Miss Roberts


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I live at the very top of a tall block of flats. All that is above me is a cold old dusty loft.

When I’m laying in bed at night I can see a tiny hole in the ceiling above my bed and I’m sure there is an eye looking through the hole down at me.

I can also hear banging above me at night, like someone is dancing up there in the loft.

I’ve stored some of my junk up there, all packed away in boxes and stored alphabetically, but when I go up there again I find the boxes have been opened and rearranged.

So I’ve come to a conclusion…

I have a man in my loft. I like to call him Derek.

Derek is a big man and he crouches painfully in the tiny corners of the loft

I lie in my bed and think of Derek

Sleeping on the insulation foam

Drinking from the hot water tank

Eating the dust and bugs to survive

But, I think to myself

What if Derek were to come down from the loft to live with me in my flat?

What then?

Well, I’ll sit him on the sofa in front of the TV and I’ll feed him up on hotdogs and burgers and mash and beans and cherries and cupcakes and stawberries and gateaux.

I’ll feed him till his big and fat, till he’s enormous!

Then I’ll squeeze him into the tiny gap underneath my bed

So I can hear him squeal whenever I go to bed at night.

The End.

The True Story of Derek

Written by Miss Roberts

December 13, 2011 at 6:22 pm

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