Grade 8 have been studying short stories and looking at how authors plant clues at the start. Students had a go at writing story openings with clues themselves.
It was Tuesday night in Cambridgeshire. The moon did not gleam, nor did the stars sparkle in the night sky. Tonight was different. Instead of the traditional calming silence of the night, there was a dark, obscuring feeling lingering among the small townhouses and only the slow pounding of my heart was heard . Which was how I liked it. So I decided to go on a walk, like I do almost every night and enjoy the emptiness nature had left the town.
I put on my crisp, wool suit, black fedora, and set out. It was my favorite time of day. Night. Not a single living soul in sight. I strode the sleeping streets without a care in the world. No doubts. Worries. Wonders. Just my open mind, taking in the perfection yet effortless beauty laid around me. My mind was at peace. Until I came across a stand alone house, the only one on the street. It was exceedingly tall and was wrapped in vivid, piercing red. The bricks on the roof were perfectly placed and sparkling clean. It had polished white windows and an immense, intriguing blue door.
And yet in my 30 years of living in the neighborhood and walking countless times beside that street I’d never seen it. It was as though it had just appeared from thin air. My mind started racing with a million questions. Who did it belong to? Why was it there? And where did my mind recognize it from? Where had I seen it?
by Sophie, Grade 8