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Terrorised a little story Ive written based on my school life and stuff

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I go to secondary school, and it can be good or bad and stuff. So I decided to base it on that.


Okay, I originally wrote this for some competition, but I missed the deadline; so I decided to branch it out into a bigger story and added some thriller/mystery elements.


The blurb:

Zak is an ordinary high school student--okay he's over-paranoid about people prejudging him on his religon and can be a bit crazy. When something really unexpected is found in a biology lesson, it's upto him and his friends to solve the mystery. They soon run into even more trouble when they meet an international eco-terroist group...


It starts off a bit deep, but there's alot of humour afterwards. Some of it's based on my school, hope you enjoy it and please post your reviews. thanks okay too the story...



[chapter one] Running Late


Seventh July 2005. Everyone remembers that day. The day London's people froze. Those four men put their lives on the line for their beliefs, some would call them freedom fighters, other would call them terrorists.

Yet they killed all those people, for what? Innocent Palestinians are still being bombed by Israeli fighter planes. Iraqis are still dying in a war, that wasn't even right in the first place. Muslims are still being treated badly, and these attacks haven't helped. All those people died in vain.

They killed all those people, and there's no excuse for killing innocent civilians.


Now over two and a half years have past, but Muslims are still being treated unfairly. Racist comments, whispers and little mutterings when they think you're out of earshot, everywhere you go people looking at you-- scared of what they "think" you may do.

That's what it's like for me, fourteen year-old Zakariya Ibrahim.


You know what school's like? You're in a class, with crazy teachers- spending there depressing lives shouting at you, acting like they never make any mistakes; students who desperately show off, to get the attention they crave; the quiet ones, who get away with blue murder, the teacher never suspects them. Then there are punishment exercises, detentions and isolations; and the endless supply of dreadful homework that seems to refill it's self like a glass of Coke at Pizza Hut.


And let's not forget the bullies who seek out to attack anyone who's different, anyone who looks, acts or thinks differently. It could be anyone, anyone unlucky enough to be the victim.


I was running late for school, again. No time for breakfast, unless I wanted a detention. I ran out the door, down the stairs and out to the street. So I walked ahead, and oh snap. There was the number 26 bus. Had to run even faster, crossing the road on a red light.


I bet Mr Dier didn't know he was putting his student's lives at risk. He wouldn't would he? Sitting at his comfy desk drinking Irn Bru (tutt tutt, and I thought it was meant to be a health-promoting school).


I crossed the road and thought that I'd just made it. The bus zimmed past. Maybe the driver hadn't seen me, maybe. Or maybe that was his prejudices taking the better of him. Honestly how risky could it be to let a teenage boy into a bus?


Half-an-hour later i finally got to the school gates. I ran in, breathing heavily. I might've got Asthma at this rate, I was running late every day. And in the window of the front door, I saw Mr Dier's icy grin. Not a happy grin, but not exactly angry. He was expecting this, always happened. He was kindof making a joke of it, and then gave me a little orange card. Like I didn't know what time the detentions were.



More coming soon, I've already got eight chapters ready (seven up on bbc blast, and the eighth also on my bebo) Chapter 2 (Break Time) gets into a bit more humour, with a drunken teacher, and basic break time talk...


Anyway please reply with what you think, it'll help alot. Thanks


Edited by khlieeq (see edit history)

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[chapter two] Break Time

Two hours later...Break Time, Concourse...Not at the "usual table"


"Oh bull, Why did they have to move the tables?" I asked.

"Do you ever stop moaning?" said Mae. The poltical brainbox. Also had a sarcasm problem. That was Mae.

"Hate that Katie from The Apprentice, what's her problem with Maevis'?"

"Yeah, you arney fat. So don't do a Hannah-from-Hollyoaks. Anyway she was fired, that was good." replied Maureen.


"Final tommorow,..."I replied.


So we carried on our converstation on The Apprentice.


Jimmy and Laura joined the table.


"My money's on Kristina," said Laura.

"Simon's just a posh, know-it-all reject."

"What are you talking about?"asked Jimmy

"The Apprentice," replied Maureen.

"Sir Alan Sugar's TV show. He's looking for a someone to join his organisation. Fires one every week."

"It's a load of capitalist bull, but hey I'm addicted." added Mae


So we carried on our regular natter about stuff, while Kelly, Anne, Sarah, Lee and Tracy joined the table.


