The Fastest Story in Milton Keynes!

by Mark Robson
March 20, 2008

The Fastest Story in Milton Keynes was a great event organised by the three lovely ladies above - librarians all, from Hazeley School, Radcliffe School and Oakgrove School in Milton Keynes (of course!) It started with me, alone and afraid, as I was supposed to start the story that three sets of gifted and talented young people from the three schools would then continue and finish during a mad dash around. The theme I agreed to was bullying - topical, and always a prominent subject in the minds of school pupils.

I gave myself an hour, which was what each of the groups in turn would also have. Much to the amazement and amusement of the Receptionist of Oldfields School in Uttoxeter, where I happened to be visiting on the day prior to the Milton Keynes event, my first request upon arriving at the school very early for my visit was to be shown to the janitor’s cleaning cupboard. The lady looked even more surprised when I insisted on clambering into the cramped little space, sitting down on the floor between the buckets and mops, and closing the door behind me! Having done this, I promptly went straight to the Staff Room, got out my computer and started writing.

The next day I took my story beginning to Hazeley School where a group of very bright youngsters from Year 8 & 9 awaited me. We printed out copies of what I’d managed to do from my data stick, had a ten minute discussion about where they would take the story next, then formed a huddle around one of the library computers and got down to some writing. To start with the team were a bit reluctant to throw ideas into the pot, but they very quickly got into the story and by the time we called stop, they were all for carrying on and writing more. This, however, was not their job. The story so far was then emailed to Radcliffe School, where another group of bright young people were waiting to read what we had for them to build on.

Anna Ardley (librarian of Hazeley School library) and I jumped into my car and hot-footed it across to Radcliffe where the hour session was repeated. The group here were very lively and I had a hard time from keeping one or two of them from killing off my poor character in one of a hundred different gruesome deaths! However, he did survive (somewhat the worse for wear) to be emailed on to Oakdale School, where the waiting group had the unenviable task of creating a good ending to the story in less than an hour!

The story we created will now be turned into a little book. There is to be a competition in the three schools to design a suitable cover. When the artwork and blurb is complete, the resulting story, pictures etc will be professionally published and there will be a launch party where all the parents, pupils, teachers and librarians involved will get to celebrate the creation that the young people have put together. I will most certainly aim to be there too.

I have to say that the young people involved in this event were brilliant. The story that emerged was amazingly good, particularly given the time restraints. They picked up the style in which I had started the story and carried it forward almost seamlessly. I’ll be impressed if you can pick out where the changeover points were.

Here’s the story they created as it came out of the session. I’ve left in the few mistakes that crept in (not surprising given the speed at which it was produced), but these will be edited out prior to publication:

The Key

It was a precarious hiding place. If they found him, he would be cornered. Every muscle in his body was taut as he eased the door shut behind him and plunged the small space into darkness. His chest began to ache almost instantly as he held his breath.

‘Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound. Don’t make …’ he repeated the thought over and over in a desperate mantra. Running feet clattered down the stairwell. ‘This is it,’ he realised, gritting his teeth and clamping his hands around the door handle. He braced his body to resist them if they tried to get in.

‘Out here! The little rat must have legged it outside. Come on!’

Liam let out a long, silent sigh of relief as he heard Josh and his gang of bullies crash out through the nearby exit. He knew he should double back and get well away before Josh realised his mistake, but he couldn’t move. He felt light-headed and his legs suddenly seemed to lose all their strength.

Still holding onto the door handle with his left hand he sunk down into a squat, leaning his head forwards until it rested against the door. A faint taste of vomit haunted the back of his tongue as the warm rush of adrenalin died, leaving him shaking, empty and weak.

The smell in the cupboard didn’t help. It was a heady concoction of lemon-scented floor cleaner, musty dust-filled brooms and the faint electrical smell of a recently used hoover. The dust tickled at his nose, teasing him with the threat of a sneeze. He pinched his nostrils together and rubbed away the itching sensation before it had a chance to build too far.

‘Why me?’ he groaned softly. ‘Why do they always have to pick on me?’

‘A wise man once said that to climb a mountain, one must start at the bottom.’

The words popped into his head, but although he could not place where he had heard them before, he was not surprised by them. Liam had always loved reading the little books of collected wisdom that inundated the novelty section in Waterstones. Sometimes when he read them, he felt almost as if he could hear the voices of the authors in his mind, gentle and sage.

‘I’ll bet the guy who said that didn’t have to deal with someone like Josh,’ he thought bitterly, adjusting his glasses back up to the top of his nose. ‘Maybe I should become a monk or something. I bet they don’t bully people in monasteries.’

A picture of himself in a brown habit with a shaved head formed in his mind and the corners of his lips twitched up into a half smile. It was a ridiculous image. The humour of it lifted his spirits.

‘Come on, Liam,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You need to get out of here.’

Objects crowded his hunched body on all sides in the dark cupboard. He could feel the hoover to his right, and the poles of brushes and mops pressing into his back. A bucket of some kind had wedged against his legs to the left. It was hard to move at all.

