The break that never wanted to end E-Book

Dominik Mikulaschek

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 154

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

In **“The Break That Never Wanted to End”** a completely normal Monday at **Regelberg Elementary School** turns into the funniest, strangest, and most suspicious school day ever. Milo Mertens is watching the big classroom clock, waiting for the most beautiful sound in the universe: the bell for recess. Turbo is already in “launch position” under his desk, gripping his lunchbox like a treasure chest—because inside is a legendary **triple-cheese sandwich** that deserves fresh air. And Fina Fuchs, the clever classmate with the notebook and the sharpest mind in school, has calculated the exact second the bell should ring. Three… two… one… **now**. But nothing happens. Instead of the familiar bell, the loudspeaker cracks and a deep, metallic voice announces an “administrative optimization of recovery phases.” Sounds boring? It isn’t. Because this is the moment **PROJECT ENDLESS RECESS** begins. The school officially declares that recess is no longer a break you enjoy when you want—it’s something you must do. **Break is mandatory.** And when something fun becomes a duty, it suddenly feels… weird. At first, the schoolyard explodes with joy. Kids cheer like it’s the first day of summer vacation. Turbo invents five new recess sports in one minute, including lunchbox-throwing and railing-surfing. But Milo quickly notices the warning signs. New rules appear on big official posters. A serious inspector in a perfectly ironed gray suit—**Inspector Order**—walks around with a clipboard and a smile as thin as a mail slot. And then the strangest thing of all shows up: **floating break scanners** with blinking lights, humming over the children like tiny surveillance drones. These scanners don’t just watch. They judge. One of them even beeps in Turbo’s face and demands: **“Smiling is insufficient. Please increase your joy by twelve percent.”** Suddenly, kids are not playing because they want to—they’re playing because they have to. They’re laughing because they’re told to. And every minute the loudspeaker repeats the same command: **“Please continue to take your break. Resistance to free time is pointless.”** Fina writes down everything under the headline **“TIME STRUCTURE ANOMALY.”** In her logical way, she points out the nightmare hidden inside the dream: if a break has no ending signal, it stops being a break and becomes a permanent state. Milo asks the scary question no one else dares to ask: **If the bell never rings… who decides when school starts again?** And what if the children can’t leave—even when they don’t want endless recess anymore? So Milo, Fina, and Turbo form their own secret mission. They want to find out what happened to the bell, where the **missing key** is, and who is controlling this absurd experiment—before the whole school gets stuck forever in a sticky loop of forced fun, constant scanning, and “regulated happiness.” **“The Break That Never Wanted to End”** is a **funny children’s book for ages 8 and up** with fast scenes, playful chaos, and short, easy chapters that keep kids turning pages. It’s perfect for readers who love **humorous school stories, mystery and teamwork, adventurous kids, strange rules, and hilarious situations**—a quick read that’s entertaining, exciting, and surprisingly smart underneath all the laughter.

Leseprobe

Dominik Mikulaschek (born in Linz in 1983) writes children's books that you start reading "just one chapter" of – and suddenly it's late. He loves puzzles that can actually be solved, rules that can be politely ignored (if necessary) and stories in which friendship is stronger than any clipboard. His adventures are exciting, but never too scary: they're about discovery, about sticking together – and about that tingly feeling when you realise: something's not right here... and we're the first to notice.

Dominik Mikulaschek

The break that never wanted to end

Children's book for ages 8 and up | Funny, crazy, quick read

tredition GmbH

© 2026 Dominik Mikulaschek

Printing and distribution on behalf of the author:

tredition GmbH, Heinz–Beusen–Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany

This work, including all parts thereof, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the content. Any use without his consent is prohibited. Publication and distribution are carried out on behalf of the author, who can be reached at: Dominik Mikulaschek, Holzwurmweg 5, 4040 Linz, Austria.

Contact address in accordance with the EU Product Safety Regulation:

[email protected]

