How does ‘The Breakfast Club’ depict the separation of social groups in high school? ‘The Breakfast Club’ cleanly outlines the stereotypes surrounding high school and social groups, a factor very hard to miss whilst watching. It portrays each of the five characters to be as different from one another as humanly possible, separating them from…
Enter Beatrice and Benedick. Beatrice: Oh, look at this dizzy-eyed Benedick, blinded by the thought of ‘love’. Wasn’t it he who said that he truly loved none? So whatever has changed him? Benedick: Beatrice, oh Beatrice, where art thou Beatrice? Beatrice: Ugh, he’s like a hell-hated demon! For as much as he wants to love,…
Cheesy/weird/romantic/tragic supernatural story about the cliched angel x demon pairing.
As we lay side by side on the creaky double sized bed, she poured out a section of her heart she’d never shown to anyone before. She whispered quietly into my ear that she was scared, scared of death and all things to come. Her words forced tears from my eyes and anguish from my…
Eir (pronounced as ‘air’) was Chase’s muse, who helped him see the world in a different light. When Eir’s health begins to fail her after an accident, what will become of Chase?
In the world as of now, over 7 billion people thrive among the surface. This is a short story of the world as it would be, if time slowed in a single moment.
Meaningless voices scream into the deafening silence that is the inner workings of my mind. Her luminous eyes pierce my own. For the briefest of brief moments, our eyes have met; two pairs of isolated eclipses falling upon one another. One surrounded in green, the other in brown. The shrieks of first life sound at…
Thoughts caress my mind Lingering like souls trapped in limbo Locked up infractions in the chambers No guard dare venture Words that once really mattered But got lost on the way Undelivered packages of psycho babble Tossed in the incinerator Ashes brushed away like dust under the rug Soda bubbles and fizzes out…
A friend of mine once told me he wanted to be a pair of scissors At him I laughed hysterically for over five minutes He turned and asked me ‘What’s so funny?’ I replied saying ‘Don’t you want to make money?’ He gave me the strangest of strange looks And handed over to me the…
Performance poetry about the life in a relationship.
Her watch ticked on and on, with each passing second the thick droplets of blood made themselves known amongst the hairs on my shaking and ashen arms. What have I done? My once curious eyes were filled with horror and dread as I looked into the reflection of them through her own lifeless pair. My…
They each sat at a point on the chalky pentagram drawn on the creaky wooden floorboards up in the attic. They thought that they were about to summon a ghost, but little did they know, I was already there. They positioned six white candles in front of them, with one flickering for attention in the…
There’s nothing scarier than, when late at night, a knock on your front door breaks the silence of your empty house—while you’re a 10-year-old boy—and you’re home alone. “Thud! Thud! Thud!” the door banged vigorously as it was bombarded by someone—or something. Shivers rushed down my spine as I lay on my bed motionless, unable…
It was July 7, x777. Today was the day the sky turned to blood and began to shatter like shards of glass.
Libby settled by the curtains, contemplating what the colour of the walls should be. “Blue,” Carlos said as he was engulfed by the waves of his wife’s eyes. Libby pondered out the window, casting a shadow on the wall behind her. “It could work,” started Libby, her shadow growing larger. “But it would clash with…
Jones was dying. He felt his soul turning cold. The silent tapping of branches knocking at his half shut window. It was late. No one cared, no one noticed. Jones was fully aware he would never actually die, but sometimes, like tonight, it felt like his impossible end was near. Having lived through all the…
I had only lived a mere fifteen years when they diagnosed me. The emotions that swirled within my blood seemed to freeze as they told me the extent of my condition. My once warm smile was now an obstacle in the pathway of my hot and salty tears. My mother tried to comfort me, to…
The painful, unknown story behind elite SS assassin, Max Coden.
This year, we’ll be posting pieces fortnightly as part of our Journal writing. These pieces may be creative, opinion based, articles, poetry, or whatever the task calls for. We will be focusing each fortnight on ways that we can explore what we are studying, so we’re starting by looking at our creative writing skills. Our…
Year 9 English @ Bossley Park High 