'A SPACE BETWEEN THE WALLS'

A collection of creative writing pieces written by students
during isolation and lockdown

 

ASA CROSS

Travel and Tourism Extended Certificate Level 2

Cold

Work has been concluded. I start up my little electric bike in the snow. “I must get home; I must get home”, I say to myself. Just a few weeks earlier, I had heard the terrible stories of how people had gone completely numb from the waist down from being in this treacherous weather. 

I race across the streets of Moscow, my heart pounding at my stomach with every breath. The intense cold seemed to be penetrating my clothes like an army smashing through a brick wall. I shiver. I zoom past famous monuments, embassies, and other extravagant buildings…

I glance at my quaking hand whilst clinging on to my bicycle. My smart watch stares back at me, with the numbers 5:12pm, my watch greets me. The smell of hot warm bread from a nearby bakery dominates my nose. I open my mouth to yawn and instantly regret it. Snow batters down into my mouth, punishing me for what seems to be a sin. My mouth slammed shut, but it was too late… 

The inside of my mouth was now numb and now I was forced to endure something even worse than that. Hail. Hail pounded down onto my fragile hat. Some hellish hail even made its way down my back, torturing me. “I swear someone hates me up there”, as I shake my fist insanely at the sky. This provokes weird looks from onlooking bystanders. 


Inspired by the look of my house, I smash the full power button on my electric bike. My bike roars like a lion as it bolts across the icy road and into my garage. I slam down the brakes and click the off button. My fogged-up glasses blind me as I stumble through my garage and throw myself onto my door handle. I wrestle the handle to the ground and throw open the door. I kick the door shut, snatch some hot chocolate powder, and collapse onto my sofa. Finally, I am back home. What a long day! 

 

AIMEE BURROWS

Computing Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 2

Fragments

All I could hear was the continuous loop of children screaming in fear, the sight of women being slaughtered and the prominent smell of blood, so strong I felt like I was suffocating. I struggled across the withered, waterless, weeping grass which shattered beneath my feet like. Still a million miles from safety; still a thousand years from happiness.

The sky: gloomy as the dejected clouds engulfed it. There was a lump in my throat as I trudged past my fallen comrades. My mind was like a bomb site, so explosive and no tranquility. All signs of positivity were consumed by the anxiety I felt inside.

The sun was a light in my darkness, yet the heat struck me like a bullet. There was no escape from my mind, no escape from reality. I had one task to complete, so simple yet so many casualties. What was once a place of contentment was now a grievous burial ground. The trees once sang harmonic melodies which permeated through the air; these sounds were shielded by the present.

My legs felt like they were going to snap; my eyes as heavy as iron. I could feel my body deteriorating with each step I took. Death seemed like the easiest option. The only sight was a field full of mines: they laughed at me as I plodded past them. Reminding me that I am a failure.

The only friend I have left was a method of transportation, but is now a fatigued mule perching on my back like a child. He was a reminder that I must carry on. The faith symbolized by the mule pushed me to make it to the end. The mule was the guide I needed.

Our home was obliterated; our food source demolished. Fragments of what once was a peaceful village lay motionless on the perished ground. I felt drowsy, my wings were giving up on me. All I could see for miles was a tarnished wasteland; all I could hear was the crashing and booming sounds generated by the immense explosions below. No one will make it out alive, and if they do,  they might as well be dead.

 

GABRIEL BROWN

Popular Music Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 1

The Journey

They laid calmed, settled and at peace as they watched the clouds softly move across the slowly dying sky. They had been there for hours, enjoying each other's company in their makeshift hammock attached to their white camper van, in which they were taking a worldwide road trip. They parked on a cliff edge to gaze across the irregular landscape. Strangely, the opposite view was completely different. It lay barren, scarred and with little life.  As the day faded, the travelers progressed through the green, mountainous landscape on their seemingly endless journey towards what looked like a giant snail. There was not much beyond that, but the edge of the world. Where land met air, a dark void. The closer they got toward the snail-like mountain, the air grew mistier and foggier as if there was magic in the air. The travelers could not see where their current path was taking them towards but had hoped it would lead them towards safety. A few more miles down the long, lonesome road they stopped to set up a campfire to prepare for the long day ahead of them. In the slow and tiresome morning, they left once again on their pointless journey to the edge of the world, where they could finally be free of the troubles of this dark world. All of a sudden, the fog cleared to reveal a great wall, a barrier which its purpose has remained unknown to this day. They got closer and closer to the barrier only to discover they had to turn back, as the gate to the edge was closed because of the coronavirus lockdown, put in place by the United Federation of Earth in 2043 to prevent it from spreading further. This meant their lifelong journey had no meaning and they had to go all the way back to their homes to abide by the government’s rules.