Chapter 1 – It doesn't ring

On Mondays, Regelberg Primary School usually smelled of freshly waxed boredom and Turbo's desperate attempts to secretly inhale his lunch before the first lesson. Milo Mertens stared at the large wall clock above the blackboard, which was moving at the speed of a tired snail towards the magic mark of 9:45. This was usually the moment when the universe briefly held its breath before the bell rang, signalling the start of the great battle for survival in the schoolyard. Milo could see Turbo already getting his trainers into position under the table, as if he were about to compete in an Olympic final. "It's almost time," whispered Turbo, clutching his lunch box like a precious relic, while his stomach made a noise reminiscent of a helicopter taking off. "Today I have a sandwich with three layers of cheese that's just waiting to be freed into the fresh air." Fina Fuchs, who was sitting next to Milo, did not look up from her notepad, but merely adjusted her glasses with a precision that never failed to impress Milo. She drew a straight line under her list of "Most common reasons for teachers being late" and glanced briefly at her watch. "According to my calculations and the average deviation of the school clock, the acoustic signal should sound in exactly four seconds," Fina announced with the calmness of an air traffic controller. "Three. Two. One. Now." Nothing happened. Milo blinked and looked at Mrs Krambeutel, who was standing at the front of the classroom, trying to brush a particularly stubborn chalk dust stain off her sleeve. Mrs Krambeutel paused, looked at her wristwatch, then at the wall clock, and finally, with a confused expression, at the ceiling where the loudspeaker for the bell system was hanging. "That's statistically highly unlikely," muttered Fina, placing her pencil so precisely parallel to the edge of the table that Milo almost felt dizzy. "The error rate for the automatic break announcement is normally less than zero point five percent." Turbo looked at Milo with wide eyes, as if he had just been told that cheese sandwiches were now banned worldwide. "Maybe the bell overslept?" he asked, nervously loosening the lid of his lunch box as the first whiff of Gouda escaped into the classroom air. Mrs Krambeutel cleared her throat and took a step towards the middle of the class, clutching her glasses as if she could use them to recapture the lost time. "Children, there seems to be a small technical glitch with the acoustic break signal," she explained with her typical warmth, which always smelled a little like lavender and order. Milo felt a strange tingling sensation in the back of his neck, which he always got when the Office for Peace and Order had a hand in things. "Mrs Krambeutel, can we still go out?" he asked, watching as the first doors of the other classrooms opened very carefully outside in the corridor. Before the teacher could answer, a mechanical crackling sound came from the loudspeaker above the door, sounding as if someone was tearing up a very old file right next to the microphone. It wasn't the familiar shrill ringing of the bell, but a deep, tinny voice that immediately gave Milo goosebumps. "Attention, attention to all learning units," the voice boomed through the classroom, while Ms Krambeutel almost dropped her glasses. "Due to an administrative optimisation of the break periods, the acoustic signal will remain deactivated for the time being." Turbo's eyes widened and he looked as if he had just won a packet of gummy bears in the lottery, while Milo wondered what "administrative optimisation" actually meant. "Does that mean we're already on break without the bell ringing?" Turbo asked hopefully. "It means much more than that," the voice from the loudspeaker continued, while a faint whirring sound could be heard in the background, reminding Milo of an overheated paper shredder. "This officially marks the start of PROJECT ENDLESS BREAK to test the maximum regeneration capacity of the student body." Milo looked at Fina, who had already turned to a new page in her notebook and written "ANOMALY OF THE TIME STRUCTURE" in large letters at the top. "If a break has no end marked by a bell, mathematically speaking, it is no longer a break, but a permanent state," she remarked dryly. Mrs Krambeutel opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment the doors to the corridor swung wide open and the first loud cheers of the pupils from 4a could be heard. It sounded like a mixture of a football goal in the final and the moment when the summer holidays begin. "Endless break!" someone shouted in the corridor, and within seconds there was no holding back as pupils poured out of their rooms like an avalanche. Turbo jumped up from his chair as if he had springs under his soles and threw his rucksack over his shoulder. "Milo, did you hear that?" Turbo cheered, already running for the door as he tried to devour the first layer of his three-cheese sandwich on the run. "No bell means no return to class, and no return means pizza party until sunset!" Milo followed him more slowly as he watched Inspector Order appear at the end of the corridor in his perfectly ironed grey suit. The inspector held a clipboard tightly and watched the running children with a smile as narrow as a letter slot. Milo paused briefly and saw Inspector Order hang a large sign right next to the staff room, bearing the official stamp of the ARR. In bold black letters it read: BREAK IS MANDATORY – VIOLATIONS WILL BE RECORDED ADMINISTRATIVELY. "Fina, did you see that?" whispered Milo as the girl stepped up beside him and immediately noted the exact dimensions of the sign in her list. "Since when is break time a mandatory task that has to be monitored with stamps?" Fina looked up from her notebook and frowned as she watched a small, floating break scanner with a green flashing light buzzing over their heads. "When something enjoyable becomes mandatory, the planning of the enjoyment is no longer right," she replied, pulling out her pen to add a new item to her list. Outside in the playground, chaos was in full swing, and at first glance it looked like the best day in the history of Regelberg Primary School. Children were throwing their satchels in the air, playing football with empty plastic bottles, and Turbo was trying to set the world record for continuous sliding. Milo stood at the edge of the playground and watched as caretaker Kratz stood next to the bell tower, shaking his head, with a huge bunch of keys on his belt. Kratz didn't look like he was celebrating, but rather like someone had thrown his most valuable tool into a bucket full of sticky jam. "Something's fishy here," Milo muttered, watching as the loudspeaker on the outside wall of the school crackled again before the tinny voice sounded once more. "Please continue your break, please maintain the prescribed level of recreational enjoyment and observe the posted break guidelines." Turbo came running up, his face red, his hair tousled and a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. "Guys, this is paradise!" he exclaimed, patting Milo on the shoulder. "I just invented five break-time sports at once, including lunchbox throwing and banister surfing!" At that moment, the break scanner buzzed right in front of Turbo's face and emitted a shrill "BEEP" that sounded like an offended alarm system. A small red light on the scanner flashed frantically, and a mechanical voice demanded, "Smile is classified as insufficient, please increase your joy by twelve percent." Turbo's grin immediately froze into a confused expression, while Fina quickly ticked off her "SUSPICIOUS MONITORING OF FREE TIME" item. "See, Turbo?" said Milo, pointing to the flashing light on the scanner. "This isn't a reward, it's a test run." Milo looked back at the school building, where Mrs Krambeutel was standing at the window of the staff room, looking as if she would l ly like to wipe the blackboard again. He saw Inspector Ordnung make another note on his clipboard, glancing contentedly at his watch. "If the bell doesn't ring, who actually decides when we can go back inside?" Milo asked the group as the cheering in the courtyard grew louder. He sensed that PROJECT ENDLESS BREAK had only just begun and that freedom would soon feel very heavy. Turbo was about to start another round of lunchbox throwing when he suddenly paused and looked at Milo thoughtfully. "You mean we might never get out of here, even if we get tired of sandwiches?" he asked quietly. Milo nodded slowly and watched as the loudspeaker began to repeat the same monotonous announcement for the third time in two minutes. "Please continue to take your break. The administrative recording of your rest period is proceeding according to plan. Resistance to leisure time is futile." Fina slammed her list shut with a loud bang and looked at Milo determinedly, her glasses glinting in the morning sun. "We need a plan to find out where the bell key has gone before Turbo forgets how to do maths from all this break time," she said. Milo looked across the playground, which suddenly didn't look as free as it had five minutes ago, but more like a giant, fenced-in cage. He knew they had to find the bell before the school got stuck forever in slow motion, filled with cheese sandwiches and forced laughter. Somewhere in the background, Milo heard the distant clacking of caretaker Kratz's footsteps receding in the direction of the locked bell cellar. Milo knew this was their only clue, but the way there was paved with hundreds of break scanners and compulsory signs. "Operation Lesson starts right now," Milo whispered, signalling to his friends to move discreetly towards the back entrance. But just as they took their first step, a large, floating loudspeaker blocked their path and began playing a new announcement at deafening volume.

