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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 02/01/2018
The Secret
Born 1940, M, from Portsmouth, United KingdomSix-year-old Bobby Brown awoke one Friday morning before it was properly light and long before school started. He looked across the room. Jill his twin sister was still fast asleep. Why he awoke so early he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the scratching sound coming from outside in the garden. As Bobby’s bed was by the window. He scrambled out of his duvet and pulled his blinds open just far enough not to let the light wake Jill. he then quietly opened the window. Now if the noise started again, he mused, he would hear it better. He now had a complete view of the garden below but could see nothing moving. So what had made that noise? A cat in a metal dustbin maybe? good guess but there was no cat and no metal dustbin.
The noise that awoke him was kind of a tinny scratchy...wait! There it was again, but there was nothing down there in the garden that was capable of making that kind of sound...except a rusty old wheelbarrow that his dad sometimes used. His dad had left it upturned on a compost heap In the corner of the garden. Bobby stared at it, almost willing it to make that scratchy noise again. Could that be where the sound had come from? The morning was getting lighter but it was still very early and Jill and his parents were still asleep. Bobby waited hoping to hear the scratching sound again but after several minutes he became bored and was just about to climb back under the bed covers when suddenly he saw the wheelbarrow ever so slightly move.
Quickly he donned his dressing gown and quiet as a mouse he crept down stairs unlocked the back door and crept to the end of the garden to the compost heap. He was about to lift the barrow, but a thought made him falter. It could be a rat, he’d heard his dad talk about rats and compost. Then he heard a quiet voice, but from where—he wasn’t sure although it seemed to come from beneath the upturned barrow, then a voice said,
“Oh well at least, its still dark.” Bobby turned and looked about him. Where did the voice come from? Could it have been Desmond, his school chum who lived next door? maybe Desmond was playing a trick on him. It wouldn’t be the first time, Bobby mused. Creeping up to the fence, Bobby peered through a knot hole. No one was there, of course not, Bobby thought, it was far to early. Even Desmond doesn’t get up this early. then he heard it again, scratch scratch sctratch. The sound was much louder this time and it definitely came from the upturned wheelbarrow on the compost heap. Gingerly Bobby took hold of the barrow’s handles and using all his strength he flipped the barrow over and quickly retreated with visions of something inhuman leaping at him.
It didn’t happen, but there was something and that something was sniffing and pawing away at the top of the compost.
“Did you speak.” Bobby said to the little creature, then realised how daft he sounded. Everyone knew creatures couldn’t talk, but this one had stopped sniffing and appeared to look about as if searching for whoever had spoken.
“Who said that and who switched the light on?” the little creature said. Bobby was astounded. This funny looking creature with huge hands was actually talking. This undermined all that he’d been told: that only humans could talk.
“It was me, Bobby said, I turned the light on—sort of.”
“Well you had no sort of right to—Especially when I’m not wearing my sun glasses. Who are you and what are you? Your not one of those pesky little mice are you?”
“Don’t be silly, can you not see how big I am?”
“No, I cant see anything, would you like a worm.”
“No thank you,” said Bobby, screwing up his face at the thought of eating a worm.
“I think I will.” With that the furry creature popped a big fat worm in its snout-like mouth. and made a horrible slurping sound before swallowing it.
“So what are you,” asked Bobby, “you’re not a rat I hope?”
“How should I know, I cant see.”
“But you must know what kind of creature you are?”
“Nope, no one has ever told me. I asked my friend the Tortoise. He lives underneath this mountain that I’ve just conquered but he has stopped talking to me. He just sleeps all the time.”
“Oh that’s Timmy. He’s our Tortoise. My dad said he’s gone into hibernation.”
“No,” said the creature. He’s definitely gone to sleep and he’s under this mountain Would you like a slug?”
“No thank you,” said Bobby screwing up his face again, “Hmm, think I will.” said the creature popping not only the slug in its snout, but also the lettuce-leaf the slug was devouring.
“I think you might be a Mole.” said Tommy. “I’ve heard that moles like worms.”
“That’s what Tommy Toad said. Well that settles it then, I’m a lovely Mole. And what are you?”
“I’m a boy.”
“And how many legs has a boy got.” said the Mole
“ Two, of course.”
“Don’t be silly, only humans have two legs.”
“But that is what I am, a human boy.”
“What! Oh no, I’m in big trouble. I better go”
“Why? what have you done?”
“I’ve broken the sacred rule. I’ve let a human know that moles can talk, Oh dear – oh dear- oh dear. ” The tiny creature kept repeating the words while it burrowed so furiously that the wet compost splattered Bobby’s face forcing him to close his eyes. Bobby kept them closed tight until the wet compost stopped splattering him, but when he opened his eyes again his sister, Jill, was standing beside his bed, grinning at him. In one hand, she held a glass of water, while the fingers of her other hand were dripping wet. Come on sleepy head, we’re going to be late for school.
