31 minute read
English
This academic year started with a unanimous and collective sigh of relief from both pupils and staff alike when it was announced that face-to-face lessons would commence again after almost two years of blended or online teaching. We settled comfortably into our orange-zoned classrooms in the new school building near MOQ and got on with the job of educating and learning. We also welcomed Mr Chris Martin to the English team and he became the second male staff member ever in the English department!
The Year 7 pupils started off in form classes and then moved into sets once they had completed their first assessments and diagnostic reading tests. They seemed to have found their feet over the course of the first term and assimilated quickly into secondary school life. Pupils were introduced to a range of literary genres this year: ranging from poetry to Shakespeare in the form of ‘Macbeth’, autobiographical texts like ‘Boy’ by Roald Dahl, ‘Chinese Cinderella’ by Adeline Yen Mah and finally cross-curricular work with the history department on the slave trade - using the text ‘Freedom’ by Catherine Johnson.
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For the Year 8 pupils, it was exciting to be able to do some competitive work after so much online learning and the highlight of this was the Dragons’ Den competition where pupils were expected to create and then present a pitch for a new product on the market aimed at teenagers. Pupils were assessed in their sets and then the finalists presented their pitches again in front of a panel of judges, including Senior Leadership Team staff members and the Head Girl. Ivy Tavola was the ultimate winner with her unique spectacles invention.
It was decided that the focus of the Year 9 scheme of work this year would be on current issues that affect many young people in other parts of the world; so, the Year 9s started off reading the true story of ‘Iqbal’ – a boy in Pakistan who was a victim of child labour. They ended their academic year by reading ‘Refugee Boy’ by Benjamin Zephaniah and focusing their studies on the plight of child refugees globally.
The i/GCSE classes of Years 10 and 11 were happy for the return to normality finally and the prospect of external examinations again. Staff worked incredibly hard, especially with the Year 11 cohort, to get back up to speed and practise the important examination techniques again. Both year groups focused on the language papers and as most pupils take literature too as an additional i/GCSE subject, the literature texts of ‘1984’ by George Orwell and ‘Othello’ by Shakespeare, as well as a range of poems set by the examination board proved challenging and engaging. This year the Year 10 set 1 pupils studied ‘Great Expectations’ by Dickens, while the rest of the year group analysed ‘Life of Pi’ by Yann Martel. We should not forget our Year 11 ESL class who worked steadily on their listening skills and spoken and written English for their final CAIE examinations in all three of these areas.
The department also offers two AS and A Level subjects: English language and English literature and the uptake for these subjects was pleasing this year with record numbers of pupils opting to continue their studies in English. Next year, the AS subject General Paper will also be added to the mix.
Finally, it is with some sadness that we say goodbye to two staff members: Miss Aliyah Mahomed and Mr Dave Ball. Miss Mahomed is moving over to Sherborne Qatar School for Girls to teach English there from August and Mr Ball, after six years at Sherborne Senior School, is taking up an English post in Panama. We say adieu but not goodbye to Miss Mahomed, as we are certain that as a department, we will still have regular contact with her. We thank her for all her hard work and dedication over the past 18 months. We say a very fond farewell to Mr Ball who some of us have worked with for the duration of his years at Sherborne Senior School. As the only male member of the department for most of his time with us, (and for a long time as the youngest member of the department), he held his own, won our hearts and will be sorely missed. We wish him all the best with his new ventures!
Miss Castaldo Head of English
Macbeth’s Diary Entry on the events in Act 1 of the play
I stood upon the battlements, looking out upon the glen. What did I see? Nothing less than an army in surrender and in retreat, for their leader’s head was now affixed upon the battlements - the traitor MacDonwald’s, if I am to be specific. But after such a battle, devastating the land and stealing the lives of so many of my brave men, was a respite, but a small rest, afforded to me? Nay. For the Lord of Norway and his army stood near; and that could not be allowed. So, forth Banquo and I charged, rallying our remaining men as we went. I do not believe the Norwegian expected such a bold strategy, for soon did he fall back with his army, rushing away from my post. And so, the battle was won.
