Craig lived in the town of Swindon. He liked to simply roam about the streets, especially the high street. Sometimes Craig would sit on one of the brown, dirty (usually broken) benches in the high street and he would watch people walk past, all of them presumably more important than Craig. They would hurry about quickly, scurrying in and out of shops, resembling mice in a scientific test.
But then Craig would realise that he would have to return home, so he would slowly stand up and reluctantly make his way back to his house. Craig’s house was half an hour’s walk away from the main town, but Craig knew a shortcut that would halve the time. At the edge of the town, Craig would climb over a metal fence – although each bar had spikes on the top, Craig could still get over with ease. Then Craig would walk through an area densely populated with trees, shrubs and undergrowth. Once Craig exited this area, he would turn left down a long road. This area was plagued with litter, but only one minute’s walk away and Craig would arrive at his house.
Two weeks. This was the amount of time left until Craig would reach the age of sixteen. However, with the events that followed, Craig did not know if he would reach this age.
It was another day in the repetitive life of Craig. His usual bench was taken, so Craig had to sit on a metal bench which was painted black, and forged into an unusual shape which hurt his back.
Craig felt into the pockets of his dark green trousers, searching for some money to buy a cake that he had just noticed in a bakery window. He had £4.00. Craig looked back up and became aware that nobody was around. No one. Strange, as just ten seconds ago there was plenty of activity. The silence was unearthly. Suddenly the wind grew stronger, blowing a limb of the tree standing behind him against his shoulder. Craig gasped whilst he jumped to his feet in shock. He looked behind but no one was there. The Union Jack fluttered in its place on the town hall situated in front of Craig. Then Craig noticed something in the corner of his eye which caught his interest: a falcon, soaring high above the ground in the distance. It was while Craig was distracted by this bird of prey when it happened; a black car pulled up silently on the road, unnoticed by Craig. A man left the car, wearing a black jumper and black trousers, clutching at a brown sack. The man crept up behind Craig and immersed him into the darkness of the massive, bulky sack. Immediately the man threw him into the back of the car. There was another man in the car – the driver; unknown to Craig, of course. Five seconds later, the car had vanished.
When Craig woke up, it was his birthday. Two weeks had passed from when Craig was kidnapped. It was not long before Craig realised why he was in pain: he was coated with bruises and marks; so much that his whole body had turned purple. Of course, it was blatant to see that these were caused by the two kidnappers. Suddenly, the lights went out.
“Oh, you’ve decided to wake up now have you?” came a voice from out of the blackness. Craig noticed that he was being prodded, by something which appeared to be a long piece of dowel.
“Well, we did drug him,” came another voice, obviously speaking to the other person, and not Craig.
“Shut up.” One of the kidnappers stepped out of the darkness. “You and me are going to take a little road trip.”
That was the last thing Craig heard.
At Craig’s home, Stan and Mel thought Craig had ran away. They had no reason to think this, but they thought that there was no other possible explanation. They were distraught, so to cheer themselves up they decided to follow one of their dreams: to live in Australia. Consequently, they packed their cases and moved.
Once again, when Craig woke up, he was lying on the back seats of the black car. Craig glanced out of the car window; it was hard to tell due to the condensation on the windows, but they appeared to be positioned next to a petrol pump. Craig heard the kidnapped mutter “stupid car” as he got out. Craig lay perfectly still and pretended to still be asleep. He heard the sound of petrol filling the engine. The man glanced back at Craig and, satisfied that Craig was sound asleep, left the vicinity. At this point, Craig noticed that the car smelt of alcohol and cigarettes. He quietly opened the door as little distance as possible and carefully slid out. Crouching down, Craig scurried along the ground, and then ran. Ran as fast as he could, never looking back.
Three years later, Craig was still wondering the streets of London. He tried to call home, but obviously received no answer. That was before he found out that they had moved to Australia, but he could not find out anything else. At night, Craig would sleep wherever he could: in doorways, in alleys, under bridges. In the day, Craig would enter restaurants, cafés, clubs and bars to see if there were any odd jobs he could do for which the owner would pay him; only a one-off payment, though – not like regular employment. Craig spent the last three years washing up, sweeping, cleaning, fixing things – almost anything you could think of.
Of course, the money Craig received quickly declined as he would spend it on food whenever possible. However, Craig still conserved the £4.00 that he had originally when he was kidnapped.
It was deep into December now, and Craig was getting concerned about what to do over the winter. He wanted a place to stay overnight so he could tidy himself up and try to find a proper job. Then Craig’s luck increased; he noticed a poster pinned to an information board about a hostel. But it was a day’s walk away, located in Clapham, in the south of London.
Craig had not got a moment to spare, and he began his trek through the crowded streets of London. The clouds above him were black, and full of water. So much water that they could not contain it, releasing huge drops of rain. The rain continued, and it was night time now. Craig turned a corner, after asking what seemed like thousands of people for directions, and miraculously, there it was… the light through the windows dazzling Craig as he stepped forwards and slowly opened the heavy metal door…
The story was written for part of an English GCSE course.
This part was changed due to a fluctuation in the storyline.
This section was added due to a fluctuation in the storyline.