Chapter 2 – Turbo celebrates too soon

Turbo threw his arms in the air and let out a scream that could probably be heard three kilometres away at the cheese factory. He performed a victory dance that looked like a cross between a drunken penguin and a very happy washing machine. "This is the best thing that has ever happened in the history of mankind!" he shouted, twirling his rucksack around in circles. Milo watched him sceptically and felt his stomach turn with concern. A warning light flashed in his head, which normally only came on when the canteen served spinach casserole with fish fingers. "Don't rejoice too soon, Turbo," said Milo, looking at the large loudspeaker, which was still humming quietly. Fina Fuchs adjusted her glasses with a precision that never failed to impress Milo. She took out her notepad and wrote with her neatest pen: "Break time overrun: 14 minutes. Suspicious silence in the staff room: 100 per cent." "If something is endless, the planning is wrong," she muttered, glancing sternly at her wristwatch. Turbo wasn't listening at all, because he was already inventing the next break-time sport. He balanced his lunch box on the tip of his nose and tried to hop on one leg without falling over. "Look!" he shouted in a hoarse voice. "I call it Extreme Gouda Yoga and I'm now officially a break pro!" At that moment, a small silver ball floated right in front of his face and made a noise that sounded like an offended calculator. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. It was a latest-generation break scanner, and the red light on top of it was flashing frantically like an angry firefly. "ATTENTION," croaked the scanner in a voice that smelled like rusty staples. "INSUFFICIENT SMILING DETECTED DURING CHEESE SANDWICH YOGA. JOY LEVEL AT 42 PERCENT."