 

HALEY SOUSA SANTOS

Visual Special Effects and Animation Extended Diploma Level 3

Snow

Snow.


A fragile segment when it starts.


It's really bright, so alive, so playful like a child. Then it starts filling the cities more with its stunning beauty, dancing around like little fairies ready to bless us all. 


It looks like oblivion, the pure white everywhere to be seen just gleaming light at your eyes making you feel young and fresh. It feels like you're a child again, re-exploring this world full of beauty.


The laughter of the children building barriers and throwing snowballs at each other and if you're lucky enough, you'll get hit by those fuzzy cotton balls filled with happiness, making your face feel freshly warm. 


The smell of fresh air just makes you feel more alive and satisfied than you already are. 

Maybe the taste of a melting flake dropping to your tongue will leave you fuzzy and warm. 


The songs people are ice skating to as if they have no worries. No Problems. It's all about them now, is it not?  


Just like you opened the doors to oblivion. 


That's not all, even when I'm here just sitting down knitting, while waiting for God to give me his hand, I still smile to this gleam of light. It makes me feel like an old child smiling, wanting to run and throw snowballs while building a little snowman to protect me from other attackers. 


These flakes full of fascinating memories poke me and melt, reviving this old soul. 


However, all things must come to an end. 


Even when the snow leaves and people don't pay as much attention, it still goes in a stylish way and will still try to give you that nice warm and cold fuzzy feeling that makes you smile from ear to ear. 


Snow.

A fragile segment just like a human life. 

 

HANNAH DALY

Travel and Tourism Extended Certificate Level 2

The Unknown

The deep, cold, isolated waters just there like an opening invitation to the unknown. The ripples through the water are like veins sending life to the unknown, living in the deepest parts of the waters. The glassy surface of the water and the silky sunlight created the perfect mirror for the surroundings, capturing a glimpse of paradise, however, not is all as it seems. The picturesque blue lake was as if it came straight from a tourist leaflet, the sound of the paddle rippling the water echoed through the mountains and trees as silence overwhelmed the scenery and the autumn air smelt of pine trees that surrounded the lake.

The trees dance, excited for autumn dressed in golds and yellows. As the leaves twirled in the invisible gust of wind, whispers of these leaves filled the air. It was a magic hour, as if God had dyed everything gold as autumn was finally here surrounding the lake. But is God’s blessing powerful enough to keep the dark from rising from below the deep, cold, isolated waters?

Deep down in the dark waters where sunlight is no longer visible, the gateway to hell was ready to open. The dark secretive sins scold them-selves on to the gates as a warning to who arrives. The rusted titanium gates open for the first time in centuries as a dark mist transforms the picturesque lake into the devil’s fountain and the dark demonic creatures enter their way onto Earth.

 

HUGH BAALHAM

Engineering Extended Diploma Level 3

The Hollow

The silence in the hollow ruins was like a void: dark and desolate.  The decrepit, oak door, that was barely holding onto its hinges, creaked open with ease, erasing the silence.  The cold light of the evening sun grazed the worn, cobbled path ahead.  With each breathe, a cloud of vapour was produced that shivered in the air.

The water-logged mud squelched underneath the heavy, weary feet.  The buzz of a hoard of flies grew stronger, hovering over the decomposing carcass of a mighty stag.  The grey, grimy flesh was exposed as shreds of skin had been torn away by scavengers and the elements.  Its antlers lay adrift, partly submerged in a landslide, and its empty sockets stared lifelessly into the orange-tinted sky.

The eerie light was reflected in the slowly-winding river, that slithered along its course.  The festering, withered vegetation ran up the mountain away from the poisoned, polluted water.  Mold silently suffocated the pathways.  Salt, a stagnant puddle and decaying flowers attacked the eyes.  Splashes emanated from below the corroded bridge as stones came loose.

Beaten by the weather, a fragment of former glory, marble stone darkened by time, the bridge stood in disarray.  Guardrails crumbled into the river exposing the white, original tone.  Three pillars remained, as the other support lay collapsed in the shallows of the riverbank. Tilting, leaning to one side, the bridge sat forgotten. 


The thick, barren vines conquered the jagged mountainside; they forcefully entwined themselves into the monotone landscape. The eroded trail proved treacherous and slippery.  Steps echoed across the deep ravine.  Up the steep incline, every crevice held rusty water turning the moss brown.  

 

KATHERINE CANTWELL

Business Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 2

Bang

Here we are once again charging down the gallops. However, this time it is the real thing. 

