Enjoy Ellie, Ignas and Jim’s writing and reflect on what good writers you are all becoming – and please add a comment in independent learning. (The writing this week was a modern retelling of the Goldilocks fairy tale. The focus was on adding detail to description, varying sentence structure and varying punctuation including experimenting with dashes.)
For as long as she could remember, Chloe had admired the beautiful, grand house that stood in the middle of Rosemale Road. Chloe imagined herself opening the small, rectangular gate and sitting on the perfectly-mowed lawn reading a good book. After that, she imagined sitting on the picnic bench under the willow tree and eating lunch, which would be made in the glorious kitchen, then trotting back up to the house to explore.
Leaning against the lamp post on the other side of the street, Chloe stared at the house. How she longed to live there! Her dream bubble was popped by a loud slam noise of a door in front of her. Three people came out: the mother, who had a sharp, pointed face and carefully plucked eyebrows, came out first; then came the father, who was slouched back like he couldn’t care less; finally came the son, skipping joyfully, blond curls bobbing (a typical child of three).
Chloe could see they hadn’t locked the door – her eyes flickered and twitched. She crossed the road and stared at the house. This was her chance to have a good look. She grabbed it. Chloe unlatched the gate, ran up the gravel path and opened the dark oak door. She was inside.
She stole into the house. She was quivering – goosebumps ran up her arm. She had done it. Finally. The grandfather clock chimed 12. She looked over to it and as she did she smelt the most amazing smell of soup, which was her favourite food. She sniffed and the smell led her to what she assumed was the kitchen. On the table in the middle were three bowls of soup. She looked at them. She smelt each one. She looked for the cutlery drawer, took out a spoon and took a big mouthful of soup from the biggest bowl. Her tongue was on fire but it gave her warmth. The bowl was too hot. Maybe she should try the smaller ones…
For as long as she could remember, Katarina had admired the house at the top of the hill. It was overflowing with multi-coloured flowers (of all types). It was a tall, elegant house with the finest lawn in the whole of the world. It had a beautiful gravel path that wound around a cherry tree and led you to the gigantic oak door at the front. The house was covered in the finest of red brick – constructed by the private building service.
The next day Katarina was hanging around the house when she heard the doors slam and a family of three came out. They were all wearing cream suits – apart from the mum who was wearing a cream dress – and they walked across the gravel drive to their range rover. Then it came into Katarina’s head – she could break in! So when the family was out of sight, she ran up the winding gravel path to the front oak doors and checked if anyone was looking. The door was open ajar, so she flicked off the latch and was in!
Katarina ended up in the hallway; it had the most beautiful chandelier and a massive spiral staircase. She decided to take her first left and she ended up in the kitchen. It was full of the most beautiful china. On the table were three plates of chicken, so she tried the first but it was too spicy; so she tried the last and it was just right. Once she had finished the thought came to her head that she had broken in. She felt anxious and excited at the same time and wondered what would happen next.
For as long as she could remember, Marsha had admired the light, elegant, glass-paneled house on the top of Curns Hill. She could imagine herself passing her time in the light-filled turret reading Full Metal Alchemist (her favourite manga). The front garden was flooded with roses and tulips and surrounded by hedges in all shapes and forms. Marsha, who was very envious of the owners of this house, stared at the roof-top jacuzzi , longing to be relaxing whilst watching TV. There was a long gravel road that went up to the house, which veered around a statue of a naked, golden cherub. Along the side of the house was a red-brick studio, which was half the size of the house, and also had a roof-top jacuzzi in between two long circular speakers.
Just then, a rich, Hispanic family came out through a heavily embroidered door. The dad – who had a fair, wavy, Donald Trump-like wig – led the family. All three of them, two adults and one child, trotted in an off-beat manner. Hiding behind a bush, Marsha had to hold herself back from exploring her dream house. The mum of the family – was was incredibly young – flicked her hair as if she was flirting. Then they all clambered into their chunky, white Range Rover and revved a couple of times and drove away with the back wheels spinning out of control on the gravel path. Marsha, who could not restrain herself any longer, ran up the drive way past the cherub, flicked the catch and was in. She looked back and saw the car pass the horizon.
Marsha took a deep breath and her lungs filled with the sweet aroma of roses, tulips and honey. As she looked around, she saw what looked like a hat rack but instead held the dad’s wigs! She traveled through the living room to the kitchen. Bang! Marsha froze. She was sure they had all left. But what if she was wrong? It was the dog – Marsha carried on. She saw a bowl of dark fruits: kiwis, plums, blackberries and blueberries. She stuffed them all in her mouth. The taste was like a party on Marsha’s tongue. The house was so messy – not what she had expected from an ‘upper-class family.’ Coffee cups everywhere, tea bags in the sink and even three slices of banoffee pie. With trembling hands, Marsha reached for the biggest slice of pie. Too creamy. Maybe the smallest would do…