Anthology

Highland Memories

As I close my eyes, I can still see bulging hills that own the fields. Or the plump trees that sit on the hills, like mould in an out of date pack of yogurts, spreading like wild fire. Oh, how I miss looking up and seeing the blossoming clouds peacefully walking across the sky, like graceful swans in a lake. I remember the gorgeous flowers; buttercups, tulips and the beautiful daisies. The buttercups were my personal favourites, as their magnificent colour reminded me of the golden beams of the farmer’s best friend, the sun. When I used to play outside, I would run my fingers through the dampened grass and collect all the morning dew with it. I wish I could go back to the good old days when I would skip around in the fields of wheat.

Tahlia, Year 6

AMELIE R, YEAR 3

In the Agora

“Mother, mother? Where are you?” Philipes was in a big, bustling agora in a small cramped, pokey corner which smelt like her family’s old, smelly chicken pen which had not been cleaned out for years. Philipes looked around her. Philipes saw a hard working blacksmith with small, fast, racing balls of sweat dribbling from his head. Philipes was hungry and there was a lingering smell of a large slab of meat nearby. The temptation was big to quickly run and grab the big slab of juicy meat, and run to the small, pokey corner and nibble it bit by bit. Philipes didn’t dare to, because there was a big, bulky soldier with a large deadly spear near the meat. Philipes was starting to get hot, after all the sun was a blazing ball of fire in the sky. It was the middle of the day and it was starting to get very busy, and Philipes was very overwhelmed. As it was starting to get late, it wasn’t as buzzy and bustling anymore, and there were no more things in the market stalls. Nobody was there anymore except Philipes, where she still remained in the small, pokey corner. Philipes shot up onto her feet as she saw a shadowy figure loitering by her, shouting her name. It could only be one thing – her mother!

Tabitha S, Year 4

A Cautionary Tale

There once was a girl called Ele Who watched far too much telly She kept her eyes glued to the screen And when she wanted her tea She would eat it staring in front of the TV

She never went to her bedroom to get some sleep Her life really was quite bleak Everyday went on and on Until one day it all went wrong

You see little Ele just watched too much telly And when the bad day came about Her eyes just dropped out So little children remember Ele And make sure not to watch too much telly

Willa, Bonnie and Hope, Year 5

My School

At Beaudesert we are a lovely school, We’ve got big BoB and it’s really cool. I can see the lovely sky with fluffy clouds like a big soft bed. I can hear the horses neigh and it is beautiful like a rainbow.

I can feel the squidgy blackberries when I go to Forest School. I can smell the lovely smell of flowers all around the School.

I can taste the yummy chocolate brownie that tastes like Willy Wonka’s chocolate. Wouldn’t you like to join with us? Playing on the Beaudesert bus.

Io, Year 3

A Chance Encounter

She remained still, focussing intently, staring straight ahead. She looked possessed by the devil, rearing and flicking her magnificent mane which was matted and covered in dust. The air was dusty also, making the movements of the horse highlighted by the swirling, unsettled air. The mare was angry, her feet shifting, her eyes narrowing, her nostrils flaring. She had a right to be enraged. Torn from her herd, she was ruined.

The tension was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife. I took a step, my heart was jumping and loud in my chest. My foot collided with the ground, with a noise louder than thunder in my ears. I looked up, the horse, starting, tensed, ready to run. Every second felt like ten, and the horse’s eyes seemed to flash gold. The horse was not moving, but her body seemed full of energy. She was poised like a ballerina, but her face was muddy and bedraggled. She looked manic and possessed, as if she were a demon. Then, without warning, like a delicate string had broken, she bolted.

