By Natalie Rouse (an English
Chapter One: Telling
Jack Wilson looked up at his
daughter as she slipped in quietly through the front door. Poppy
Wilson was a 15 year old girl with a very beautiful face and long
flowing dirty blonde hair, which she had in a messy bun, with
loose hair sticky out. All of this complimented her angelic smile
"Hi darling" He said to her, before
looking back down at the crossword that was held in his
"Hey Dad" She replied, pulling a
huge grin across her face, which he returned. His good thoughts
came crashing down as he remembered what he had to tell her. He
hoped she didn't take it too badly; after all, it was terrible
"Um, honey. I've got something I
need to tell you, but please, please try and stay calm." He spoke
the words through his teeth.
"Dad" She said, looking innocently
curious. "Is there something wrong?" Her eyes became wide with
panic, as he looked down at his shoes. This hurt them both to
"Well" He paused trying to of how it
would be best say it. "A few nights ago," he breathed out slowly,
"Your grandmother died." He looked down at his feet, as sadness
"Do you know how she died," she
asked breathing quickly. "Was it old age?" She gazed worriedly
into my eyes and I knew that I couldn't lie to her.
"No love," he took a very deep
breath. "She was murdered." He regretted what he had said, as
soon as the words left his lips. His daughter was now running
quickly up the stairs and he couldn't find it in himself to stop
A little while later, Jack pulled
himself up out of his chair, and climbed the stairs.His legs were
stiff from sitting for so long and eyes were sore from crying, as
he was sure his daughter was.
When he reached the top of the
stairs, he could hear a faint and muffled sobbing, that was
coming from Poppy's room.
He wished that he had never told
her. She could be happy and not facing what was to come, but then
there would be questions, why weren't they visiting gran anymore,
why weren't they receiving her gifts through the post every week
and why, was she not calling. It had defiantly been better to say
Knocking on the pink wooden door
lightly, he waited for her reply.
He waited through another minute of
silent sobbing and asked in a pleading voice. "Can I come in
Poppy," he leant towards the door as he said it.
"Mmmm," groaned the girl inside the
room. "Just a minute" She spoke slowly, dragging each word. He
waited for a bit, listening intently, but all he could hear was
the ratting and shaking of plastic bags as they were being moved
around the room. What was she doing, he wondered, but decided
that she was probably just tidying up a bit.
"Are you ready, love" He asked
softly, placing his hand on the door handle.
"Sure," she replied. I heard her sit
down on her bed, the springs were very creaky.
He twisted the handle and let the
door swing forward. He stared at Poppy and gasped.