Johnny was such a pain
Johnny was six years old, big for his age, typical boy, happiest when muddy and playing out with his friends.
Yesterday had been a horrible day because he seemed to be in everyone's’ way no matter what he did. When he went to the shed to help dad and knocked a load of stuff of the workbench, including dad’s cup of coffee, he had been shouted at and told to go away and stop being a pain.
When he went into his sister’s room she told him to go out, she was writing in her diary and it was private. Muttering under her breath as he left, “you are such a pain.”
Even mum, working in the kitchen had asked him to leave things alone, “ go and find something to do Johnny, and stop being a pain”
All night, Johnny thought about this. He knew that pain was a terrible thing. When he had fallen and cut his knee badly, he had known pain. When he had a tooth out, he had known pain. When mum had a migraine, she said she was in pain. If everyone thought he was such a pain, he must be worse than all those things put together.
So this morning, being Saturday, he had packed some biscuits and his favourite book and a bottle of juice and just left.
He knew his way to the park but when he got there he kept walking. When he got tired, he rested and drank his juice and ate a couple of biscuits.
Some hours later, things were terrible back at home, no one knew where he was and consequently, panic ensued.
The three of them called every friend, examined all his favourite hiding places, no Johnny. Mum was crying as they scoured the park and called the police.
Meanwhile, Johnny had decided life on the road was not all it was cracked up to be. He turned around and started walking back towards home. He was tired, cold and hungry. Suddenly, he saw mum, dad and his sister. There were lots of tears and questions.
“ I thought if I was such a pain, it would be better if I was gone”
Cuddling him tightly, mum explained, yes, sometimes people were a pain, but he was the nicest and best pain ever.
"Down the road from our house there's a wall. It's a tall wall.
It stands up straight, and all its bricks sit neatly lined up like soldiers who march in a row.
The sun's shining on it now, it looks as if it hasn't any problems in the world. But the jackdaws are always stomping around on top of it, I saw them just the other day- the wall hardly seemed to care, though.
Then there was the other week, when I tried climbing up it. I dug my nails in and pulled and tugged and scraped, but it didn't even flinch!
I wonder what it's like being as strong as that wall. Dad told me that someone even drove a car into it once, and it didn't care a bit.
Maybe it doesn't even know what pain feels like. Nothing hurts the wall. It's a strong wall."
Tom looked up from the paper he had been scribbling on, and looked at the plain old wall again. Then he scrambled back up to his feet, and ran off with a giggle.
The old wall let out a stoney sigh as it watched him go. "Man that kid is a pain in the neck, and I don't even have a neck!" It complained.
Always be kind to walls; you never know when you might come across one that's sentient.
Pain is such an awful, terrible, nasty thing but it teaches us what is right and wrong! A little boy was not holding onto his blue, cool, helpful handlebars when cycling along on his brand new dark blue, small, spectacular bike and he fell off an cut his hands and knees. He was in pain, but he had learnt a new lesson which was to hold onto the fantastic handlebars on our bikes!
This is not a true story, it is made up for an example related to what I said at the start! Good luck to everyone entering! Jacob.
I remember the pain of losing my beloved grandad, lived with my grandparents till. I was eleven, then mum had another baby and we moved to a maisonette a few miles away. Missed hearing all his stories of when he was a little boy, they fascinated me, he never spoke about the war he had lost too many friends.
He was such a kind man who I could rely on got information about my Christmas presents because he just couldn't keep a secret. I'd go down his allotment with him as he loved gardening and grew some amazing tomatoes that I used to eat as soon as they were ripe on the plant, these were in his greenhouse in the garden, so easy for me to sneak in and help myself.
Gran was lovely too, she was a great cook, making stews with dumpling all over the top.
Sweets too, toffee, coconut ice, honeycomb and fudge. Used to listen to the radio with them in the scullery, happy days always to be remembered.