Tales of a playmat - the well known words of the communication beetween babies and their surroundings - in the language we never ungerstand. Gobbdegook. This story takes place in a nursery school - upon a playmat.
Name: Maisie Atwood.
I pushed away the rattle and looked around the room. Lilac walls and yellow carpets. Once in a while an adult, as tall as a giant, would come and one of us would dissapear for a second and come back refreshed, or fed. Upon the playmat lay a number of toys and a number of babies.My favourite toys, and coincidenty the most popular ones were taken, so I had settled for a rattle, light in colour, old and scratched, that smelled strongly of old dissenfectant.
I began to cry softly, I was tired and the mat was too hard to sleep upon. Before long soft hands lifted me up and carried me away to the sleeping area, a room full of net cots with a blanket, faded.
I heard a voice, not a quiet one like I was used to, a harsh voice - full of importance and deciet. "She must only have the cleanest cot, and the finest food. My darling Anna must have the best treatment, she is afterall a heiress" - this was answered with an obedient. "Yes ma'am." from the head carer. You see - things here can get quite snobby -but we're under one year old. What damage can it do? The reason it can get snobby is because this is a private nursey school 'Oakwood Academy for young learners'.
I..I.. feel sleepyy....