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Characters for an Epic tale (10 min Task) – By Momo

Characters:

–          The headless man

–          The grave digger

–          The convict

My dreams had come true. After six years I was finally out of prison. As I walked out, through the huge metal gates that could kill any man, woman or child by frying them with electricity, I looked around to see the late evening with all the roads empty and dark. In the far distance I could see a faulty street lamp, flickering on and off, lighting up an old sign. I squinted to read the sign which said ‘Cemetery’. I wasn’t in any rush to get home; I mean spending the last six years in prison, locked up behind bars was long, so another hour away from home wouldn’t make much of a difference. However, if I had known that the horrific event that happened that night were going to occur, I would have gone straight home without taking a detour through the local cemetery.

As I walked down the road, the whole village looked deserted. All the shops were boarded up with the shattered glass littering the filthy, dusty pavements. There was no sign of human life, until I turned around the corner and casually strolled into the cemetery. At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but after blinking a few times, I reassured myself that what I was seeing was really happening. In the gloomy corner, I could see a hooded man, digging into a grave with a huge pile of dirt covering the gravestone.

I stood, frozen in my shoes, observing for about a minute until I saw a second man emerge from the grave dressed in a decayed black suit. The screams from the grave digger were soon silenced as hundreds of different emotions passed through my body, when this headless figure dragged the grave digger into the black six foot hole. Afterwards, I saw the red blood splashing out from the grave, contrasting with the dark black night. The last thing I saw was a severed body being hurled out of the grave, and the headless man emerging once more from the grave with a new head placed accurately on his shoulders, the drying blood acting as a type of glue joining the existing body with its new head. He was no longer the headless man. 


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Grab bag: pigmentation, eradicate, writer, unfashionable – by S

“Unfashionable.” “Strange.” “Weird.” That’s what they have named us, those of us who’s pigmentation is missing from our skin. Many have slandered us, people call us names, they stare at us like we are aliens. It feels like the world wants to eradicate us. Like albino-ism is a crime. Like our lack of colour in the skin makes us inferior. That’s why I became a writer. So our story could be told.


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Where have these feet been today? – by S

We have carried our owner for miles, through crowds of colour, flashes of life whizzing past. The dry dust has caked us in dirt as we tramped on along winding roads, through bursting malls full of people and along deserted isolated paths. We have been worn and tired as we carry our owner, day after day, from town to town seeing sight sights many only dream of – temples, palaces, great compositions of stone that millions travel to admire. We have touched the ground of so many countries as we travel the world, carrying a great weight we cannot be free of.


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The Curl, a Small Book & What They Made out of Life. by Dara דָרָה

 

 

I feel fine, which should be somewhat worrying, a smaller part of me takes note of, considering my relapse brought me back to hospital…What is that sound I can hear?

Beep. Beep. Deep, steady breaths are heard. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! They quicken, and then start to slow. BEEP! BEEEEEEE-They stop.

Oh, I think that’s me…

Everything is swamped into the blackness, and I remember.

Flashback
A little girl stands beside a woman who’s laying down on a bed of plush cushions and a quilt covered with patches- each a memory, she says. Stitched with patchwork memories, the girl dimly recalls. The image is hazy, no clear lines, with time. Everything looks soft. Especially with the pastel colours that dominate the bedroom they’re in.

She’s laughing [loudly], happy, trying to be quieter for the lady- but she’s listening, too (and the lady’s smiling).

Almost too quickly, the image shifts, the woman seems to fade, losing colour; skin, lips, even eyes. But not her hair, strangely. They’re in a [ hospital ] room [now], filled with tubes and tape, should-be-startling machines (that somehow add to the overall picture), an interlocking network, (like) a body- the inside of a body [ strange clear blood passes through plastic veins ]- into her [Mommy].

She sits quieter now, still happy, but more subdued; quietly happy. Both sets of eyes are shining, one faded, worn, paler [ losing sight], the other bright, darker, slightly gentle-er than you would expect of a child [ too young, too young]. But both are still full.

Her mind’s eye blinks, and the image [memory] has changed.

Older [ still too young- ].
The mechanic system is absent. A wheelchair sits next to an open window, empty. The image-memory gets suspiciously blurry now, as hands come into view, palms up. In them is a small delicate book- when opened, is contradictory to it’s outward appearance [ bright, coloured, vivid ], and in it, a lock [a curl, a ringlet] of bright, blonde-yellow hair.

Two damp marks appear on the paper. The image (frozen) fades.

Present

“We’re losing her! We’re losing he- Give me 22cc’s STAT! Hurry! You, stabil-”
Everything white’s out. But not before one last thought:

Momma, I’m coming home…

(Name) was found holding a single lock of hair.
She hadn’t let go; later, they found the book on her hospital room’s only night stand.
In the other hand, her will, in elegant writing:
“My most treasured possession, for my beloved god child
– the book is for you, please take a look.”

What was inside? Well, generations of family (not always of blood) had placed but the most treasured of things, all from following the words -enameled- on the binding(and your answer):

You decide; look inside your heart and let precious things flood onto the pages.

