The Attic Chapter five: Estates and other businesses Kirk's P.O.V As I turned to walk away, I stopped. I looked around. She hadn't walked out of my earshot. "W-wait Isabella?" I called, somewhat bashfully, as I walked up to her. I pulled my fingers over my sleeves. What was I going to say? I wanted to know which neighbourhood she lived in. Actually, no point really, no one lives in the bird estate. It was too big and too classy and too boring. She turned around, that blonde hair swishing carefully over her shoulders. "Yes?" She replied. "Er-Just a note. If you live around the composers neighbourhood, avoid going near Mozart Close. It's quite dodgy up that place," I informed her. Mozart Close was dodgy. It had bad people there, who smoked weed and vandalised cars. It stood proudly next to Bach avenue, the lane of so-called haunted houses. The composers estate was opposite the bird estate. My house overlooked the river to the side of it. She nodded and said goodbye again, before she left. I opened my sketch book as I walked in the opposite direction, trying to figure what I had drawn. It was very dark and smudged, with a small palish boy to the left, clutching a bear. In the shadow of him I had drawn a large scary looking figure. The character I had drawn was a little like a doppelgänger, two faced, split personality. I walked out of school the back exit, closest to the bus stop. I caught the bus home as usual. I always came back to an empty house. I hated it. It scared me so, like the doppelgänger boy was lurking in the corners, like it did in my sketch book.

The Attic Chapter 3: The American, the Mexican and the Brit. ((Kirk's P.O.V)) I hung by the door. "Ignore her..she is the worst kind of annoying." I said. I walked forwards to sit next to Isabella. She looked at me, a sad smile playing her glossed lips. "Don't let them get you down on your first day," She was quite pretty, the usual American-blonde haired-blue-eyed-glossed lips girl. I liked avoiding those sort of girls, but Pinky thinks its ok to glue up against me. I detested her. She stank of rose perfume and wore enough makeup to open a shop with it all. Isabella didn't seem as bad as her. Isabella was quite a soft character I could tell. Usually I wasn't one for these brash Americans before I left Kensington. "Kiiiiirk!! Oi oi!!" A Latino voice hollered before the door burst open. A slightly taller boy, Rudy, stood there. He had orange-brown skin, black curly hair and a small pork-pie hat atop his hair. "Kirk, Don't just leave me with her!" He wailed. I stood, chuckling at my best friend. "Isabella, this is Rudy, the other boy three lockers from you."

The Attic Chapter 2-The Long Boy The school was bustling with young colourful art students. The walls were painted with portraits, landscapes, modern art, coursework of the college students. 'Hopefully,' I thought, 'I won't get trampled here' I took my first bold walk down the corridor, between the postbox red lockers and on a shiny laminate floor. I felt like a million bucks. Mom had paid for me to go here and I would make my stay worth it. I went down the corridor, left, then right again, to find my one. I had locker two hundred and sixty six. These hallways were green lockers, and only a few people stood at them: a young looking girl with vibrant pinkish hair; a tall lanky boy that seemed to loom over the lockers, and just a regular boy. Each character seemed intriguing to me, like I was in some sort of detective story. I opened up my locker and started unloading all my things to inside it when the tallish boy lurked my way. "Hello," he said to me. His voice was an icy whisper. I looked up to him. His black hair shadowed over his face and made his eyes look very dark despite them being a beautiful chestnut colour. He had donned a loose V-Neck jumper with the collar scruffily outside it and a loose black tie. Dark jeans and Doc Martin shoes. Nothing much to look at, but an interesting boy. "Hey," I chimed in response, giving him a wide smile. I put out my hand. "What's your name? I'm Isabella. Isabella Hague" "Turbulence." He said, shaking my hand. His voice sounded almost like a royal brit's voice. "Kirk, Turbulence."

Dived in to the sea Immersed myself in water All cares brushed away

The Bird And The Fish (Short story time) "I cannot swim." Said the bird, sulking slightly as he crouched by the sea. He brushed the sand with his fingers. "And I have no intention of doing so, I can't," he sighed. The fish frowned at the water, before switching his glance to the bird. "I thought I couldn't fly, but you took me higher than I could've ever imagined," he said. "And I won't let you drown. Never ever!" He said, voice sincere and honest. "Please..just for me?"