As I stood beside my horse, the charge finished and a feeling of euphoria engulfed me. One of, if not my greatest, victory had just unfolded before me. It was an amazing feeling, one of utter glee.
“But” thought I, “I must think of the next step.” And so, I consulted Banquo, “What do you think the Norwegians shall do?”
“I believe they will remain at their current position. But now, my friend, we must go to King Duncan. I am sure a victory feast is awaiting us.” said Banquo.
With the battle behind us, we rode for King Duncan’s castle. But, once we rounded a bend of the road, Banquo’s eyes lay upon three ragged people perched atop a heath. He called out to them, and soon I did too. “Speak, if you can; what are you?” “All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.” “All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor.” What? Thought I, Thane of Cawdor? Me? But the third woman had not said her words yet.
A feeling of confusion crept through me. I was not destined to be the King, for noble Duncan had already this position. They told Banquo a similar tale, predicting his future. I called to them, told these sooth-sayers to stay, to tell me more of my future. They vanished, disappearing to nowhere, and once again, I was alone upon the road with Banquo. But now, many more thoughts were rushing through my head.
Once we arrived at the castle, Duncan showered praise upon my head, to which I replied I was doing what I was ordered to do, and that it was my duty.
It was not long before Duncan revealed to us that his son, Malcolm, would become Prince of Cumberland. It was a time of celebration to be sure, but for me, the words spun round my head. I would have to become the prince to achieve the position of King. I prayed to the stars, to hide my plans and wishes.
By Arnav Anup Singh, Year 7
A unique world
I looked at the lush green trees surrounding me, my only companions. Their rough, uneven coats of drying bark, covered by a plethora of exotic green vines, were each engraved with a unique pattern of spikey cracks. I guess that’s what made them so tantalisingly attractive to me, their uniqueness; something that had been forcefully snatched away from me at a very young age.
Without warning, my mind contracted with unbearable pain, as an unwelcome river of nostalgia flooded me…
A perfect world! A perfect world? In my world, there is no global warming, no war, no hunger, no pain, and also no choice. Is living in a safe, protected world where you are constantly shielded from the common dangers of everyday life, worth giving up your uniqueness, your freedom, your identity for?
That was the question I asked myself as I studied my reflection with disgust in the bathroom mirror. My black hair was combed neatly and my ugly blue eyes glinted as my sharp facial features twisted into a menacing scowl. The government bred us, as if we were dogs, making sure, carefully, that we all looked alike: blue eyes, black hair, same height and same weight. Our city was closely monitored by cameras, in extreme violation of freedom and privacy, yet nobody seemed to care.
That was when I realised I was different. In fact, different was an understatement; I was a lion in a flock of sheep, and slowly but surely people were starting to notice that. They said that the rules and regulations were for safety, for happiness, for security, and anyway, why choose a dangerous path and struggle for freedom when you can just live an easy, protected life? They were tortoises, carrying around large heavy shells that protected them but slowed them down. Their protection and ensured safety cost them their progress and free spirit.
Rejected by society, I decided to leave behind my gray world… For the next few weeks, I collected supplies for my runaway mission, packing basic necessities and stocking up on stolen food from the city’s kitchen. I knew that in order to survive, I had to be prepared. As the days passed, my courage seemed to shrink like the waning moon, letting my ensnaring nervousness grow, until, eventually, the day came.
Finally, I thought as I bade farewell to my previous home, it was time to see the real world: a wild, unpredictable, and most of all, unique world…
By Harshini RamKumar, Year 8
By Shireen Khan, Year 8
BSO Report, April 2022
A Midsummer Night’s Dream - Act 2, Scene 2
By Shireen Khan, Year 8
A Dystopian Narrative
Dylan awoke to the sound of his own startled gasp. Beads of sweat cascaded down his pale, soft skin and his long, black hair perfectly rested on his broad shoulders. He sprang off his threadbare mattress and checked his alarm clock.
