table was covered in a mass of washing. Matt walked over to the table and plunged his hands into the clothes, feeling for his laptop. He pulled it out and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, careful not to drop it. After placing his laptop on the small desk in his room and pressing the power button, Matt slumped down onto his bed. 

Matt hated his parents. They were lazy slobs and often depended on him to do the washing and cleaning, not that he ever did. His dad was an alcoholic and his mum was a cashier in Tesco. That’s why they were in this dump called Ledeford estate. Matt often dreamed about moving away. He was turning 16 next week. He would buy a flat filled with easels and paint. He could sell his paintings to pay for it. It was a lovely dream, but Matt knew that was all it was – a dream he could never fufill.

After a while Matt rubbed his eyes and then suddenly sat upright.  His chocolate brown eyes surveyed the room carefully, waiting for the inspiration that would spark his latest painting. Nothing.  Grumbling, Matt stood up and walked over to his laptop, which gave an impatient beep. Sitting down, he typed in his password and relaxed, letting tiredness sweep over him. It was only 2:36pm on a Saturday but Matt was exhausted. His laptop gave another beep and sighing quietly, he pressed a button, waiting for it to take him to the Google homepage where great inspiration would be easier to find.

The page opened at a search engine. Matt automatically clicked the Facebook button near the top of the page. He regretted it a moment later. A swarm of comments and messages were left on his page. Hurriedly, he clicked the back button.  Matt closed his eyes and sighed with relief. He knew who left the comments and messages. Daniel. He was the school bully and liked nothing better than to torment people. This was the reason Matt never went to school anymore. He hated the lessons anyway. Matt opened his eyes.  He clicked on the email button at the top of the screen, which was flashing a bright red, and waited. His laptop was slow. It was an old dell that was unreliable and battered. Matt had been told they had bought it brand new for his birthday, but he knew better.  Finally, the page loaded. Matt leaned in closer to the screen and he quickly scanned his emails. Most were spam or silly messages from Paul, but one had a formal ring to it. Matt opened it up. His eyes quickly scanned the words;

Dear Matthew Roberts,
                                        We are pleased to inform you that you have one the Junior Threadhough Painting Prize! Your prize is £50,000. On the 8th May your prize will be given to you by Lady Hough who sponsors the prizes. We have contacted the local press. Once again congratulations! We will send you a letter with more details soon.
Yours sincerely
Linda Davidson

Matt stumbled backwards off his chair in shock. This had to be a joke...he had never won anything in his life! He was terrible at sports and rubbish at drama. Even his paintings weren’t that good. Quickly, Matt sat down and scanned the page for a tell-tale sign – a fake email address, a spelling mistake, something that would tell him the email was spam or one of Paul’s jokes. There was nothing. He slumped in his chair, his arms hanging down the sides and his mouth comically open in an ‘o’ shape. He tried to recall the painting he had sent in. It was called “Sunset” he remembered. It had been simple – a line of turquoise, then a line of orangey-red and finally a semi-circle of yellow against a black background.  Matt stood up and ambled over to his easel, his mouth still open. He stared at the painting. He couldn't believe he had won.

Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. He had £50,000 now! That was more than enough to buy a new easel and paints. It might even be enough to rent a flat! Matt ran back to his laptop and typed into Google flats for rent. What seemed like an hour later, the results appeared on the screen. He grabbed the mouse and scrolled through the websites. While they were loading, Matt had done the maths. The rent, he had decided, should be no more than £200. That way he could buy an easel and paints as well as paying the bills for over a year.  A minute later he found a suitable flat. It had a one bedroom and was in a new complex of flats about a mile away from Sheffield. Quickly, Matt scribbled down the web address and turned off his laptop. Smiling, he ambled over to his easel and picked up his paintbrush. He dipped it into the paint and in one motion drew a yellow ring at the side of the canvas. Matt grinned. Things were finally looking up.