Then Mr Dier arrived.

"He looks drunk." said Kelly.

"Drinking too much Irn Bru, the eejit's gone hyper." replied Lee.

"Hello everyone. Give me your jotters, or you're on detention."

"Em, I'm already on detention. No need to rub it in." I replied.

His breath really did smell of drink, and it definatley wasn't Irn Bru.

So we handed him the jotters, he went crazy. Ripping them up, writing graffiti.


We all looked shocked, Mr Dier was drunk. He was vandalising our jotters-

Oh no, how much trouble would I get in from Ms Pickerel? Mr Dier had just puked up in my English jotter, nasty...


He started doing weird dances and jumping around.


"So he likes liqour, Irn Bru and carrots."replied Tracy, she was looking at the mess in my jotter.

"No that's not carrots, it's just some orange stuff that comes out in vomit."said Mae, who was being a know-it-all, even in a situation like this.


"Hmmm, looks like the stuff your hamster eats, Kelly." added Jimmy.

"It's not a hamster, it's a HEDGEHOG, you idiot." Kelly answered back.


"Well someone tell a teacher." added Maureen.

"The dinnerladies don't give a damn, and I think he was the only teacher on duty." Anne infromed her.


Tracy went to look at the sick, "examining" it.

"I saw this thing on CSI, about human vomit, it can tell you if he really HAS been drinking too much Irn Bru. I'm gonna be a forensic scientist."she brought up the subject of her future job everyday, so we were kinda getting used to it.

"Oh, not your forensic rubbish agian. I'm getting a bloody earache."

"Do you ever stop moaning?" added Mae, talking to me.

"I did tell you he had Irn Bru, I saw him with it on his desk."said Anne.

"Well go on, Tracy. Show us if it's true." responded Jimmy.


Just then, the bell rang...we'll never know if he really drank Irn Bru or not. NOOOOOO(!), and the small matter of Ms Pickerel killing me...


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[chapter three] Beware of the... Pickerel

Okay so the bell rang, and it was time for English

I obviously couldn't take my jotter, after Mr Dier had made it look like it should be in the toilet-- mind you, it probably smelt better than the toilets.


Anyway, off to Ms Pickerel's English class. She was gonna go rajj at me, but I wasn't touching that jotter.




"ZAKARIYA!" she screamed when I asked for some paper for our latest project; we had to look at poetry, again-- it was on "old" people, Mae was doing it on the Psycholgy of English teachers.


"WHY DIDN'T YOU BRING YOUR JOTTER? You've had English on the same day for the past year, so should remember by now."

"Mr Dier puked all over it, he was drunk or something." I replied.

"I'm sure he wasn't." Her face was a big red ballon, her vien pulsating, a sign of her how angry she was-- according to Mae.


"No stop spreading your lies and excuses. You could have come up with something better than that."

"It's not like I lost it on purpose...,threw it in... the Water of Leith or something, it's still downstairs in the Concourse, if you want to see my jotter."


She looked like she was gonna explode, but before she could say anything the phone rang.


She picked it up. Everyone was pretending to do their work, but they were secretly eavesdropping on the conversation.


"Oh Good Morning, Ms Laser."she answered the call.

"So what's so important?... What?" she looked worried.

"Really, this isn't a joke or anything. Okay, okay so I have to go down because Kate's not in... Is it serious... are you sure nobody else could help with First Aid?"

I guessed that she must have found out about the incident at break.

"I see...I'm just coming."


"Class, I... I need to go, it's urgent. Make sure you behave, Ms Ravers will let me know if you disturb the other classes. Remeber to do your work." she looked anxious and kindof scared.

She sprinted to the door.


Maybe this wasn't the best time, but hey this was important, according to Mr Basket.

"Miss-" I said.

"Yes, Zak?" she replied, with a worried expression on her face.

"Em... Could I borrow a pencil?"


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[chapter four] 28, No I Mean 2 Weeks Later


So yeah I was late everyday in these next two weeks, exept maybe once when, nah I was still late then... Never mind, I'll get on with the story.


So let's start with Reggie-- no not yet another character (but it is set in a school, what were you expecting), Reggie is short for Registration for those of you who didn't know.


Well this was the first day that I was actually in Reggie, partly because it was an extended Reggie. Ms Peterson was gonna have a party, apparently. Probably a joke.


