Josh Harris 2019
The other day we found a dog in our backyard. He was lying on his side and seemed to be quite ill. I had always wanted a dog and this seemed too good to be true. I asked my parents if I could keep it. But they seemed unsure. They checked the dog for a nametag, but he didn’t have one. After my parents had discussed that matter for what my racing brain thought to be an eternity, they came to a decision. They decided we could look after the dog until we found its owner. We bought a mountain of dog food, and after a week, the dog was beginning to look better. My parents hadn’t had any luck finding his owner, and I began to hope they never would. That night my parents decided to name the dog. After a long discussion, they announced that his name would be mistake. Probably because of the mistake they made by taking him in. After that it seemed official, mistake would be our dog. Every day I took him out for walks and played with him. But nobody was prepared for what happened next. One night when we were eating dinner, he let out a whine, tilted his head to one side, as if to say thankyou and climbed up onto the windowsill. As we watched him, wings sprouted out of his back. He let out one final bark, jumped out the window, and flew away. We knew deep down that we would never see him again. But we always remembered the happiness he brought to our family and the shocked expressions on our faces when he flew away.
Usually when I wake up, I stagger into the shower and spend half the morning in a warm heaven. Today I felt like something different. It was a Monday morning, in a couple hours I would be doing annoying schoolwork and having my brain die from overworking and boredom. I was up half an hour earlier than I normally would because today I didn’t feel like sleeping in. I put on my clothes and triumphantly marched out the front door. I walked down the long, winding hill from my house. I finally found my destination. The research bakery. The smell of newly baked cakes drifted through the window. Now for what I came for. The research bakery is the best bakery in research for one reason only. The custard tarts. After I had bought one, I walked back home. By the time I got to my driveway, I had eaten the whole thing. Now I had to get ready for school. I was halfway up the driveway when I realised the house wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Instead, there was a large, empty hole. I walked up to the edge and examined the crater left by the house. Then I saw a large shape in the distance. It was my house. It appeared to have two long tree-like legs sprouting out of its base. As I watched, it began to walk towards me. It continued to walk until it came to the crater. It stopped and looked at me. Suddenly it lifted up it’s leg and stepped into the house shaped hole. It yawned and lowered itself in. It became completely still, like it was sleeping. I was nervous about going back inside the house. What would happen if it suddenly started walking again? But somehow I knew it wouldn’t. I walked inside to see that everyone was still asleep. I walked into my bedroom at the exact time my alarm clock started ringing. Time for school.
In my house, we usually don’t get much mail. We get the odd bill or letter, but we don’t expect more than three a week. It was very exciting when we received a large package on our doorstep. It was tall, and the shape and size of a person. We looked all over it, trying to find the name of the person who had sent it. But after a long search we concluded that the sender was anonymous. There was only one thing left to do; open the box. Mum walked up to the box with a Stanley knife in her hand. She made a fine cut down the middle of the box and stepped back. None of us were expecting what happened next. The box flew open and a man stepped out. My childhood nightmares had come true; he was a clown. He laughed and goofily walked away. Then another clown walked out. One after the other clowns walked out of the box. Surely the box couldn’t have fit all of them in it. By the end of the day there were over one hundred clowns. They were chilling at the local park. They drank beer and smoked cigarettes. They even spayed graffiti all over the play equipment. As a last resort we had an emergency meeting with the rest of our street. The people on our street don’t usually get along. That’s an understatement. We hate each other. As a group we decided they must go. Together we marched down to the park. After having a very long argument with the clowns they agreed to leave. They each lifted up a balloon and without looking back they drifted off into the distance. All of our neighbours smiled at each other. We were all finally a team. And with that thought still racing through our brains we went home.