This week in English intervention, Year 11s, Phillipe, Josh, Ugbaad, Mayuri, Connor and Kristian developed an exceptional piece of creative writing. The pupils were challenged with writing a creative piece together, without seeing what the other pupils were writing. They were allocated a section of the story and could only focus on that. Their final piece was brilliant. Please take a moment to read their response below. Well done!
It was sharply freezing. No scream could be heard; but only those of one in pure plight. He peacefully prayed while the rapid darkness enclosed him. Alone. No screams could be heard.
He was looking at the rose petals in a sentimental way. His hands gripped firmly onto the stem like he didn’t want to lose it. The flower looked depressed. His fingers were scraping the ice away, freeing the mind forged manacles inside.
He looked at the bruised flower with grief, the clouds quickly turned black and began to cry. The man’s body began to become heavy from the weight of the sky’s tears. The sky’s sorrow was contagious, as before he knew it – the man began to cry. So heavy the lamp’s flame burnt out. Tears continued to fall.
The bench sighed sympathetically. With every sniffle and sob it clung tighter. Desperately persevering to ignite his withered flame. His tears fell like bullets, piercing the tough, time-worn timber, as he fell back in agony.
Endlessly wondering, why it had to happen to him. Why is it that every time he anxiously sees her, he still gets the same butterflies as the night they met, even when he is rested six-foot under silky, soft soil. Gazing into her most treasured flower like it was her beautiful eyes that once used to love him.
Of course, he grieves, why would he not? The storm heading closer, closer and closer. Monstrous growls from the tenacious thunder echoes all around him, as if he was not alone, reminding him that he as no one. In a room blocked off and trapped. And he will never gain back what he lost.