Anyway, the good thing about Reggie in a computer class is that you get to go online. So after watching 'Dramatic Chimpunk' for two minutes (the crazy priarie dog is so funny), I was on to MSN. We weren't allowed, but since i found that proxy-- the teachers never realised. Anyway there wasn't any point since everybody was in school, and a skiver wouldn't be that thick to log on to MSN. (Maybe That-Person-that-Can't-be-Named-or-

he'll-Beat-me-up, a la Voldemort, but he obviously isn't in my friends list.


But it turns out that Maureen's account was logged in. Thinking back, I realised she'd been off the whole week. She was an Afro-Carribean girl, who liked Nature and saving the planet.


I tried talking


ME:Is anybody there?

ME:Hello Maureen?


Then the account logged off, whoever it was didn't want to speak to me (,I wonder why, I always start the most intresting and stimulating conersations).


Her mum had recently met up with a hippie group, so maybe she'd moved to live with them. But why was her account logged in? She'd never waste electricity. And she would have told us. Something was suspicous, had to talk to everybody about this at break.


Then the bell rang... Time for Biolgy! That'd be fun(!) <groan!>



Edited by khlieeq (see edit history)

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CHAPTER FIVE - "Mistake My Biology"


So yeah it it's a whole hour of boredom, now. One word. Four sylabals. Seven letters. Girls Aloud wrote a song about it. Biology.

Eh, When do we desect the frogs?


Honestly three periods of biolgy; Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Well until we get to do BioTechnolgy ,or something more intresting than sampling plants and insects. Do I look like I really care, Do I really want a future job that involves counting daisies?


Suppose it's better than Physics, nearly chose that, wonder if Mae's enjoying her sums and formulas(or is it formulae?). Yeah well I could never remember how to make a circuit, so maybe the fun parts would be just as boring. But right now, with Mr Butter ranting on about this "genious invention". It just looks like a red metal frame with sqaure holes inside it, to me. Sampling grid or something.


Relieved, atleast we get to escape from this classroom. Those stools are so uncomfortable. I'd rather be digging up pit-fall traps anyday.




So we had to go out twos, Butter paired me up with Anne, that's a relief. Last time I was partners with Fred, who recently emmigrated from Trinidad. He expects to get away with me doing all the work. Everybody seems to think that he's a brainbox. Apparently he organised some full-scale robberies, just rumours. Nah, he isn't that clever, there must have been somebody else helping him, I mean he can't even tie his shoelaces.


Fred was blamed for what happened to Mr Dier, apparently his drink had been spiked, likely story. Irn Bru, nah, maybe not this time. He smelt like a bloody pub.


Anyway Anne says that she kinda feels sorry for him (no, not Mr Dier, Fred), he got the accusation without any real evidence, exept that he was in Mr Dier's office at the time-- the only "student", what about the teachers, I wonder? Anne also said that he's new here and might be a bit confused. Also there's fact that he apparently "used" to do drugs, more rumours? They just looked at what he did (or might have done) before and didn't think to investigate it further.


Fred might have this reputation, but he's not as clever as everybody thinks, well it doesn't seem like it to me; either that or he's incredibly lazy.


I thought up some theory (yeah yeah, everybody thinks I'm paranoid) that the teachers were just using it as an exucse to get away with Mr Dier being drunk, and to stop him losing his job.


I suppose, even for his vices-- which are mostly rumours--, Fred isn' that bad, not compared to some of the racist bigots and the annoying bullies, oh don't forget the quiet ones. And I'm sure that he's had alot to come with, coming to a new country and all, the racists never help the situation.




"Okay, Third Year." Butter addresses us all.

"We're here today, to dig up pitfall traps, like I explained in class." He handed out spades and we were off to work, might aswell be slave labour; exploiting children to work for nothing. Well it beats hitting the books in the clasroom.

Anyway this would be the perfect oppurtunity to talk to Anne about what happened at Reggie, with Maureen's MSN and all. Afterall, they were quite close friends.


So I started to dig, we chose a location near the wall, it'd be easiest, according to Jimbo Brown-Johnson.


"Anne, the weirdest thing happened in Reggie. Em..."

"Yeah?" asked Anne, politley.

"Well, em, have you seen Mo recently?"

"No, actually. Last I saw her was Saturday, on the week when Mr Dier went crazy."