Sophie Ra., Year 8

On the Banks

Through the trees you could make out a stump, sitting there like a static, fat man. The tree had a tumour bulging out of it and a crow’s nest sat in the bough like a castle on a hill. A crow stood there, squawking, marking his territory. The bench wrapped around the Wellingtonia like a necklace. Ivy crawled up the tree like a centipede, whilst the cowslips swayed in the breeze. The scorched earth that once was alive with fire now scarred the green banks…

Sid S, Year 8

Something Wicked This Way Comes

‘Tut, tut, tut, tut.’ My eyes open. I listen as my heart rate becomes more rapid. As my eyes adjust, I begin to see looming objects everywhere. I tell myself they’re just wardrobes and bookshelves but I can’t help thinking they’re something else.

‘Tut, tut.’ There it is again. I flick my bedside lamp on and check my Alexa. It is only one thirty two am.

Suddenly, ‘tut, tut.’ It starts again. I leap out of bed as if struck by lightning, adrenaline coursing through my veins, the cold creeping over me. I grab my dressing gown. The soft feeling warms me up instantly. I pause for a second, waiting for the sound. It doesn’t come. Then, as I am taking my dressing gown off, the noise echoes by the window, followed by the crunch of someone running on gravel. I dash across the room, bumping my knee against the bed. I limp over to the window and fling the shutters open with a bang.

I look out of the window, pressing my forehead against the cold glass. It starts to steam up, and I step back, using my sleeve to wipe the droplets away. I can’t see anything out of the ordinary – just the usual. The hedge and new gardening patch with flowers and vegetables, and the patio. I could not see that far, as a mist suffocated the ground.

On the gravel the car stood ready to go, waiting for the day. I was about to turn away when I heard a slight crunch as someone shifted. I looked closer and I could see a shape hovering behind the car.

I turned my lamp off and went quietly back to the window. The shape started to move. It walked out from behind the car, wincing at the noise. It bent down and picked up a stone from the gravel, took aim, but just before it threw, I pushed up the window. The grinding noise seemed ten times louder in the otherwise silent night. The sound startled the figure and it fell back.

I peeked out of my window, thankful for the dressing gown and called out, “who’s there?”

No reply… Until a voice spoke, “I am a monster, coming to get you.”

I recognise it as Jake, the boy who lives up the lane. He is seven years old and is really annoying.

“Jake, what are you doing?”

He moves forward and says, “How did you know it was me?”

I tell him, “If you don’t go now, I will call your mum and tell her that you were throwing stones at my window.”

As he runs off, I close the shutters, take off my dressing gown and slump into my bed. Just as I’m falling asleep, I jump because I’ve heard the ‘tut, tut’ noise again…

Sebby F, Year 6

The Story of Nerous

One blisteringly hot day, a slave, Nerous, was meandering aimlessly along a dusty cobbled road. He was thin and battle-weary. He had a deep voice, and dark blue eyes as deep as space. Nerous had once been great and famous, but those days are over. Now he was just a poor slave.

The agora was heaving with people. The sun cast towering shadows from the buildings looming ominously over the agora. The tiled floor was like the scales of a dragon. Nerous wasted no time looking for some olives. He had been told to find the juiciest and plumpest ones he could find. After what seemed like an endless search, he found a stall. But… they had run out!

But Nerous had a plan. He would cleverly take some leaves and squish them carelessly with stones, creating an oozy green dye. Then he would smear it on some stones so it looked like he had olives when he didn’t. It was the perfect plan! So he smugly strolled home, silhouetted against the vibrant, Athenian sunset and the joyful, playful, blue sea.

When he got home, he presented the fake olives to the fuming owner, whose face was as red as a chili. “Here’s your olive, sir” muttered Nerous, giggling under his breath.

“Took you long enough!” shouted the owner. Nerous watched as his owner stuffed his face full of the fake olives. He finally saw his owner slumped in his chair. Nerous never worked as a slave again!

Sam G, Year 4

A Glimpse of the Frontier

The worst, rocky, inhospitable land of the West battered down on my confidence as we battled forward. The blazing sun assaulted my skin, turning it bright red. People and oxen alike stumbled and fell. If this weather kept up, we wouldn’t survive another week.

“Somebody help! I’m giving birth!” screamed a terrified mother.