What would you enter?


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Short Stories of A Kind

Hi all,

So- our First Project was to create characters and create a plotline. Simple, right?

Challenging. We were split into two groups; one group molded characters, and one group decided and builded upon a plot line. We (each team) had a ‘model’, which guided us in our creative-ness. It was fun!

Disproportionate. We then attempted to join the two together, but found this to be entirely..out of perspective, for us, at that point in time. We had simply imagined situations and environments that we felt suited our own respective works- we wanted to do what we imagined.

So we did. We switched around.

After creating our set characters and plotlines, we wrote and followed the plot as a team..and then finished off the story, still following the plotline- but in out own ways, as individuals. Showing our own take’s on the stories created.

The following ‘Series’ are the results of Project One~!


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Chapter 1

 

I woke up suddenly, finding it difficult to breathe because my chain was wrapped around my neck, choking me like a deadly snake in the Sahara desert. As I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and struggled with the silver death trap around my neck, I looked down to my phone, laying on the floor next to my bed flashing away, to see that it was only 5:34am and that I still had hours to go before school. Now that I was awake, twisting and turning in my bed, wrestling with the pillow and sheets, I decided to go outside and light up a cigarette to calm my nerves.

I stepped out through the big, black front door and instantly felt the cold, blistering wind on my face, but as I sparked up my cigarette, the soaring heat from my lighter felt so delightful at the tip of my nose expanding like a fast spreading disease. I looked over to the block of flats opposite mine, I could see Dakota’s bedroom light shining out like a ray of sunlight from heaven, and in the distance I could see a black figure. It was Dakota awake in her room, her beautiful silky black hair waving around as she brushed it to the side.

The weather was becoming too extreme for me so I decided to go inside. I thought to myself, trying to block out the image of Dakota in her room, about whether I would be able to fall back to sleep. I lay back in my bed, and turned my pillow over to the cold side and snuggled up in my sheets, slowly closing my eyes and thinking about my perfect dream life, but I still couldn’t block out the image of Dakota. I thought to myself, was it because I needed someone in my life, another half to my half, my soul mate, or was it because I was just in one of those moods where everything seems tangled and mixed up in your mind. I heard a thump on the ground; it was my mobile dropping from the edge of my mattress, but I didn’t have the energy to pick it up as I slowly drifted off into a deep sleep.

I woke up from the sound coming out of my phone, like a siren or a fire alarm at school. As I gazed down to my screen, I could see that it was 7am. I stumbled out of bed, with a feeling deep in my gut that couldn’t be explained.  The feeling soon faded away, when I heard my mum shouting from the kitchen,

‘Marley, your breakfast is ready; two scrambled eggs in a sandwich with lots of tomato ketchup, just how you like it.’

What would I do without my mum? She was the number one woman in my life, especially after my dad passed away four years ago after being stabbed in the back from a gang attack. I know my dad is up in heaven, with the Lord Almighty, looking down at me, protecting me every day of my life. I can still remember my dad’s last words, as he lay on the floor in a sea of dark red blood,

‘Do me one favour son; no matter how hard life gets, always look after yourself and your mother and make sure you both have the best life you can together. Never turn down an opportunity and never run away from a challenge; you are in control of your life, so make it how you want it to be!’

These words will stick with me forever, and in some ways I use it as a motto. Whenever I face a challenge I tackle it with no hesitation, listening to my dad’s voice in my mind telling me that I can do it, that I am in charge.

 


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“Look at that!” bursted out Marley, as he pointed his slender, long finger at me. Marley’s mob soon started to surround me, like millions of flies feeding off a carcass. My heart began to race; I hoped my heart wasn’t about to sprint out of my chest and splatter all over the mob!

“Yuck!” exclaimed one of Marley’s gang members, grimacing at my ugly face. “You’re right. He definitely ain’t normal!”  I tucked my annoying fringe behind my ears, as I tried to walk straight past the obnoxious bullies.

“Look! This is gross! I think they’re actually kissing!” Marley said this, as he flashed his iPhone to all his followers. The device showed a picture of me and some random guy (who I couldn’t even remember) standing very close to each other, at my cousin’s 18th birthday party. Marley obviously edited the picture to make it seem as if we were kissing! Oh great! Marley knew my secret!

“Yeah, that was me! So what?” I proudly questioned Marley, trying to prevent myself from breaking down and begging him not to show anyone the photo. I knew by now this secret would have spread round the entire school, so there was no point in trying to stop it: Marley was like a disease, corrupting every mind and poisoning every soul against me.

“Yuck! So you’re proud that you drink and like boys then?” shouted Marley, beginning to crack up in front of all his friends. I swiftly sprinted passed the verbal abusers, heading towards school; Marley and his crew were not far behind me, exposing the picture to everybody walking by.

I opened my locker door, to peer at the half-broken mirror inside it. All I could see were my big, blue, prominent eyes, staring back at me. I used this opportunity to sort out my messy fringe, by tucking the mop-textured hair behind my microscopic ear. I absolutely hated the way I looked! My eyes were far too big for my small, rounded face and my tiny ears made it impossible for my stupid hair to stay neatly back.

