KS3 ECO WRITING COMPETITION

In June, Westonbirt School teamed up with Greening Tetbury to run a flashfiction, nature-inspired competition for our talented Key Stage 3 students, here is our inspiring shortlist

NGONI

IN THE HEART OF THE FOREST, TALL TREES RISE HIGH, A TAPESTRY OF GREEN, REACHING FOR THE SKY

THEIR LEAVES RUSTLE SOFTLY IN THE GENTLE BREEZE, A SYMPHONY OF LIFE, SINGING THROUGH THE TREES.

BUT AS THE WORLD TURNS, AND TIME MARCHES ON, THE TREES ARE CUT DOWN, THEIR BEAUTY GONE.

THE LAND IS CLEARED, THE EARTH LAID BARE, A BARREN WASTELAND STRIPPED AND BARE

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF DEFORESTATION IS CLEAR, A WARNING FOR ALL WHO HAVE EARS TO HEAR

THE TREES THAT ONCE STOOD, SO TALL AND PROUD, ARE NOW GONE FOREVER, CUT DOWN FOR THE CROWD

THE IMPACT IS FELT FAR AND WIDE, AS THE WORLD STRUGGLES TO TURN THE TIDE

THE LOSS OF TREES MEANS A LOSS OF LIFE, A WORLD IN CHAOS, FILLED WITH STRIFE

THE ANIMALS THAT ONCE CALLED THE FOREST HOME, ARE NOW DISPLACED, LEFT TO ROAM

THEIR HABITATS DESTROYED, THEIR LIVES IN PERIL, AS THEY SEARCH FOR A NEW HOME, WITH HOPE SO STERILE

THE SOIL THAT ONCE NURTURED LIFE, IS NOW EXPOSED, LEFT TO STRIFE

EROSION SETS IN, THE GROUND GIVES WAY, A LAND THAT ONCE WAS GREEN, NOW A LIFELESS GREY

THE AIR WE BREATHE, THE WATER WE DRINK, ALL AFFECTED BY THIS DEADLY LINK

THE TREES THAT ONCE FILTERED THE AIR, ARE NOW GONE, LEAVING US IN DESPAIR

THE CLIMATE CHANGES, TEMPERATURES RISE, AS THE EARTH STRUGGLES TO SURVIVE

THE IMPACT OF DEFORESTATION IS CLEAR, A WARNING FOR ALL WHO HAVE EARS TO HEAR

BUT THERE IS HOPE, A LIGHT IN THE DARK, A CHANCE TO HEAL THE EARTH'S BROKEN HEART WE MUST PLANT TREES, AND WATCH THEM GROW, IN THE GRASS IN THE SNOW.

AMIDST THE LUSH GREEN OF THE LAND, A PRACTICE THAT'S HARD TO WITHSTAND, DEFORESTATION, A MERCILESS HAND, THAT STRIPS AWAY ALL THAT'S GRAND

FORESTS, THE LUNGS OF THE EARTH, ARE BEING DESTROYED FOR ALL IT'S WORTH, FOR TIMBER, FOR LAND, FOR CATTLE'S BERTH, A PRACTICE THAT'S ROBBING US OF MIRTH

THE TREES THAT STOOD TALL AND PROUD, ARE NOW BUT A MEMORY, A SHROUD, OF WHAT WAS ONCE A VERDANT CROWD, NOW LOST, IN A WORLD THAT'S TOO LOUD

WILDLIFE, THAT CALLED THE FOREST HOME, ARE NOW LOST, LEFT TO ROAM, IN A WORLD THAT'S HARD TO COMB, FOR RESOURCES, FOR FOOD, THEY MUST ROAM

THE RIVERS THAT ONCE FLOWED WITH EASE, ARE NOW CHOKING, BEGGING PLEASE, FOR A CHANCE TO BREATHE, TO APPEASE, THE DAMAGE CAUSED BY MAN'S DISEASE

DEFORESTATION, A PRACTICE SO VILE, THAT ROBS US OF OUR PLANET'S SMILE, IT'S TIME TO ACT, TO RECONCILE, AND SAVE OUR EARTH, FOR A LITTLE WHILE.