I inhale the smell of the lush grass beneath my hooves, being mixed up with the mud as if I am the whisk in a mixing bowl. The commentator is abounding with excitement and anticipation – just how I felt in the strangulating iron cage when the starter’s gun went off. 

With horror, I begin to feel my new jockey losing his balance; he sits back into the saddle… What a relief he is securely back in the right position. The other horses take this opportunity to creep up behind me as we now hit the home straight; thinking they have a chance. 

The commentator begins to get more and more rowdy, like a jet engine about to hit the sound barrier. The crowd joins in creating a raucous atmosphere. 

I am in the lead, only a few more strides and I’ll be done. If I win this, I will surprise all of these hopeful faces which I see staring at me, my pride is already bubbling inside me! My first time out and I actually have a shot at winning! Who would have thought it?

BANG! The piercing crowd are suddenly overtaken by an inexplicable silence – what was that I thought? I could not stop to look. 

I focus on the enviable finish line, ignoring all that is around me. My overanxious jockey hits me with his stick – telling me Go! Go! Go! The smell of grass and mud returns just like before…

I hear the crowd roar as I pass the finish line! I’ve done it! Finally, I can release the tension; but what was that bang? 

I turn on a sixpence. I see a glimpse of my once strong, sprightful, spirted soul mate dissembled on the floor. A sudden rush came to not just my head but my heavy heart. I feel my buddy disintegrating away as I watch the gentle lady, in her clinical white coat, dart over to him. 

I want to prevail hope for him… but the agonizing looks in his fading glistening eyes expose the pain he was feeling; my lifelong friendship was to be ended by the shrouding of a screen. 

 

KELSEY DREW

Travel and Tourism Extended Certificate Level 2

The Voice

I opened my eyes, fearful of what I would see. After falling for what seemed like hours, but was probably seconds, it appeared that I had been transported forward in time. 


In the eerie half-light I managed to make out the silhouette of what looked like trees looming over me. Their knotted roots twisting and turning on the floor all around me like snakes.  This place made me feel claustrophobic as the huge trees loomed over me, trying to entangle me within their roots and boughs. It felt suffocating, as though I couldn’t take in a full breath as I was so deep within the forest. The smell of damp leaves and mud dominated my senses.


I couldn’t see any evidence to suggest that there was any other life in this strange place.


I scrambled to my feet, disorientated by the dappled light that shone through in places.

I began to stagger around with the intention of finding out more about my new, unfamiliar surroundings.  After a short walk I came to an avenue of trees and I decided to go through them and investigate what was on the other side.  As I crept through, I heard a sound which sounded like the trees were talking to me, but it was only the wind rustling through the leaves. 


As I walked, a familiar feeling of loneliness came over me and I had a flashback to the lockdown of 2020, the year of coronavirus.  This place triggered memories of the isolation of the lockdown. This place was the most confined and quarantined place I could ever imagine.  


I caught sight of something glistening in the distance. I staggered over to where I had caught sight of it but I didn’t see anything solid.  I looked again and saw the sparkling water of a running stream, cascading over the rocks below. 


I couldn’t believe my eyes and washed my face in the cold, fresh water. Feeling refreshed, I wandered a bit further and tried to find a way out. I had been staggering along, negotiating tree roots and fallen branches for quite a while when I noticed the light becoming brighter and the trees beginning to thin out. I carried on, towards the bright sunshine until I came to what appeared to be the edge of the forest.


Before me were endless green fields surrounded in the distance by mountains whose summits were shrouded in mist.  My eyes struggled to adjust to this new view and the intense sunlight. But the warmth of the sun on my skin was a new sensation. I also noticed the feeling of space and being able to take in a lung full of fresh air; it was reviving and such a relief after the intensity of the forest. 


I warily edged towards the green fields keen to feel the hot sun on my skin but anxious about how vulnerable I felt out in the wide-open space.  I kept looking behind me to check for any signs of life unable to shake the feeling of being watched or followed. 


I craved the feeling of being somewhere safe and familiar. Somewhere where I could feel protected and calm. This persistent feeling of paranoia and being on constant alert was exhausting and draining. I needed to find somewhere I could rest and feel a sense of security even for a short while. 


I knew this was not going to be an easy task, but I eventually found somewhere where I was able to rest in the long grass. I curled up in the soft meadow and considered my options. After what seemed like minutes but could’ve been hours, I decided to retrace my steps and go back to where I originally began, to see if I could make sense of what was happening.  


Soon I was back on my way to find a place that was even vaguely familiar to me. I was so preoccupied with constantly checking behind me to see if there was anything or anyone following me, that I failed to notice the gargantuan hole in the field until it was too late.