“Poor child” I thought. I shrugged and kept walking. How morbid this has made me, how could this get any worse? Suddenly, a storm of arrows cascaded down around us. That’s when the thunderous sound of hooves boomed all around us and a hoard of Red Indians flew at us. We were doomed…

Caspar, Year 7

GENEVIEVE, YEAR 6

Bonfire Night is…

Viewing a crackling red bonfire under a rainfall of sparks, Hearing a popping Catherine Wheel as it spins like a bright rainbow, Munching crunchy toffee apples and feeling the sticky sweetness on your tongue, Smelling spicy hot dogs dripping with tomato ketchup, Feeling the warm hands of mummy and daddy as we snuggle up together.

Alby W, Year 3

Orlando’s Alliterative Ice Cream

My name is Orlando I run Orlando’s ice cream shop, There are flavours in my freezer, You have never seen before…

Bacon Blackberry Bluster, Sausage Strawberry Swirl, Pizza Pineapple Pinch, Rice Raspberry Ripple, Chicken Chocolate Chip

I am Orlando,

I run Orlando’s ice cream shop, Taste a flavour from my freezer, You will definitely want more!

Orlando, Year 3

LORCAN, YEAR 3

A Day in the Life of a Robin

I wake up at 4:00 in the morning and prepare my throat for the morning song. I clear my throat and start. It starts quite slow and sort of low, but in the middle it’s super high pitched and fast. I usually mess that part up and scold myself by pinching my wing with my beak. At the end it slows down, slower than the start, my favourite part. After I finish my song I fly to the water bowl the humans set out for us, which is already very crowded. I take a few big gulps of water to cure my dry throat. My tummy grumbles as it always does, time to catch some worms! I hop over to the wettest mud pile. I toss my beak around and search for a worm. There! I grab the worm with my beak, it squirms and shakes as expected, and I throw it into my makeshift leaf bowl. Soon it’s filled with squirming worms and I fly to my nest to feast until my red tummy could never get full again. After I finish eating, I sit in my nest for a bit to digest. When I don’t feel full anymore, I fly high up in the sky, knowing that the humans, with their black things put to their eyes, would be watching. They follow me like a cat going to pounce on a mouse. We do this for the rest of the morning until I have to take a sip from the water bowl again. Cold water slips down my throat as I try to control my breathing. I fly back to my nest, which has fallen apart, of course. Sticks and feathers surround the bottom of the tree. I gather them up and fly back up. I prod the escaped items back into the nest. Sitting in my nest, I let mind escape from reality. What is the most important thing in my life? Hmmm, it’s probably the garden, my home. It’s filled with the greenest of grass and the prettiest of daisies. I snap out of my fantasy dream with the sound of my grumbling tummy. I remember I have some leftover worms from this morning. I snack on them for a bit until my eyelids feel heavy. I let myself drift off at around 6:00pm and dream of flying worms and wingless robins. That is the life of a robin, me, Molly.

Romy, Year 5

Utopia

I lie outside in a brittle, wooden chair absorbing the pleasure of the warm, golden day. The small, mossy drystone wall which encloses my haven from intrusion is dwarfed by the rich, green oaks that stand proudly above the garden. Down the centre of the garden meanders a short, lazy trickle of cold water running over wet rocks and through a barren desert of pebbles. Life sprouts, encouraged by the presence of the kind water. The lush jungle of the nectar-scented flowers and bushes wraps around the edge of the garden. I feel an affinity and a strange reluctance to return indoors, away from this piece of light and dark, warmth and cold. To return into my life of chaos and dismal monotony would be to break open my soul and leave half of it here. To leave would kill my never-ending awe for this isolated island of tranquil simplicity. Why would one leave the swaying savannah, the clear rivers, and free airs of this place? Where life goes on, the cycles rewind and age seems to be left behind. In this slice of heaven I am lucky to find, I ponder on life’s great finds, as I lie outside in a brittle, wooden chair.

