Teacher Alligator Mauve Climbed Tricky
I slowly climbed up the stairs. They had a mauve coloured rug and were very slippery. Like an alligator I crawled up, this was very tricky because my PE teacher had told the class how to do hurtles, which was very different to this since I was used to practicing on these very stairs. The reason I was going very slowly in the first place was because I had broken one of my mum’s antique vases and was going to pay dearly later on if I was caught, so I was just getting as far away from the crime scene as possible.
“WHO broke my VASE?……….”
My hand grabs it at the same time his does. I tug as hard as I can, keeping my grip firm. My brother screams in my ear, trying to make me let go, but I won’t. Now he’s yelling and I can feel my body slightly sinking into the ground. Looking around, I see both our feet have entirely disappeared underneath the ground.
“BOTH OF YOU!” I hear mum’s voice from the kitchen; “LET GO!” but I won’t let go. I won’t let go on the last licorice piece in the box. Now all that’s left above ground is our arms and heads, and slowly the only thing left is our hands. I feel myself stop sinking; I should have listened to mum.
I stare at the remaining minuets on the clock, the timer. A trickle of sweat runs down my neck, as I climb the dangerously high ladder. It slightly sways as I pin the banner on the wall, and get to work on coloring the letters that spell out “happy birthday!” I bite my tongue, dwelling on the one question in my head: but what color should it be? The timer is up, and the big, brass doors burst open, as my little sister comes charging in, staring at my unfinished banner. Her expression drops. What have I done? I think.
STAIRS RIVER PINK COOKED NERVOUS
I watch NERVOUSly at the PINK meat in the pan, wondering if it is COOKED, as I watch, my mind drifts off, to the piece of pink meat. The pieces of fat around the edges look like a winding RIVER and the way it wrinkles upwards looks like a set of STAIRS. The pink meat slowly turns brown, and while I’m daydreaming, eventually black. Great.
As I read the contents of the letter, I was aware of the smile on my face. It has been years since he has written to me, and he has only ever written twice. I trace the neat, cursive writing with my finger. It has become wet, soaked with tears, tears of happiness. I hold it tightly to my chest,
“Thank you,” I whisper. My voice is cracked and croaky, and my face wet. But I couldn’t care less. All I care about is that letter, and the man who wrote it.
“Thank you- thank you dad……….”
“Why would I do that?” I yell at my classmate who had falsely accused me of stealing his octopus stickers.
“Because, um… errr- wellllll, mayyybe. you, er, um… ”
Benjamin can be very obnoxious at times. Once he yelled out in the middle of class that monkeys are actually carnivores. (And in case you are wondering that is NOT true.) Finally he had figured out what to say.
“Because you like the one with the red polka-dot hat!” He says triumphantly. I give up.
prompt: Flame Ice Lime Regularly Clock
The flames crawl up the grandfather clock, burning what once was a beautiful masterpiece into nothing. Nothing at all. This is my fault. I regularly light the candles on Christmas eve, but it all went wrong. I was about to light the candle when mum came out of the kitchen accidentally squirting lime in my eye. I screamed and the match went flying into the clock. My dad’s stare was so cold, it was practically like ice. I am doomed for the rest of my life…
As I looked over the edge, I saw a flock of brightly colored birds soar past in a v formation. I could hear their lovely, sweet melodies as they fly out of sight. I sighed happily and walked back from the balcony, it had been a long day and relaxing was just what I needed. It must be amazing; being a bird I thought. Being able to soar through the air like that. Just before I closed my eyes to go to sleep I had a brilliant image of the birds soaring through the air in my mind.
Your brain is designed to work differently under pressure.
If you spend more time thinking, and less time worrying you’re likely to get more done.
You need to have a plan and stick to it.
Are bush fires and cyclones related?
Or are they completely different?
I understand more about the effects of natural disasters.
prompt: however, she couldn’t believe what she had done
Jess’s science project bubbled as frothy foam squirts out of the tube. The huge flow wouldn’t stop, now dripping off the table, staining everything in deep purple-red. This wasn’t meant to happen. now all of the tiles in the science room are stained in the one, consistent colour. But nobody seemed to notice, they were all just mesmerized by that steady stream of foam. Children’s shoes, tables, chairs, even some parts of the walls were this one colour. red like a tomato with embarrassment Jess took her project away. Everyone else started cheering, they liked it, however, she couldn’t believe what she had done.