Celebrating writing throughout school, maybe
|Year groups||Our writing|
|Reception|| Describing ‘The Gingerbread Man’ completed on the 11 October 2017-only 6 weeks after starting school.
|Year 1||This work was completed on 20th September 2017 – the story of the Little Red Riding Hood.|
|Year 4||In class 4 we have been enjoying creating our, ‘Tales from Camelot.’
|Year 5|| The tale of the three sisters
There were once three sisters. Each had their own personality and they were each looking for different things in life. They each had their own road in front of them.
It was a beautiful winters day as they walked down the foggy street of Diagon Alley. They were shopping for next year’s cloaks. They were going to use hand-me-downs from their older siblings but two of them were just to spoilt. The first sister was selfish and uncaring, the second sister was always nagging and demanding. Last but not least was the good girl, who was honest, kind and caring. They all chose their cloaks: the second one obviously chose the most expensive one in the shop, the first sister chose the most flattering one and the third sister chose the cheapest one of them all. Together they all clambered into the changing rooms. The ground rumbled and suddenly a figure was forming in front of them. It was inky black and in a ghostly shape. These girls were third year witches already. They knew who the figure was…it was DEATH!
A few minutes later death started raging with anger at the first two girls. He wasn’t anywhere near as angry at the third girl; the reason for this was because she hadn’t done anything wrong in her life, but oh boy had the first two.
Death started to speak. He tricked the girls slyly into thinking that he had been very grateful to them. The third sister knew that this wasn’t real, but because death was so powerful she kept her mouth shut. Death asked the girls if there was anything they wanted in life. You could tell the first two sisters were bursting with ideas. The fist sister asked for everyone to obey her as if she was the most powerful ruler of the wizarding world. The second sister charmed death into giving her the most beautiful body in the world. Last but not least, it was the third sister’s turn. She announced “Death, I hate to ask, but since you’re giving me the offer, I would like to make the world love itself for what it is again.”
For the first sister, death plucked a crown from inside his cloak. For the second sister, he unravelled all the clothes in the fascinating shop around them, sealed them in a bag and passed it to the her. However, for the third sister, Death unclipped the curtain from the dressing room and wrapped it all up into a wand to make the world great again.
The first sister seemed to think her crown was the latest fashion. Actually it wasn’t to all the public; she looked horrifying and ugly with it on. For the second sister it was even worse. All the clothes had rotted in only one day. The third sister sadly died from the plague, but everyone was grateful for what she became. She was also remembered for many years; stories are still being told of this lovely, honest woman.
|Year 6||Monday 5th March 2018
December 1944 Battle of the Bulge:
One night just before sunset I was sent out on patrol, I sat behind a fallen down tree in a forest. But something caught my eye, it was some Germans in a field they were a few hundred yards away from me. But then I decided to peek up, there was a young boy crawling across a ditch. I didn’t shoot, I let him get closer and closer. When he was 4, or 5 yards away from me I put all of my weight on my legs and shouted “SURENDER!” But instead of surrendering he slowly began to lift his rifle, and pointing it at my head, it was instant death for him as I shot him.
This blond hair blue eyed boy, looked like an angel with a halo above his head. That boy was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
The first night it didn’t bother me, but the second night it did. I woke up it felt like I was in a coffin, I was crying so hard it was hard to breathe. My life has changed since that kid was shot dead by me, I feel like a murderer and always will.
In my dreams this kid comes up. I feel like a horrible person, will I ever get him out of my mind?
People of Alne, listen!
By Alex 9th March 2018
This monster has been destroying our village for years, if we don’t do anything to stop it will continue to demolish the country. It can take our crops, take our houses, take our lives, but it will never take our freedom.
Are we going to let this dragon tear through our village, tear through our lives? NO! We will fight for our lives, fight for our family, fight for our freedom. We won’t cower in the shadows anymore it’s time to fight, time to win. We will stand strong we will stand as one, walking down this path to victory.
We are here today, not as farmers, children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters we stand as an army. Follow me, follow me to victory, and let this monster be history. The dragon is vicious, colossal, monstrous but if we stay together we can be more than just that, we can be winners…
Writer of the Week
January 12th 2018
The Sorting Hat Tuesday 12th September
The roof like a sky full of stars, lit by thousands of candles glinting all around me, casting smoky shadows in hidden places. “GRACE!” professor Easton’s roar filled the hall distracting me from the scene before my eyes. Dragging her feet up the steps nervously, she had seemed to be a lot more confident than me before. A whirl wind of thoughts stampeded through me as I imagined me going up the cobbled steps, how nervous would I look? How nervous would I feel?
Finally, the voice of professor Easton rang in my ears sending an icy shiver up my spine “RUBY!” I took a deep breath then cautiously stepped forwards. The four colours in sight, yet there was something that made my eyes dart to the Slyrthin table edged with silver and emerald students.
A rapid stream of adrenalin trickled through me as the hat plonked over my eyes, locking out the world around me. The deafening silence filled the hall.
“Slyrthin, Slyrthin, please be in Slyrthin,” I pleaded wordlessly.
“Ah, you want to be in Slyrthin, well it’s all there your quite right yet you have all the greatness in you to be in Gryffindor…very well it will have to be…SYLRTHIN!” a rage of applause erupted from the Slyrthin table. Glory rained over me. They welcomed me with vicious cackles and cunning smiles.
|The last breath of humanity by Josh Davies
Standing on top of the magical lighthouse, looking down at the watery grave of the human race was a girl, not an ordinary girl; she would have died along with them, but a vermillion. She had the exact shape and size as an ordinary human being, but with one important difference: she was aquatic. (Meaning she could live underwater) So that when the great wave came and cleansed the earth of humans these magical beings found sanctuary in the lighthouse, the same lighthouse that has kept magic safe for billions of years, the same lighthouse that is plonked right in the middle of London.
But one day everything went wrong, the vermillion’s astronomers did not see the signs, the Earths weather predictors went offline as a massive solar flare hit, but that was nothing compared to the tsunami. A wave of humungous proportions struck into the small completely unprepared island of the United Kingdom, which I suppose is now a lost country as it is completely bathed in water. But safely living in the lighthouse the vermillion smugly smiled to themselves, they knew the destruction the great wave would cause, they knew they would survive, but they didn’t know what knew threat was entering the magnetic field of the earth…
The girl standing on top of the lighthouse was the mage of the vermillion. She may have been born only a few million years ago but age has no meaning when you are an aquatic being. Now erect on the lighthouse she was summoning the spirits of her dead ancestors, to give her guidance. Her eyes were as black as the beginning, her mouth permanently twisted into a cunning, sly smile, she looked down to see lines of light running down her red skin, magic burst from her fingers, crackling in the air, frying a passing bird. An arch appeared spraying bright white light across the damp, dark sky, it was done.
Ghostly spirits floated out of the arch, circling round the vermillion mage, their transparent body’s slipping through the metal of the lighthouse possessing the sleeping vermillion, churning them awake. The mage blasted a hole in the lighthouse and floated down. “You disgust me,” she calmly said, “Whilst you slumber deep in the heart of the lighthouse Monstro, the destroyer of worlds moves closer, closer to finishing what the Guardian started, closer to ending us, closer to destroying the world.”
These pieces could be the early examples of our authors of the future.