Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Charlotte and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are: 

1.sort  2. pollution  3.crooked  4. learned  5. wanting  6. industry  

and/or:  

1. education  2. colour  3. withdraw  4. coach  5. bellow  6. cat

Here is my story:

Oswald Staffordshire-the-third stepped off the coach and felt the blood withdraw from his face as he viewed his new surroundings. How could this have happened? He had merely been helping Henrietta Lancashire-Smythe to get what was rightfully hers, but as things unfolded, he discovered she had lied to him. Even worse, he further learned that her name wasn’t even Henrietta, she was plain Brenda Brown and according to the policeman who had bellowed at him, she had a “rap” sheet longer than The Nile!

The sneering judge who sentenced him declared he would now get an entirely different sort of education, but perhaps he had nine lives, like a cat, and would survive the experience without absorbing too much “pollution.” As the now empty coach was driven away, Oswald noticed a group of men not much older than himself, shuffling in his direction. The biggest and meanest looking one crooked a finger at him, “Come along over here little boy,” he said to sniggers from the others. “We’re gonna be ya new best mates!”

Oswald gulped and told his feet to move. The group engulfed him, slapping him on the back and asking questions, wanting to know what he’d done to get sent here and “what does ya Dad do?” “He, umm, he works in the Shipping Industry.” “Ooooh, posh ain’t ya?” said the second biggest thug. “Well don’t you worry none, We’ll look after ya, teach ya how a few things is done round ‘ere,” said a third boy. “Ya can sit with us in the dining room, what’s yer name?”

“I am Oswald Staffordshire-the-third,” he replied weakly. “Blimey, that’s a mouthful!” said the biggest boy, “You’ll be Ozzie in ‘ere, I’m Bear and this little fella is “Rooster”, ‘cause he’s always the first awake. “Johnno”, “Fred”, “Brian”, the names came fast and Oswald, (oops, Ozzie)  didn’t have time to register which face went with which name. He let them lead him to a long olive green coloured building with a sign reading “Dormitory 3”, while glancing nervously at rows of barbed wire fencing capped with razor wire coils.