The Crash

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Spike Guest-Nicholls 7M

The Crash.
Tom loved speed. Fast cars, quick motorbikes, powerful trains - he
loved them all. The sound of their engines roaring like a tiger, the
feeling of wind whistling past his ears. It was almost like Tom had a
connection to them, like father and son. Tom owned a motorbike,
which he called, The Lightning. Its metallic, navy blue paint and the
golden lightning bolt across its side made the motor bike look like a
very ferocious animal, ready to tear up the tarmac of the roads.
Every Wednesday, Tom would take The Lightning out for a spin. He
sped down the streets, swerved around corners and roared up hills.
He wasn't scared of speed, he wasn't scared of crashing . . . after all
that would never happen . . . would it?
Yo, Tom, whats up bro? This was Harry. He wore his cap on
backwards, a golden neckless, flip-flops, and a pair of inside out
joggers. Argh, sick, you brought The Lightning with ya. He always
spoke like this.
Yeah, shall we go for a spin together? Tom asked. He slipped
of his crash helmet and looked down at his motor bike, if it could
talk the bike would have saidNo! Dont go for a ride with this loser!
Sure bro, sounds radical! replied Harry.
Argh damn it, the motorbike would have moaned, at this
news, Harry was a doofus.
Cool, get on your bike, lets hit the streets, Tom cheerfully
said. Harry climbed onto his oil covered motorbike and started it.
They zoomed down the roads, they zoomed passed other cars
on the road like Cheetahs going passed trees in Africa. The growl of
theyre engines blasted in theyre ears and the screech of the wheels
echoed down the street. The sense of freedom burst like a firework
inside Toms heart. . . until the police came.
Toms hands were thrust behind his back, handcuffs were
snapped on and he was lobbed into the back of a police car.
One week in jail, the police man yelled. Never speed again!
Hello, prison cell. Nice to see you again, Tom groan to
himself. He had spent so much times in this cell, he was always
getting caught speeding.

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Spike Guest-Nicholls 7M

Not everyone approved of going fast, especially not the police. The
cell had a grotty toilet, a broken sink and two grotty mattresses on
the floor which were classed as beds. But that wasn't the worst
thing. The worst thing was his room mate. A large, bulky, very fierce
looking criminal. He had a stare as cold as ice and fists that always
wanted a fight. Bill. That was his name.
He had a life sentence for killing someone accidentally in a fight, he
was Toms previous room mate, and lets just say, they weren't the
best of friends. Tom lay his head on the hard pillow staring at he
blank, stone ceiling.
Hey Tom, Bill snarled. I need you to help me.
Forget it, Tom simply said.
I need money. Ive met this guy called Zac who says he can get
me out of this prison, he says he needs money. Hes says he can get
me out the prison for a price. You need to get me money
I said, forget it, Tom urged.
You can get out with me, Bill said smiling, we could both get
free. Tom didn't believe Bill for a second.
FORGET IT.
Sure, Bill said.
* * *
Yo Tom, this food looks like my Nans! In other words awful!
said Harry, who was in prison as well as Tom.
It was dinner. Everyone sat around a stone table eating prison
food. Well more like picking at prison food. Tom sat next to Harry
staring with disgust at his meal. The guards marched around yelling
order like, DISGRACEFUL, EAT QUICKER, or, YOURE
STUPID? STOP FLINGING YOUR FOOD AROUND!
No way, your Nans food is a thousand times better than . . .
what ever this is, Tom waved his fork at the green slop on Harrys
tray.
RIGHT, listen up, shallow heads, the guard shouted, making
Tom start. Its work period, so get up and shift you little legs to
work NOW!
Jeez, Harry stated. The food here is still as bad as ever and
the guards are even stricter!
Tom and Harry got to work cleaning the floor of the toilet, as
angry guards stared at them, like very hungry lions, with large

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Spike Guest-Nicholls 7M

bushy eye brows. I mean, thought Tom, If they hate their jobs so
much why do they do it? Reluctantly, Tom and Harry began to
sweep dust away into a corner.
Later, Bill the Murder came up to them. I heard your Mom is
going to pay to get you out of prison! Your family has got money.
There have been lots of crashes on the main road recently, Bill said.
Maybe you should be careful when you get out, watch the warning
signs, you dont want to have a crash.
Are you threatening me? Tom asked.
Bill failed to answer, he just smiled.
And then the best thing happened to Tom . . . or the worst. He
was let free. Like a stupid child Tom ran out the prison, straight past
his mother (the person how had payed to let him free) and jumped
on his bike.
Tom, cried his mom, angry with him. Come back, we need
to talk about your speeding!
But Tom couldnt hear her voice over the roar of his engine.
Tom had longed for his motorbike, like a baby for its Mom. He
roared down the street laughing with joy. His helmet clattered on
his head. Tom realised it was too loose. But, he didnt care, his
longing had grown too large, he just wanted to be going fast. Guilt
filled his gut with cold dread, he saw a warning sign saying slow
down, and for a moment his hands tightened on the handle bars,
but he didnt squeeze the brakes. The main road junction was
coming towards him, he could see cars, trucks and motorbike, but
he still didnt slow down. Turn left, that was all he had to do. Why
was he feeling so scared, it was his stupid helmet thats all and what
Bill had said. But Tom knew what was going to happen. The
junction was very close. His helmet was clattering around on his
head, distracting him a whole lot. The turn came closer. Tom took a
deep breath and at the last minute squeezed the brakes, the bike
slowed and turned the corner safely.
He had done it, he had learned to slow down! But wait, he
could hear sirens. Had someone escaped the prison! A black
devilish motorbike road up next to me. It was Harrys motorbike
from outside the prison, but Harry wasnt riding it. In a black,
leather jacket, riding the bike, was Bill.

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Spike Guest-Nicholls 7M

Good luck, Tom. Bill said with a devilish grin as he got closer
to Toms bike.
Bill had been sentenced to life for murdering someone. He
wouldn't do it again, would he? He veered his bike into Toms. He
smiled like a hyena, childishly mad. The two bikes were heading
towards another junction, there were people crossing the road.
No money, no life, Bill screeched. I killed Zac and escaped.
Now Im out, I can kill you too.
Not if we go together, Tom clutched his handle bars. He
smashed into Bill, trying to save the pedestrians, but they both
drove of the road. They crashed down a mountain.
YOU WONT GET AWAY WITH THIS TOM! YOULL DIE
TOO
I wont get way with it But Ill save lives.
Tom crashed into a tree and everything went black. His life
flashed before him like a silent film. Bill flipped and went flying into
the air. Tom began to fade. He couldn't move, his head was
bleeding. Blood trickled down his cheeks, like red raindrops. Bill
crashed onto the road and died.
Later, the police came and took Bills body away. Only no one
noticed Tom. The hero was left there, crying in pain.