the weekly newsletter from EHS
Year 7 Creative Writers
03 February 2021
We are now on week 3 of the creative writing showcase and I begin with some good news. Many of you will have read Zhian Rahman Jackson’s poem ‘Excuses, Excuses’ two weeks ago and now she has been told that she was awarded a runner up prize in the Young Writers’ Competition. Well done, Zhian!
Our two pieces this week are from Anya De and Amrita Dhillon. Anya’s piece entitled ‘The Dream’ is full of wonderful descriptive detail. Amrita has given us a short but very dramatic story that packs a punch.
By Amrita Dhillon
Death. Blood. Victim. What is this all about? Why? Surrounding me, a million, profound, UNSOLVED queries fill my brain. As those words of pain emerge from one’s mouth, a deathly surge of lava envelops me. Wednesday. “Owen!” screams my mother at the top of her lungs, “Something dreadful happened!”. Palpitating, I rush over to see my great-grandpa's throat cut (with gore emerging from his heart like glutinous glue). Whilst tears sting my ruddy red cheeks, I stand stupefied. From the corner of my naked eye I examine a coal-black, blood-curling shadow cloaked in gruesome garments. This is not JUST murder…
By Anya De
Waiting tensely on my soft as velvet bed in dismal darkness, it was serene and silent except the sound of the Grandfather clock. Fiddling with my clothes, I could not wait to get down stairs. Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! I knew it was coming. Tick! Tock! Bang! Bang! After hearing the old Grandfather clock strike twelve o’clock, I was euphoric. Counting each time, on how many bangs had gone, knowing that everything was going to plan, a rush of adrenaline surged through me.
Several minutes past, I was now reassured everyone was asleep in the dilapidated house. Quietly, I tip-toed out of my room and checked if the coast was clear, it was thankfully. Briskly, I bolted down the stairs like a supersonic arrow, heading straight to the garden door which was rarely opened.
As slow as a snail, I opened the rusty door trying to avoid the creaking sound so no-one would wake up. I was buzzing like a fizzy drink. Looking out of the house, I checked if nobody was there. Without making a sound, I inched forward into the garden. However, it was just a courtyard with a lofty wall around it. All of a sudden, I spotted a door which was hidden as the wall camouflaged it.
Edging towards the door, I pushed it open. “Wow!” I thought to myself. I never believed my eyes, there was a chocolate fountain in the middle of the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. Standing in the middle of the garden, I was amazed. Rapidly, I ran over to the mouth-watering chocolate fountain and drank two handfuls of it. It was superb. Seeing each plant in detail, I was extremely enjoying this. There was a selection of roses: red as ruby; rare rusty orange; yellow like a banana and white as fluffy clouds. On the ground was a blanket of Autumn leaves which I skidded through. I was having the time of my life. Strolling over to the trees, a few varmints were minding their own business. There was a canopy of lofty trees which stood up like umbrellas.
Suddenly, I remembered that it could nearly be dawn so I checked the time on my old damaged watch, it was 5:30, nearly sunrise which was at 6:00. “Uh oh!” I thought to myself. I had to get back to the house into my bedroom.
Without warning, I sprinted over to the door and took one last handful of chocolate. Pushing open the door, I took one last look at the secret garden. Hopefully, I would come back here tomorrow. Quickly, I walked upstairs trying not make a sound and I got into my warm cozy bed.