Day 3 Writing Homework
Prompt : Write a 400 word story about a character who finds a strange object hidden in your schoolbag. It’s small, old, and seems ordinary — but you quickly realize it holds a deeper meaning and unusual power. What is the object, and what does it symbolize? How does it change your thoughts, actions, or the people around you? Write a story where this object plays a key role and helps reveal something important about a character, a place, or a situation. Remember to still set the scene, identify a problem, build up to a climax and resolve the problem.
Late submissions will not be marked.
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : July 11, 2025
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17 thoughts on “Day 3 Writing Homework”
Title: The Key in the Bag
It was the kind of rainy Tuesday that soaked through your socks and your spirit. I slumped into my usual seat at the back of the classroom, my schoolbag thudding onto the floor with a heavy, wet sound. As I reached in for my history book, my fingers brushed something small and metallic, tucked deep into a torn corner of the lining.
I fished it out.
A key.
It was small and old, its bronze surface worn smooth with time. Jagged teeth, a looped handle, and a strange symbol carved into one side — a spiral tucked inside a triangle. It felt warm in my hand, oddly comforting, like it had been waiting for me.
At first, I thought someone had slipped it into my bag. But no one claimed it, and no one else even noticed it. The key stayed in my pocket. I’d find myself holding it during class, during lunch, when I couldn’t sleep at night. And that’s when I began to notice things.
The world around me sharpened. I saw how Mia, always so quiet, flinched when her phone buzzed. How Mr. Kline gripped the edges of the lab counter to stop his hands from shaking. I saw the exhaustion in Ms. Henderson’s eyes behind her firm, expressionless face. It was as if the key had unlocked something — not a door, but my awareness.
One evening, helping in the library, I noticed a shelf slightly off-track. Behind it: an old wooden door, with the same spiral-triangle symbol etched into the center. My heart thudded. I slid the key into the lock. It turned.
The room inside was small and forgotten. Dust hung in the air like mist. On a table sat a cracked mirror and a single leather-bound journal. I opened it.
Inside were handwritten pages — letters, confessions, and private thoughts of students who had come before me. Stories of pain, hope, fear, and loneliness. One line stopped me cold:
“I feel invisible. No one sees what I carry.”
That night, I understood. The key wasn’t magic in the fairy-tale sense — no glowing lights or secret powers. But it had changed me. I started speaking up, reaching out, listening. I wrote letters of my own and left them where someone might find them — tucked in books, slid under desks.
Then one morning, the key was gone.
I searched everywhere, but it had vanished as quietly as it had come. And still, I felt no panic.
Because I didn’t need it anymore.
The key had done its job. It had unlocked not a door, but something far more important — the part of me that finally saw others clearly.
Please see the attached PDF for your feedback.
2- 10-D3 -Inaaya Ullah
The lucky locket
riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing the school bell rang and I put my bag on the bag hook . I took out my pencil case and I saw a suspicious looking locket with sun and moon.I then put it on cos I didn’t care at all. I then saw a bully bennnex surldomcime who wants to be a fedex worker came to me and apologized for bullying and abusing me and normally he would never do something like that after fruit break and marking roll we had a mini test but we would hardly get over 50 % but somehow I got FULL MARKS😎! at lunch everyone wanted to play with me which would never occur in my life🤯then I realised this was all happening by my locket. I then told this to my best friend, then he spread the info until it reached the principal . During assembly the principal noted no more sun and moon lockets allowed in the school and everyone started staring at me but instead of being hectic I chose to take the matters into my own hands😎 .at recces I hid the locket at some place that where ever they looked they couldn’t find it and after a normal afternoon session I waited for the bell to ring. and when it rang I went to the place it was hidden then I took it and I hid it in my house so no one could even accidently take it.
I ducked just in the nick of time. The soccer ball could have knocked me off the top floor. Jack had powerful kicks but not once until now had he kicked a football on to the top floor. I couldn’t do it even when booting it and he could do it straight from the ground and into the air about ten metres high. I quickly ran into the classroom before any glass would shatter. Thankfully, the ball did not hit the glass and instead hit the wall. I still had to be careful though since he was very good at aiming.
