The Midnight Man

Story Sample by: Becki Tedford

I’m Becki. I’m a 22 year old single mum to a 3 year old daughter, living in the North West. I am currently unemployed and spend my time looking after my daughter at home. I am, however, studying a distance learning course with The London School of Journalism. The course is primarily about News writing and reporting as well as freelance writing. I have always had a passion for writing from an early age and would walk around school with my head in the clouds thinking of new characters and storylines and would write them all down in notebooks as soon as I got home. My dream has always been to have a book published, however my writing was put on hold when I had my daughter young and  had to bring her up by myself.

As well as story writing I enjoy article writing and so, this year, I decided upon taking the journalism course as I knew for certain that I wanted to write as a career and I didn’t want to put it off any longer. I do hope to have a long term career in journalism but I do still hold my dream of becoming a published author. I am quite flexible with my writing, especially  when it comes to stories. I can write more research based stories such as crime however I can also write stories completely from imagination, like most children’s stories are.

In an ideal world, I would love to be the next JK Rowling or Jacqueline Wilson. JK Rowling is a particular inspiration of mine because of the way her stories are so full of total  imagination and charisma and the fact that she had the determination to carry on a series of books that never failed to entice readers. I’m not sure I will be writing the next “Harry Potter’s” but I do hope that one day in the future, my career in writing is taken to a level where my books are published and people enjoy reading them.

This is a link to the website where I document some of my work:

The Midnight Man

Peter jumped off the couch. He was fed up of his parents constant bickering. He went to the back door and pulled on his football boots, still covered in mud from his match that afternoon, and ran out into the garden. He ran as far as he could, right down to the bottom of the garden where a small stream separated them and the entrance to the forest. Plonking himself down alongside the stream, he picked up rocks and threw them into the shallow water. One by one they bounced off the bottom with a clink. He sighed to himself, knowing that it would be dark soon and his parents would wonder where he was and he would have to go back inside. Back to the dreary loneliness of the house. Lying down on the damp grass, he closed his eyes to feel the breeze on his face. Then a loud bang woke him. It was dark now, he must have fallen asleep. He checked his watch. 10 minutes to midnight. Had he really been out there that long? Had his parents even noticed he’d gone? He stood up quickly and began to turn for home when something caught his eye. A glinting coming from a corner of the forest just off the stream. A small, old wooden shed, stood abandoned amongst the trees.  Peter knew he shouldn’t go over the stream but curiosity got the better of him and he leapt over it. Landing firmly on his feet, he walked timidly towards the shed. Pushing the door, he was hit with the smell of damp, rotting wood.

“Hello?” He called out softly. He didn’t know who he expected to answer, if anyone at all. A breeze blew through the cracks in the walls. It was far too dark to see anything. Peter began to turn around when his watch started to beep. He jumped, knocking against the wall. Midnight. His parents were going to kill him. As he fumbled his way back towards the door he heard an odd sound. Birdsong. And running water. He looked behind him and saw a small beam of light. Walking towards it, arms clamped by his sides, he realised that the wall was infact a door and the light was coming through. Gingerly, he pulled on the rusting handle and stepped inside. What he saw, took his breath away. There, in front of him, was a spectacular garden. The sky was ablaze with sunlight, emerald green trees shaded a sapphire lake. On the lake were ducks and the shimmering grass was studded with flowers of every colour imaginable. Peter stood, mouth open, watching this garden almost springing to life before his eyes. He didn’t dare move. Where was he? It was the middle of the night yet the sun was shining here, the colours were like nothing he had ever seen. And the smell of fresh forest air circled him. Frozen to the spot, he turned his head towards the door he had walked through. In the doorway stood a figure. Peter turned his head back quickly and blinked. What on earth was going on? Suddenly, he felt a breath on his neck and a voice said “Well hello there, boy.” Slowly, Peter looked up into the face behind the voice. There stood a wretched looking old man, with gnarled teeth and silver hair. The man smiled and rested his bony hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“How rude of me, to not introduce myself. I am the Midnight Man. And this is my garden.”


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