"The Tin Creature" By Brandon H, Age 10, Class 6KR

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The Tin Creature


Part one: Where I work and what happens there

22nd October 1889
Dear diary, I’ve just finished my first day down in Poldark
Mine. We have these things called pickaxes and sledgehammers.

23rd October 1889
Dear diary, I’ve just become aware of what the conditions in the mine are like: hot, wet, drippy, sticky, claustrophobic, etc…
These are the conditions I’ll have to work in as long as I’m down here.

24th October 1889
Dear diary, I cannot believe that I’m writing this. My friend, Bill, who I worked with in the mine, is dead. I know that this sounds crazy, but I killed him. I didn’t mean to! My animal fat candle went out and I swung my pickaxe into his gut. I got loads of mock sympathy from mum, what does she care? She hated Bill; I cannot even bear to write her name. I stormed off in a hissy fit and swore on Bill’s grave that I would never, ever forget him.

25th October 1889
Dear diary, I heard echoing sounds, like Bill used to make when he was fed-up or grumpy.

26th October 1889
Another person is dead, Albert Haycock. His head got crushed like an egg. Police say that it was a boulder which rolled away. It cannot have been a boulder, even if it was it wouldn’t have rolled away! His body was found in Holman’s corner, which is flat: F-L-A-T! This spells flat!

27th October 1889
I saw it, the real cause for Albert’s death: there he was, standing right in front of me, a gigantic, muscle-bound, dripping, shiny creature (that is a lot of adjectives) with hands as large as pumpkins. The tin creature, I call him.

28th October 1889
Dear diary, I hid in the shadows watching a working man, the tin creature crept up on him, about to crush him like cars crush rabbits. I shouted to him, looked at me, the creature grunted, loudly. To the man’s dismay, he turned round to see what had grunted, he yelled and sprinted with me through the narrow caves, adrenaline pumping through us, we had to duck because we were too tall, the monster just running straight ahead, causing cave-ins and rock-falls. Perspiration leaked from our foreheads, the creature still bolting and crashing through the tunnels. We came to a tunnel which was narrow and wide enough for us, but not for the monster, whose fat bulged over its waistline.
The creature got stuck, couldn’t get through, unexpectedly. We went to the mine’s boss, Mr. Parkinson, we told him to board up the mine, that it wasn’t safe. To him it probably sounded like a bucketful of gobbledygook. He just said this, in a very slow, German accent: “please, speak very slowly.”
We explained it all, what happened down there, how the dead miners really died, all he said was: “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”
So we explained, very S-L-O-W-L-Y to him again, guess what he said. Okay, now I was really annoyed, I stormed off in one of my hissy-fits (I like that compound word) and went home to lie on my bed. Is everyone so pig-ignorant?

29th October 1889
Dear diary, it’s nearly Halloween. The surviving miners are going to be very surprised this Halloween if they see the monster.

3oth October 1889
Dear diary, one day till hopefully happy Halloween. Hopefully no ones’ heads will get crushed like Albert’s was.

31st October 1889
Dear diary, Halloween’s here. I spoke too soon, Jay-Jay’s head has also been crushed, the mine just has to be closed off today, and I hope that telling Mr. Parkinson about how this happened, that it won’t be pointless. For the first time in his life, Mr. Parkinson understood me. He must have put a little effort into listening this time; maybe he doesn’t need a hearing aid after all!

Part two: under the ground

1st November 1889
Dear diary, Toby and I (Toby is the guy who ran with me to Mr. P) are the only surviving workers in the mine. Turns out that just before the mine was boarded up, the creature killed all the others. For some reason he didn’t kill the bal maidens, perhaps he is like a woodlouse, he only likes dark, dingy, damp places.

2nd November 1889
Dear diary, Monster has broken through the boards; at least Toby and I think it was the monster.

3rd November 1889
Toby and I snuck into the mine last night, to see if the monster was still there or whether it had broken out. We made our way down the steps, which were fifty feet high and had gaps in places. We saw a slinky shadow flicker in the candlelight, a big, muscle-bound one, grunting as it went. It was obviously the monster. I pulled an animal fat candle off of a rock, and moved it around. Something caught my eye. It was probably the monster. Suddenly, it jumped out in front of us, its features dripping with slime.
It lunged, I shone the candle in his face, he yowled, dropped to the floor, it started to talk, which amazed me: “You think you can beat me, I’ll crush your heads like eggs, and this is the end of your interference and your lives”. He lunged again, dragged us down into the ground, my lungs were collapsing, my head pounding, for the first time I saw what we worked over. You could inhale the stench of rotting wood, the sound of voices, like spirits, the haunting fear of death.
I survived, obviously, and so did Toby, or else I wouldn’t be able to write this. I am writing it dramatically, like I felt underground.
The monster drew back his right fist, which shook with adrenaline and energy; he pounded forwards and bashed Toby’s face in. I gasped and then piped down when the monster gave me a look, like I was a plate piled high with cockroaches. He trudged away, leaving us there, what an idiot! Wait, he knew that we don’t know the way out, he had come through the ground, and we had to go up through it. We scanned around for a ladder, there was none, damnation!
I saw a cluster of tin in the corner of the underground, which gradually turned light to dark because of the flickering candles. The tin was piled up to the underground “roof” and there was a good amount of probability that we could climb up it. I stealthily moved along the wall to it, beckoning Toby after me.
We started to clamber up the mound, to my amazement our hands passed through the “roof” as though it was made of running water. We found ourselves hurtling up through the earth, holding on to each other’s shoulders for dear life. We felt dizzy, but a wave of excitement warmed us.
Suddenly we were on the top of Poldark mine, our fringes plastered to our foreheads and our shirts sticking to our bodies. The cold night air rippled and we relished being in the cool breeze.

Part three: home again

13th December 1889
I haven’t written in this diary for quite some time now; I’ve been too busy wondering how the hell me and Toby got out of that mine, I mean, all we did was touch the earth and we got sucked up through it!
It’s nearly Christmas and I’ve brought my mother some tin ore fresh from the mine.
I’ve written my life’s story and now the end of this story amazingly isn’t the end of my life.


By Brandon H
Age 10
Class 6KR
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