I’m beginning to realise I have more posts to fill than I have things to talk about. So for next nine days I will share with you the beginning of Arlo Twittle, the first story in the books. Please be aware this is the first draft, so there may be a few grammar or punctuation errors. But if you wish to point them out, that’s okay, any help is a good thing. Right?


Arlo was the only child of Humphrey and Felicity Twittle. A shy boy, with a mop of blonde hair, scrawny legs and socks that never seemed to stay up no matter how hard he pulled on them.

They lived at No.7, Swan Lane. A small house just big enough for the three of them. Inside, the walls were dull beige. In fact, everything about the house appeared dull … or practical as his mother called it. Outside was as bad as the inside. There was no grass. No flowers. No swing or shed of any description. Just dreary, grey, paving slabs. Not really a garden suited for a child, but suited to Mr. Twittle who hated gardening, and Mrs. Twittle who hated mess.

He also had no friends to speak of, probably because he never talked that much, and his parents—who were very busy people indeed—sometimes forgot they even had a son, which was more times than he would care to admit and quite lonely to say the least.

You see, his father was a travelling salesman for ‘Stick-an’-Pick’. A small, but profitable business that sold wooden toothpicks to hotels and restaurants. Which according to Arlo wasn’t a very exciting job really? He, would much prefer to be a racing driver or an astronaut. That seemed much more exciting.


Instalment two tomorrow.


No, I haven’t forgotten I still need to explain what happens to those children who refuse to change; I’m leaving that for post No. 24. Post 25, I will cover the subject of Moertha, and her purpose as “The Guardian”. Although I won’t tell you everything, there has to be a measure of mystery surrounding her, plus I must have something to write in the stories!

Copyright © 2013-2014 SD Neeve. M.I.A.C, including any illustrations, may not be copied, shared or unlawfully used without the prior consent of the author.


13 thoughts on “O–IS FOR ORLA YAP…

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