Monty M, Year 8

NATASHA, YEAR 6

No Way Out

A winter breeze rustled through the branches of the pine tree forest, scratching away at each other, as though they were squabbling. A full moon shone brightly down on the infested earth below, only to be interrupted by the occasional wisp of cloud. Deafening howls filled the cold, misty and prickly air. The steep sides of the hill protected the eerie, old and uninhabited castle at the top. Towering stone brick walls protected every side of the castle, except the rotten oak door. It was almost impossible to see what was inside the building. The only way to find out was to go in. The only problem was if you go in, there was no way out… A creak echoed for miles all around. The ancient building glowed from the inside, as if it was happy for a split second. The wind came again, but not a breeze, clouds covered the moon once more, but they weren’t wisps anymore. Thunder rattled everything around. Crack! A bolt of lightning hit the ruins of the once amazing place, but nothing happened to the building. All traces of wind and cloud suddenly disappeared, leaving the moon by itself, the only witness. Gabriel P, Year 7

Devon

I will put in the box The crashing waves of the ocean The last petal of a rose And the winning World Cup ball

I will put in the box The last chant of a football fan The beautiful smell of lavender The last smile from a grandpa

I will put in the box The whine of my dog Woody The last drop of the bluest water And the blinks of the stars

I will put in the box The taste of vanilla ice cream The smell of freshly baked cake The ashes of Digby

I will cover my box head to toe With stickers And my box is kept in the back of my mind

I will surf on my box On the crashing waves Of Devon

Oscar H, Year 5

A Winter Scene

The unfriendliest winter has struck against a dark blue, moonlit sky. A blanket of glimmering snow is sparkling from the reflection of the moon. A forest of snowtopped pines are standing, reaching up into the sky. Beautiful, cold snowflakes are flying down from the misty scene above. The struggling grass underneath the strangling snow has finally given up reaching to the fresh, dark, cold air.

Isabel, Year 4

My School

At Forest School the fire is flaming like a fox.

I can see hard working teachers like busy bees.

I can hear mooing cows like horns. I can feel jelly like slime at lunch time. I can smell the smoky fire at Forest School. I can taste the crunchy, yummy pizza, cheesy as can be. Do you want to have some fun? Beaudesert is the place to come.

Barnabas, Year 3

What to do with Magic

I will use my magic to,

Go to Japan and back And while I’m there Swim with the shimmering koi

I will use my magic to,

Fly to Ghana and help the people While prancing with the antelope And flying with a volt of vultures

I’ll depollute dirty lakes, And bring back what we lost. I’ll help the coral and help the fish, And finish what we’ve done.

I’ll sprinkle stardust in the craters On the far side of the moon, I’ll sail to Mars while fishing, And wave to strange creatures.

Magic is a powerful thing And very hard to use But for the meanwhile I’m going to say PLEASE PERSEVERE

Max Sh., Year 5

Fairy Story

Once upon a time, there was a farmer. He lived in a rundown hut on a farm, with his dog and his best horse. Although he had his horse and dog, he was lonely and sad – not even the village parades could make him happy. One day, the farmer went to the village, tripped on his dog and fell on his back. “You stupid dog!” shouted the farmer. “You should not be so harsh to your animals,” cawed the witch. “You… You are a witch!” whispered the farmer. “Yes,” answered the witch.

The next day, the farmer walked down to the witch’s house. When he got close, the door opened by itself. He walked in, with the dog at his feet. “You get three chances. What would you like?” the witch said. “Um… Can my dog talk wisdom?” asked the farmer. “Sure, if it’s wisdom your dog wants, it’s wisdom your dog gets,” cackled the witch. Suddenly, the farmer was in bed and a delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. He walked gingerly down into the kitchen. “Dog?” whispered the farmer. “Yes,” answered the dog boldly. “You can talk?”

“Yes, why? The witch granted me speech and wisdom.” Then, the dog returned to the cooker and attended to the food.

