August 28

HWC

Under the STAIRS to heaven, there is a RIVER with PINK salmon swimming around it. They taste very delicious when COOKED with spiced onions. However, I always get NERVOUS when dad offers to cook them, because they often end up burnt and not at all desirable to even the best salmon lovers.

However, this river is also a big tourist attraction. People from all over the world come to visit it, and touring companies make billions each month. Chefs also come to compete and see who can cook the best salmon. It’s a very nice place to visit, any time.

August 14

HWC

Why would I do that?” Said my little sister. Her infuriating grin widened as she looked at the broken vase that lay on the floor. “I’m just a sweet little girl. I would never do anything like this!”

“Oh really?” I responded. She looked at the broken pieces. “Yep. This could only be done by you.”

I grabbed a broom, and quickly started to gather the broken pieces of the vase into a neat pile, which I swept under the fridge. I stared at my sister, wondering if she would wreck anything else.

Then the door opened. Dad was home.

August 9

HWC Flame Ice Lime Regularly Clock

My neighbour Ham Regularly eats Frog soup, with a dash of Lime. He says this improves the flavour, but I’m not that sure. Last week, when the  Clock struck 2:30, he invited my family over to his house for dinner. We thought it was a bit early, but we came anyway, in case we offended him.

For dinner Ham served us roast beef, toasted over an open Flame, and for dessert we had apple pie, cooled by being sat on a block of Ice. Although he is weird. My neighbour Ham is generally a nice person. He’s quite weirdly fabulous.

August 2

HWC

So, as I looked over the edge, I saw a long, long drop down. My stomach lurched slightly, and I dug my hands into the railing, my gloves crunching against the small ice particles.

“It isn’t that bad, if you don’t look over the edge.” Said my dad, following my gaze. I thought it was easy for him to say. He wasn’t afraid of heights.

I sat down on a bench, the wet snow crackling as it slid away from me. I hadn’t exactly been excited when dad had announced we’d be going up to Mt. Bulla to go skiing.