I stumbled into a hole, concealed within the long grass and before I could scramble to my feet, I got caught in what seemed like a vortex.   It felt as though I was spaghetti being sucked up by a hungry child. I suddenly felt a terrible pain in my head. It felt like someone was punching me in the head. It was such intense pain and pressure, the likes of which I had never felt before. Just as I thought that I couldn’t endure this feeling for one more second, it stopped.


Everything went dark and completely silent.  I felt around gingerly with my fingertips and was able to make out something underneath my body; from what I could sense it was solid but I couldn’t be totally sure. It was then I noticed that I had stopped spinning and I was lying motionless somewhere but it was so dark so I couldn’t quite make out where I was, or what I was lying on.


As I tried to get up, I felt a horrendous pain in my left leg and thought I must have landed awkwardly when I fell. I nervously began to hobble forwards towards what had seemed to me like a building or shelter of some kind. As I got closer, I realised that what I thought was a house was in fact a church. I screamed at the top of my voice “when will I ever be somewhere that feels familiar to me?”. 


I was starting to think that I would be forever trapped alone, in this strange and petrifying place with no way of ever going home to my family. When suddenly I heard a strange almost whispering voice.  At first I thought it was a breeze in the trees.  I held my breath and listened again.  The voice quietly said “follow the path and you will see why when you reach the end”.


I froze not knowing whether to trust this instruction or run in the opposite direction. Feeling completely exhausted and overwhelmed I found my legs carrying me towards the path and my feet walking, slowly and nervously down the path, towards the voice. 

 

KIRSTY SIMMONDS

Photography Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 2

What Nature Brings

Beautiful bright shades of red, orange, and green trees glisten as the sunlight smothers the forest to my left. And a perfectly large, stoned, arched bridge on my right. The still river. It releases a cold mist as a layer of protection, reflecting every detail of colour and shape which is on land. Beautiful.


I can hear the calm silence which nature brings, with the gentle sound of the bike in the far distance. The birds chirping tones, traveling through the gentle winds surrounding me, making me feel whole. Beautiful. 


The extraordinary natural incense of the forest suddenly hits me. The smell of flowers, bark and water traveling around. Clean and fresh, encouraging me to feel conscious. Beautiful.


My feet can feel the gentle flow of the water current as they dangle freely from the water bank. The thick soft grass, prickling parts of palm as my hands dance on the ground, feeling whole. Beautiful. 

 

KODEE MURTON

Animal Care Technical Certificate Level 2

The Poem of the Listeners

The atmosphere in the poem the listeners by Walter de la Mare could be described as creepy, sinister and a deserted place. We could also imagine that this could be very isolating place that not a lot of people have been too in over the years. We see this in the quote “’is there anybody there’ said the traveller knocking on the moonlit door:” this can show that the traveller is being patient and hoping that someone is going to answer which could imply that there is a reason why the traveller is there. He could be there to help or address a situation to the people living in the house making the whole Situation become tense for the reader while we wait to see if anyone will answer the door. The word ‘anybody’ can suggest that he wants to be hopeful that someone is going to answer the door and not get turned away or that he hasn’t wasted a journey to get to the house and that he will find the person or persons he is looking for. This could lead to the readers feeling Suspense for the people that the traveller is looking for and making us wonder why he is looking for them and possibly what he wants with them.

 The writer then uses Alliteration too describe the conditions of the forest we see this in the quote “his horses in the silence champed the grasses of the forest ferny floor: and a bird flew up out of the turret”. This could mean that the conditions of the forest could be bad as no one has been in there so it has all overgrown and that the forest would be covered in plants, also in the quote we see ‘his horse in the silence champ to grass’ this could mean that the writer is trying to describe the setting as being in a ghost town because everything is silence and no one is answering which is making it hard for the traveller. In the next part of the quote we see “a bird flew up out of the turret” this then makes the reader imagine how big the tower is and how mysterious this place is. 

We then see the traveller trying to find the person he is looking for again and knocking on the door once again he then says “’tell them I came, and no one answered, that I kept my word’ he said” with the traveller saying this it brings a lot of suspense towards the story as we want to know why he is there, you could also say that the traveller feels a Presence of someone inside the house but he knows its not the person he is looking for. You could suggest that he was there for a reason and that a promise was made. The noun ‘came’ suggests to the reader that because the traveller couldn’t find who he was looking for he is going to leave nut wanting to leave a message so the person knows that he’s done what he wanted and he will keep his word towards it. 

