Saturday, 8 October 2016

The Lost Thing by Rhianna

Starting my day was always the same: going down to the beach and collecting bottle-tops. I have an amazing selection of bottle-tops, and I was hoping to find some more. But what I found instead was even better. I found a bell. It had a swirly pattern, and was a bit rusted. I picked it up, and it ringed. I put it in my rucksack (an upcycled dustbin) and stood still, thinking about why it was there. Then it rang again, or at least I thought it was the bell. I looked up, and I found something amazing.
It was round, like a vase, or a teapot with no handle. It was around 6 metres tall, or 3 times the height of me. It has an orangey-red coat of rust around it. It had doors and entrances in all shapes and sizes. It was the Lost Thing.
I was a bit apprehensive to discover what it really was, so I decided to make a peaceful approach. Nerve-rackingly, I opened one of its many doors, and called, “Hello?” but there was no reply. I think the peaceful approach didn’t work. The door shut itself, and began making a lot of whirring noises, and crashing noises. As this point, I was scared out of my mind, and I was about to run away, but then I was intrigued, as the lower hatches began to open, and tentacles sprouted out. Two ‘arms’ appeared, with bells for hands. Out of its ‘mouth’ there appeared a beach ball. I did question this, but then I remembered that finding the Lost Thing was questionable in itself.
I grabbed the beach ball and threw it to him, and he caught it and deftly passed it back. It was like a dog, in the aspect that it loved to throw and catch balls. We’d been doing it for a couple of hours, but it didn’t get bored. 

No comments:

Post a Comment