Here are some opening paragraphs to stories. What do you think happens next? Why not have a go at finishing the story yourself?

1. Six Corners to a Piece of Cheese
2. The Long Battle of Ed & Marie Starr

1. Six Corners to a Piece of Cheese

I am over eighty years of age and what I am about to tell you happened to me when I was not quite ten years old. In all these years I have never told anyone because, like most people, I would rather not be laughed at or called a liar. But, I have to tell somebody before I die because I might well be the only person alive who has seen what I have seen.

It happened at Christmas, which was always such a lovely time when I was a little girl even though we didn’t get the presents like you children get nowadays. I had started looking forward to Christmas while the ashes of our bonfire guy were still warm but just as school finished and with a week to go to the big day I became ill. Now, in those days if you were ill you were sent to bed in a darkened room and you were supposed to rest and be quiet until you recovered. Well, as you probably know this is fine for a day or two when you feel absolutely horrible but once your sore throat stops hurting and your headache’s gone and you don’t feel so hot - lying in the dark is not where you want to be. I pleaded with mother to let me get up and make paper-chain decorations with my brothers and sisters but there was a measles epidemic at that time and she was scared that I might have that ghastly disease. So bed it was and in bed I stayed with a promise that if I was a good girl and if I had no temperature I might get up on Christmas Eve.

The day before Christmas Eve I was restless and cross. My bedsheets were crumpled and had wrapped themselves round my legs – my nightdress was twisted around my body and my blankets and eiderdown kept sliding off the bed onto the floor...

‘They’re like chalk and cheese those two.’ I’ve heard people say that about Ed and Marie many times. But it doesn’t help describe the difference between them. It doesn’t even come close. Imagine a large and very white, crumbly piece of chalk. Now picture a very fresh wedge of Wensleydale. They’re not so different are they?

What’s needed here is a phrase to describe a brother and sister who are so unlike each other that they totally dislike each other. I’m talking about Ed and Marie Starr – they couldn’t be less like each other and they couldn’t like each other less. No, chalk and cheese won’t do. I’ll tell you what they’re like. They’re like marzipan and ostrich feathers. They’re like Mount Everest and a policeman’s underpants.

I live with Ed and Marie and I love them both very much, which makes life pretty difficult at times. When the two people you love most are having an argument it is not a good idea to take sides. And Ed and Marie have a lot of arguments. When they start to squabble their mum and I try to stay out of it – which is easier for me because I can hide under the table. But somehow I just can’t help myself from getting involved. Take the row they had before Marie’s birthday party for instance. That was a bad one. It all started at breakfast time one Monday morning.

“For my birthday party,” said Marie “I would like a pink cake –”
“Erggh, oh help…akkh...ah…I’m gonna throw up!” interrupted Ed and he rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue as if he were in the death throes of a terrible disease. Marie moved the cereal packet so that she couldn’t see him anymore.

“ – I’d like a pink cake and silver candles and I would like sandwiches cut into star shapes. And I want everyone to dress up and I don’t want Ed to be here because he is ugly and horrible and anyway it’s a girls-only party.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near your stupid party.” Said Ed.
“You’re the stupid one!” said Marie.

Then, because Marie’s view was blocked by a giant box of cornflakes and mum was at the sink and had her back turned, Ed dipped his marmitey knife in Marie’s glass of milk and waggled it about a bit.

Now, personally, I think that looked like a delicious combination and I was impressed with Ed for thinking of it. But, I know from experience that it’s just the sort of thing that would upset Marie, and so does Ed, which will be why he did it.

Then their Mum said, “Now, you two.”
She often says that and to me it sounds like she is going to add something else but she never does. When Marie and Ed begin to fight their mum says “now, you two” or “come on you two” or “don’t start you two”. Sometimes they stop for a moment and look at her but then they just carry on having a row.

Back when I was a nipper I used to have fights with my brothers and sisters. Our mother used to growl a bit and if we didn’t stop then she’d really snap at us. If that didn’t calm us down and we were becoming a nuisance, she would grab us by the scruff of the neck and give us a good shake. When I come to look back on it now I realize that one of my ma’s dangling-scruff-shakes did not stop us having scraps. And it’s just the same for Ed and Marie’s mum; it doesn’t matter much what she says her children still argue.

Ed left the table and you might think that, for once, he was listening to his mum and it was all over. Marie certainly thought so. I could see her if I raised my right eyebrow and swivelled my eyes to the right. She was sitting at the table and smiling to herself and I could tell that she was feeling really pleased. She had a birthday party to look forward to and she had just got the last word. And Ed, who I could see if I raised my left eyebrow and swiveled my eyes to the left, was packing his school bag and smiling to himself because he knew that, although Marie thought she had the last word, he had in fact made a counter attack in the form of the delayed-detonation glob of marmite that was floating around in Marie’s milk.

Mum reached for a tea towel and dried her hands, which was my signal to be ready, as we would be leaving for the walk to school any minute. I got out of my basket and went and put my nose against the kitchen door and stared closely at the wood. I don’t know what it is about that door but it smells fantastic – it reminds me of trees. So I’m always happy to stand at the door and wait a while. As soon as the door is open I like to be the first through it. Then Mum said, “Marie, finish your milk.”

Something about her saying that made me nervous so I scratched at the door and turned a few quick circles.
And then it happened.

Marie screamed.

Every hair on my body stood up and pointed at the ceiling and my paws left the floor. If your hearing was as good as mine you would know that I’m not exaggerating when I say that a shrill noise like an eight-year old girl screaming goes through me like a hot knife through ice cream...

School Visits:
Val is available for school visits to talk in assembly, run writing workshops or for storytelling sessions. She can also link a creative writing activity to a specific topic or theme as required.
Please email her direct with your requests and needs HERE.