It was the third day of not taking his government administered pills and the effects had started to feel overwhelming. He could wake up whenever he wanted, feel his emotions and plan his own day. He should have felt light and liberated, but he was totally terrified. Nobody could know that he was breaking the most important law of land, so he had to try to conform to his usual routine in case his parents started to smell a rat.
was gnawing at her brain like a caged rodent. She looked out of her bedroom window and observed all the controlled citizens wearing the same clothes, getting into their black cars at the same time and leaving for their government assigned jobs. Looking at the process from the outside felt like watching a horror film; how had it taken her so long to mentally step outside of the sickening system?
The two teenagers boarded on the school bus at the prescribed time and travelled in stony silence. Only when they were alone at break time did they dare to discuss their situation.
“It’s not enough to just quit the pills,” Dylan insisted. “That’s only going to change us. We have to change the system and save everyone else.”
Molly shook her head so that her government regulated, long, blonde plaits brushed her shoulders.
“How can we possibly do that?” she frowned.
“They’re sharks and we’re minnows. We can’t fight this.” ‘Yes we can!” Dylan insisted as his blue eyes narrowed with determination. “Meet me outside the Ministry of Control at midnight. I’ve got a plan.”
After an ordered day adhering to the strict timetable, the pair went back to their homes, ate their bland rations, and incessantly checked their state-controlled watches. As midnight approached and the streets were eerily silent, they crept through the dark night until they reached the imposing, grey stone building.
“We have to find a way in,” Dylan whispered. “We need to find out how much they know.” “We can’t do that we’ll get caught!” Molly protested.
“We might. But we might not,” Dylan stood firm. “All I know is, we’ll regret it if we don’t even try.”
They looked up at the CCTV cameras that perched on the roof like vicious guard dogs waiting to attack. With pounding hearts, they backed up against the wall and slipped through the shadows until they reached two small, dark doors at the back of the intimidating building. They could see a glimmer of white light shining from under one of them, and hear the distant sound of muffled voices from within. Suddenly, the door creaked and the voices bellowed near to them. They quickly darted into an alcove and, with wide eyes frozen in fear, they held their shaky breath and waited. As soon as the two dark figures exited the building, Dylan darted out of the blackness, caught the door with his foot and silently slid inside. Molly rushed to follow him.
They were in.
They tiptoed down an empty, narrow corridor, until they reached an enormous steel door. Dyan gently pushed it with the palm of his hand and Molly quietly gasped as it slowly opened. Inside, a vast wall was covered, from floor to ceiling, with flat screens. In the dim light, they caught sight of a single, red button on a metallic pillar in the middle of the expansive area.
Dylan was irresistibly attracted to it like an eagle to its prey. He lifted his hand, with his forefinger poised and ready to press down, when the doors flung open abruptly and the room was flooded with light. They both jumped and Molly shrieked with fear. There, standing in the doorway, was a tall, bald, menacing figure in a fitted, black suit. He looked them up and down and snarled, “I’ve been expecting you.”
When I got the internship at Mira Industries, my parents and I were overjoyed! Who wouldn’t be if their only child began their career interning at the most successful, revolutionising business in our community? My mother made a celebratory dinner in my honour, and we stayed up until curfew, high on happiness. Of course, my parents may have been overreacting very slightly, pulling on my choppy brown hair and pinching my cheeks until they ached each time I smiled.
As I was pulling on my nightclothes, I thought to myself, ‘I can’t wait for tomorrow.’
When I opened my eyes again, I was in an unfamiliar place. There was a lot of heat as if someone had turned the radiators up to the top setting. A few trees were scattered around the plains and there was a large, jagged rock protruding from the ground. A lioness sat perched on the rock - the light giving her an ethereal glow. How I knew what the strange creature was called I don’t know - words were flowing into my head that I had never heard of before, like ‘savannah’ and ‘sun.’ She noticed me standing there, and with a series of facial gestures like slightly raising a brow or tilting her mouth, said to me, “We’ve been waiting for you.” It didn’t feel menacing though and I felt like I had been here my entire life.
