A Day at Malham by Oliver Wright (aged 7)

I liked seeing the fluttering bird with a long pointy tail

Bobbing up and down

With a bright yellow body that shines

In the reflection in the water.

And the black, wiggly tadpoles with writhing tails

Weaving in the cold, transparent, damp stream.

I liked seeing the peregrines that soared through the air

Diving to catch small creatures.

And the goosander sitting on a cream rock with a red spiky head

And a long, red, pointy beak.

I liked the lime stone pavement with little gaps in the rocks

And I fell down one too.

The bright green ferns gleam in the sunlight above.

I loved hearing the sparrows who chirped me to sleep.

A Jumbled Tale by Annabel Howarth

Ever look back and wonder where it all went wrong?  Well this time, it all started, with me Mum’s white coat.  She’d had it for years.  Immaculately clean, she wore it everywhere.  She looked smart in it.  At the school gates.  In the park.  At the shops.  It was modern enough too.  Like with all her sleeves and pockets, she could always produce a tissue from it, to deal with the blood, snot, chocolate or tears, as required.  That was until she finally washed away a pocket.  She’d forget that all was left of it, were silky nylon strands, until one day she put her hand straight through it and shed tissues everywhere.

She took it to the Friday night jumble sale, to raise money for my brother’s school.

 I said, “You can’t give them that, with the hole in the pocket.”

“Why not?  Someone else less fortunate might want it.”

I felt sick, as I watched from the sidelines.  Mum’s white coat lay on the surface of the huge pile of clothes, like a beached whale.  Its silky strands drawing me in, like they held a magnetic force.  I willed no-one to see it, and somehow, in the scrum that came when they opened the doors, it was covered by the arms and legs of other clothes.   

Then, for a while, helping at the jumble sale was fun.  I forgot all about me Mum’s white coat and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach went.  That was until I saw my friend Lisa’s Mum.  Her pretty face looked tired and strained.   I watched and willed her to move to the other table.  But to my horror she rummaged to the bottom and pulled out me Mum’s white coat.

“We can’t let her buy it!”

“Why not?” said me Mum.

I couldn’t look any longer, just prayed she would put it back.

At school on Monday, in first lesson, Katie whispered “Have you noticed anything different about Lisa?”

“No, like what?”

“I don’t know.  Her Dad is home a lot.”

Then, I don’t know why, but I told her about the jumble sale.

At break Katie beckoned me over to her and her sister.

“Tell Ali, what you told me.”

I felt uneasy and confused, but said boldly, “I saw Lisa’s Mum at the jumble sale.  I think she bought me Mum’s white coat, and it had a hole in it!”

At dinner time, I couldn’t find Lisa.  I looked for her in the dinner hall but she was nowhere, so I sat and ate alone.  Then I saw her, as I came out of the hall, by the library.  There was Lisa, her sister Sue, Katie and Ali, all in a huddle and looking at me.  Lisa was crying. 

Sue came over and said angrily, “How could you?....  And for your information, our Mum did not buy a white coat!”

I didn’t understand.  I tried to give Lisa my tissues.

She’s Katie’s friend now.