Creativity flowing for A-level English students
Whilst studying "The Bloody Chamber" by Angela Carter as a set text, A-level English students were set the task in class to emulate the style of one of Angela Carter's short stories.
The students took well to the creative writing task and we are lucky enough to share some of the tasks with our community:
The stretching necks of the silvered long-grass nestled the weary walker, pining at her feet like some strange emaciated serpents. Shards of ice from half frozen craters split away from themselves, forging like welders steel into weapons of glacial destruction. Ribbons of the staunchest ashen grey joined in the sky, soulless puzzle pieces slotting together enshrouding the impoverished plane of icy existence. Light of a most animated scarlet bled through the barrier, seeping into the soil as though returning to the marrow from whence it came.
Imo Lee
The sea sighed, somnambulantly discarding waves onto the shore, only for them to slip back into the water with the constancy of a conveyor belt. Tired tendrils of sunlight gilded the sand, but they soon give up, slipping sluggishly below the horizon, covered by the velvety blanket of night.
Felicity Holme
I have plunged down into a coffee granule armchair, an irrepressible action to combat the vastly imposing ebony shelves above me. Storeys and storeys of stories, a concrete jungle of tales, opulent with mushroom bindings of Yorkshire moors, Darceys and acid yellow ball gowns, emaciated covers of skulls and star crossed lovers and plum lined pages of witchcraft, scars and sickly Butterbeers.
Oriole Gunter
A huge well done to Imo, Flippy and Oriole for these creative stories.
Whilst studying "The Bloody Chamber" by Angela Carter as a set text, A-level English students were set the task in class to emulate the style of one of Angela Carter's short stories.
The students took well to the creative writing task and we are lucky enough to share some of the tasks with our community:
The stretching necks of the silvered long-grass nestled the weary walker, pining at her feet like some strange emaciated serpents. Shards of ice from half frozen craters split away from themselves, forging like welders steel into weapons of glacial destruction. Ribbons of the staunchest ashen grey joined in the sky, soulless puzzle pieces slotting together enshrouding the impoverished plane of icy existence. Light of a most animated scarlet bled through the barrier, seeping into the soil as though returning to the marrow from whence it came.
Imo Lee
The sea sighed, somnambulantly discarding waves onto the shore, only for them to slip back into the water with the constancy of a conveyor belt. Tired tendrils of sunlight gilded the sand, but they soon give up, slipping sluggishly below the horizon, covered by the velvety blanket of night.
Felicity Holme
I have plunged down into a coffee granule armchair, an irrepressible action to combat the vastly imposing ebony shelves above me. Storeys and storeys of stories, a concrete jungle of tales, opulent with mushroom bindings of Yorkshire moors, Darceys and acid yellow ball gowns, emaciated covers of skulls and star crossed lovers and plum lined pages of witchcraft, scars and sickly Butterbeers.
Oriole Gunter
A huge well done to Imo, Flippy and Oriole for these creative stories.