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<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=1 width="100%" border=0><TBODY><TR><TD><SPAN class=TopStory>I am just a child</SPAN>
<SPAN class=Subheadline></SPAN></TD></TR><TR><TD>Mark Wignall
Thursday, December 14, 2006
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=86 align=left border=0><TBODY><TR><TD>
</TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description>Mark Wignall</SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>I have no great stories to tell; after all I am only 11 years old. My name is Danny and I live with Mom and Dad in what you would call an upscale apartment complex. It is a gated community filled with many decent, law-abiding citizens.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Oh yes, you want to know if I am happy. Of course I am. Happiest times? Those are when I am at school with my friends and even better, when I am home playing in the swimming pool with my brother and little sister and maybe a friend. I do music lessons three times per week and that is the most boring part of my life. It could be worse, however, as my little sister has to do ballet lessons.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My name is Steve, but they call me Junior. I am 12 years old. I live with my mother and five brothers and sisters in a three-room house in the Kingston 12 area. Most times I am hungry and have to steal some sugar out of the pan my mother keeps in a box on a table by her bed.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I have never known my father, but my mother once had a friend whom we called Uncle Ted and who treated us very nicely. Last year Uncle Ted and Momma had a fight because when he knocked on the door, Momma didn't want to let him in because Uncle Justin was sleeping on the bed with her behind the screen. I don't like Uncle Justin because when he comes over he and Momma make too much noise. Also when Uncle Ted stabbed Momma in her shoulder, all Uncle Justin did was climb out the back window and disappear.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My name is Jenny and I am 13 years old. I live with my grandmother in a quiet little district in Trelawny. I have brothers and sisters but I don't know how many there are.
Grandma does farming and sometimes when she returns from the field she is too tired to cook, so I and some of my sisters and cousins who live with us in the crowded two-bedroom house have to boil porridge and eat it. I am most happy when I have the bed to myself.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I tell my teacher that I want to be a nurse but she looks and she shrugs her shoulders and says, "Little miss, let's be realistic here."<P class=StoryText align=justify>Hi, it's Steve again. Last night at about midnight the gunshots started and I heard men running through the yard. Then we heard the loud shout outside, "Police, open the door!"
By that time Momma had drawn us off the bed and we were lying flat on the floor. As Momma shouted, "A coming," the police kicked off the door and rushed towards Momma as one of them used the long gun in his hand to hit her down. Then they looked under her bed and pulled out a half-naked man whom I had never seem before. As he screamed, "Murder, murder," repeatedly, they dragged him outside and then I heard three shots. He was still after that.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Yesterday was my birthday. Early in the morning just before the helper prepared our breakfast, Daddy walked in from his early morning swim and said, "Danny, guess who is fully 11 today." Daddy is not very good at surprises so I just said, "Daddy, fork it over, let's have it." Then he gave me the keys to my own motor-bike. The only drawback is that it is not an adult bike and I will not be able to ride it on the road. Not to worry though, as there is more than enough space in the complex for me to ride it.<P class=StoryText align=justify>The entire class began to laugh as the teacher asked me, "Jenny, why are yo
<SPAN class=Subheadline></SPAN></TD></TR><TR><TD>Mark Wignall
Thursday, December 14, 2006
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=86 align=left border=0><TBODY><TR><TD>
</TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description>Mark Wignall</SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>I have no great stories to tell; after all I am only 11 years old. My name is Danny and I live with Mom and Dad in what you would call an upscale apartment complex. It is a gated community filled with many decent, law-abiding citizens.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Oh yes, you want to know if I am happy. Of course I am. Happiest times? Those are when I am at school with my friends and even better, when I am home playing in the swimming pool with my brother and little sister and maybe a friend. I do music lessons three times per week and that is the most boring part of my life. It could be worse, however, as my little sister has to do ballet lessons.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My name is Steve, but they call me Junior. I am 12 years old. I live with my mother and five brothers and sisters in a three-room house in the Kingston 12 area. Most times I am hungry and have to steal some sugar out of the pan my mother keeps in a box on a table by her bed.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I have never known my father, but my mother once had a friend whom we called Uncle Ted and who treated us very nicely. Last year Uncle Ted and Momma had a fight because when he knocked on the door, Momma didn't want to let him in because Uncle Justin was sleeping on the bed with her behind the screen. I don't like Uncle Justin because when he comes over he and Momma make too much noise. Also when Uncle Ted stabbed Momma in her shoulder, all Uncle Justin did was climb out the back window and disappear.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My name is Jenny and I am 13 years old. I live with my grandmother in a quiet little district in Trelawny. I have brothers and sisters but I don't know how many there are. Grandma does farming and sometimes when she returns from the field she is too tired to cook, so I and some of my sisters and cousins who live with us in the crowded two-bedroom house have to boil porridge and eat it. I am most happy when I have the bed to myself.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I tell my teacher that I want to be a nurse but she looks and she shrugs her shoulders and says, "Little miss, let's be realistic here."<P class=StoryText align=justify>Hi, it's Steve again. Last night at about midnight the gunshots started and I heard men running through the yard. Then we heard the loud shout outside, "Police, open the door!"
By that time Momma had drawn us off the bed and we were lying flat on the floor. As Momma shouted, "A coming," the police kicked off the door and rushed towards Momma as one of them used the long gun in his hand to hit her down. Then they looked under her bed and pulled out a half-naked man whom I had never seem before. As he screamed, "Murder, murder," repeatedly, they dragged him outside and then I heard three shots. He was still after that.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Yesterday was my birthday. Early in the morning just before the helper prepared our breakfast, Daddy walked in from his early morning swim and said, "Danny, guess who is fully 11 today." Daddy is not very good at surprises so I just said, "Daddy, fork it over, let's have it." Then he gave me the keys to my own motor-bike. The only drawback is that it is not an adult bike and I will not be able to ride it on the road. Not to worry though, as there is more than enough space in the complex for me to ride it.<P class=StoryText align=justify>The entire class began to laugh as the teacher asked me, "Jenny, why are yo
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