Emily listened to the doorbell ring and a friend walked through the hallway. She took her mind from the jar and watched the door intently. A friend appeared carrying a large parcel and Emily smiled. She ran forward and took the parcel before the friend could finish ‘Hello, this is for you’. Opening the present quickly and expectantly she lost her smile before it was completely revealed.

‘I’ve got this already.’

She left the present, half opened, and turned to another friend who had just arrived. This present was better. After playing with it she put it to the side with the first and realized that most of her friends were now here. Letting her mother take all the presents into a black bag Emily announced to her friends that they would play games – pass-the-parcel and hide-and-seek.

Emily had decided earlier that she would win the games. It was her party, she should have the prizes. She knew what they were as well – she had spied on her mother when they were wrapped up.

The music started and the parcel was passed from child to child, each trying to keep it for as long as possible and each sighing when the music continued its tune. Emily missed the first prize but it was only sweets. And the second. Then the third and the fourth too. She frowned, wondering why her mother was not stopping the music while she held the parcel. It must be some kind of mistake. Perhaps her mother was saving her the prize from hide-and-seek.

Hide-and-seek began and Emily watched her friends disappear into halls, bedrooms, under chairs and behind doors. She knew they would all be found by her mother quickly and decided to make certain that she won the prize. The cupboard with bed sheets in would suffice.

Burying herself under the piles of sheets she listened as her friends were caught and waited for her mother to call out for her to appear and to claim her prize. The call came and Emily emerged from her closet. She walked into the lounge as her mother gave the prize to a boy in her class. She complained but her mother would not listen to her objections.

Still smarting from the rejection and determined to win the final prize, Emily gave careful consideration to where she should hide. She started back towards the linen closet and had a leg inside when her eye caught the machine in which her mother put wet clothes in, to dry them. Peering inside she deemed it a suitable position to win and squeezed through the door, lying down and pulling the door shut leaving a gap just big enough to be able to see the rest of the room.

Emily was beginning to feel the time slow when, through the crack, she saw someone approaching her hiding place. Emily put some clothes on top of her to make sure she was entirely invisible. The someone had come into the room and Emily froze – the someone was her mother. She was going to win the prize. She could hear mutterings and complaints about ‘all this washing and that bloody party’, but kept her concentration and remained silent. The machine door opened but Emily was not going to give herself up that easily. Her mother put more clothes into the machine and tried to shut the door but it swung open. Emily waited and heard her mother complaining again, this time about ‘damn tumble-dryers’. Her mother closed the door again this time forcing it slightly to make sure it shut properly. Emily smiled – she was certain to win the prize now. The smile faded slightly as she realised she would not be able to open the door to get out when she heard the call but that did not matter – at least she would get the prize.

To pass the time Emily imagined what a ‘damn tumble-dryer’ was as she felt the machine begin to turn.

The routine was easy: A new feature was filmed every two to three weeks; ideas were recycled over a period of six months. Productions involving children seemed to make most profit so were made more often. Though the average age was around thirteen the youngest he worked with was seven years-old, her films being particularly profitable. His starlets would perform to the camera, prices were raised and the money would roll in. Where the children came from and where they went afterwards did not concern him, all he knew was that he had a film to make, a family to raise.

And yet he seemed to harbour some kind of guilt. He did not regret his career enough to stop – it was all too comfortable just to throw away, but there was a thought growing, spreading slowly through his mind, that there were better ways to survive life. Each time he forced a twelve year old girl into another deplorable act he watched the pain on her face. And the doubt spread.

His children would soon be twelve and they still talked of their futures as if anything was possible: ‘An astronaut!’ the boy said when asked what he would be, ‘A singer’ or ‘An actress!’ exclaimed the girl. He was in this business to ensure he could provide for his children, to allow them a comfortable route through life, yet there was a realisation that though he might be providing for his children’s aspirations, he was stealing from others. The twelve year old would never be a singer she would forever be called ’slut or ‘whore’ or be the star of teenage suicide documentaries.

I could see this man, this creature, did not deserve to live. So I decided to end him. He deserved nothing more than to have a gun raised to his head and to be blown away. So I did, and I stumbled.

In what will be a shock for far-right extremists the world over it was revealed today that the new leader of the Nazi party, Benedict XVI, was a member of the Catholic Church in his youth. The surprise revelation will no doubt cause a flurry of allegations that the links have not since been dropped entirely.

The leader of The Common People, Rebekah Wade, promised to launch a campaign to reveal the true extent of the Führer’s participation – including how many masses he attended, how many Hail Maryies he had spoken and the number of ‘blessings’ he had received from the priests of the time.

“It is absurd that someone once a member of such a vile organisation could be elected to hold such an esteemed office,” she stated, continuing, “it is our duty to ensure that such illogical connections are examined under perverse scrutiny.”

Said a spokesperson, “It is true the Führer was once a member of that terrible, terrible creation, the Catholic Church, but he was an unwilling participant and considering the circumstances of the time it was in his best interests to join.”