A few days later, the farmer grew greedy and even though the dog said not to, he still went to the witch’s house, riding on his horse. “Witch, I demand you to come out and grant me the power of air!” shouted the farmer. “OK” replied the witch, popping out of thin air. With a click of her fingers, the horse sprouted wings and flew back to the farmer’s hut. The farmer was amazed at the witch’s generosity. He flew to the pub and celebrated with wine. Then, drunkenly, when he had no pennies left, he flew back to the witch and demanded, “Witch, make me food!”

So the witch made him into a fat, greedy pig – and she lived happily ever after!

Louisa, Year 6

OTTILIE B, YEAR 3

The New Soldier

A new soldier sat in a wonky, misshapen trench, while shells rained down from the sky. The soldier’s face – as clean as polished metal – stood out from the others, which looked like they had been stuck in a boggy quagmire. The order was given to attack the German trench. A screech of a whistle sounded like a peregrine falcon shrieking. The men bustled around and clambered up the ladder, charging over the cratered No Man’s Land. The German machine guns opened up and unleashed Hell upon them. The soldier saw everything around him; his comrades were being cut down. It seemed to him like they were ants futilely attacking a giant. They got closer to the German wire, but still it seemed to make no difference. The new soldier had to jump into a waterlogged crater to take cover from the flashing bullets above him, and the devilish things that flew up and then dropped down like an asteroid exploding on the ground. The attack failed, so they retreated back to their own trench. He realised what a big mistake he had made by coming here. It was not glorious at all.

Henry B, Year 6

Zooming Out

Silky spiderwebs blanketed the small bushes connected to tall stems, like tightropes glinting in the sun. Dew settled on the hairy stem of the roses. The creamy pink petals swayed in the summer breeze, as buzzy bees landed on the flowers all around. Once the bees were satisfied with the pollen, they fluttered out of the clump of flowers and silently flew away into the clear, blue sky. Large birds of prey circled the fields of countryside, scouring for prey, looking down at the puzzle of fields.

Max H, Year 8

A Summer Morning

As the gentle glow of the sun rose up from the ancient, crooked trees, the world burst into another day of light. All the animals gently woke themselves up. They walked over the crunchy, dry forest floor, finding a way to keep them warm. I heard the gentle sound of cheeping birds, hungry and searching for food, and the baby birds sleeping in their nest. I felt the gentle summer’s breeze on my tired, pale face. The trees were coming into leaf with tiny green shoots bursting into life like an egg trying to hatch. I gently rubbed the soft petals of a bud that opened too early, trying not to break off the delicate flowers.

Lux, Year 6

FLORA L, YEAR 4

Paradise

I arrived at Pineapple Beach, the soft sand slipped between my toes and the wind delicately breezed across my face. I was greeted by a flock of friendly rainbow lorikeets and they landed amongst the trees which were tall and spindly. I listened as all of the birds chirped in harmony. One of the lorikeets swooped down and gently landed on my shoulder. I could now see one of the birds up close, and his feathers were all sorts of fluorescent colours. He chirped for slightly longer, before flying off into the trees. I felt I should follow it and started to run towards the mango jungle. The trees here were shorter and more stubby, and bright flowers decorated the ground. As I walked deeper into the jungle, I began to see a settlement emerge through the leaves. I brushed my fingers along the petals of the daffodils while ducking from the branches which were overgrown and heavy. I peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of the children playing happily in the green grass. I felt the urge to join in but I stopped myself. I needed to keep focussed and on the right track. I clambered over a rickety old gate to find a lush, sunny meadow. Running through the middle of the meadow was a dreamy stream and the sky-punching mountains soared up in the background. The sun was high in the sky and it was lovely to feel the sun’s warmth on my face.

Emilie, Year 7

Trapped

I was trapped in my own body. Not able to move. My brain would constantly send out messages to my body, telling it to move. But as the messages would come back, like there was a broken bridge, the messages could not get over to the other side. All I could hear was the heart monitor reminding me that I was still on the edge of life, and that I might be able to escape the clutches of death.

