Make it better! fred stayed late for football practice he walked home it was dark there was no body about he was glad when he got home

Make it better! Fred stayed late for football practice. He went home. It was dark. There was no body about. He was glad when he got home.

Make it better! Fred stayed late for football practice. The shouts of his team mates still rang in his ears as Fred got changed. It had been a tough practice! Sir was worried about the match next Tuesday and he had really driven everyone hard. Now, where did he put his other sock? He looked under the benches - it wasn’t there. He looked in his bag – it wasn’t there. He looked in his school shoes – it wasn’t there either! Oh bother! Now he was going to be late. All his pals had already left, and it was getting dark outside. Ah, at last! There they were – in his pockets!

Make it better! He went home. It was dark. There was no body about. Fred ran across the playground to the school gates. Oh double bother! Mr. White, the caretaker, had locked them already. Now he’d have to go the long way round. He was going to be really late. By the time he reached the main entrance he could see the first stars beginning to gleam dimly in the gathering gloom. The street lights were already on, but they didn’t do much beyond throw up weird shadows of things he couldn’t see. He was getting puffed out now, so he slowed to a walk as he tried to get his breath back. The streets were deserted. Fred felt that he was all alone in an unfamiliar world. ‘It’s amazing how different things look when it’s dark,’ he thought to himself.

Make it better! He was just thinking how nice it would be if he was already home and eating his tea, when he heard a sound. He listened. There it was again. It sounded like footsteps. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen. ‘Must be my imagination,’ he muttered to himself, hurrying along the next street. As he turned into the alley he heard it again. He froze. It was footsteps – and what was worse, they seemed to be following him. The alley was really dark; only the dull glow of the lights in the next street made it possible to see anything at all. Who knew who – or what – was behind him. Without a second glance, he fled. Yes, Fred fled! He ran as if all his worst nightmares were snapping at his heels…and perhaps they were!

Make it better! He was glad when he got home. At last, there it was! Safety! Just a few doorsteps away. He sped into his own street and collapsed puffing and panting against his own front door. “Good grief, Fred!” exclaimed Fred’s mum, catching him as he fell through the now open door. “What ever is the matter?” “I…I...” he gasped. “I looked at how dark it was getting, so I sent your Dad out to walk you back.” Fred looked at the red-faced, puffing figure who had just turned the corner into his street. “Never mind football – you should take up the sprint!” said Dad.