The hot blazing sun was shining high up in the piercing blue sky; the room alit with a shadow of a tree on the far wall. I was lying on my bed writing up pages and pages of dreaded English homework on a tiring diary of what I had done over the summer holidays. My CD player was blazing loudly and I could hear my brothers playing in the garden but why did I have to do all this wretched homework.

The plants positioned on my golden window seal mysteriously distracted me, funnily I had just had the urge to stare at my plants. The sound miraculously faded out of my head as quick as a leopard catches its prey.

I watched carefully with my razor sharp eyes. I sat up on my bed. A shudder of fear went down my back. There was a frightening noise formulating behind me. I swiftly turned around to see a diseased fly. He was flying round the room like a chicken with no head. He swooped over in the direction of the window. Maybe he was going to fly out of the unlatched window. He slowly but steadily headed off in that direction. The fly stopped dead in the air. He smelt the air. He flew in the direction of the smell. Unfortunately for him he was heading towards a deadly Venus fly trap.

It landed on the muddy pot of the dangerous plant. No doubt he had probably met one of these crucible killers before. He stared up into the centre of the flower, the colours were so lovely he was trying to resist. He drifted back up into the air. Was he going to make a stupid mistake? He raised his head and floated as light as a feather over to the terrible source. You could see a terrible liquid dripping from the traps mouth. The runny liquid made a disastrous splash as it crashed to the floor.

The fly was following the colour. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It landed onto the edge of the mouth of the trap. There was a noise of terrible pain, then it was over. The trap had succeeded, the fly had lost. Great victories for that frightening plant but a dreadful loss for that poor old fly. All was over, there were a few more crunching noises then just plain old silence.

The sound of the music was gradually returning. The shouts of my brothers had been replaced just where they had been left. I stared at the plant for a few more seconds then I rapidly shook my head. I slowly lowered my head and picked my pen up from the floor. I grabbed my book and thought for a few minutes. I put my pen back onto the paper and started writing again. Things had now gone back to normal. The noise of my brothers in the garden had returned and I was writing as free as a whistle.