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Every month I will choose a user which has writen a good book!
Well done to Jazzay for doing an excelent story on a victorian boy!
you can email the Ballerina Coaches
Stories, things you would like and much more!
Username : Jazzay

Genre: Adventure

Title: Retreat To the Future

Description: This is about a Victorian boy who accidentally found himself trapped in the future...

Retreat To the Future
Chapter 1 (3rd person.)
Edward shot bolt upright in bed. Something had awoken him. A noise, like a faraway crash, followed by the continuous thud of debris.
the bombs had become a regular thing now, and Edward was conscious of them. On the most unlucky of nights, he would wake up screaming, arms flailing in bed, and transparent tears silently rolling down his cheek. He would have dreamt of wearing the Official Hitler Youth uniform, and saluting to Hitler in rows of 20 100 boys his age, beaming on the outside, crying on the inside.
Edward scanned the room, searching for a gas lamp, something he could use to burn a hole into the illusions in his head. Finding nothing, he made a checklist of his bedroom. Wardrobe. Check. Cracked mirror. Check. Bed. He looked down at the thin blanket and waggled his toes beneath them. Bed and Toes. Check.
he doubled up underneath the sheet to conserve heat, and pulled the thin, itchy-scratchy blanket over his body, shivering at the cold wind blowing through the cracked, blacked-out mirror. He touched his head to the pillow, the only comforting thing nearby, and was slowly lulled to sleep, by the throbbing heart of the city. Thump, bump, thump, bump. Distant echoes of death.

Suddenly, an almighty ear-splitting crash flew through the air. So loud, that although it didnt split Edwards ears, the wake-up devil himself woke himself up, alarmed and mystified, still half-dazed with the spell of sleep. Almost as if the sky sensed Edwards calm serenity, another crash, equally loud, rublmed around the room. Edward ducked, just in time as a large brick-shower crashed into the room, scorching hot, nearly melting, but still red hot, sending cascading shadows of smoke acros the room, and out of the huge hole in the wall where the window had been. Slowly, Edward slid his hands away ffrom his head and nervously looked around the room. The bricks carelessly scorched the carpet in Edwards room, making it inpossible to get help from the other flats in the hallway, and a thick, nearly opaque smoke filled the room, before pouring out into the night.

He coughed. Things were getting worse. He was a smart boy, with ideas for the future, always trying experiments on ants, and forever pestering his elder sister Penelope. 6 years older than him. With his little education, he still managed to be the smartest in the household, and had delevloped the ambitious and independent traits rapidly. The family had no income, all they depended on was the little fortune left from his grandmothers death, whom he never knew, and his father had been sent to the front apparently trying to prevent death but he wasnt preventing it, he was going to come face to face with it, and Penelope, and mama, both knew the same.
Penelope had once tried taking up the shoe-shining role, but was dismissed when they caught her stealing wool from shoelaces. Then, to make matters even worse than before, The war started, and Edwards limited education as placed on hold, meaning it would be extraemely hard for him to possess some kind of job at an early age, and now, their home was being absentmindedly destroyed by someone who just wanted the world to say Heil Hitler!

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