Lola M, Year 8

The Lighthouse

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice drowning in the mocking laughs of the seagulls. “Don’t go out there!” I shouted again, my voice hoarse in the salty air. “Come back!” Colossal waves rammed the flimsy windows in the lighthouse as I clawed my way to the door. My face was whipped by the cruel wind and my hair was tangled into disarray. I made it onto the grimy balcony, worn and decayed. Finally, I clasped the rail and even though it was cold and rusty, the fraying metal was the only thing holding me up. Another gust blew and I gripped it harder. I immediately winced as the torn metal scratched at the palm of my hand. I jumped away and looked at my hand just in time to see crimson beads of blood escape the graze. “We have to go inside” I said, but he wouldn’t move. “We need to get help” he said. I tried to drag my father inside, but he remained cemented to the spot, waving to the ghosts of ships in the distance. Suddenly, a mountain of a wave was silhouetted against the dim light. I ran inside and dived for a safe corner, and I heard the wave crash and fizzle out.

When I opened my eyes, my father was gone. As I was clinging onto the railing, the bubbling oil sea crackled beneath me. I prayed for the rail to hold. But it did not. It groaned as it parted from the wall and like a leech being ripped from the skin, it screeched and parted from the balcony. I looked over the edge and I saw my father being swallowed by the waves.

Libby, Year 7

TABITHA W, YEAR 4

CAPI, YEAR 6

Power Cut

Samuel pushed the button for the lift. (Up.) He waited patiently for the lift to trundle up and quickly stepped in. Already inside were three men and two women. He nodded to them and silently took his place by the door. Slowly, the lift began to rise. Suddenly, there was a loud groaning sound. The lift shuddered, as if it could no longer bear the weight of its passengers, and stopped. The woman in the corner who had been nervously biting her fingernail looked up. Samuel could see terror in her eyes. The others in the lift began to look around, anxiously surveying the steel walls. Quite abruptly, there was a moaning sound that resonated around. Then with a pop, the lights went out. The woman who had been standing in the corner began to shriek. Samuel could hear her trying to calm herself, taking deep, shaky breaths. He could make out in the dark one of the men fumbling for something. He pulled out a cigarette lighter. In a split second he had illuminated the walls in an orange, flickering light. The woman in the corner slid down the wall and slumped on the floor, whimpering slightly. The woman who had been standing beside her patted her shoulder kindly. Without warning, the flame disappeared. Hastily, the man tried to relight it. Any time someone moved, the steel prison swayed uneasily, followed by the sound of chains clanking above. Beads of sweat began to form on Samuel’s forehead. The air was hot and stifling. How long would they be trapped here? The thought went round his mind. Without warning the bright, white lights momentarily lit up the lift again, illuminating the hopeful faces of his fellow prisoners. There was the sound of retracting chain and sudden, jerking movements as the lift came back to life. The lights came on again. Samuel looked around him. The people were beginning to smile. The lift went up, steadily rising to the next floor. The doors opened. The people rushed out, breathing in the fresh air. It took a while for Samuel’s eyes to adjust to the steady, bright lights of the shopping centre. He looked around at the people he had been trapped with. They were still strangers. He did not know them any better than he had before. He walked away, pondering this, and walked out of the automatic doors and into the cool night air.

Isla C, Year 8

Bombs! Bombs!

Bombs! Bombs!

Bent double like old beggers under sacks

Straining under the weight of their heavy green bags Deaf to the sound of the roaring tank tracks

They march on, half dead, like dirty hags. Rats gnawing on human bones, So many scurrying it was like a carpet, Destroying supplies and makeshift homes, And stinking like a soldier’s armpit.

Bombs! Bombs! Hurry, boys! A sudden rush of adrenaline, With men of all ages rushing to take cover

Diving into craters like sardines in a tin While blood flows like a red hot river.