 

KODEE MURTON

Animal Care Technical Certificate Level 2

Goosebumps

I could not tell you why recently I had felt different than my usual self, it was like I felt alone like I was scared of what could be happening in my life, but the scariest thing is that I woke up in a place I didn’t recognise. I had no idea where this place is and how I got there, all I know is I feared this place.  

This has to be a dream or some sick nightmare obviously I was dreaming that is the only explanation for waking up here, I then pitched myself knowing that is what everyone does or says to do.

Ouch!

I do not think it is meant to hurt if you are dreaming and it is not like I then woke up in my comfy bed that I wished I were in now. I felt fairly warm with the sun on my skin but when I realised the unfamiliarity of the environment, that soon changed. My skin suddenly covered in Goosebumps; it was like even my Goosebumps had Goosebumps; was that even possible? It sure felt like it. Looking into the distance, I see terrain in an unreachable land, as tall as the sky and as wide-open sea. 

I looked down at myself, I was plastered in mud like a body cocoon. My clothes were wet and damp as a rainforest floor after a tropical storm. I need to clean myself up I think, the river yes. I gingerly approach the riverbed, reaching down to wash my hands. I react like a hand on heat, snatching my hand back due to the icy water. Breathe. Reaching back down, I brace for the chilling to the bone sensation; the mud is dry and is going to take some time to get off. I start to scrub. I am exposed here, I keep thinking, I need to move. What is this unknown place? I shout “Hello?” instantly regretting my decision in case someone has actually heard me; my voice echoing through the canyon, bouncing off all the rugged exterior. 

The only person here by the looks of it was me, the only person that was going to help me was myself. I put my hair up into a ponytail, determined to find a way out of this hostile hell hole.

I staggered forward, placing each foot cautiously for fear of what I might find or step on. Ducking under the overgrown carpet of foliage, my feet splash in the water like a child in the sea. How long does this go on for? I wonder. The vast expansion of grey greenery goes on for miles, I feel like I am repeating the same part of the journey each time I step like photocopying the same image over and over again. The mud near the water bank is sticky, making it very hard to move forward with speed and even harder with balance. The water glistens in the sunlight, sparkling like shattered glass pieces. The colour of the surroundings merge into one due to the bland green/grey colouring. The tree branches connect together like a network sharing the same structures, growing towards the sun in a mountain formation. 

Panic.

My thoughts were getting the better of me as the always do but what if I was going to be stuck here for the rest of my life? What if there was no way out? What if I was going to be alone for the rest of my life?

Unexpectedly, CRACK! What sounds like a branch being snapped in half? Instinctively, I spun round, almost falling over. I catch myself, eager to not make any noise to draw attention to myself. What is it? A Person? An Animal? Or something else? Am I hearing things? Am I going crazy and this was my minds way of playing a cruel trick on me? Then I heard it again, CRUNCH! No this was not my imagination; something is out there watching my every step like a hawk watching prey. Wanting to see who or what was making the noise, I peer into the undergrowth but not noticing a thing. 

Carefully, I revert to the original plan of getting myself out of here, turning round about to step when I feel it; I feel what can only be described as the breath of someone’s oxygenated lungs on my neck. A loud noise escapes me. I run without no idea on which direction I should be taking. All I wanted to do was get away. I run for my life, scared of becoming prey. When I thought I had run far enough, I turn sharply on the spot, tripping over my own feet and sending my whole-body plummeting to the floor. I cradle myself like a mother cradles her baby, squeezing my eyes shut waiting for whatever fate arises. Looking in every direction possible. Nothing. No one. I expected to see something. I get up, slightly embarrassed. Was I going crazy, was something out there to get me?

Forget that, you need to get out of here I remind myself. 

Desperately looking for a solution to my many questions, I climb the tallest tree I could see, to get a different perspective on this barren land. I get to the top quickly, looking around whilst clinging desperately to the thin branches at the top swaying in the wind. I look in each direction, and every direction looks the same, it is starting to be a dark and gloomy night, so it is hard to see the near distance. The first time in this place I have even known what time of the day it is. Great I think, just brilliant, I am never getting out of here. Motivation running away from me, I climb back down, wisely placing my feet and hands to make it to the floor without injury. It is dark now. I should try and find somewhere safe to shelter for the night, somewhere where I can fully recover from today’s antics, somewhere where I can keep warm and dry. I trundle along the river, stepping over the tree branches beaten. I just want to go home. I find myself saying these words out loud, when I hear a voice that was not mine come from behind me. Before I could spin round to face whoever it was, a hand pressed on the bare skin of my shoulder and the unidentified male bellowed “who are you? And how did you get here?”. I try to shake his hand off me and turn but his grip tightens on me shoulder. He repeats himself, stepping out from the shadows into the natural light of the moon. This is the first time I lay my eyes on him. His height towers over me and he looks quite strong, that explains why I could not turn around so easy before. He is quite threatening in stance and has a rugged look about him. He has overgrown messy brown hair that looks quite straight given the damp circumstances. He has crystal-clear blue eyes that shone in the moonlight. His skin is dirty and looked like it has a texture like leather. His clothes are well fitted but ripped in places, like he had been in a fight. The black t-shirt clung to his torso looking to small, and his jeans I imagine were once blue but are far from that colour now, suggesting he has been here a while. He is young, late teens, early 20’s 

