Alma by Louis
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.