Each Piece Has It's Purpose. Where was Tanzania anyway? I took out my pocket jigsaw globe one of the worst presents...ever, but I had decided to keep because it was a gift from my strange but cool aunt that owned many weird and wonderful things

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Rachel Cutenar 11HYB                 Mr Newall

Each piece has its purpose

I stared blankly at the clean sheet of A4 paper in front of me. Every time coursework deadline came around I was just starting it. Geography was just so dull! I thought I would be learning about the sights of the world, like the sweltering heat of the Sahara desert with its deep terracottas just a blur; the sickening heights of Mount Everest, its thick white blanket smothering the horizon; the exotic Amazon rainforest abundant with shrubbery and wildlife... but no! I’m faced with a question that sucks all the life out of the world and drags down all of my creativity and enjoyment with it: “Why and how has tourism developed in Tanzania during the 1980’s until present?” I slumped back into my chair and placed my hands on top of my head.

I gazed outside, and the boy in the window next door caught my eye. He was hunched over fiddling with some kind of invention (as he liked to call it) and was so deep in concentration his nose almost touched it. My supposed “best friend” always stayed in on weekends, fixing something from parts he found at the scrap yard. In fact, that was the only time he saw sunshine. We were so mismatched that it seemed ridiculous to pair us together. He was the geeky boy who got painfully shy around girls, and sat at the front of the class for every lesson. I was the popular boy that was good at sports.  I had known him since I was three - as his mum and my mum were once close friends - and I always felt like I owed him something.  He always had to prove that he was smarter than me, maybe because that was about the only thing he could rub in my face. He was a short, fragile boy, who wore trousers that swung around his ankles, or sometimes tucked into socks that had been scrubbed white. Brown square-toed shoes that were scuffed mercilessly were a usual addition to his attire, and sometimes a red and yellow plaid shirt to top it all off. He grinned all the time revealing the metal factory inside his mouth and had always had the annoying habit of smearing his tongue across the top row of his teeth.  Sometimes I even had to admit to myself that he was an embarrassment.

I was trying to give myself an excuse not to work, and performed a very enthusiastic two-handed wave over to him. He slowly rose from his bits of scrap, and turned towards me with a puzzled look on his face. I grinned at him, and he frowned and returned to his “work”. Maybe it was time for me to.

Where was Tanzania anyway? I took out my pocket jigsaw globe – one of the worst presents...ever, but I had decided to keep because it was a gift from my strange but cool aunt that owned many weird and wonderful things.  Usually Schezerade would visit me after her worldly trips and bring me back a shrunken head, or something as wacky, so you can imagine the disappointment when she placed a little globe in my hands. She loved to travel and never stayed in one place for too long – she was a nomad moving far and wide. Whilst I was pondering over whether the globe could be, in the slightest way interesting, I noticed that a piece was missing. I turned over a few sheets of paper on my desk – nothing. I checked under the desk, on the windowsill – nothing. Curiously, I poked my finger through the empty space where the jigsaw piece had once fitted in.

All of a sudden, a terrible screeching, whistling noise – the sound of a million locomotives departing – forced me to clamp my hands over my ears as the sound pierced through me and ran down my spine.

“What was that!?” my mum shouted from the stairs.

“I don’t...uhhh...nothing!” I yelled back. The last thing I wanted was mum clambering up the stairs all flustered with worry.

Cautiously, I picked up the globe and fingered the sides lightly. A shimmer of light began to flicker just above the opening where the missing piece had once been, and the globe slowly started to hover above my desk. I watched in awe as the lights began to flash; red, green and blue beams darted across the room, faster and faster until just a brown blur was visible! My eyes began to ache, screaming for water, but no, I would not blink. My glare was transfixed on this tremendous sight, and then – in front of my unbelieving eyes - a small creature just...appeared. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, and I jumped back in horror.

A slimy bluey-purple thing lay on its front, its head downwards, with a small claw outstretched, gasping for breath and wheezing uncontrollably.  I slowly moved forward, my eyes screwed up in concentration, as I tried to scrutinise this peculiar creature. It had smooth, slimy skin, with a soft maroon glow that seemed to radiate from it, and four claws that stuck out at odd angles. Where did it come from? Why was it showing itself to me?

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Suddenly, it sharply lifted its head up and glared at me. It began to cough violently, but its chilling gaze was still upon me. It did not blink, it just stared, as if analysing me; my face, my body, everything there is to know about me, its black eyes only two slits carved in its face. Just staring.

I gulped back some phlegm and bit my lip in nervous anticipation. I didn’t know what it could do to me. I was stood here faced with a monstrosity, and was completely vulnerable, but instead of running, I stupidly decided to ...

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