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Yan Yean Learning Community

Writers' Festival

storyteller: Paige

24/8/2022

 
Imagine A World…

Imagine a world where the sky is blue and grass is green. Where friends are true and bullies mean. Yes this world is just like yours, where parents work and kids do chores.  But the world you imagine is about to change. This world will surely be very strange. Peter awoke one day, feeling strong and ready for the day. But he would not anticipate the day ahead. Everything shall be topsy turvy instead. So as you read on about this boy. Remember the so-called feeling  ‘joy’. So let's find out about this world, what shall happen, what shall unfold.

The glowing sun rays shone through the window onto Peter, he heard birds chirping, trees swaying, people talking. The usual sounds. Peter yawned and opened his eyes. 
“what the-” Peter rubbed his eyes, then looked around. His room that was once filled with posters, games, books was now a tiny room with a bed, two wardrobes and a few wooden toys in the corner. “Ummmmmm… MUM!” Peter shouted across the house. “Yes Peter, what's wrong? His mother asked. “ What happened to my room, to the house, to my clothes!?” Peter said short of breath because he was talking very fast. Peter’s mother glared at him  in confusion. After a minute of silence she finally spoke. “ I don’t know what has come over you, it has been like this your whole life, and you are a very lucky child. For you have your own room, you never go hungry, and you always have clean clothes on your body.” She paused, giving him a bit of a scowl. “ Now please go get the food from the market.” With that she handed him a list and a small cloth pouch. Peter recognized the sound of change in the pouch, only this ‘change’ was very heavy. Then Peter's mother turned and returned to her cleaning. Peter turned to the door whilst placing the coin pouch and paper in his pocket.

Peter walked out the front as his mother had instructed. His jaw dropped, and it felt as if he couldn't breathe. He could hear hooves in the distance , and a whip but it didn’t sound like it was hitting the air. As Peter was trying to figure out what he could hear, a massive  coach drove by, the huge wheels turned leaving tracks in the dirt. They trembled as they went over small rocks.  Then suddenly the coach man driving whipped a chestnut colored horse, it neighed in pain  then sped up and the coach drove off into the distance. “ the coach men these days…'' Peter turned around to find a girl his own age rolling her eyes and muttering. She looked up shocked to find him looking at her. The girl's posture straightened as she gave him an awkward smile, it was clearly forced. The girl wore her dark hair down and tucked behind her ear, her emerald eyes twinkled like stars. Her rose red cheeks looked perfect against her tan coloured skin. Her lips were as red as her cheeks, and she wore a white dress with blue sleeves and a blue apron. “No,” Peter said, not sure whether he should have turned around. “ You are right, the whip is not necessary.” she stared at him bewildered. She seemed serious now, not trying to hide her expression with another awkward smile. She looked at him as if he were insane. “W-w-what?” Her voice sounded worried yet curious, examining him like he was some sort of science experiment. “You agree?!” Peter had no idea what he had said for this kind of reaction. “I mean..” he began. “ I think that the horse seemed hurt, although it will be ok. But some men whip them harder, until they bleed '' Peter stopped, realising he was rambling now. “Yes,” the girl sighed. “It really is sad to think about.” she began fidgeting with a woven basket in her hands. Peter saw the basket and only could assume she was going to the market. “ Do you know where the market is?” she looked at him confused. Peter was about to apologise for asking when her expression changed. “Oh!” she said as she suddenly looked at the basket in her hand. “Yes,”she said, almost excited now. “I'll show you.” Peter could tell the girl was a very…… enthusiastic person. Her moods seemed very exaggerated. She began walking towards a small street, he followed. Her pace was fast, although she was almost skipping, this made sense. After five minutes of walking they appeared on the small street. It was lined with market stalls. They were very different from what he had ever seen. Although he didn't expect anything normal. All the people in the stalls were selling fairly similar things: fruit ,vegetables, meat, clothes, boots, horse shoes. Anything essential really. “I'm Cora.” Peter realised  Cora  had now turned towards him, wearing the same awkward smile only this time it wasn’t quite as forced. “Im Peter” his voice sounded as awkward as her smile looked. 

