It was a quarter past midnight. Wednesday night. Wheelie bin night. All the streets were dark and silent as I crept from behind the sheds on the allotments, my white gloves the only visible signs that I was actually here in the pitch black night. I was hell bent on working my way around all the local properties all through the night until it got light.
I stealthily sidled into the street and crept along, pausing at number forty two just in case the girl I had been courting was up and about. I called softly to her. There was no response. She was probably well tucked up in bed for the night.
A light went on at number forty four. I froze by the bush in the recess between the two houses. A couple of minutes later the light went off again and I slipped away again, clinging to the shadows of the tiny front garden walls.
By the time I got to number sixty eight I was thinking that I was going to be out of luck tonight. I had found nothing yet. But at number seventy I saw it. A full wheelie bin with a half open lid. I peered into its murky depths. What people throw away in their bins is disgusting.This bin belonged to a household that obviously didn’t bother sorting their rubbish for recycling.
I carefully sorted my way through the battered cans, cigarette butts, vacuum dust, potato peelings, bits of torn up newspapers, pizza boxes, broken bottles and bags full of kitchen waste. I could just see what I had been looking for. I inched my way carefully further down, but as I did, a box below me gave way and I fell with it further into the bin, the rest of the rubbish piling in on top of me. I heard the lid of the bin bang closed above me. I was trapped.
Hours passed. I had shouted for help several times, but no-one heard me.
Then I heard it. A rumbling engine noise, getting closer. Bangs and clatters. Men laughing. It must be morning.
The bin I was in started to move. I was rattled and bumped along with the rest of the rubbish then suddenly tipped upside down and hurled into a mass of more rotting rubbish.
I couldn’t move. I was petrified. The noise was deafening.
Bang, clatter, bang, clatter, bang, clatter, yeeeeooooowwww…….
There once was a cat called Kitta
went nightly delving in litter.
One night she fell in
and got stuck in the bin.
Next day never knew what had hit her.
Creative writing homework using the words:- Midnight, Silent, Gloves, Working, Light