Isaac, Year 6

The Dragon

The dragon was tall with ruby red eyes. Silver sparkles grew out of its big, blue, broad back. Dagger teeth sat like stones in its large cave mouth. Its wings shone in the beautiful sunlight, And its roar echoed through the large valley.

Bertie M, Year 6

A Cautionary Tale

Jimmy was a greedy fellow His teeth were completely yellow For all the cakes he had ate

He felt he needed a bigger plate.

One day when he was eight He spotted a humungous birthday cake He crawled inside and started to eat

But he did not know the demise he would meet.

They took him to a place he did not know

Which was going to be a big party show Then he realised his bad luck

As the knife came down, he got stuck!

The party guests were horrified to find A little boy’s head inside That’s the tale of Jimmy The boy who stuffed himself silly.

Hugo G and Bluey, Year 5

HUGO G, YEAR 5 CHLOE P, YEAR 3

A Day in the Life of a Felix Woody (a wolf)

I wake up to my little pack-sister licking my face and the little fox cub (Willough) stealing a chunk of meat from yesterday’s kill. I chase her off and rip a piece off for myself. Just another normal day, I think to myself, as I gulp the meat down. I ask my pack-mother when our pack-father is coming back and, as usual, she just says “soon.” I walk down to the little stream and drink some water. It trickles down my throat and I can feel the coldness of it as it goes down. Just as I finish, I notice it’s already midday. I can tell because the blazing ball of yellow is highest in the “up.” I run back to the den and ask pack-mother “what is from the hunt,” and she shows me a chunk of deer. I gobble it down, say thank you to pack-mother, and trundle over to my bed and sleep. I wake suddenly to my pack-mother yapping at me “Time for the hunt!” she says, “Be outside soon”.

I pick myself up and trot outside, where pack-mother and pack-sister are waiting eagerly. They sprint off and I sprint after them. I feel the air brushing past me as I try to catch up with the others. Just as I start to see them I realise that they have stopped, and I slow down and just about manage to… “Rabbit!” says pack-mother and I reply, “Over here,” and start to run into the bushes. I return with a rabbit in my jaws. We each take a piece and leave the bones there. We sprint home in time for sundown, and snuggle up to each other, and watch the silver circle rise in the “up.”

Harry C W, Year 5

The Unexpected Narrator by the Pond

The reflection of the world lay below me, ready to greet me. The lanky reeds reached up to the clouds as if they wanted to touch me. My stalk loosened as the wind picked up and the branch swayed. I swiftly fluttered like a butterfly down to the shimmering silent pool. Gently placing myself on the calm rippling water, I saw a school of tadpoles wriggle past….

Lollie, Year 7

The Owner of the Shoes

Her sparkly bag swung freely. Her love of all things sparkly had made her somehow a bit more vibrant. Oversized rings took over her fingers and whenever she walked, it felt like a dance. Everywhere she went, she treated everyone specially. Somehow, we all felt as if we were her best friend. Her handbag was a mess of lipstick, candy, artwork, anything cute she could get her hands on. A small, happy Pomeranian followed her. No one knew its name. She would not settle on being anything like another person. Often she would humbly drop 5p to a busker, later realising it was €10 from her trip to Paris. She once managed to light one of her nails on fire. She said it was because it was scarlet, and red was her least favourite colour. She loved everything from her home country, Mexico. She prided herself on her collections. When she was 7, she hoarded lolly sticks.

Catherine, Year 4

CECIL, YEAR 7

The Lighthouse in the Storm

“No Ben, get the oars!” shouted Zack while trying to retrieve the oars in the crashing waves. Thunderbolts were hurling from God’s hands and terrifying the birds away. “Don’t worry, after all, the rain is only God sweating,” replied Ben in a reassuring tone. At that moment, a lightning bolt hit the end of the boat at a tremendous speed! They were knocked clean out of their boat into the never-ending waves, but succeeding to the surface. “We are going to die now, thanks to you. We have no shelter, no food, and just sea water!” complained Zack.

