Skin Deep: Young Scottish Voices, #1

By Young Scottish Voices

A collection of fiction written by 11 and 12-year-olds living in Scotland.

This book showcases talent which may, one day, become Scotland's next generation of authors, following in the country's very rich tradition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: sea minor
• Release date: Jun 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781519916266

Book preview

SKIN DEEP

by Fern Anderson

I looked down at the bushy mess of my garden. The thorns entwined among the roses, strangling them. Killing them. I liked those thorns. They were the only things that were ugly, weeds. Like me.

I closed the window and a cool breeze just managed to squeeze through the tiny gap. I didn’t like shutting the window fully. It made me feel trapped. It still does. My father always told me I belonged in a circus, or locked up in a cell never to escape. Every time he said that he burned a gaping hole in my heart and that hole grew bigger and bigger until I felt that my father had no love for me.

I slowly crept to the cracked mirror in the corner of my room. I looked at myself in the mirror every night before bed to remind myself that I was a disgrace to my parents. I put my grubby fingers up to my face and touched my pale, freckly skin. Then I touched my fat nose with wide nostrils. My fingers slowly crept to my lips. They were so thin I hardly had any. My eyes were a deep brown, almost black that really didn’t look right with my dark red, frizzy hair. No wonder dad hates me! I hate myself!

I sat down in the corner of my room. A slow, warm tear trickled down my cheek. It felt like a burn against my icy face. About a minute later there were enough tears in my eyes to fill an ocean.

I wish I was the beauty. Not the beast!

I heard loud footsteps come up the stairs. That could only be one person; my father. I quickly hurried over to my bed. Flung back the covers and jumped in, hauled the covers over me and shut my eyes so tight that my eyes hurt immediately. The door flew open. My eyes were hurting desperately but I didn’t dare open them. I could sense my father leaning over me and his shadow draped across my bed covers. I know you’re awake I could hear you crying! my father bellowed. I kept my eyes shut! He dragged me out of my bed onto the floor, the cold bit at my feet. I could hear him take a deep breath. SMACK! I could feel something hard jab into my side. It was probably my father’s steel, cap boots. I think I might have broken a rib but I could feel no pain. There were no tears left in me; I was empty.

I reach out of the window and grasp a firm hold on the most beautiful rose, red like the blood seeping through my clothes were my father brutally kicked me. The thorns claw at my hands but I don’t let go of the rose. I finally release it from its thorny cage and I give it a lopsided smile. I hold it tightly to my chest and contently cry myself to sleep.

THE HIDDEN

by Anna Balfour

GRACIE

The sky was a deep navy-blue. It was like looking into the bottom of the ocean. Stars were giving the only light. With no moon to fill the sky it almost looked bare. Every night I looked up at the sky. Was it comforting? Or was it to remind me that no one was safe? Ever.

Come now, my mother whispered in my ear. I jumped. I turned around. My mother’s cat like eyes pierced through mine. Every time she looked at me it was like she could see my every thought.

Gracie, come, she placed her hand on my shoulder and lead me back to the house.

Was it always going to be like this? Us scared, defenceless? Against what? Fear? Were we scared of fear its self?

The town was silent. My house was crowded and humid. Candles and flaming torches lined the walls giving off eerie shadows. Blankets were strewn around the floor. My mother had made her way over to a bubbling pot of stew.

The wooden floor creaked as I made my way over to TG. TG was the only person I really trusted. I told him everything. His presence was comforting. When he was with me, he seemed to heal the hole in my heart that had opened up when my father had died. I suppose he reminded me of my father. The smell of smoke and pine needles, the way he managed to feed a family of five on his own.

TG’s father had also been killed when TG was only eleven. He had taken his father’s role in the family then. He took a job of fishing at only twelve and from then on had been the main source of food and money for his family.

Thinking about him now, he could be my full brother. Not in looks but in personality. He twists his hands together like me. His humour is exactly the same and when no one finds his jokes funny he knows I always will.

LUKA

Thousands of thoughts swirl around in my head. Most of them fear, some excitement, but most sadness. How many more people do I have to keep hurting? How many more people are going to have to suffer because of my actions? The usual murmur of voices was not there tonight. It never was on a moonless night. They know that a loved one could be joining them tonight. I looked over the heads of children I had put through so much pain. Their food was untouched and no one had moved.

GRACIE

A piercing scream bounced of the silence. Breaking through all happiness or hope any of us had left. I clung to TG, his steadying presence giving the faintest flicker of courage.

TG’s eyes flickered open. He caught my eye and smiled. I didn’t really have the strength to return it. I was scared now. I sat on my hands to hide the fact that they were shaking. Another scream echoed around the room. Bouncing around the walls of my head. I had a bad feeling about tonight. I was never this nervous. Nowhere near it in fact.

LUKA

My stomach was twisted into knots. How was I going to be able to do it all again? I’d made my mind up to just go into the first house I came across.

I crept along the frozen grass. The cold biting at my face. Why was it me? I hated this life. I passed the usual blood hounds and the occasional pen of chickens. I knew what house I had to go into. I was going into it now. I closed my eyes and pushed the door open.

GRACIE

It was him. He was looking straight at me. No remorse. No sadness. He walked forward. His sword drawn, ready to strike at anyone who got in his way. I no longer felt scared. It was going to happen. What could I do about it?

Please, please, my mother whimpered.

Oh no.

He struck. The sword caught my mother just under the ribs. I ran forward and collapsed onto my knees. All ready her skirt was dyed red,

Please mother, don’t leave. Don’t go. My heart had crumbled leaving a gaping hole. She couldn’t leave. There was nothing left to love. A sharp tug pulled me to my feet. I looked into his cold dark eyes. He’d done this, killed everyone and everything I had ever loved. I punched and heard the satisfying whack. He slapped my face. Hard. The stinging burned my cheek.

LUKA

The women looked up at me. Recognition. I had seen her before. This is was the wife whose husband had killed my father. I could see it in her eyes. I struck out with my sword. There’s another one gone. I have killed another one. The girl that was kneeling beside her was about sixteen, the right age. I pulled her to her arm. Her eyes caught mine. A deep hazel-brown. Her hair framed her face perfectly although her face was ashen. She tried tugging her arm back, but my grasp was stronger. She was quick though! For she had struck my face with her fist. I could feel my anger rising and I slapped her hard across the check.

GRACIE

My mother lay limp across the floor, all the energy gone from me. The man gave me one more impatient tug at my arm. I knew I was going to have to go with him, but I felt no fear only sadness. I bent down and kissed my mother on the forehead, sweeping a strand of loose hair from her forehead. Saying my last silent good bye.

LUKA

Time seemed to be going by slowly. I now knew that the girl’s name was Gracie and she knew mine was Luka.

Why do you even do this? Steal us? Kill innocent people? she asked.

I knew she was going to ask this. She may as well know. There was something about her that told me she could keep a secret. It also told me that she kept a lot of secrets.

Years ago, when your village had more power, your people were greedy. They used their power against us. They would use our people as slaves. Make them work in the mine. Make them farm. They turned them into people they weren’t. All women had to leave their families to cook and clean. All for your people.

Gracie interrupted.

Is this who you want to be?

I shrugged. It was true that this was not the perfect life. But deep down I knew it wasn’t the worst.

"Slowly we recruited men for an army. We fought your village. Innocent people were killed. Eventually your village was down to half the men it started with. More than two hundred people had lost their lives. Your village gave in, decided it was all too much. So every month your village decide that one child is better than two hundred. We take you to remind you that you no longer have the power over us.

GRACIE

This man was evil. He kidnapped children because his people held a grudge. He was sick. The picture of my