Desperately I pleaded “Please don’t hurt me, help me I’m lost, I don’t know how I got here or where I am, please help me get home”. Silence for what felt like a lifetime.

He then said two unexpected words that made me get Goosebumps again. 

“Follow me”.

 

KYLE TOOLAN

Popular Music Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 1

The Hand of God

They had not really wanted to go on the coach trip. They wanted to explore on their own. The two friends had never been anywhere like this before, Columbia, it felt like another world and it was their great adventure.  Yet they had given in because the tour guide had droned on and sucked the life out of them and everyone else had seemed so interested, and that is why they found themselves on the coach heading into the Columbian mountains. “We can take some great photos” said Harry “I suppose” said Josh although really he wanted to be visiting the music shop he had seen in the village near the hotel.

The sun streamed through the coach window and lifted Josh mood. They giggled at the couple at the front of the coach - two elderly people who were taking selfies on a very long stick.

When the coach reached the famous bridge, everyone stomped off the coach glad to get some fresh air. Harry and Josh were struck by how many people were there. Something didn’t seem right to have so many people in such a remote place.  They walked towards the bridge it really was so impressive with fantastic views, and that is when they saw the hand made from rock. It looked liked the hand was holding up the bridge. “ Wonder how they did that” said Harry “wonder how they carved that hand and made it fit the bridge” “ maybe it was the other way round” said Josh“ maybe they made the bridge and then created the rock”. Harry took some photos and immediately put them on Instagram. They both looked at the hand, but Josh’s gaze lingered a little longer than Harry’s and that is when he saw it. As they walked along the bridge past the hand he saw a finger move. No! it couldn’t have. He needed to drink more water he thought , but while Harry was looking at the leafy lush valley below he looked back over his shoulder and took another peek at the hand holding the bridge and he was sure, absolutely, completely and definitely, that  he saw it move, not just one finger this time but two. He stood rigid like his feet were glued to the floor. “ What’s up “ said Harry  who had walked ahead “ it moved” said Josh… “ what did “ “ the rock hand”……Harry started walking back towards him and as Josh waited for Harry to say that he had lost the plot , Josh caught the eye of the tour guide who was standing behind them, he expected to see a smile, hear a laugh, but he saw a look of frozen horror on her face. The tour guide hurried them on, suddenly seeming to want the visit to end and to usher them back on the coach and sure enough, just ten minutes later they were urged to take the last photos and get back on the coach.

The tour guide who had babbled facts all of the way to the bridge now sat quietly at the front with the driver. “ Well that was a bit of a let-down“ said Harry “ I thought we would have loads of time for photos and to have a picnic it was hardly worth the journey – or the money I think I might complain”.


Two hours later, they arrived back at the hotel and people rushed to get off the hot suffocating coach, but Josh held back until everyone else had got off the coach and he caught the eye of the tour guide“ “What is the story about the hand?” he asked as he climbed down the coach steps. The tour guide hesitated, and then said in almost  whispered voice “ There is an ancient story that the hand was put on the mountain by God to look after the people, that is why the bridge was built around it, because it was connected to safety it would protect the people crossing from one place to another, the hand has been there hundreds of years. However according to the locals, there is a saying that if the people stop caring about the world in which they live and lose sight of the gifts they have been given, the hand will move, and when the hand moves a great plague will come, not just in Columbia but all over the world.” Harry just caught this conversation and laughed “well we seem to have got away with it, come on let’s get ready for food” and he walked away. The coach left and Josh was left standing watching it disappear in the distance. He knew it was just a silly legend, but he was still left feeling very uneasy.

Two weeks later Harry and Josh flew back home, they’d had a wonderful adventure and they couldn’t wait to tell their friends and families all about it. However, sadly they did not get the opportunity because within days of landing, it was all over the news, a new virus had hit China and might just might, spread all over the world.

 

LIAM HORNER

Engineering Extended Diploma Level 3

Twisted Jungle

The twisted jungle, long abandoned, well explored. Warm, dark. The reaching arms dig deep beneath the mountain surface, once reaching for the skies like trapped souls. Apocalyptic grey fog: shadows. A bridge constructed by the twisted branches reminds of civilisation. The shroud lifts.

