Creative Writing Club
By Ruth and Rosie
Sep 30, 2009 - 8:46:07 AM
Pop
There he was, waiting alone in the dark alleyway. I had been waiting for this moment for seven days, one whole week. I skipped merrily down the alleyway, my pockets rattling with coins. I gave him 50p and he gave it to me - the perfect red balloon, the sun dappled all over it, making it glint when the wind turned it. I ran out of the alleyway, my hand clutched around the string.
Rosie, Year Seven
The Pot Full of Noverything
I sigh happily and breathe deeply
As the scent of the air fills my nose
The bubbling colours are darkened
As I add the black from a rose.
The bubbling suddenly stops
In comes the stillness from a jumping bean
Then the colours regain their brightness
When I add what a blind person's seen.
The liquid turns a rosy pink
As I add the soft heart of a killer
And the pot doubles up with laughter -
Adding comedy from a thriller.
The liquid turns every colour
But no colour at all
Then the pot is full of everything
And absolutely nothing at all.
Ruth, Year Seven