STORIES

BY SUSANNAH B

I remember when the earth used to be green, endless fields of it that swayed in the breeze with a baby blue sky that spoke of happiness. I remember the time where the only lava you could find was in the very depths of volcanoes buried in the core of the earth and trees existed. Great conifers that pointed limbs to the clouds, and mighty oaks that stood on the rich soil for hundreds of years and have watched history change, and ended up changing unwillingly with it, until they existed no more. I remember the animals too, cheetahs faster than anything and the sound of the bird call that woke me up each morning, my alarm clock some would say.

I am writing this so that you don’t forget, and partly so I don’t forget. But when you read this, I probably would have died, as that is what happens to oldies like me. I won’t be around to see the earth's last days. You are the generation that has to though and I am terribly sorry for that. Sorry for everything I did to contribute to it. At least, the very least I can do is hope that you are safe.

The letter finishes there, with no name though the girl knew who had wrote it. She stands, thinking of the letters author, her grandpa, still down in the red. He was buried by now, dug by soil that was already half lava under the fallen ash tree that had always been his favourite. A tear falls on the paper and she quickly fold the letter before anyone can see, quickly walking to the oval shaped window to hide her watery eyes. The girl stares out into the galaxies of starry wonders that lie beyond the confined rocket, twinkling gold in the night surrounding the moon, a small crescent leaking gloominess upon the black and casting a dull white glow on the red dot that becomes smaller and smaller until it exists no more. Earth. Her “uninhabitable” home according to the people on the news.

And now what is everyone doing? Going to Mars to probably end up wrecking another earth. Everyone says it’s a “fresh beginning” though the girl didn’t think it was. It was more like the “inevitable ending”. What could be done? Humans were too selfish anyway, trashing their home and the animals too, making lava rule everything in existence. Nothing could be changed now, it was way too late for earth anyway. It would soon be gone, burning continuously until all that remained was floating ashes that would spin through the endless black. There would be a time where the same would happen for mars, and again everyone would leave it too late and ashes from both the planets would merge. Future generations will look at Mars, a burning ball of red as they fly to yet another planet. Unless…there was another way. Perhaps there could be. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.

BY EVE H

It used to be a beautiful world . . . a world with exotic animals, organic green trees, and grass sprinkled with dew. It used to be a green and blue planet in an artwork of a solar system. The rain used to play its music for everyone to hear, it’s pitter-patter would wash your worries away. It used to be a pleasure to live on Earth, amazing to breath in its refreshing air and walk on its almost unnatural green grass.

I wish it were like that now . . . that you felt loved and welcome everywhere.

Earth is broken . . . dead. Whatever you want to call it, there is no hope . . . no more magic in its core. Earth is now toxic and burnt, a red and black ball of flames in the solar system.

The ground that layers Earth is cracked and blistered, and the once refreshing air is polluted and foul. Most vegetation is dead as corpses, there’s barely anything left, only a few animals and humans, the rest . . . taken long ago by the earthquakes, volcanos or tsunamis. There are only myths of what made this happen . . . old stories about something called ‘climate change’ and ‘pollution’. But those are only stories changed by every generation.

The sun setting is the only thing worth living for anymore. As I sit on the sand dunes in a sweltering dessert and watch the sun dropping out the sky, it takes me away from this broken world. The sky turns a fluorescent rainbow, that slowly disappears, like ripples in water. The sun is gone and the cold and dark slowly creeps into my veins, like poison I rap my blanket around me that I took before the world began to burn and shrivel up like a rotten apple. My eyes gently close and I drift far far away from this horrible place.

I’m woken by a noise, I open my eyes quickly, I’ve overslept. The burning sun is high in the sky and I’m sweating in the sand. I quickly jump to my feet, scanning the surrounding desert for what made the noise. Something moves in the distance. As it comes closer, I see it’s a boy and he’s running from an outline of a beast. I start sprinting, falling into stride with the boy. My feet slip in the sand and legs feel clumsy and uncoordinated. The beast is getting closer, I can see it patterned coat out of the corner of my eye and hear its breath in my ear. My heart is beating fast and my legs are burning Just as I’m tempted to give up, I’m caught by surprise, I can see trees. I can see a whole forest of them, swaying in the wind and whispering. I’ve found it, I’ve found the last forest, like the old stories said.

“Hey girl, this way,” the boy shouted, turning to run round the forest. But I ignored him, heading straight forward into it. I heard the refreshing air call to me and the birds singing in the trees. I closed my eyes and opened them again. But it was gone, it was only ever a figure of my imagination. A glimpse from the past.

BY FRASER