"Well in Reggie her MSN addy was logged in."

"Hmm..." she paused, intrigued. "Maybe she just left it on... Oh, but she'd never leave it on, er... I don't know." Anne suggested.

"Well, it does seem odd. Did she say anything about going away, last time you met? That'd explain the absence."

"Well she did send me a text. We were planning to meet at the Bus Stop, she'd joined this group. I think it was a band; but I'm not sure. She invited me to come and see them."

She took out her phone, and showed the text:


"dont cm 2 the group. whtvr u do dnt cm."


"I thought that she couldn't come, or wasn't allowed to invite me. Like she'd just made a little joke. You know how she is, a drama queen."added Anne

"Yeah, suppose there's a perfectly normal explanation for it. Maybe she did just leave her computer on, by accident. Not exactly that suspicous. I mean, maybe-"I said


"Oh Snap, Snap." Anne yelled.

I looked at the pit.

"What is it?"

"There's something there."she jabbed it with the spade, and reluctanly began digging.

"Fudge; is that, is that-" I said, but I didn't want to finish my sentence.

Anne nodded, "I think, it is."


People started to come near, to see what all the fuss was about.

People were screaming. Lots of frightened faces. Boys and girls, all screaming, all shouting.


Mr Butter walked up to the scene.

"What's all this nonsense-." He paused. He saw it aswell.

The hand.

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CHAPTER SIX - "Hand of Glory or Gore-y?"

There was actually a hand in the pit that *we* dug up. I wasn't sure how to feel, it might have been cool. But, we'd found it after thinking about how strange it was that Mo was absent for two weeks.


No it couldn't be. I mean the hand clearly belonged to somebody of Afro-Caribbean origin, but it couldn't be hers, could it?


I don't want to get over-paranoid (okay, even more paranoid that I already am), but I'm now starting to think that it could be hers. The teacher had now arrived at the scene. He was silent, probably scared. How would somebody responsible act in a situation like this? What was he thinking? What was he going to do?




"Okay, class." Mr Butter paused again. He couldn't believe it. There was a disembodied hand in the playground. At school, during a lesson, during *his* lesson. That didn't happen everyday


He'd joked about when one of his colleagues set off a fire alarm after burning a jelly-baby, he'd forgotten to adjust the sensitivity settings. But this was major, people would remember this. Maybe he would appear in the Newspaper again.


He remembered when his collection of his weird and wonderful (mostly just weird) objects had got him an article in the local newspaper. Maybe he could add the hand to his collection, which included: a one-eyed pig's stuffed head, a jackalope --antler-headed rabbit, a shrunken head and a real piece of the original TARDIS.


He already had a "hand of glory", not the Harry Potter one. The real hand of an executionee, made into a candle. Apparently, when it was lit it would keep everybody in that house asleep, and would help get in a intuder. So where does JK get her ideas from?


But maybe he shouldn't take the hand, he didn't know who it belonged to. It was probably against some rule or other, health and safety probably, though he doubted that anything like this would have happened before. Also it was probably unethical to take the hand, that had obviously been separated from it's body recently, the person might still be alive.


He'd have to speak to Mr Dier-- who he found really annoying as well. Didn't like how he thought he could completely change the place since he was new, he'd probably been in teaching longer than Dier.


Anyway he had more stressing matters to attend to. He was okay, but what about his class? Some might be mentally scarred for life, emotionally and psychologically effected. It'd be best to send them back to class as soon as possible.




After five minutes, he finally spoke again, people had calmed down abit.

"Everybody, line up. Jimbo, you collect in the spades. You can watch a video until the end of this lesson, and if anybody isn't feeling well you can go down to see Kate, the nurse, in her office."


People were now less anxious, muttering and dreading that the class was over in less than twenty minutes. They wouldn't be able to see even a whole episode of The Simpsons.


I wondered how people could be so scared and worried, and how they now become calmer and joked about the situation. I mean they would still talk about it, but they were now more worried about 'Who pushed Clare in Hollyoaks' and 'Who attacked Patrick' in EastEnders. What about 'Who's hand is it, and how did it get there?' Things never change, much; things like this happen but in a matter of five minutes nobody cares so much. Reluctant as we all were, we followed Mr Butter back to the classroom.


Anyway I still wanted to know the ins and outs of it all, and find out what really happened with the Hand. Could it actually have belonged to Mo?

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