I looked around more and noticed a ruckus in the tall grass nearby but before I could step forward and get a closer look, everything went black.
I saw the lioness again the next night and this time she was taking care of three small lion cubs. I watched curiously as she tried to lick them clean, ultimately giving up as they escaped her reach. Two of the cubs had climbed on top of her, pulling at her ears for attention. What intrigued me most, however, was the smallest club. He, unlike his siblings, was sitting down peacefully, watching them fool around. He then faced me, head tilted to the side, staring at me curiously with piercing icy white eyes. The cub then jumped up, running towards me and making himself at home by my feet, brushing away his mother’s calls for him.
For months I had these dreams, each time learning more and more about these animals, and those which inhabited different places like, ‘oceans’, ‘deserts’ and ‘rainforests’, but I would always come back to the savannah, to the lion cub with piercing, icy white eyes, whom I had unofficially named Leo. My dream started off as usual, in the savannah, this time by the waterhole. The Sun (which is actually a huge, fiery ball of gas suspended in space) cast down beams of light, reflecting off the water. Bright pink flamingos were relaxing by the side of the water, ruffling their feathers as hippos submerged themselves. Zebras were grazing, whilst antelope were roaming freely around the plains. The lions, who had grown impressively since I had first seen them, were laying on the rock I had seen their mother upon. Upon seeing me, Leo sauntered up to me almost lazily, nuzzling into my side affectionately. It all started as a dull thump; the vibrations shaking the ground like a heartbeat. Animals looked up in alarm as the pace quickened and that was when the first shot rang out. Time seemed to slow down as a golden bullet sliced through the air, lodging itself into the flank of a young elephant. It let out a sound which seemed like a cross between a hoot and a whimper, before falling to the ground to the ground with a thud.
The next moments were a blur as the distinct bang of another succession of shots bled out, death trailing behind them. Within seconds, the once pristine waterhole reeked of crimson blood as bodies fell to the ground. There was pandemonium as animals attempted to flee, only to be shot down mercilessly, until only one was left.
Leo sat in the centre of the bloodbath, alive but not unharmed. One of his ears had been shot clean off, whilst a front leg was bent at an unnatural angle. He growled as menacingly as he could as men in green, camouflage suits surrounded him, hundreds of guns trained on him at once. Based on how no-one spared a glance my way, I guessed that they could not see me.
As they were about to rain hellfire on him, a shrill voice shouted, “Stop!”
A woman clad in leather stalked up to Leo, soldiers parting for her like the Red Sea. Shooting two consecutive bullets at him, she dragged Leo by the mane, pulling him to eye level brutally.
“Night, night,” she whispered tauntingly, before letting him go, Leo falling limply to the ground.
She turned around and faced her mercenaries, arms raised awaiting applause. As though sensing my presence, she looked in my direction, smirking maliciously. It was then that I saw her face, and knew exactly who she was, who didn’t?
Leo was still laying on the cursed ground, panting heavily and gasping for air when I saw him disappear, as though turning invisible. Slowly, the bodies of all the martyred animals faded away, as if they were never there, a foggy purple mist creeping its way across the once thriving savannah and removing any trace of previous life.
I woke with a jolt, mind reeling. My face was hot and cheeks damp; I had been crying in my sleep. Confusion made itself comfortable in my mind as questions hijacked my train of thoughts – why would a woman like Sybil Mira kill all of the animals?
By Syeda Kulsoom Rizvi, Year 8
‘Goodnight Rue! Goodnight Alfie!’ My aunt wished us as she softly kissed our heads.
‘What, can you tell us a story?’ I begged.
‘Okay Rue. But quickly!’ she agreed. As Rue started jumping up and down in excitement, my normally patient aunt began to tell us a story about our mother. ‘Your mother was a wonderful, kind person. She had travelled all around Earth and worked extremely hard to fulfill her dreams’. My aunt smiled as memories rushed into her head and flashed across her face in pleasure.
‘To become an astronaut?’ cried Alfie, my twin, innocently.
