Creative writing

We have been learning to slow down our narratives and add detail and description to create vivid pictures in the readers heads. It is better to have a few events described really well than lots of events described poorly. For this example the students wrote their own version of the above task and then combined the best parts with a partner. Here are a few of the combined pieces. Keep a look out on the individual blogs for the rest. They are all awesome. Well done guys - your words created such a vivid picture which made me feel like I was there.

I sprinted, my legs screamed with pain. All I could hear was the deathening sound of roaring rapids. I looked up to see an old run-down house covered in a thick grey blanket of misty fog. Only shimmers of light could pierce its evil darkness. I stumbled up a jagged rock, to find myself staring down on an old rotten draw bridge. I approached it with extreme caution, as if it would collapse under the weight of my foot. Slowly but cautiously I laid my foot down on the old rotten draw bridge.

By Logan and Jared

I stumbled upon what looked like a blanket of grey but through the fog the outlines of what looked like a castle shone bright. It was enveloped in mist making it seem bigger than it already was. My curiosity grew as I slowly started moving towards the bridge. I crossed the old jagged bridge and the floorboards below my feet squealed. The sounds of the waterfall and thunder were erased and the only thing I could hear was my own breathing, and my own heart beating so fast I could feel it trying to break out of my chest. I was now standing at the door of this mansion. The wind whistled as a flickering light cast shadows upon the old oak porch. The door handle of the house was rusted and old, it felt as though it was going to fall apart in my hands.

By Bradley and Evaan

As I creep up to the rickety bridge I can only see the outline of the haunted building. The shriveled up leaves cracking under my feet. I wonder if the bridge is stable? I place my left foot on the first mossy plank of wood. I hear a creak and look down at whitewashed water. I cling my hand to the rope rail and feel the roughness of the old moss. I put my right foot forward and take another step. My shoe slips and the board I was standing on was no longer beneath my feet. I approach the old rimu door. As I knock the whispering arrives, I feel a tingle down my back. I jump down one step as the door opens with a crack.

By Laura and Sophie