Distant towers: God’s hue. Like a heavenly wasteland, the warm light fills the cold, melancholic atmosphere. Giants form. Twisted towers point toward the sky in search of salvation; despair left behind under the deep fog. A lone creature: trapped. It sits alone in a basket of woven branches, waiting. Hunting; hunted. It retreats like a turtle into its shell.

Mountains: sky. The goliath stands tall - watching, observing. The cold, coarse canyon fills with the light of hope – the only sense of mercy from the environment. A squiggly, spring slithers down the twisted mountain scape, and into the deep watery pits.

The cold shoreline sleeps as the water perambulates over the slumbering rocks. Calm, peace. The wind falls still; the twisted battle halts. Nature: explorers. A lonesome man cowers from beneath a branch.

The twisted jungle, long abandoned, well explored: Desolate, hopeful. The contorted mess weeps in appreciation. Remembered, appreciative. Their souls soothed by the sweet harmony of the explorer’s footsteps. Shadows: intense warm light. Fills the air with grace and serenity, engulfing the desolate terrain like eels into a net. 

 

LUKE GILBERT

Carpentry and Joinery Diploma Level 2

Peace

As the peace settles in upon the yawning world, and the chaos dampens, it is at peace. Clustered with mountain holes and diseased with emissions. Striving to push through with no fire whilst doused in gasoline. Singed to the core by what it houses. Asking for but one more chance at redemption, spat on instead. Its own thing deceived by power, cured by its own sickness.


Snapping of charred wood can be heard from anywhere as the world was set ablaze.

The dense smoke obstructed the sky and rid it of light.

Reeking of anarchy, cities became a free-for-all zone.

It wounded by debris and tanned with ash, where burnt hands and bunt minds lay.

Their appetite for power was so great casualties became collateral damage.


Sympathy vanquished from the world like ashes to the wind. Revolting against it own creations death was awoken from slumber and played his cards straight, his aura quaked the world. Giving them a choice

 

SAM STEVENSON

Business Extended Certificate Level 2 

The Storm

As I gazed at this gigantic, unfriendly cloud of rage towering above me, I observed its energy as it was about to suck me up into the sky with its godly and profuse force. The sky was looking down on me like a huge livid animal! Feelings of fear and uncertainty began to surround me faster than the hurricane itself, the smell of damp air began to arrive closer and closer, Mother Nature continued to strike again with rage and strength.


I need to find safety, I need to find shelter, what do I do? I continue to scream for help until my lungs can’t handle it anymore. I'm running as fast as I possibly can, my knees feel weak as they tremble with every step. The eye of the storm creeps up behind me as my adrenaline rushes through my veins, the hair on the back of my neck begins to rise, goose bumps begin to cover my body and the atmosphere fills with eeriness. My shoes continue to drag through the long blades of grass, but I can hardly keep my feet on the ground; it is trying to lift me up like a UFO. I can see light shine through the enormous cloud like it was heaven shining down on me; I see hope.


All I can hear right now is a huge gust of wind, weirdly similar to a dragon breathing fire, it is stronger than anything I have ever seen before.


As I accept eternal darkness, the dark grey cloud begins to come to a halt, slowing down and losing its mighty strength. I feel momentary bliss as this hell comes to a close, I hug myself and drop to the floor in pure happiness. I feel as if I've been blessed by nature to be alive right now. A huge sigh of relief exits my pale blue lips realising how precious life is as I lay on the lime green grass. As the shock de-escalates, I feel at peace, comfortable and thankful. I can now travel home to see my family and make a warm steamy cup of tea.  

 

TIMOTHY SIMMS-BAALHAM

Business Extended Certificate Level 2

The Western Front - 1916

The year was 1916 (July to be exact). Our Sergeant, a dragon, bellowed in his big boisterous voice like a tea kettle rattling, “fix bayonets!”


The chime of the bayonets as they CLICKED them to their rifles was enough to awaken the birds. There was an awkward moment of silence amongst the men in the trench, some men were quaking in their putties and holding up photos of loved ones.


SUDDENLY the whistle shouted, and we all raced up the side of the trench and over the parapet into the godforsaken hell of what we call no-man’s land.


No-man’s land was a catastrophic chasm of hell. There were shell craters with whippy water and tree arms lying inside them, then all hell broke loose…


German machine guns rattled off like rattle snakes, bullets fizzing past my own two small ears, one had even punched my mate to death.


