The Very Noisy Night

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But this means he’s completely alone. He half wishes he could trade places with Chris, really, he thinks, as he lies atop his sweaty sheets with his face pressed into a pillow. He’s miserable enough to want to be in the presence of someone who cares about him. Someone who will put a hand to his forehead and touch his hair and bring him water so he doesn’t have to drag himself to the kitchen while trying his hardest not to pass out. He towels himself off to the best of his ability, but his clothes are so waterlogged and he’s so tired that it’s impossible for him to get fully dry. Eventually he gets too tired to keep standing and sinks down onto the closed lid of the toilet, where he halfheartedly dries off his hair. Sun didn't immediately reply, but Moon could sense his curiosity, anxious, but tentatively inquisitive. he began, but was cut off by another strike of thunder. I keep my threads tidy enough, thank you!> Sun replied stiffly, momentarily distracted out of his anxiety by the utter audacity. you should use this tent with the kids,> Sun offered, a little embarrassed, a little deflecting, overwhelmingly grateful. Moon gave a soft, audible shh in response before resuming his tune.

Sun yelped, but this time, Moon didn't jump -- the sound of the storm was muffled by the layers and layers around them, the thunder brought down from a deafening roar to a deep, low rumble. Moon's eyes narrowed to slits and he tilted his faceplate again.

Sun took the hint. Before Moon was able to finish his song, he pulled himself into sleep mode, finally relinquishing the hold he had on their shared resources. Moon visibly slumped with relief, his own anxiety lifting. He was much more comfortable in his makeshift tent, being buffered against the crashing storm, but more than that, it scratched a familiar itch to finally get his other half put down for his nap. Like fulfilling a deep purpose, he was more than calmed, he was satisfied.

Not that this is going to happen. Besides, he tries to scold himself with the rational part of his brain, he’s used to taking care of himself. By the time he was done, it had really taken shape. A large tent made of a hapdash mishmash of different items, piled high with essentially all of the fabric available in the daycare. A colorful mix of blankets hung off of the sides, dotted occasionally with the odd princess dress or cowboy pants.He wakes up disoriented and hot. At some point he’d burrowed under the blankets, and he spends several frantic seconds trying to disentangle himself from them, nearly falling out of bed in the process. Eventually he frees himself and then lies there, out of breath and staring up at the ceiling, which he can’t actually see because it’s dark. Idea: The character and plot of this story is easy for children to connect with and have an interest in as it is a common problem for most youth to be scared at night. Conventions: There is a lot of punctuation in this book used properly, which would help support a better understanding of the function of punctuation in writing. You need rest mode tonight,> Moon tried again, internally this time, more snarled than comforting despite his position as the Naptime Attendant. He couldn't help it, he was frustrated. Sun was driving him crazy with all of his anxiety, and the hammering of the torrent on the roof of the Pizzaplex was already enough to set him on edge. He drummed his fingertips against the sides of the barrels before leaping off again, crawling on all fours along the floor. Yes. Right. Quiet. Warm. Restful.> Moon spread out his legs before lowering himself to the ground, gangly limbs curled up in the mound of clothes around the sun ball.

Organization: Development of a central theme is strong and meaningful, also a sense of anticipation is developed in the story.me too, Sunny,> he tried, putting a hand to his faceplate. He paused for a moment, just listening to the sound of the rain hammering the roof. Then suddenly, he brightened. <...I have an idea.> As if on cue, a bolt of lightning arced the sky outside and the thunder rattled the very floor of the Pizzaplex. Moon jumped, Sun shrieked, and it distracted him into a misstep on the landing; his ankle joint caught on his other foot and he tumbled forward, head over jingly heels, face first into the ball pit. Diana Hendry grew up by the sea and has worked as a journalist, English teacher and tutor in Creative Writing at the University of Bristol. Her poetry has won a number of awards including first prize in the 1996 Housman Society Competition. From 1997-1998 she was Writer in Residence at Dumfries & Galloway Royal Infirmary. She lives in Edinburgh.

He could feel Sun pull away, like a wave ebbing from the shore, freeing up resources. Memory slots opened, closing open processes, relaxing. It hadn’t been dark when he had fallen asleep, he thinks, though he can’t really remember for sure. Anyway, it’s dark now but he’s awake and he feels even worse than he had before he’d fallen asleep, which he wouldn’t have thought was possible. His head feels weird and thinking is difficult. He should do something about this, but he’s in no condition to figure out what. He very slowly strips out of his wet clothes and shoes, then dries himself off for a second, much more successful, time. Once he’s mostly dry, he sets about getting dressed. He could feel Sun's hesitance, but also the slight relaxation of his hold over Moon's running processors. <...it is quieter in here,> he finally agreed. Out loud, Moon softly hummed some gentle notes, a familiar lullaby he would often sing to his naptime group. There was a sense of amusement from his other half as Moon began his song; now that he was finally calming down, it was at last hitting Sun just how much Moon had been treating him like one of his children, doing whatever it took to put him down for a nap.What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, grabbing Eddie’s arm and pulling him inside when Eddie doesn’t immediately step forwards on his own.