‘Yes Alfie. And to go to space!’ As she continued her story, my own breathing got heavier and deeper as I began to think about my mum. I wished she were here with us now.
My aunt finished the story, hugged us and turned off the light, biting her lip repeatedly as she walked away.
Waking up the next morning feeling ecstatic, I buzzed with excitement remembering this was the day we could go outside. Feeling desperate to leave, I impatiently woke up my snoring brother and laughed as I watched him realise that this was the special day, the day we had talked about for so long leading up to it. Grabbing my spacesuit, I rapidly threw it on and sprinted as fast as I could to my aunt’s room. The suit fell down my arms and legs, was cloudy white and filled me with cheer whenever My aunt was clearly as excited as us. ‘Today is the day. The one day when we can go outside… so let’s make the most of it!’ she screamed as she tightened our oversized suits. As we strolled through the spaceship, we passed multiple scientists who were still, today, working on making the planet more habitable for humans.
Finally finding our exit door, it automatically opened for us like gates to a heavenly place and we went out.
As quick as a flash, I sprinted outside and felt the fresh air brush against my spacesuit. Closing my eyes, I heard Alfie giggle with relief and let myself fall into a deep, relaxed state. Nothing was better than this.
‘I think we should do this more – it doesn’t seem so dangerous!’ Alfie exclaimed. After a few hours outside, my aunt brought us back inside.
I felt as lonely as one of the faraway clouds. ‘It isn’t fair. I’m not going to be able to do that for another year!’ I cried as I hugged my endearing aunt.
‘It’s just too dangerous, Rue’. ‘I want to go to Earth!’ I cried in frustration and thought about my mother. ‘One day. I promise I’ll take you’. I could see my brother cross his face, puzzled by my reaction. ‘Aunty’, I asked, without expecting a reply, ‘where on Earth have you been?’ ‘Oh, lots of places. The astronauts land where I used to live. I used to see them when they returned to Earth. A long time ago.’ My aunt’s tone suggested she wanted to change the subject.
Returning to my room, I buried my head into my pillow and sobbed. I just sobbed. Why am I stuck here? Why did my mother have to die like that? Why couldn’t she have died on Earth instead? Multiple questions rushed through my head until I realised something. Astronauts are still returning to Earth. I guess there would be no harm in joining them one day.
By Alba Confalone, Year 10
Pushing and shoving. Pushing and shoving. The countless people that stood in the city square showed no regard for those around them. Distracted by the giant, brightly illuminated billboards and street lights, they displaced those who weren’t steadily grounded with their heavy bags and thick coats.
’59, 58, 57, 56…’ a voice announced over the blazing speakers. The crowd cheered in response – only a minute left to go. I never understood the excitement for New Year; it didn’t do anything for me, except the guilt of not having any resolutions. I wasn’t complaining though. Of course not, as this is one of the best nights for a pickpocket. People stood mindlessly, entranced by the numbers counting down, as if it was something they’d never seen before. Half open bags were carelessly slung over shoulders, just begging to be stolen.
I scanned my surroundings. ‘Who’ll be my next victim?’ I thought to myself, almost drooling at the possibilities. My vision narrowed: a young mother, covering her child’s ears to protect them from the booming voices around them. Perfect.
I made my approach – not bothering to tip toe as my footsteps were barely audible over the chatter of the crowds. Nestled between her arm and her torso was a cloth handbag. It was embellished with gold and was covered in gaudy patterned print. And the logo. The logo that had brought my prosperity thousands of times. The logo that found itself on extravagant bags which always held tremendous treasures inside for me. It was a sign. It was definitely a sign. I forced myself to wipe the grin off my face. I took a few steps closer. Closer. Closer. I was right behind her. Sweet perfume coupled with the fresh scent of baby powder filled my airways. She smelt good. I shook my head, not allowing myself to be intoxicated by her smell. My calloused hand emerged from the pockets of my tattered jacket, inching closer. My nimble fingers felt for the zip and quickly undid it. My fingers were greeted with a soft, beige interior as well as some other items. A water bottle… spray perfume… lipstick… hand gel… nothing yet. I felt around a little more until a cool metal clasp brushed against my fingertips – a wallet. I smiled to myself. ‘Bingo’. I looked around cautiously, assuming no one had spotted me with my hands deep in this woman’s purse… only to lock eyes with her child. He couldn’t have been any more than two years old. Tears filled in his eyes and he opened his mouth to let out the most ghastly sound. His mother spun around as a result and… I was done for. She looked at me, then my hand, then at me again in disbelief before shouting, ‘Thief!’.
