Rain continued to drizzle down …

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Yuta develop his story further.

Rain continued to drizzle down, drumming itself against the concrete and iron slabs to applaud the arrival of the new season. With each drop, the familiar scent of moist, winter air exploded into the atmosphere; its remnants glowing a dull silver under what little light penetrated through the sea of clouds above. The city’s residents found themselves fearing the crisp, bitter air which scratched your bare skin red, hiding themselves [U1] beneath layer upon layer of clothing the way children hide beneath their blankets. For them[U2] , the cries their numb skin screamed was nothing a sheet of wool couldn’t muffle. Nothing their money couldn’t fix.[U3] Read the rest of this entry »

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Ebony wandered down the old stone path …

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Jacy develop her story further.

Ebony wandered down the old stone [U1] path, her arms roping herself tightly shut.  Frost entangled itself in her hair and the icy wind that whipped around her legs caused her coat to billow out behind her. She paused only momentarily to appreciate the sweet fragrance of the jasmine [U2] before continuing on. Reaching the prestigious wrought iron gates she swivelled and gazed at the property before her. An impressive Victorian mansion surrounded by sweeping manicured gardens to say the least[U3] . To Ebony though, it was much, much more. Between every wall and behind every Rhododendron bush which encircled the house, a secret was hidden, a story was lying, a skeleton was lurking just waiting to rip her life apart. [U4]
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Scarlet Masterpiece

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Kate develop her story further.

I could feel cool fabric pressing into my pale legs as I pushed my weight to the floor. A sharp metallic stench travelled up my nostrils making me cringe. Outside my rotting [U1] paper thin walls the wind howled at my pain. Squeezing my eye lids shut, I couldn’t bare to face it. The thunder of my panicked heart echoed in my head, threatening to explode. Tears trickled down my cheeks and into my gasping mouth. I licked the salty trail of my quivering lip. It was so cold…so cold.[U2] Read the rest of this entry »


Claws of a stinging ice floor clench at my back.

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Anna develop her story further.

Claws of a stinging ice floor clench at my back. Ice gathers on the callous concrete as I look towards the wall. Three thousand, six hundred and fifty strokes cover the wall like a patterned blanket over a window in the winter. My spindly legs draw themselves in towards my shuddering chest and arms move on their own accord to embrace them as the frosty indoor night settles in and snow gathers amongst the wild grasses outside. Clouds form from breathes I do not remember taking. Automatic unintentional inhalations I have no control over. Dusty moonlight, silvered by the gentle clouds overhead, covers the doorway. Read the rest of this entry »


The knife wept …

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Jake develop his story further.

The knife wept. Its glistening tears ran along the piercing blade. Staining the innocent silver into a murderous red. Congealing into rubies as it plunged through the air. Shattering as it impacted on the violent[U1] ground. I fell to my knees. Read the rest of this entry »


Silver Silhouette

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Todd develop his story further.

Steam rises from the shifting lake as the leaves fall and sink into the darkness of the rippling [U1] waters.

The sketch of a reflection petrifies the lake’s inhabitants as the shadow encloses over the spread of green and blue. The girl from the trees kneels down as the clouds above her crawl over the top of the trees; they dance and tumble as the wind blows. [U2] The night was threatening the day as the girl peered into the heavens. A single raindrop fell through the canopy and beat down on her soft skin like a drum. The excess splash fell into the water and wrinkled its appearance. She opens her mouth and lets the rain dive down into her, tasting the sweet, cold feeling in her throat and across her tongue. Every drop was like candy. The downpour became heavier, gaining tempo and now reaching a louder sound. The penetrating noise was all that the girl could hear. She stands up and gazes across her kingdom, hands across her arms to keep warm. Read the rest of this entry »


Sweat caresses my aching arms …

June 10, 2010

A first draft of the Young Writer of the Year ‘Silver’ story. Initial comments from teacher. Please add your feedback below to help Harley develop his story further.

Sweat caresses my aching arms as I strive to lift the overwhelming[U1] pressure of my weakening heart. The beads drench the pores along my cheeks attempting to cool my cartoon red face yet fail as I drown in their thickened texture and perplexing stench. [U2] Their failure is only outdone by my own attempts to force this grey-silver bar above my chest into a holster mere inches’ from my finger tips, inches that are miles apart. Most things seem elongated at this point [U3] so it is not unusual my thin physic is more slender than normal. It does not scare me so much disheartens me. No different to the way watching an ex-lover with someone I know well feels. My body feels distant. Hell, even my eyes feel distant as they watch my legs twitch under the blinding white light protruding from the ceiling. If it weren’t for the increasing strain on my back crystallised by pins and needles in each slipping disk, I am sure this is how it would feel to be weightless – floating in obscurity, without pain or pleasure, into vanishing white. Alone.[U4]
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