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Year 10 creative writing

Various —

Here is a collection of year 10 creative writing


I was standing at the top of a 26 storey skyscraper. It’s my workplace yet I had never been up here before. I had a 360 degree panoramic view of the city’s nightlife. It was nice seeing the yellow-white and coloured lights twinkling, breathing in fresh air and watching the moon beam over the alive harbour.

I was in the worst possible mindset at the time. I was tired, life had taken the best of me. Sadly I hadn’t come here for the view, I was looking for a way out. I felt crushed, worthless, wondering to myself: why is this world so cruel? I held onto the railing and peered over the edge. It’s a long way down from here. I’d feel sorry for the cleaner who’d have to clean this mess up.

Thoughts were bouncing back and forward in my mind. I was surprised I had made it up here without turning back. What about all the things I was leaving behind? Why does it matter anyways? I’m a 29 year old accountant who wasn’t moving forward in life, I lived on my own and I didn’t have many friends. What’s the point? I thought, what’s one less human in this world? I could do it. I could just climb over the railing and say goodbye.

As I gripped onto the railing, the train of realisation hit me. I fell to my knees being overflowed with emotions. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. I had let the evil selfish thoughts get to me. I was weak. Was I really just going to give up without trying to make things better? It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and my heart felt light again. I stood up and came away from the railing. I pulled out the apology and reason note in my pocket and ripped it into tiny shreds. I threw the shredded pieces of the note over the railing. Without looking back I turned around. Sure, it’s a beautiful view from here but I’ll take the stairs down.

3 years later and thankfully I’m still here. My life got so much better sometimes you just have to be patient. I became boss of the company and the business is thriving, I stopped looking at flaws and learned to value life, I have a great relationship with my family, I made new friends and I married my best friend. Good things in life are worth the wait. I’m proud that I did not end my story. I have a semicolon tattooed on the palm of my hand to remind me to be strong.

A Semicolon represents a sentence the author could’ve ended but decided not to. The author was me and the sentence was my life. The Semicolon project is a real organisation who helps people struggling with mental illness. People draw or get a tattoo of a semicolon to remind them their story isn’t over yet.

By Destiny Abashidze 


My victim sees me as a petty thief, which I may be but then I’m a thief with a creed.

The night is engulfed in darkness, only the dim glow of the street lights invade my shadows. My prey retreats from the drunken rabble of the tavern into the bitterness of the night and into the coach. The coach lurched forward and pulls away into the darkness. The coachman himself drunk and barely in control of the reigns. The coach twists in and out of the many tributaries of the Paris streets. So now the thrill of the pursuit begins.

Hurdling over building roofs I struggle to keep up with the coach and it's drunken man at the reigns. Leaping down a street pole and carefully placing myself opposite him in the driving seat. His eyes are widen as he knows what is next. My blade retracts from its hidden position on my forearm and lies in wait to strike at my wrist. Plunging the blade into the innocent man, red hot blood gushes down his throat. He is just another victim in my ongoing crusade for justice.

Taking the reins from its now dead coachmen, I lead the coach into the darkness, my target not realising that he's about to dance with the devil a dance he is going to lose. Stopping the coach in an abandoned alleyway with no light piercing the shadows, I meet my victim’s gaze with a sinister, sneering grin. He shivers with fear, the coward tries to escape into the night but this is where I thrive, for the night is my playground.

With nowhere to go, a cornered rat and I’m the prowling cat. His worst nightmare, I am the devil himself. Once again my blade retracts from its hidden position, lying in wait to strike at my wrist. To serve justice at my will, it strikes like a coiled snake. My victim tries to resist, but with no strength left, my cold steel blade pierces his old wrinkled flesh like a hot knife thru butter. The blood from the fatal wound gushes from the man's lifeless body as he lies in the gutter. A crimson lake of blood filling the lifeless void around him and the street.

The victim saw me as a petty thief, which I may be but then I’m a thief with a creed….

By Ben Firth


Life is like a tree.

Like seasons that inevitably change.

Leaves that grow, leaves that weaken and crimple.

Always growing, always changing.

When autumn draws near, the air grows crisp and nature falls asleep.

The leaves start to disappear, almost like people in our lives.

Some choose to stay but the ones who leave, engrave such pain within.

One day they’re there and the next they’re gone.

Enveloped into such sadness, you feel so empty, alone, lost.

Then one day spring rolls over and the leaves start to grow.

Everything seems different yet slightly it all makes sense.

Sometimes time does really heal such miseries

and that’s the reason we hold on.

With such burden in us, the only way to survive is to know deep inside, that everything eventually gets better.

You’ll find tranquility, the pure genuine surge of happiness buried in you.

The concept of living is to always learn, constantly change and in the midst of it all, grow.

A tree is just like life.