Yeah, I was done. Security heard her screams and I yanked my hand from her bag, the wallet still in my grasp. I hastily made my way through the crowd. Pushing and shoving. Pushing and shoving. Thankfully some moved out of the way, scared of being robbed themselves. Once I had escaped the thick of the crowd, I began running. My worn shoes took my down a side street, with security not far behind me. Their firm voices bellowed down the alleyways. I stifled a laugh; the thrill was as good as ever. I took a right, then a left, then another left, then a right, then a left until their voices became a faint echo.
‘Fools,’ I muttered to myself. All of them are the same. So naïve to think they can outsmart me in these alleyways. I knew this place like the back of my hand, like home. ‘Whatever’.
I sighed, my aching legs taking me home. I admired the sickeningly shining wallet in my hand. I wondered what was inside, tempted to take a look. I stopped myself.
I was home. I banged on the front door and I heard my mother rush to answer it. Her worried face softened with relief when she saw me. Her tender hands pulled me inside. The house was warm and the sweet aroma of honey and cinnamon drifted in the air.
‘Where on earth have you been?’ she asked, almost shouting at me. I giggled at her anger and let the wallet in my hand do the talking. She smiled, before embracing me in a gentle hug.
By Yukkta Thevarr, Year 10
As soon as the guards slipped away to apprehend my brother, I snuck my way in. All I needed was a loaf of bread, but with no method of paying. It might be precarious and I had to slip in and slip out. With so many people in the bakery, due to Friday sales however, it should be an easy task. I was so focused on obtaining the bread that it had completely slipped my mind that the guards would be back at any moment. I had to be quick and nimble if my family wanted any chance of eating. Whilst the bakers tried to figure out why the oven was not working, I laid my hand behind the glass and hastily pulled out the biggest loaf they had. The task was far from over.
I had to slide it inside my hood to keep it warm and hidden. With the loaf in my hood, and my hood over my head, I had to manoeuvre my way out without being caught, over the bakers constant yelling, “THREE LOAVES, WARM AND FRESH FOR ONLY £10!”.
I knew I could make it out, whilst keeping a low profile. Making my way out of the bakery would be child’s play, like the intertwining of countless vines in an old cemetery. I had to make sure I made it out unscathed and unnoticed. As I made it out of the bakery, I smelt the fresh and cold February morning air. I felt a hand grab my shoulder.
Logically I thought I had not made it out unnoticed. I knew someone ought to have seen me, but I was not going to let my family remain hungry for the fifth day. With all the courage I had left after that heist, I looked up.
My heart rate returned back to normal over time as I saw my eldest brother behind me. Demarcus’s saying whenever our mother asks him to be safe and to not get lost, “I know the roads of London better than the hairs on my head.”
He also went out more frequently than both Edward and me, meaning that he would not likely be lost.
Fortunately, we made it home in one piece. I pulled out the huge loaf to the ecstatic look upon the face of my mother. My younger sisters came in to greet us as we had been gone for three hours, at least. I had pledged to my mother that I would not come back empty-handed today. Even if it took me the entire day, I would get food back to my family.
Edward also had a gift to give to our mother. His nimble and agile abilities had allowed him to pickpocket over £80. Edward gave our mother her birthday gift and kissed her forehead. Our mother was delighted, being the only parent to seven children.
