A while ago; maybe 3 years, there were two brothers, the older one, Tom, the younger, George. Their mum, Jolene, was quite an easy going mum but can be strict when needed.
It was a Friday afternoon, (they had a day off school), when their mum asked them if they wouldn’t mind cleaning up the attic a bit, and of course, because they were both reasonably good kids, they agreed. They got up there and gasped! “there’s sooo much stuff to clean” sighed George “Well at least we might find some cool stuff” replied Tom “Like that one!’ George looked around to where Tom was pointing. They were both now looking at a very rusted and old looking pot, that was a sort of reddish- maroon shade. It was plain except for the words reading, ‘The Pot of Places’. “Wow!” they both said at nearly the exact same time.
“Hey why don’t we rub it, might be a genie inside” Tom joked. “Hahaha” snorted George “Go on then, touch it.” At that very moment Tom strolled up to the old pot and poked it, (kinda roughly too). “Hmm, nothing happ-aghh!” and right in the middle of Tom’s sentence, the room that they were in started spinning and shaking, then with a small ‘pop’ they vanished out of the room! ‘Bang’, ‘crash’, ‘ouch’, ‘ooo’, and with a loud THUD they landed on what felt like sand! But that was impossible, they couldn’t, how!
“Ouch, my face hurts” wined George. “What just happened!?” Tom questioned himself, ignoring George, whilst getting up and wiping himself of cold, wet sand. “Hmm, looks like we might be on an island somewhere” Tom thought out loud. “But how did we get here?” George asked. “Well the only explanation would be that it was the rusty, old pot we found. It did say ‘The Pot of Places’ on the face of it”. replied Tom “Wow, I just had a thought, maybe if you touch it, it takes you places”. “Oh yeah, it even has it in the name!” said George sillily. Tom ignored. “Hey Tom, look over there!” yelled George excitedly, finally getting up, “The pot, it’s over here! Oh yay, we’re saved! All we have to do now is touch it again and we will be home, safe!” They both ran over to touch the pot, 3… 2… 1…, both of them poked the pot, but nothing happened. The happy expressions on their faces turned to sad, dull ones “Why didn’t it work” asked George “I don’t know” replied Tom as he rolled the pot over, as though he was inspecting it, “wait a minute, it says something on the other side.”
‘Who ever or what ever touches this pot with bare hands will be transported to a random place in the world, but the only way to get back to where you touched it in the first place, you will have to say this rhyme:
Roses are red, violets are blue, please send me back to where I first touched you.
“OK then, sounds pretty easy” said George. “Yes, but maybe a but tooo easy” replied Tom frowning. “Anyway, you ready” continued Tom “Yep, I think it’s time we get home now” replied George. So at the same time they sung the rhyme, and right as they finished another little ‘pop’, like the first one could be heard. Just as they landed back in the attic, their mum called out “you’ve been awfully quiet up there, it was almost as you were gone!”
“Haha, you’ll never know!” they replied in sync.