The Secret(Barry Doughty)
Six-year-old Bobby Brown awoke one Friday morning before it was properly light and long before school started. He looked across the room. Jill his twin sister was still fast asleep. Why he awoke so early he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the scratching sound coming from outside in the garden. As Bobby’s bed was by the window. He scrambled out of his duvet and pulled his blinds open just far enough not to let the light wake Jill. he then quietly opened the window. Now if the noise started again, he mused, he would hear it better. He now had a complete view of the garden below but could see nothing moving. So what had made that noise? A cat in a metal dustbin maybe? good guess but there was no cat and no metal dustbin.
The noise that awoke him was kind of a tinny scratchy...wait! There it was again, but there was nothing down there in the garden that was capable of making that kind of sound...except a rusty old wheelbarrow that his dad sometimes used. His dad had left it upturned on a compost heap In the corner of the garden. Bobby stared at it, almost willing it to make that scratchy noise again. Could that be where the sound had come from? The morning was getting lighter but it was still very early and Jill and his parents were still asleep. Bobby waited hoping to hear the scratching sound again but after several minutes he became bored and was just about to climb back under the bed covers when suddenly he saw the wheelbarrow ever so slightly move.
Quickly he donned his dressing gown and quiet as a mouse he crept down stairs unlocked the back door and crept to the end of the garden to the compost heap. He was about to lift the barrow, but a thought made him falter. It could be a rat, he’d heard his dad talk about rats and compost. Then he heard a quiet voice, but from where—he wasn’t sure although it seemed to come from beneath the upturned barrow, then a voice said,
“Oh well at least, its still dark.” Bobby turned and looked about him. Where did the voice come from? Could it have been Desmond, his school chum who lived next door? maybe Desmond was playing a trick on him. It wouldn’t be the first time, Bobby mused. Creeping up to the fence, Bobby peered through a knot hole. No one was there, of course not, Bobby thought, it was far to early. Even Desmond doesn’t get up this early. then he heard it again, scratch scratch sctratch. The sound was much louder this time and it definitely came from the upturned wheelbarrow on the compost heap. Gingerly Bobby took hold of the barrow’s handles and using all his strength he flipped the barrow over and quickly retreated with visions of something inhuman leaping at him.
It didn’t happen, but there was something and that something was sniffing and pawing away at the top of the compost.
“Did you speak.” Bobby said to the little creature, then realised how daft he sounded. Everyone knew creatures couldn’t talk, but this one had stopped sniffing and appeared to look about as if searching for whoever had spoken.
“Who said that and who switched the light on?” the little creature said. Bobby was astounded. This funny looking creature with huge hands was actually talking. This undermined all that he’d been told: that only humans could talk.
“It was me, Bobby said, I turned the light on—sort of.”
“Well you had no sort of right to—Especially when I’m not wearing my sun glasses. Who are you and what are you? Your not one of those pesky little mice are you?”
“Don’t be silly, can you not see how big I am?”
“No, I cant see anything, would you like a worm.”
“No thank you,” said Bobby, screwing up his face at the thought of eating a worm.
“I think I will.” With that the furry creature popped a big fat worm in its snout-like mouth. and made a horrible slurping sound before swallowing it.
“So what are you,” asked Bobby, “you’re not a rat I hope?”
“How should I know, I cant see.”
“But you must know what kind of creature you are?”
“Nope, no one has ever told me. I asked my friend the Tortoise. He lives underneath this mountain that I’ve just conquered but he has stopped talking to me. He just sleeps all the time.”
“Oh that’s Timmy. He’s our Tortoise. My dad said he’s gone into hibernation.”
“No,” said the creature. He’s definitely gone to sleep and he’s under this mountain Would you like a slug?”
“No thank you,” said Bobby screwing up his face again, “Hmm, think I will.” said the creature popping not only the slug in its snout, but also the lettuce-leaf the slug was devouring.
“I think you might be a Mole.” said Tommy. “I’ve heard that moles like worms.”
“That’s what Tommy Toad said. Well that settles it then, I’m a lovely Mole. And what are you?”
“I’m a boy.”
“And how many legs has a boy got.” said the Mole
“ Two, of course.”
“Don’t be silly, only humans have two legs.”
“But that is what I am, a human boy.”
“What! Oh no, I’m in big trouble. I better go”
“Why? what have you done?”
“I’ve broken the sacred rule. I’ve let a human know that moles can talk, Oh dear – oh dear- oh dear. ” The tiny creature kept repeating the words while it burrowed so furiously that the wet compost splattered Bobby’s face forcing him to close his eyes. Bobby kept them closed tight until the wet compost stopped splattering him, but when he opened his eyes again his sister, Jill, was standing beside his bed, grinning at him. In one hand, she held a glass of water, while the fingers of her other hand were dripping wet. Come on sleepy head, we’re going to be late for school.
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