Turbo froze in mid-motion as the scanner scanned his pulse and the corners of his mouth. "THIS DOES NOT MEET THE MINIMUM RECOVERY REQUIREMENTS OF THE ENDLESS BREAK PROJECT," the machine continued. Milo took a step back as the scanner suddenly began to spray small blue sparks. "Please smile now, or five break points will be deducted," the silver sphere demanded relentlessly. Turbo tried to pull the corners of his mouth upwards, but it looked more like he had just bitten into a lemon that had been dipped in vinegar. BEEP. "INAPPROPRIATE GRIMACING. PENALTY POINT NOTED." Behind them, Inspector Order appeared out of nowhere, looking so grey that he could almost have been mistaken for a shadow made of file dust. He held his clipboard in front of him like a protective shield and adjusted his tie, which was at exactly a 90-degree angle to his shirt. "Tarik Tan, you are currently violating Section 4 of the new break rules," the inspector croaked. He pointed his index finger at the large sign that now hung above the climbing frame: BREAKS ARE MANDATORY. "The Endless Break project is for your total regeneration, not your personal bread acrobatics," he explained in an icy voice. Turbo dropped his sandwich in shock, which the scanner immediately acknowledged with a loud MOOOP. "CLEANLINESS ALARM ON THE RECREATION AREA!" blared the machine so loudly that two first-graders almost fell off the swing. Milo looked at Fina, who had already added "FORCED SMILES AND OFFICIAL BUREAUCRACY" to her list. "Why can't we just have a normal break?" Milo asked, looking the inspector straight in his grey eyes. Inspector Order did not smile, he merely pushed his glasses up a millimetre, which was considered a strong emotion for him. "Normality is administratively inefficient," he replied, making a scratchy note on his clipboard. "From now on, break points will be awarded for particularly orderly breaks." He held up a small golden card that glistened in the sunlight like a freshly cleaned stamp. "Whoever collects the most points will be the first to take the next mandatory break," he announced proudly. Turbo scratched his head, looking like a very confused meerkat. "Does that mean I get points if I rest really hard?" he asked hopefully. "Exactly," said the inspector. "But only if the rest pattern complies with official requirements." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadow of the school building, as if he had been filed away in an archive folder. Milo watched as more signs sprouted from the asphalt like poisonous mushrooms all over the playground. RUNNING ONLY WITH PERMISSION. LOUD LAUGHING PROHIBITED. RECREATION IS NOT A GAME. Turbo looked around and his cheers had become so small that they could have fit comfortably in an empty lunch box. "Guys," he whispered, watching the scanner that was still circling menacingly above his head. "I think I've just lost my appetite for extreme Gouda yoga," he muttered sadly. Milo felt the coldness of the signs slowly creeping up his back like an army of tiny icicles. It was no longer a pleasant feeling to stand out here while the bell remained stubbornly silent. Fina looked up from her list and stared at the large gate, which was usually wide open when the caretaker was in a good mood. It was closed. And in front of it was a new, massive sign: LEAVING THE PLAYGROUND REQUIRES APPLICATION A-32. "When a break has no end, it eventually becomes a prison," Milo observed. Turbo was about to reply when the loudspeaker on the outer wall came to life again. "ATTENTION, DEAR STUDENTS. THE NEXT LESSON IS ALSO CANCELLED. PLEASE CONTINUE TO ENJOY THE MANDATORY BREAK." The cheering of the other children had now given way to a strange, quiet murmur that sounded more like a funeral. No one was running anymore. No one was laughing really loudly anymore, for fear of getting a penalty point from the scanner. They all stared at the small silver balls that patrolled the schoolyard like mechanical vultures. Milo clenched his fists in his pockets and looked Fina firmly in the eyes. "We have to find out what Inspector Ordnung really has in store for us," he said determinedly. Fina nodded and marked the inspector's name on her list with a thick, blood-red exclamation mark. "Plan A has failed," she said seriously. "We need a plan that's not on the official timetable." Suddenly, Milo noticed a frantic movement at the window of the caretaker's office, which was half underground. Caretaker Kratz held up a huge, rusty key and shook his head wildly and warningly. He looked as if he wanted to send them a secret message before hastily drawing the grey curtain. "The bell key," Milo whispered so quietly that even the scanner couldn't hear him. "Kratz doesn't have it anymore!" But before they could finish their thought, another scanner landed directly on Turbo's shoulder. "SUSPICIOUS WHISPERING ACTIVITY DETECTED," the machine rasped maliciously. "PLEASE PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO THE REST AREA OR POINT DEDUCTION REACTION WILL OCCUR." Milo looked at Turbo, who now looked as if he would prefer to write a three-hour maths test right away. Suddenly, the endless break no longer felt like a victory, but like a trap that had just snapped shut silently. And worst of all, the scanner on Turbo's shoulder began to emit a shrill alarm that made the entire playground tremble. Milo knew that they no longer had time to just stand around and stack cheese sandwiches. In the distance, he saw Inspector Ordnung dragging another box of signs into the playground.