On our walk I saw an old bag in a tree. It was torn and tattered, caught on a branch gently swaying from side to side in the cool morning breeze. Only the flies and the birds are its company. It is slowly disintegrating and soon nothing much will be left of the old bag. Bits are blowing off it at this very moment. It is out of reach of anything that can't fly or climb high up into trees. Sad and lonely it stays stuck high up in the old tree.
Robert Huck, aged 10,
THE BOY WHO LIKED SWEETS
Once there was a boy who had sweets all the time.
On Monday, he ate ten ice creams.
On Tuesday, he ate twelve ice lollies.
On Wednesday he ate one hundred sweets.
On Thursday, he was sick.
On Friday, he ate three hundred chocolate bars.
On Saturday, he ate five hundred packets of crisps.
On Sunday, he popped.
William Browne, aged 6,
THE JOURNEY OF A PIECE OF FOOD
Help! A fork picked me up. Then white sparkling teeth grabbed me and I felt myself being separated bit by bit as they ground and chewed me. A big red thing put me in a dark tunnel and it squeezed down, then I plunged into darkness. In the background I could hear pumping. I landed in a bag which was filling up with liquid stuff. It smelt like the city dump and a dozen rotten eggs together. When the stuff was reaching me, my end was burning and separating even more, with my friends around me. Having talked for a little while, I became totally dissolved and the burning feeling was lifted. I was pushed into a pipe with little hairs in it. I was there for quite a while, so I made conversation with a germ called Harry. He was quite friendly to me and said that he was tired working in the small intestine and would like to work in the brain for a change. Parts of me were grabbed by these little hair things that tickled me. The rest was heading for this hole. I'm glad because most of me went into the red liquid, which I heard was good.
Mehreen Umar, aged 12,
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