On Friday the last Day of school I wasn’t Reedy to leave school then but there was no choose and I was thinking for a moment that I didn’t want to leave and I’d rather that I was tout at school than at home because it is boring looking at a screen all day at home. but although it is not boring at all because I have been FaceTiming my friends and playing on sumdog.com and making electric circuits, cooking as well so it is not so boring lurning at home because you can do it at home if you have to.
Everything was in position. Sprinting towards the palace gates, Adam felt lost, confused.
“Why was he doing this? ”
The rest of the team, jumped over the gates questioning why the guard’s weren’t there. They were stealing the queens diamond. He followed the others in hope they were going to turn around. Then there it was a book in fact a diamond blue book. He picked up the book and climbed back over the gates as he walked to a safe spot on a bench in the central of london. He opened the book and to his surprise, there it was.
The snow laid as rooftops glimmered, the archway was clear for miles.
Until one day a girl came across, she had blond hair and wore a red scarf above her mouth. She walked through the archway in the evening wind. No one was to be seen, the buildings were grey and all Alma could think about was getting home.
She walked down the pavement, making footprints in the snow. Suddenly she stopped, she turned to her right and to her amazement she saw hundreds and thousands of names. She couldn’t help herself she hat to write her name on that wall.
She was in the middle of writing her name when she couldn’t help but get that feeling that someone was watching her. Finishing, she turned around. There it was a doll.
She walked towards the window when finally whipping the frost off off it. Then she realised it looked like her. She looked at her clothes once more, just to be sure she looked and she jumped. It was gone.
She walked to the door hoping it was open, she pushed the handle five times but with disappointment, it wasn’t. With rage and anger she made a snowball and threw it at the door.
Flakes of snow drifted down from a cloud filled sky, landing gently on dull grey buildings, piling higher and higher. Fog hung on rooftops. Blasting through slender alleyways, bitter air sliced everything in its way.
Skipping joyfully down an icy, cobbled street, a girl pulled her sky blue bobble hat over her escaping blond hair. She was wearing a thick red gilet covering her nose and mouth, large brown mittens ( perfect for shaping snowballs) and khaki trousers that bulged at the ankles. Her sparky jade eyes were all that peeped out until she spotted a name infested chalkboard and drew down her scarf to show rosy red cheeks.
Exhaling onto the black slate, she pulled a chalk stick from one of her many pockets and scribbled in the only bare space: Alma.
Grumpily stomping off, a crack bellowed in my ear drums. The door had opened. I knew this was my only chance, so I walked in. Staring at the boy doll, he was there surrounded by colossal amounts of other dolls.
A razor like sound constantly echoed under my feet. A teddy on a bike cycling towards the door.His eyes were long ago dulled.
I turned around, the doll had moved to the top shelf nearly hugging the roof. I had to get him. Reaching up, his drooped down lips scraped against my hand.
A doll like me.
A beautiful boy doll, sat on a single counter alone and wide eyed. He had rosy-red cheeks that sparkled and shimmered. A half smile was etched in his face and his lips were pale.
There he was in front of me, just behind the winter themed window. Thinking to myself, I was desperate for a doll and with just three steps he could be mine. Walking to the door, I twisted the handle, pulled the latch and tugged on the bolt.
It wouldn’t open or budge in the slightest. My anger grew like a beanstalk raging higher than the clouds.
Snow drifted down from the sky like condensation falling down a window. Alma ran through the snowy archway and into the frosty town. It looked like a desert of snow: rooftops were blanketed in snow and cobbled streets were lined with frost. The street was deserted except Alma.
She passed a wall covered in old newspapers. Passing the old shop she went over to the obsidian coloured blackboard and examined the other names. She chalked her name on amongst the others when something caught her eye. A doll. It was in the old shop window.
Alma walked slowly towards the doll, snow crunching beneath her feet. She wiped the cold frosty glass. The doll had slightly curly blonde hair and a red coat. It had brown trousers. It was exactly the same as her. Alma bent down to determine whether the match was genuinely exact and when she came back up the doll was gone. She couldn’t see it anywhere
The little girl went over to the door. It wouldn’t open. Frustrated, she thew a snowball at the door and turned away. Then the door opened slowly and creakily.
She walked into the shop and saw the doll on a triangular table. She went over to it but tripped on something. It was a boy doll on a tricycle. Alma straitened it and it drove off. When she looked up the doll replica of her was gone. She couldn’t see it any where. She spotted it; it was on a shelf at the back of the shop. Alma climbed the shelf and took her glove off. As she touched the nose of the doll there was a blinding flash of light and then she was gone! The doll’s eyes moved. She had become the doll. To her horror, she saw another doll appear. “It must be the next victim” She thought.