Groping around with his right hand, he searched for a suitable spot to push away from. He did not need to touch it to know the floor would feel rough and dirty. His mind flinched from the possibility of spiders, or worse, lurking in the darkness. The moment his tentative search made the discovery a thrill of excitement ran up his arm. An unmistakeable shape had met his fingertips, cold and metal. It was a key.

Picking it off the floor, he heaved himself up and began to turn the handle of the door when suddenly it was wrenched from his hand. His heart skipped a beat. The door swung open and the imposing silhouette of the janitor stood in the doorway. He hurriedly slipped the key into his back pocket.

“What the hell are you doin’ in ‘ere?” The deep, rough voice echoed through the closet. Liam’s mind raced as he struggled for an excuse. What should he say? He opened his mouth and words flooded into one long sentence:

“Well, I was in DT and I was cutting wood when I knocked a glass off the table and made a really loud noise and then my scary Welsh teacher came up to me and told me to find a dustpan and brush at once otherwise I would be in detention with him.”

The janitor’s expression went blank as he tried to make sense of what Liam had said. He hauled Liam out of the cupboard and thrust a dustpan and brush into his hand.

“There you go,” the Janitor growled, “off with ya and don’t let me see ya ‘ere again or you’ll feel the tips of me boots!”

Liam gazed around for any sign of Josh and the other bullies before retreating to the shadows of the lockers to avoid being seen. After waiting for a crowd of Year 10s to pass, he suddenly remembered the key resting in his back pocket. He pulled it out, holding it in the palm of his hand. What was it for? Who does it belong to? It looked like a teacher’s key but he couldn’t be certain. There was only one way to find out. He headed towards the closest classroom; the chemistry lab was just around the corner. He looked around for any sign of teachers or Josh and his cronies.

His hands shook as he reached to place the key in the lock. Liam heard a shout and he immediately recognised the voice of Josh. He panicked. He rammed the key into the lock and twisted it. A wave of relief and adrenaline swept through him as the door swung open easily. Even knowing that he had seconds to spare, he hesitated.

I have to go in.

I can’t!

But if I don’t…

They were coming. He had to do something. He leapt through the door and slammed it behind him. Leaning against the door a terrible realisation struck him.

The key was still outside.

The running footsteps suddenly came to a screeching halt across the polished hall floor. He felt the door shudder as the bullies crashed against it.

“You’re screwed now!” Josh yelled triumphantly.

Liam froze as he heard the key click in the door. Laughter echoed down the corridor. As Josh and his gang walked away, Liam turned around slowly. His heart was beating as fast as the rain pattering against the window.

“G-g-guys? You haven’t really locked me in… have you?” Liam stuttered.

Even the silence seemed to mock him. In desperation his sweaty hand clenched the door handle. Leaning all his weight backwards, his hands suddenly slipped and he fell heavily to the floor. A splintering pain shot up his arm. He cradled it close to his chest. Praying someone would hear him, he screamed out for help.

The next twenty minutes were a sea of pain. All feelings of hope gradually drained away. His head was pounding and he was beginning to think no one would ever find him when he heard a slight noise at the door. A pale, guilty face was looking through the window.

Hope glimmered.

“Hel…” His call for help died away as he realised who the face belonged to.

It was one of Josh’s friends.

Liam’s mind raced. Was the boy here to help or had he come back to taunt him further? The thought of more torture made the pain in his arm throb even harder. Liam looked up at him with pleading eyes as he saw a look of indecision sweep across the boy’s face. Was it his imagination, or was that the sound of the key turning in the lock?

The door began to open. A waft of fresh air swept into the room. Only now did he notice the acrid smell of chemicals that filled the Lab. Liam shuffled backwards away from the door.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ he stammered, clutching his arm protectively.

‘Are you hurt?’ the boy replied, stepping in through the doorway. ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’

Liam paused for a second before answering. He sounded genuine, but was this another trick?
‘I fell awkwardly,’ he said. ‘I think it might be broken.’

They looked at one another. The boy looked away unable to hold Liam’s gaze.

‘I’ll go and get help,’ he mumbled. ‘Don’t move. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Here’s the key. Hide it in case the others come back before I do.’

Liam leant back against the table leg behind him. ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the key from the boy and stashing into his inside blazer pocket. Tears welled in his eyes as it hit him that this could be the turning point.

The words of the sage returned again: A wise man once said that to climb a mountain, one must start at the bottom. Was this his first step towards a solution? Would this mark the end of three months of torment?

He put his hand back into his pocket to feel for the key. He pulled it out again and looked at it closely. When he had first discovered it, the key had looked like an easy way out from his problems. Now he could see that hiding would not solve anything. If he was to stand up to Josh and his gang, the real key would be communication.

The teachers would be here any minute. He realised now that he would have to explain everything. Lying was not going to help any more, and hiding had not worked. What would the teachers say? What could they do? Would they believe him? There was only one way to find out …