I am now so pleased that I undertook the OU course. Not only has it forced me to finally write, rather than procrastinate, I also get to take the journey with other writers.

Before I add my short story, I should give a slight introduction. I am a Children's Librarian, so I primarily read children's and young adult fiction. Therefore, that is the shape that my writing seems to take. As always any feedback is welcome.

Revenge

It wasn’t fair. Why was he being punished? Ben had taken part too, but of course he wasn’t sent to his room. He got away with it, as always. Thomas slammed his door as hard as he possibly could. He gave a smug smile as something crashed to the floor outside his room. If he was lucky it would be his mother’s favourite vase, hopefully smashed to a blue and white heap. He threw himself down on the bed and angrily thought of all the revengeful acts he could exact on his brother. His favourite was the custard bed. Ben always jumped into bed in the pitch black, so he wouldn’t be able to see what he was about to land in. Thomas chuckled at the thought of Ben covered in slimy smelly custard.

Hours later, Thomas was bored. He still couldn’t leave his room and there was only so much daydreaming and staring at football posters he could do. He considered tearing up some of his posters, but the England squad hadn’t done anything wrong, why should they suffer. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed at his mass of curly hair. Nothing he could do would ever control the unruly mass on his head. He reached for some gel and then changed his mind and grabbed a cap. The bright green cap clashed with his freckled pale face, but he didn’t care. It’s not as if anyone would actually see him wearing it. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. An unusual noise was coming from the window. He decided to ignore it; it was probably his brother throwing stones at the window again. Tap. Tap. Tap. Thomas was starting to get annoyed now; he just wanted to be left alone to sulk. The curtains were closed, that should have been enough of a hint. Tap. Tap. Tap. In frustration Thomas ripped the curtains open and soon wished he hadn’t. For there was nobody there. He scanned the garden and the road outside but no one was in sight. He shuddered and strained his eyes to see as far as he possibly could. The road was completely empty, not even a cat wandered among the houses. It was then that he noticed the words written in tiny print upon his window. He stared in wonder at the tiny handwriting and tried to imagine the creature that would be small enough to write it. His nose was almost pressed against the glass and his breath clouded around the words as he read them. 

‘Nice cap. Custard it is’. 

Puzzled, Thomas read the words again. Lying on his bed might help him to think and it was almost bedtime, so he sunk down underneath his squishy duvet and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. He was just about to close his eyes when he heard a scream from next door, from his brother’s room. 

‘Muuuuuuuuummmmm’, Ben was yelling, ‘there’s something disgusting in my bed’. 

Thomas smiled and pulled his football pitch sheets tighter around his body. He didn’t understand what had happened, but revenge was definitely served – and this time it was a delicious slimy bed.  

Outside Thomas’s window a tiny winged shadow chuckled, before launching itself delicately from the ledge. The Revenge Fairy was needed elsewhere that night.