 

“Hey, Jamie,” spoke a very friendly voice. I swiftly slammed my locker door shut and turned round to face a girl with tomato-coloured hair, massive hoop earrings and a skirt no longer than a centimetre high.

“Errr… Hi!” I acted, trying to seem interested in seeing Ruby again, after these six week holidays. I didn’t like Ruby at all- in fact I actually despised her, just like I despised all the other attention seeking girls in our year. All they cared about were their reputations and somehow I was the main attraction to them. I wasn’t even the slightest bit good looking- I was ugly!  

“How were your holidays?” asked the wannabe Cheryl Cole- lookalike, curling a small section of her hair round her thin finger.

“Errr… Fine, I guess…”

“Do you wanna, like, hang out some time? I dunno, like, get some coffee?”

“I don’t like coffee,” I bluntly stated, trying to get Ruby to back off.

“All right, tea then.”

“I don’t like coffee or tea. I don’t like drinks with caffeine or any kind of hot drinks…”

“Ha-ha. You’re fussy. Ok, we’ll get a bite to eat then,” spoke Ruby, pretending she didn’t understand my hint that I wasn’t interested.  

“Actually, I’ll give it a miss. I’m kinda busy,” I lied, hoping she’d finally take the hint.

“Ok. Maybe some other time?”

“This pic is going all over the school!” exclaimed Marley. I could hear him from the other side of the school corridor, laughing with all his friends about that embarrassing picture of me.

“Errr… I have to go,” I briefly said to Ruby, as I snatched my backpack from the floor and zoomed past, leaving her alone. I tried my best to avoid Marley and his gang. I just couldn’t be bothered to fact the verbal abusers again!

 

Her hair was a golden brown colour; it was put in a loose ponytail, with her wavy fringe resting beside her ear (if only my fringe did that). Although she sat on the other side of the classroom from me, each time I turned to have a glance at the god-like figure, her bright, brown bewitching eyes somehow made me want to go up to her and tell her how much of a beautiful, attractive potential-model she was.

“Everybody, time is up! We will continue our work on world war two next lesson!” exclaimed Mr Smith, our A Level history teacher. As everyone stood up at the end of the lesson, I was tempted to approach the mystery girl and ask for her name and number.  But I was too shy! Instead I just stood in a spot alone, in the middle of the classroom, whilst listening to everyone’s conversations around the room, scanning for the word “Jamie.” I hoped Marley didn’t start the rumour spreading already. I had to savour this last moment in a classroom, where no-one knew my secret. I had to…

“Hi! It’s Jamie, right?” spoke a soft confident voice. I swiftly turned round to find that heavenly voice belonged to that dream girl who I was longing after.

“Errr… Yeah,” I humbly spoke, subconsciously rubbing my ear at the same time.

“You ok?” she asked, seeming quite concerned. “It’s just that you looked quite lonely standing here alone. Thought you might want some company.”

“Oh, Errr… thanks,” I said, smiling at the girl’s beautiful face. Suddenly, the bell rang and tonnes of students sprinted out of the classroom, including that girl. What was her name? I had to know her name. I had to ask!

“Wait!” I ran, trying to dodge past many year twelves, in order to reach that Goddess. That Princess. That Queen. That girl. However, it was too late. The girl was gone and I was left, eagerly wanting to know her name.

 

“Jamie? Jamie, are you ok?” These words kept on echoing in my head throughout my whole maths lesson. All I could think about was her!

“So you take the two x onto the other side of the equation, so it becomes minus two x. So five x minus two x is equal to nine is… Jamie? Jamie?!”

“Yeah?” I jumped, shaking my entire desk, as I was just woken from my daydream. As this happened, a bunch of year twelves sitting behind me started to giggle and throw paper planes at me. However, our old maths teacher, who clearly couldn’t see or hear, just focused on me, attempting to answer his question.

“Errr… ten?” I guessed, not having a clue what this x meant. I just about scraped a C in GCSE maths, so I don’t know what I was thinking doing A Level maths!

“Are you stupid? He’s so thick! It’s three, you moron!” yelled Marley, cracking up everyone else around him.

“You are on litter pick for a whole week,” coldly stated Mr Dumpley, our maths teacher, to me. “You never listen in class. At least Marley knows the answer. Well done, Marley.”

“Thanks, Sir,” proudly replied Marley.

“Knock! Knock!” suddenly went the door!

“Come in!” shouted the teacher, abruptly startling every person in the room.

“Is this year twelve maths, set two?” the humble girl asked, standing at the door. It was her! It was my dream girl!

“Yes, why?” asked the teacher.

“I’m the new girl. I’m supposed to be joining the class today.”

“Oh, yes! And you are?”

“Dakota Lewis, Sir.”

“Oh, yes, Dakota. I’ve been expecting you. Take a seat beside, err…” Mr Dumpley peered round the room and suddenly spotted the empty seat next to me. “Jamie! Maybe you could teach him a thing or too. Maths seems to be his weak point.”