That's it! Please tell me if you liked better or worse than my usual, depressing stories :) I could really use your feedback! 
I'll see you next week and when I come back I'll make sure I post all my pics for you to see :D

Thursday, 21 April 2011

I'm a Celebrity.......TeeHee :D

Hi! I got interviewed for the local newspaper yesterday! It was great but I was very nervous beforehand. The interview itself was really good fun but the photo-shoot later was terrible! For those who don't know, I always look awful in pictures, and this was no exception. If you want to see the article, please click on this link -
In other news, I finally had an idea for a story! After weeks of delving into my brain for ideas, inspiration struck a couple of days ago. :D There's only one problem...I need a name for my main character! He is a very artistic 13-year-old boy, so if any of you have ideas, please tell me!
I hope you enjoyed the article and the blog and I promise I'll have a story up this time next week :)
Goodbye for now and remember to comment and share the article :D

Thursday, 7 April 2011

Leaving Storyville :(

Hi! Bit of a different post today - no story :( Sorry, but I've had a really busy week so I didn't have time to write anything.
On the upside, Pushkin sent me a letter today explaining what was going to happen on May 2nd. My family and I have to go to Edinburgh to get my prize and then I'm spending a week in Inverness with the other Pushkin winners! I can't wait! :D
Pushkin also sent me a letter asking me about myself. I really don't know how to answer some of the questions! One of the hardest questions is "What 4 books can you not throw away?" In other words what are your favourite books? I can't answer this - to much choice! What books would you choose? Comment below!
I'm going away to my gran's next week so, unfortunately, I'm going to neglect this blog :(  But I'll have some good stories when I come back!
So goodbye for now and remember to comment!

Saturday, 2 April 2011

Dorothy - Part 2

Sorry I didn't post this earlier! I've had a really busy week. I hope you can forgive me :P
I'm getting a bit annoyed now. Pushkin still haven't sent me a letter back! It's been two weeks! >:(

Dorothy - Part 2

Dorothy blinked and she was suddenly in the world of the present. She looked hurriedly around her. She was in the kitchen. Why, she didn’t know. She sighed and sat slowly down on a chair. She remembered how those few tests had turned into a diagnosis and the diagnosis into a nightmare. She sighed again and hauled herself off the chair, before stumbling into the living room.
 The mantelpiece was littered with pictures of her late husband, Tommy. His face shone like a beacon of hope from the pictures and in despair she turned to them for help.
 Tommy had been at home when she got the diagnosis. She vaguely remembered the shock on his face when she told him. It was devastating watching his old, wrinkled face crumple with pain and sadness. He recovered quickly, though, and he soon became her guardian angel, always there to care for her.
 He had died a year ago, of natural causes. Since his death, Dorothy had seen no point in living and her sadness ate away at the only memories she had left. In her lucid moments, she realised she was becoming an empty shell and it terrified her.  She needed someone to care for her. She needed to be back with Tommy. Wheeling around, she made her way back into the kitchen, before suddenly grabbing a knife and heading for the bathroom.
Halfway along the short hall in her house, Dorothy forgot where she was going. She looked around wildly and noticed the shining knife in her hand. She dropped it, watching it fall, as if in slow motion.
 She heard a small crack and a fountain of blood sprung from the arch of her foot, spraying blood all over the carpet and the walls. She yelped in pain and hopped madly on one foot, losing her balance and crashing to the floor. She heard her fragile hip crack. The pain was unbearable.
 She crawled slowly, whimpering in pain, into the living room, leaving a trail of bright blood on the carpet.  She reached up, pulling on the phone cord, sending the handset crashing to the ground. She picked up the phone and looked at it dumbly, until she saw the list of numbers sellotaped onto the side of the phone. She picked out the one word she recognized from the blurred jumble – Ambulance. Slowly, she dialled the number, wincing in pain.
 “Which service, please?”
“Hello, which service please?”
 Dorothy, unable to answer, felt her eyes blur and slowly, everything went black.