Caged

"Faster, faster!" bellowed my uncle as I slaved away at the work bench. I was tired of all this bossing around, I was exhausted after long, hard day of work. My mother and father had died when I was just three years old and I was sent to live with my cruel uncle. I remember the day vividly, tears were streaming down my face as my uncle shoved me into the car and drove me away from from my cosy cottage in the small friendly village of Somerset. I had thought of running away so many times, but I never plucked up the courage. I was always afraid that he would find me and just make my life worse. I cried myself to sleep every night. I got more and more worn out

as the days passed by. At around 10pm I dragged myself up the stairs and slipped into bed. I wrote in bed by candlelight. I wrote stories in my little notebook. The notebook was the only thing I had left from my parents. It used to be my mothers. I blew out the candle at around 12. I had to get up at about 5am to clean out the fire in my uncles room. Then I had to attend to any other jobs that needed to be done. At around 9am I brought my uncle breakfast in bed. He took the tray and grunted. He never said thank you.