The red-hot shrapnel shards (from the shells) burst into my dark, damp flesh like a hot knife through butter, ripping my helmet clean off my head with no problem.


I felt the oozing blood as it trickled down my tiny face, the blood smelt and tasted of my grandmother’s cooking on a B.B.Q.


I could just about hear the sinister screams of my comrades as I laid there paralysed in a shell hole with nothing to do.


The cold sun beamed down on us like heaven in a dark room.

Rotten ripped bodies mangled and littered over the mud and dead trees of the battlefield, with some limbs sticking up in the shallow air.


So does anyone else want to join?…

 

ANONYMOUS

The Dark

Every now and then I look around and there is a different shadow moving around me. Noises I have never heard before, chasing me. The further I walk the further I seem to be getting to the end of this hell. The air is cold and damp. This is a strange and eerie place. I cannot remember how I got here, and I do not know how to get out. I’m walking through water up to my knees and either side of me are mountain-like rocks with tall twisted tree roots trailing out of them in unnatural shapes and sizes, some too high to see the pointed tops which are glaring down at me. The path is narrow and long with different obstacles to climb through. I cannot see anyone else and no animals I can recognise but sometimes, when I dare to look, I see a shadow of something I cannot explain or a noise I cannot understand. This place is different and like nothing I have ever seen before. It feels like I have been walking forever making little to no progress. My eyes are stinging from being so tired, my mouth is dry from lack of water and my legs will give in at any minute. I keep thinking to myself ‘just a little while longer’ but my body cannot take it. I stop and look around for somewhere potentially safe to rest. There is no night and day in this place, the sky is always a burnt orange with little light and the shadows flicker across the ground, it is almost as if they are alive… I continue wandering down this relentless trail of mystery, suddenly a glimmer of light in the distance catches my attention. What could it be? Or maybe even, who could it be?

Worried by what I may encounter up ahead, I begin to slow down and find a better position to look from. I ascend one of the twisted tree roots to my side to get a view of what treacheries lie ahead of me, I feel anxious, I begin to shake and I have an unsettled feeling in my stomach. I close my eyes hoping it will disappear and to my surprise when I look again it is gone. I convince myself to rejoin my trails and I begin running until. Dark. 

My vision is blurred as my eyes open and I begin to wake. I realise I am somewhere different. I sit up abruptly and begin to look around. Beside me is a figure watching me. “Who are you!” I blurt out. The figure hands me some water and I drink it down it as if my life depends on it. It was the refreshing taste of heaven. I rise up and question the figure again asking where I am. Again, no answer. I look around and I seem to be in some sort of cave. It is small and cosy with a fire lit in the center slowly cooking some sort of creature I had never seen before. As the flames flicker furiously the shadows stood surrounding me also flicker. I get a glimpse of the stranger. They are tall with toned golden-brown skin; their clothes are ripped as if they had been mauled by a tiger. They have dark brown hair about shoulder length, neither groomed nor cleaned. Their skin appears to have lots of wounds; burn marks like none I have ever seen before, scratches as long as a belt and bruises as dark as the midnights sky. I walk out the cave ready to continue my journey through this hell but the figure, who turns out to be a man, grabs hold of my arm. “What are you doing here?” He questions. “I don’t know” I mutter back with a worried tone in my voice. “How do I get out of here?” I ask optimistically. He looks me dead in the eyes and stared at me for a few seconds… and a few more… and then he stated “There is no way out. No one gets out of here…”

 

ANONYMOUS

Popular Music Extended Diploma Level 3 Year 1

In another world where sheep are the smartest, most powerful species

Old McDonalds: Now a farm?


#FreeHumans, I’m an upcoming sheep trying to make it into the writing scene and to get my points across, I do NOT think we should imprison humans and eat them, I strongly believe they should be free to roam like EVERY other animal on our planet. Although people fear this due to the conspiracy theories and movies where humans get smarter and take over the world I can assure you this will NOT happen, do you really think that’s the case?


Have you watched that film Dr Dolittle? Where that one sheep can speak to the humans… What if that isn't that insane and if we actually spend some time teaching them how to speak our language, they could do exactly that. 


Queuing up to get an 8oz human burger, most fast food restaurants are packed all the time so I'm sure many others won’t agree with my opinion to not imprison the humans and let them roam freely. Only 8% of us are vegetarian and humans being the only ‘meats’ that we eat. I'm sure many people will struggle to let that go but I’m sure we can drop the numbers of humans being eaten!


We don’t even need them for clothes… WE HAVE WOOL. I get that they’re great for moving objects as they’re built similarly to our monkeys, but they shouldn’t be caged and should only have to move things for us voluntarily as the monkeys do.

 

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