Aly's Work 6/3/13

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A short story

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It was another storm of lightning raging in fury at the citizen, including a boy called Shane, who has now been disturbed. In slight fear, he strokes his cat, which doesn’t have a name. Gently he pulls the blanket (torn newspapers) to his neck, muttering reluctantly “Just a little thunder.” Shane, the homeless boy, tries to go to sleep, with no success. He could sense the weather brutally attacking him, in his only house, a wooden box. It was the best he could do.

 

In the morning, the boy called Shane was feeling weak like an  ant. “Had good sleep, Whiskettes?” the boy called shane asks, trying to rest his back on the cold, wooden  wall. The cat with no name nods his head in tiredness. “I think we should go to the showroom today!”the boy called Shane starts to march out of his den with a smile on his face. “C’mon Kittycat! Lets go!” the boy called Shane says in joy. As they walk they have a glimpse of two mysterious figures in the distance. The boy called shane ignores them, and continues walking forward. As he creeps forward, edging closer to the figures, he realises it was the gang. He froze. Then he ran. He ran like there isn’t tomorrow, feeling the wrath of the wind and the shouts of the gang. “Hold on tight, scaredy-cat!” he says, even though he knew he was the scared one.

 

Finally the boy called Shane made his way to the car shop and the gang goes completely the wrong way. The boy called shane giggles to himself, thinking of the foolishness the gang commited. “ We are here, Catlegs!” the boy says ecstatically.

 

The end