It had almost been two and a half hours since Edward and I returned home, before Demarcus finally reached back home. Everyone was worried sick, thinking that he had been caught. Everyone demanded the reason for his tardiness. Demarcus went on to explain, “I knew that it was your birthday, so I used the money that I had pickpocketed to buy you flowers.”
The plethora of red, white, and pink roses put a smile on my siblings’ faces as well as mine but put tears in my mother’s eyes. Demarcus reassured her that they were not too expensive, but only cost £7 as he bought them off a very good friend of his. It was a pleasure to have Demarcus back home finally as we could now all eat after six long days of hunger.
“Did you manage to grab anything?” Edward whispered soundly in my ear.
“I got the biggest one they had,” I whispered back so as not to arouse suspicion.
“Very good job Richter, now we will have enough to feed everyone for at least another week, so rest up this week and well go back next Friday,” he acclaimed quietly. We were about to make our way back home, when I felt another hand upon my left shoulder. Thinking it was Demarcus, my elder brother who had the role of diverting the attention of the guards to allow me to sneak in, I looked up with an immense smile. The smile did not stay for very long as I saw three guards behind my brother and me.
Stunned and shocked at how they had found us; we were ready to accept out fate. I was determined to make it out unnoticed this time. As we thought our fate was sealed and we were never to see our family again, Edward mouthed the word, “run,” whilst signaling in the backwards direction. I set off rapidly as Edward pushed back the guards, giving us enough time to make a swift getaway. Edward was the incredibly quick, and he caught up to me in a matter of seconds. Being out in these streets was like completing the same maze for the hundredth time; Edward and I knew the roads and back alleyways better than the backs of our own hands.
Fortunately, we were able to lose the guards by erratic movements and manoeuvering through the countless alleyways of London. Whilst we caught our breath for a moment, we pondered on the whereabouts of our brother, Demarcus. Demarcus was equally as fast as Edward, if not faster, so we eradicated the thought of him getting caught. Another thought ran us by. What if he had got lost? We then reassured each other of By Syed Abdullah Gelani, Year 11
Describe a room in a house that belongs to an older person
Opening the door to my grandmother’s room was not like stepping into the past, but like the past and present harmoniously melded together. You would expect the room to be musty or covered in dust, but the sweet smell of jasmine twirled about the spotless room with not one thing out of place.
The shelves we installed last month were now covered in flowers of every colour and lush green vines swayed in the air due to the open window.
The wardrobe took up an entire wall and had mirrors to make the room more airy and bright. Despite it being quite modern on the outside, the clothes within were definitely not from this era. In the back, there were dresses that were clearly once vibrant and delicate yet had faded with time. The other side was filled with fluffy jumpers and long skirts which my grandmother currently wore. Her youthful and fashionable taste was definitely apparent even through her current attire.
Only the smaller double bed in the corner had stayed constant all these years, which my grandmother had absolutely refused to throw away and had ended up just changing the mattress. The dark oak beams had been recently sanded down by my father and uncle to smooth the previously prickled edges and the headboard was the slightest bit uneven due to the whole bed being solely my grandfather’s work. Blush pink sheets were tightly tucked in the sides of the mattress like a package and this was done each morning by my grandmother before starting her day.
My eyes slowly panned over to the trunk sitting at the end of the bed. It was not large by any means and matched the deep brown hue of the bed. When opened, the hinges groaned and winced in old age before revealing a leather album, full of pictures and scraps from decades ago. A simple photo right at the end of the book full of photos, movie tickets, letters and more caught my eye.
Slightly crumpled at the edges, a moment captured in time of my grandparents’ wedding day. No friends, no family, just the two of them, husband and wife, side by side, beaming at each other. My twenty-yearold grandfather wore a dark yet dapper suit with his arm lovingly wrapped around my nineteen-year-old grandmother, who was in a simple white dress she had made herself; adorned with lace around her middle and a delicate crown of small flowers sitting on her flowing hair, the same one that had been pressed into the very last page of the album. The beauty of the crown was still as breathtaking as it was in the photo, taken all those decades ago.
By Raihah Chaudry, Year 11
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
