Original Writing
I come from Arkholme, no one admits that, I will. The two roads
through our village are our only escape routes, plus the river and the
railway. We have a pub, run by a bully, a shop, run by gossips and a
garage with no cars in it. It’s like a badly written soap opera.
There’s a playing field with one football net, but no pitch or ball.
The primary school is the best bit of our village, the youths all hang
out there, all five of us. Everybody in our village knows everybody
else’s business. If someone has a row with their husband its around
the village in two days flat.
The shop is the centre of the village the people that run it have
tried retiring three times but failed because no one else wants to run
the shop and they don’t want the village not to have a shop. So they
have carried on running it. The builders are building a new house. The
shop is like the heart of our village how it all runs
At the bottom of our village is the old people they live near the
church for a few reasons, when they die they haven’t got far to go and
they are holy and like to go to church at 8 am Sunday morning! The old
people, they overrule the kids. There are more of them than us but we
own most of the village, we have the school, village hall, bus stop
and pub car park. They have the rest of the village. Oh yes we also
have a few burnt out barns up the top that we visited quite often…
The bus service to the nearest towns run every two hours on the dot,
when they decide to turn up at all. The parent taxi is the usual mode
of transport.
I moved into Arkholme twelve years ago, when I was three. I started
planning how to get out ten years ago. Id had enough after two years.
Now I’ve lived here twelve years I’m still planning how to escape.