“Look, a lighthouse!” shouted Ben. The blaring light coming from the lighthouse hit the eyes of anyone in its sight with a bright, yellow beam. “Quick, swim to shore, before me and you are done for good,” spluttered Zack. The two boys swam for minutes on end, before finally reaching the lighthouse. The shore that the lighthouse was standing on looked like it had never been stepped on for about one billion years! It was dusty, and rather washed away from the sea hitting the water’s edge. Zack clambered onto the lighthouse. He felt relaxed that he was on the shore until… He heard a slight screeching noise. It was Ben. “Help! I am stuck in the seaweed!” shouted Ben across the sea…

Alice B, Year 4

The Magic Box

I will put in a box The sound of the shores of Noirmoutier Jumping in the ice cold water of Scotland The snow crunching under my feet.

I will put in a box My puppy staring at me The smell of bread which has just been baked Scoring a cricket ton.

I will put in a box No winter and a longer summer The first time I saw my mother’s face When the stars come out and the black sky leaves.

I will put in a box The flowers swishing slowly in the sun The sun’s rays shining through the trees And the twinkling star on the top of a Christmas tree.

My box will be made from my thoughts, memories and smells It will be filled with my doubts, worries and frustrations Its lid will be carved from oak wood.

I shall fish on my box And pick out all my happy memories And dream about them And come to be in them.

Angus H, Year 5

Jack and The Grim

The Peoples of the Isles of Giants had lived in peace and harmony for years. Centuries had passed since The Grim had last been defeated. People had forgotten what had happened then. Deep beneath them, the creature was still sleeping restlessly. The Grim was 12 foot tall, 10 tonnes and smelt like cold smoke. He was made of ice with white glowing eyes, with no pupils. Jack Giant was 19 years old and only about 5 feet tall, so not a likely hero. He did however, know all the beaches and inlets on the isles. So when the horrendous monster disrupted the peace of the Tribes, Jack ventured on a quest to defeat the monster. Nervous and excited, Jack set off through the Dead Forest. After days of scrambling over rotting tree stumps, he bumped into an old wizard called Julian. Julian taught him how to use his unknown special powers. After three weeks, he said to Jack, “Shout my name and I will come and help in some way.” His last mysterious words to Jack were, “I know that you know what to do.” After crossing the river and trekking through the plains, he finally arrived at the cliffs of Doom. Gritting his teeth with fear, Jack saw The Grim’s horrifying face, not realising that The Grim instantly saw him. Jack had forgotten to use his invisibility power. The Grim smashed through the rock, sending a tremor through the island that rose up out of the ground like a zombie coming out of a coffin. Enraged, Jack was ready for him. He had a plan. The Grim was made of ice so he could lead him to the volcano. Trying to stay mostly out of sight, Jack tried to keep in front of The Grim. Time was on his side as The Grim had toppled into a cavern, so Jack could get ahead. Jack scrambled through an overgrown forest, battling with tentacle-like roots. In a blink of an eye, Jack fell down the slope and broke his leg. Unfortunately, he had landed just in front of the cavern in an enormous footprint. Screaming with pain and panicking, he shouted, “Julian!” Instantly, a grey rabbit with glowing blue eyes and a staff appeared and said, “what do you want?” Jack replied, “May you heal my leg?” The rabbit waved his staff and in a flash, his leg was fixed. Recharged and fearless, Jack saw the back of The Grim’s head disappear over the cold, rocky, volcano slope. Like a gunshot, Jack turned on his invisibility power and raced up the slope, searching for a weapon. He noticed a shimmer of light glowing from the approaching lava. It was a remarkable sword, engraved with the words, “the sword of light.” Exhausted but courageous, he hoisted the magnificent sword and drove the glowing red point into the Grim’s tree trunk legs. Roaring in agony and fury, The Grim plunged into the hungry volcano below. Jack stared, relieved as The Grim’s icy body disintegrated in the boiling lava. The Tribes were safe, and Jack returned to a magnificent feast in his honour.

George M, Year 6

LARA, YEAR 7