“What’s that?!” Peter pointed to a man locked in a piece of wood that had holes for his head and wrists but that's it. “Oh” Cora said uncomfortably “That’s a pillory they put people in them when-“ She stared into the distance. Peter took a deep breath, he walked towards the man. But before he could take two steps Cora grabbed his arm. She looked around frantically wearing a very worried expression.  “Peter?!” she whispered furiously, not stopping to take a breath. “I mean” she was calming down  but still didn’t take a breath and continued to talk. “That man is probably……. Insane! Or maybe waiting to be hung or executed!!” She was talking a hundred miles per hour. “Cora!” Peter interrupted her rant, really he didn't want to think about anyone being killed. “Breath.” She  paused then took a deep breath then scowled at him. She stood up straighter and dusted her dress (even though the cleanest thing in sight was her clothes. There was nothing to dust off).  “Well, let's get the shopping done. I have cleaning to do today.” she started walking again, she gestured for peter to follow. They walked past almost 50 stalls before they came to a halt. She half smiled. “No one ever walks this far down, these stalls are cheaper. They make less money so they buy cheaper places to set up shops. Up the back are the cheapest plots of land for stalls.” She was still wearing the half smile when a loud bang rang through the air, followed by blood curdling screams. The smile vanished as she ran to the back of a stall. “H-I-D-E” She mouthed the word. Frantically waving for Peter to join her behind the stall. Peter froze, he had no idea what was happening. “Quick.” She shouted in a whisper. Peter ran to the stall, just in time. Two horses rode by, the riders aiming at shop owners who were frantically hiding products. Screams echoed through the streets. 

  They finished the shopping once the riders had vanished, then Peter went back to his house. “Mum.” called Peter. “Yes?” his mum turned from her cooking. Peter told her about Cora, the man in the pillory and the riders with guns. She went to reply then stared at Peter's shirt, she gasped. She looked as if she was going to faint. Peter looked down at his shit as well. It was stained with blood. “Oh,” he said, trying not to laugh. “ I told you about the riders?” she nodded. “And I told you how I was hiding behind a stall?” she nodded again. “And I told you I was fine.” this wasn't a question, Peter's tone was harsh . His mother sighed, muttering something about thanking the lord. “ go change, then bring me that shirt.” Peter went and changed into almost an identical outfit. “Here,” Peter handed her the shirt then walked outside. He heard his mother shout something like, “Be good.”

Peter was a bit nervous to be out on the streets alone. But adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He was a spy on a mission. Peter walked all the way back to the market. All the stalls were blood stained, only not all of it looked new. He hadn’t noticed this before he was too busy finding his way around. The sky was a brilliant blue green. The cool air hummed a marvellous tone. Then Peter walked up to the man in the pillory. The man was neither old nor young. He was skin and bone, his white shirt was stained with food scraps. He looked as if all life had been drained from him. “Umm… hello sir.” Peter was practically whispering due to nerves. “Oh lad.” A gruff voice said “lad, shoo. People will think you're insane. Go before anyone sees you here.” It was the man in the pillory . But why would he say that?     “What do you mean sir?” Peter was staring at him in confusion. “You’re supposed to be throwing food, calling me nasty names and staring in disapproval.” The man didn’t make eye contact. “If that’s what you wish, sir.” Peter walked back through the market. His eyes scanned over stalls. The glowing sun glimmered in the crystal sky. Peter walked through the market. Once Peter found a stall selling stew he purchased the newest looking stew. He took the hot bowl all the way back to the market. 


Peter made his way back to the man. He didn’t like the idea of anyone dying. Especially if you could see who was going to die. “Hello again, sir.” Peter showed him the bowl of stew. Only the man didn’t look up. Peter cleared his throat, “Hello.”  The man barely looked up. Peter could see pieces of the man's eyes through his scruffy hair. “Here.” Peter held the bowl to the man's mouth, forcing him to drink. The man reluctantly took a sip. After he swallowed he looked as far up as he could. “What do you want?” his gruff voice was harsher than before, he had clearly very little patience. “Oh , I uh, wanted to talk to you.” The man rolled his eyes at Peter's answer. “Hurry up then.” Peter struggled to think of what to say. “So why are you locked in a pillory?” The man looked stunned. Peter knew this question would be risky. “Next.” The man replied. “Uh , how old are you?” Peter waited a minute. “Next.” The man repeated. “Why are you so rude!” Peter was beginning to get frustrated. “Wrong!” Why was the man only giving one word answers? “I'm not wrong, you are rude.” Peter scowled. “Correction I am tough, I can't be a baby in situations like these.” The man looked up, he smiled at the annoyance being displayed on Peter’s face. “Are you going to die?” Peter thought aloud. The man squirmed then was silent again. Peter knew he had gone too far. “You know.” Peter began trying to lighten the environment. “If you were nice in court they might change their minds.” The man laughed. “ Yeah, right.” With that Peter gave in and walked away, leaving the empty bowl at the bottom of the pillory. 

But little did Peter know that the man took his advice. He was nice in court and they decided he was innocent. This man would later help change peoples minds on death sentences. By changing a heart you can change history. 

Storyteller: Paige

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