Alma was skipping in the snow, touching the walls happily whilst laughing all the way. Carefully, she wrote her name on a giant chalkboard there were many more names on the wall. Soft ticking found her ears. Confused, Alma turned around.
Behind her, there was a doll in an abandoned shop. Slowly, she tiptoed towards the window. It was like looking in a mirror. Excitedly, she tried opening the door but it didn’t work. She threw a snowball as hard as she could at the door and it opened.
Curiously, she sneaked inside and looked around, seeing dolls everywhere. Then she saw her doll in a different place. Suddenly, a doll on a tricycle banged into her. Trembling, Alma looked around…
Cautiously, Alma saw her doll and went to touch it. All of a sudden, screams and shouts filled Alma’s ears.
She was trapped in the doll. All the dolls looked at her…
Dark, gloomy clouds surrounded the morning sky, The sun nowhere to be seen. All you could see was snow, the size of ping pong balls trickling down from the grey abyss. Snow buried the rooftops like something bad was going to happen. The houses stood in a line like a row of soldiers.
Under an arch way stood a young girl, her name was Alma. Skipping along the track, she leapt onto a snow-filled path and trampled on it. The snow was deep, very deep. She was a jolly person, a large smile stretched from ear to ear. She soon jogged over to a black board and wrote, alma.
A few minutes later, she looked at her writing, threw the chalk on the floor, and pulled her snood off her mouth. Breathing, she gathered clean lungfulls of air. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Alma’s neck pricked up. Something was wrong. Without thinking, she turned round. Her eyes glanced at someone, or something. She ran towards the window.
A few seconds went by as Alma’s eyes clung onto the figure. Placing her hand onto the firm window, she rubbed the condensation off the glass to examine it. At that moment, she knew who this was; it was her. Looking down, she saw her furry coat, gloves and the bright blue hat. They were the same clothes. She placed her shivering hand on the window but the figure was gone…
She shoved her head up to the window but it wasn’t on the stand. Scanning around the room, she searched in all directions but it wasn’t there. Peering through the next window, a dolls head sat behind the glass. She moved onto the door. She clutched her hands onto the side of her head like holding special binoculars.
In front of her, she saw the figure. Reaching up, her hand wrapped around the door handle. Pulling down hard, the door was locked. Trying another few times, she then gave up. Anger and frustration cascaded through Alma as she bent down, picked up a snowball and threw it. Stomping away in disappointment, her hand scraped on the rotten wood. An abrupt noise came from behind her. The door had clicked open. She turned round, ran back and stepped in.
Silently, she crept in through the crooked door. She looked around, admiring all of the amazing dolls. The shelves were full, right to the edge. Moving her eyes from side to side, she was gobsmacked. Alma’s pupils slid across to where the doll was. Stretching her arm out, she ran towards the figure. Without concentrating, she zoomed towards the doll. Feeling something beneath her, she took a step back. She looked down.
It was something she’d never seen before like a school pupil made from hard wood. He was on a tricycle, pushing down firmly on the peddles. The wheels spun like a hamster wheel. But he was flat on his side so he couldn’t move. Alma decided to help the young boy. She knelt down, grasped his neck and let him go to rummage around the shop. He didn’t though, he raced across the floor to the door like trying to escape but the door had locked. It didn’t really bother her though because she had to find that doll.
Hooking her hand around the table she stood up and looked, the figure wasn’t there. She was shocked. Putting here other hand on the table, she hunted for it. Searching, she looked everywhere: on the shelves, on the floor and even under the table. She still had the determination to find it; a few seconds later, she had. Jogging towards it, she clambered up onto an aged couch and peered up. Standing on her tiptoes she reached up. Nearly there… She touched its nose.
Gasping and breathed deeply, she had been turned into the doll.
Clink. Spinning around, Alma’s beady eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the gaping mouth of a shop window. Scampering over to the window she noticed the figure was a doll, identical to her in every way, from her green eyes to her baggy combat trousers.
Wanting it for herself, Alma patted the glass, only to realise the doll had moved to a velvet topped table near the centre of the room. She shook the door handle, but it was locked. In anger, Alma picked up some snow, shaped it into a ball and hurled it at the door. She stormed away, downhearted.
Creak. Peering over her shoulder Alma saw that the door had edged open. Darting back in excitement and shock, she pushed the door wider and stepped inside. The smell of mothballs lingered around shelves filled with dolls. Dolls from different nations, different eras in time and all wide eyed.
Haunting though it was, Alma tiptoed in. “Just get the doll and leave,” she repeated incessantly in her head, her heart beating faster. Crunch. She looked down surprised to see she had knocked over a figure on a bike. Placing the doll upright again it pedalled, crashing into the door, as if trying to signify something. She looked back up to find her doll double had moved again.