User blog:SmudgyHollz/Do You Like My Story?

“Did you hear what happened to Lucy Parsaw last night?”

''“That she’s in hospital? Yeah!”''

''“I can’t believe what Thomas Milne did to her! And in the park too – I don’t know how he didn’t get caught!”''

Max curled his hands into fists as he marched determinedly up the wet pavement. He was fed up of the rumours that were spreading like wildfire around the entire school. They were all anyone ever talked about and they just weren’t true. He was positive that his older brother had had nothing to do with little Lucy Parsaw’s accident and he was going to prove it.

Spatters of icily cold rain ran down his face and dripped from his hair as he crossed the road and stepped out onto the grass. The park was a large, flat close-cut lawn. It had been separated down the middle; one half had been made into a football pitch and the other housed a small, rickety climbing frame and a couple of old benches. Max made his way over to the swings.

He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, just something that would stop all of the bad things being said about his older brother. Something that would confirm Thomas’s innocence.

A strong winters wind weaved through the climbing frame, rattling the branches of the bare sycamore tree behind him. The rain had begun to fall very heavily and had now turned to sleet. Max shivered, pulling his jacket more tightly around his body as he scanned the area in front of him.

After five minutes, he realised that he could see nothing of interest. He was just about to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an orange hat sitting beneath the sycamore tree, right where Lucy Parsaw had been found. Max could feel his throat tightening and his heart thudding in his chest as he remembered Thomas’s conversation with Mum last night.

“Has anybody seen my cap?”

“Which one?”

“My lucky orange one: the one that Dad gave me before he left.”

''“Sorry, Tom, I haven’t seen it lying around. Look for it after dinner.”''

The damp, well-worn material felt rough on Max’s hands as he ran his fingers over it, tracing the rim of the cap with his thumb. Plucking up his courage, he took a deep breath and turned the hat around. He felt for the label. It was tattered and almost falling off, but Max could clearly read the two words written on it;

Thomas Milne.

Tell me what you think! This was for an English Creative Writing contest! I don't think I won, but ah well...