The South Bank Review Winter 2017 | Arose Such A Clatter
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Arose Such A Clatter

Photo credit: Pigoff Photography at

A deceiving sense of warmth radiated through the streets, as the tinge of orange street lights hung above like mistletoe, peering down on lovers. The night grew progressively colder and the howling wind and willowing branches threatened a white Christmas. The old town clock struck three and the silent night stood motionless, as slumbered sleepers nested in their beds. Cling, Clang, Clong. Alex shot up in his bed and looked around in bewilderment. That was definitely not the sound of the old ticking time teller. Thud. Alex sat up straighter, the hairs on his arm now awoken by this disturbance. “But it can’t be”, he said attempting to convince himself otherwise. The realisation of what it could be whizzed into his mind, “SANTA!” he whispered, as if to not scare Santa away, like he’d seen children do a hundred times before, in Christmas movies. Buzzing with the excitement of meeting the bringer of gifts and giver of joy, Alex slowly crept out of bed, involuntarily shuddering at the feel of the icy floors against his bare feet. He reached out to the stripy blue robe at the end of his bed and continued one careful toe after another, tiptoeing to the bottom of the staircase. He crouched down, as if not to be seen and with a mighty grip held the bannister and peeped his head through the gap when, thud, another array of excitement trickled through him. Giving him the courage to slowly creep up the narrow staircase and into the corridor, looking into the front room. He twitched his nose to get a whiff, of what lay ahead, and carefully took a few steps forward. Alex could now see the twinkling baubles on the tree, flickering like the night sky on a clear summers eve. But as he moved closer, the rapid pounding of his heart drummed into his ears. Suddenly, the sheer excitement turned into utter fear as he now stood face to face, with large eyes, sharp teeth and the licking of lips. Cookie the Cat. She stood in front of him on all fours, ready to pounce and make a feast of Alex’s three inches. “AAAAAAGH”, he shrieked before scrambling back into the little crack, behind the Christmas tree and inside the floorboard. Alex’s tiny little feet carried him up the miniature staircase and into Mama Mouse’s room. He slid in between Mama and Papa, and the radiating warmth that floated from his parents calmed his epileptic tail and the tiny heart that now sat beating softly on Alex’s chest. Before long, the events of the night caught up to him and Alex fell into a deep sleep, fuelling him for the magical Christmas that lay ahead.

Samiah Hannan

Samiah is a third-year English student and unlike most writers, she wasn't always inspired to write, neither did she recognise her ability to. She is inspired by fashion and art, which lead her to start her own fashion blog. The creative writing aspect of her course encouraged this step, as it gave her the confidence to write on a platform, complimenting the existing creative content which she produces for her fashion blog on Instagram. Living in the heart of London, she is constantly surrounded by creative minds and an endless array of inspiration. This creative writing chapter in her life is a new one, which she hopes she can flourish in, in the future.