The focus has been to write a short piece of writing that captures a moment in time. Students are encouraged to make strong word choices that impact on their writing. If you look at the picture at the bottom of this article you will see the inspiration for the writing.
The Face by Jessica Dellow
Her eyes are reflecting rings of light. Staring. Staring past the camera. Staring past you with dark eyelashes and dark circles around her pupils. Her nose wide scattered with freckles. Her face is like the shape of a mask, with freckles dotted unevenly across her cheeks. Her lips are plump and shiny, slightly hanging open with shock and worry.
Staring by Jaxson Whyte
She is staring right at me, piecing my body. Her dark hair covers her face as the wind blows. Freckles run over her face, covering her fragile pale skin. Her eyes are marbles, black marbles, staring at the wilderness beyond.
The library by Regan Kavanaugh
A godly bar of sunlight shines through the old library roof. Shadows lie hidden in corners waiting to live again. Years upon years of knowledge sits in the rows of books wallpapering the abandoned library. Old portraits hang on the walls waiting for attention. Chairs lay scattered across the ground shadowed by trees erupting from the ground. The pieces of concrete lay separated from their family sad and lonely.
Delicate books crumple from the lightest touch. The trees sandpapery bark scratches at your skin. Although a sunny day the library leaves you cold. The smell of wood is no match for the musty, dusty, damp air. The smell reminds you of your brother’s room.
A slight groan goes through the railing as it tilts. A gentle sway in the trees give you a sense of calmness until you step forward and hear the crunch of leaves. In stead of scaring yourself more you decide to leave.
The Beach by Isobel McKnight
A storm is brewing, the clouds are pitch black and angry. I can smell the rain as it’s getting closer, even the seagulls know something is about to happen as they take flight and try and flee the thunderous clouds. The tide is out, way out and has left a water line that looks like the wrinkles on a bulldog. The sand is still soft and bumpy as it spreads out in the distance.
The old shelter is disintegrating and is only held up by the vines that have entangled themselves around it and is unstable. Under the shelter is a bench that is slowly rotting away as it is attacked by sea spray and some bushes are trying to survive in the sandy soil without much success. The old car looks as if it hasn’t been used in a few years and is rusted in places from the salt in the sea. All has been abandoned.