EnglishMake sure you visit this page regularly to see some of the outstanding work done in English. Use the links opposite to see examples of model exam coursework. |
Year 10: Narratives Inspired by Art |
The Battle of WaterlooThe blissful moonlight shone upon the Duke of Wellington like the limelight of a sinister stage. All his life he had waited for this moment, but he never knew when it would come. To him, it felt like an eternity since he had seen his wife, but now he was wondering whether he was to ever see her again. Their parting was of sweet sorrow, yet despite their distance from each other; their love was stronger than ever before, giving them the burning ache of desire to see each other again to blaze harder than ever before. Nevertheless, the Duke had a duty to perform. The fate of the world rested upon on his shoulders. He could not fail. He should not fail. He would not fail. He had worked so long and so hard, he could not afford to fail never mind he could not fail. On the other hand, neither could Napoleon... READ MORE... |
Mona LisaLisa Gherardini had been sitting,
uncomfortably in a squalid room in northern Florence for nearly four
hours. Four hours! She had witnessed the room be lit up and made
colourful and warm by the soothing sunlight, and then cast
immediately back into the dark abyss that made it so frightfully
gloomy. She had watched the elderly chap (genius, her husband had
said) scramble with the array of parchments on his desk and swish
and dab with his paint brush for most of the experience, and now her
face could only be described as a grimace. She had overlooked a
portion of the dull-coloured paper peel off the tired old wall and
fly, free, into the cobbled streets, waving to the jealous wall from
whence it came. Free. That segment of dusty old parchment was free.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said of herself. |
Valiant Soldiers“One minute to the beach! One minute!” was the call from the front of the boat. I felt as if I was going to pass out; I felt sick and faint, my hands were clenched tight around my weapon, my knuckles had turned white. This was the dreaded day we had been preparing for, and even though I was more nervous than I had ever been before, I was ready. I was ready to fight. If we got this wrong we knew without a shadow of a doubt that we could perish in an instant. “Thirty seconds to the beach!”, my grip tightened around my weapon, I shut all other thoughts out of my head, I forgot about home, I forgot about all my family and my friends, I cleared my head of all other thoughts and focused all of my mental energy on the fight.READ MORE... |
The Oath of Horatii“Now, be gone mine sons and in answering
the Spartan call may you return with your shields or upon them!”
Adrastos ceremoniously handed the finely wrought swords, of the
House Admes, to his young fresh-faced sons. The uneasy warriors
took the swords tentatively, unsure whether to follow their
father’s will. Calisto, Kelt and Zenas clung anxiously to each
other, fearful of the impending war which they had been
reluctantly drafted into. The evening sun sat low on the
horizon, the last glimmers of light falling softly on the
gathered assembly. The air was eerily hushed, like the calm
before a storm, waiting in anticipation for the Spartans to
march to war. |
Year 9
Two Stories inspired by the title 'That Reminds Me'NICK'S VERSION: The garage door slid up, over my head. Inside, it was gloomy and everything seemed to be different shades of grey. I reached out and flicked the light switch and colours sprang out to me. The cricket bat was at the back. I shimmied through the bikes and carefully stepped over a toolbox. I climbed over and old rocking horse and scooped up the bat. |
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SEAN'S VERSION: It was a lovely summer’s day, and after coming home from a
long hard days work, I headed straight for the garden shed
for my shovel. Today was the day. Today I was going to dig
up the time capsule I buried all those years ago. Since
then, I’d almost forgotten, until now. Now I was finally
going to dig up and open it, and peer among the contents
that no man had seen for many years. I remembered the spot I
buried it, up on the hill; near the oak tree I had loved so
much as a child. The excitement mounted within me, building
higher and higher until I was sprinting full pace. The old
oak tree, withered, bullied by the harsh winds and heavy
rain, but still there and hopefully the same would be true
for my precious box. |