Science Fiction

I have so enjoyed working with Year Five on these stories. The (almost) original short story by Ray Bradbury can be found on the main class page, so that the children's creations can be put into context.
 
Below are stories by Natalia, Garron, Milly and Jack - though I could have included more, as well as brilliant aspects of others.
 
Well done Year Five!
 
 

Written by Garron Mason.

 

There Will Come An End ?

The alien UFO burned, inside out.

Nothing moved - at least, nothing that was alive.

Suddenly the crackling of the fire rose higher & higher. Inside the

wreckage, lit a spark of nuclear waste, leaking on the cold, dark

floor. In the cockpit, lay a shrieking cry of soul, trapped in the

confounded space.

 

The light shone upon the bare landscape, no wind stirred.

Shooting stars gazed down at the earth; flowers appeared in

the evening sky and beauty shimmered in the sand from the

destroyed houses. Meteors twinkled like the flaming sun, singing

like a storm, and the moon crinkled like crackling fire on wood.

 

Later in lonely Earth’s gas-filled day, nukes dropped from the

sky like a woman crying because she had lost her child.

After the sun came up, shimmering gold mice

extinguished the roaring red flames and then hid under the

orange cabinet. Their big, green electrical eyes faded.

Drawing pain into the air, the wind whistled like ghostly

galloping horses in the distance. The dead trees shook, like a

blood-curdling tornado tearing skin. Then, over richly-glowing,

golden land, drops of freezing rain pattered and pattered on the

shiny blue and black metal of the spacecraft.

 

On the sad sand, the UFO stood still, and a bitter-

mint taste filled the air like a swarm of locusts. Stencils of humans

fighting aliens pierced on the wall in ash and blood, from a

battle that had finished centuries ago.

 

All of a sudden time froze, the nukes from the robotic  planes

stopped their automatic bombing on the wasteland. The UFO lay

on sand and rubble. Sand and rubble.

 

Suddenly with a flash of black light, a beam filtered out from

beneath. The UFO crumbled, inside, out. Metal fell onto the

 controls, controls onto titanium support beams,

beams onto electrical wires – everything imploded.

 

Beyond time itself, a faint voice whispered,

… ‘The end is near …  the end is near … the end is near …

THE END!!!

 

**************************************************************************

Written by Natalia Radelicka .

 

The Shed.

The Monday shed stood empty. ‘Tick tock, seven o’clock’.

The gloomy, echoey and bare landscape glowed with toxic waste.  Slow hiss emitted from burning fire, which lay on the floor planks.

‘ Tick tock, seven thirty, time for breakfast.’ There appeared : Ten chips, three eggs and two glasses of milk. But the toast burned under electric eyes.

‘Tick tock 5 o’clock’, the voice-clock sang. ‘Time to drive’. The car door opened and then closed again, as nobody arrived to drive it.

‘Tick tock, eight thirty’, the voice clock sang. The metal throat ate the toast.

‘Tick tock, nine o’clock’, the mice came to clean up the mess.

 

The sun was just coming up, there was smoke whirling around the shed in masses. ‘Tick tock ten o’clock.’

 

The outlines of the people were frozen. Some were playing, some were reading a book with infinite pages and the last one was hoovering a never-ending carpet.

 

‘Tick tock ten fifteen.’ Rain fell from the rivers and clouds formed a lovely sweet-as-sugar shape, on the sky.

 

‘Tick tock, half past sixteen’. Animals came dashing from their homes and the shed started to burn.

 

Dancing fire burnt everything and everybody. The grassy fields shimmering, shimmering. Across the house, a red glaze was mouthing in the air, which was filled with gloomy smoke.

 

‘Tick tock eight.’ With a dash of red, as blood, fog came from within the raining river bag of water. It rolled onto the burning shed.

 

IMPLOSION!

 

Evening was dead. Only a bit of the shed remained.

 

The voice clock sang ‘Tick tock tick tock the end is near, the end is near, the end…’

 

Written by Millicent Ritchie

 

There Will Come the End

A dark, dark bathroom, lay peacefully inside an empty house. Nothing stirred apart from the water lapping inside the bath tub, and the curtains swaying over the window. The cold wind hurried in through the open window, freezing the room.

 

Bubbles appeared and disappeared, popping each time. A bath toy fell off the side of the bath ‘plop’.

 

A distant cloud moved past the glass frame and a shower of breezy rain tapped lightly in crystal drops. The sun peered nervously over the cloud, crawling upwards where it lazily rested, shining like a million angels.

 

A smile scampered over the face of the sun.

 

Flames of light burst …

 

Then … The brightness grew and grew to a tremendous size! The horrid smell of burning ashes drifted along the half-broken corridor : CRASH! Floors busted, tearing open. The room imploded on itself, floor by floor it crashed down, buried under masses of dust and rubble.

 

The corners of calmness were wrecked. The light and fire caught everything! In its mind each and every place was its enemy!

 

The bath tub fought strong, though the heat was so unbearable, that it tore at its organs, shredding it like a cheese grater ‘ouch!’ Windows shattered, screaming in utter pain…

 

Terrifyingly, a storm had risen out of its grave in hell!

 

Then a relief : water squirted from the open window, showering the remaining fire in a thick ocean spray! The fire had officially been conquered.

 

There stood the ugly wreck. Not a pleasurable sight to lay eyes on. The last thing in one piece stood grandly and stronger than ever : the bath tub!

 

Peace was restored … but a fuzzy, crackled voice said :

‘Oh dear, it’s the end, oh dear, it’s the end, oh dear it’s :

 

(:The End:)’

 

 *************************************************************************

 

Written by Jack Lankston

 

There Will Come Heavy Fire.

The S.S. Jackaboy lay dead of silence. There wasn’t any life except for the space station itself (S.S. Jackaboy), which was automatic.

 

Outside, shooting stars whizzed through space crashing into Earth.

 

Somewhere, an alarm clock rang. It was glistening red with blue polka dots, which seemed to dance, singing ‘Tick-tock, 4 o’clock, breakfast time!’ The toaster popped, the eggs sizzled and the pancakes eaten, by gravity. In a few seconds it was all gone, everything gone. The spare eggs and pancakes got chucked down the rubbish shoot.

 

The bare space is harmless, the golden meteors swishing through the air, shooting stars sizzling past the window.

And the space is beautiful, with the moon sparkling like the sun and the Earth, so amazing to see it glisten in the darkness.

 

But nothing happened. The space station floated in the Earth’s atmosphere. The space station that was taking research data by the second.

 

S.S. Jackaboy lay dead still. Today is the end.

 

Radioactive meteors hit the top of the station. There was an extraordinary flash of light, bang! ‘Fire, fire!’ said a voice. Explosions everywhere.

 

The fire leapt from the centre of the space station, dripping nuclear waste from the cockpit. Bang! The wing flew like Superman, off the space station! In a few minutes the entire thing was consumed by fire and imploded with a flash of light …

 

Now the end is near, the end is near, the end now, this is the END!!