After the first session, it was finally lunch. I ran to my food and raced my friends back until I saw a jumping shadow in my bag. I looked inside and found a small, dusty watch that had roman numerals on it. I looked at it with disbelieve. It was glowing with excitement, still jumping. I picked it up and blew a bit of dust off. It was showing the wrong time but the right date.
At playtime, I gathered them and showed them my discovery. I explained that I found it just before racing my friends back. They asked if they could hold it I said , “Yes.” Some random strangers near by went to see what me and my friends were talking about. They asked if they could see it and hold it and I said , “Yes,” again.
Later, when everyone was gone, I hid my watch in a hole in the third tree from the crossing gate on the right. I left it there over night.
There next ay, I came to school early so I could pick up my magical watch. When I looked in the hole of the third tree to the left, there was nothing in there. Then a dream struck my head and it said , ” The watch was so you could make friends. Nothing else.”
When my friends asked me if I had the watch, I said , “No.” I said I had lost it. I felt good that I had made new friends and I will never forget that mysterious watch.
I get whacked on the face with the teachers ruler oh wait it was a dream but it wasn’t. This wasn’t your normal school it was where the definion of normal didnt exist. The badge of the school was implanted in the uniform it was… unique not a single school even had a single one. Most of the children had powers but mine was just light… Dad say am special and it means guiding.
It started on a normal Tuesday. The kind that feels like a filler between my important days. I was running late, again, tossing books and a half eaten granola bar into my backpack with the same panic tone that now because my morning routine. When i was about to zip my bag up i noticed something that i couldn’t stop not looking at. I swear I hadn’t seen it before. I didn’t think much of it, so i went to school.
School was a dull place.
It wasn’t till lunch, when I dug though my bag for my charger, that’s where i found it again. The same mysterious circular item. Mixed with purple, pink, blue and aqua. It shimmered like the oceans shimmering faintly, like moonlight on water, and the continents seemed to shift ever so slightly. I watched it closely for a minute. It was a globe. Small enough to fit in my palms.
I glanced around me. No one saw me nor the globe. I left it on the table, but something in me said , take it.
That night, I placed the glob on my desk.
Suddenly it started to get warmer and warmer. I was spinning lazily faster and faster every time. It was like someone was haunting me.
When it stopped spinning i realized that i was not in my room anymore, but in the globe.
The outside seemed beautiful, inside it was like 10 elephants had just trampled over the whole universe.
I couldn’t go back. Since the glob land had been destroyed.
The only way to escape was to fix up the globe’s heart.
Soon, I gathered the courage and set off to find the broken pieces of the globs heart in the center of the globe.
I head to a near by cave and found a dragon sleeping with a broken piece. That’s when i really got scared.
I tip toed to the dragon and sneakily tugged the piece out of his hand.
There was still 2 more pieces to find.
I managed to find a piece buried in the sand.
The last piece hid in the silence I never would off dared to sit with.
When i was about to lose hope i found a hole in the ground, so i dug of a bit and found a chest.
Click!
The chest sighed open, as if it was exhaling secrets all along. Inside lay the final piece, quiet as forgotten truths.
I ran towards the globs heart and placed the last piece then finally teleported back to my room.
Droplets of water ripped open from the heavy clouds above pouring on over the world, the sky turned to a gloomy arena where something bad was hinting. It was raining cats and dogs while my umbrella started to scream like a newborn baby just pulled out of sleep, creating unusual shapes in mid-air fall. I restlessly carried myself over the luring polished pavements. The day unravelled like a picture that flipped open from Leonardo Da Vinci’s colourful transcendent sketchbook. I explored my adventurous hand through my metallic weaved precariously reminiscent bag, covered in turquoise, for the attempt to find the ultimate savour to my horrendous nightmare, the metal key to literature. The wind roared and the leaves howled, plotting something bad is going to happen…
“AHA”, I boosted in ebullient energy as I had touched upon a key that acted in the place of my partner, the paper folded under my hands spelling the plot twist that I had planned earlier while whispering dune tones of what the techniques master Tim had shown me. I started scribbling down more ideas that were bought along to my plan while perspiration gasped the core of my right hand. My pencil nearly dropping out, but I continued to right. Now my hand had started to ache like a gun fire shot on my hand, the scene was like anything. As my light in my room started to flicker like the last ballet I saw with my grandpa last Christmas, half of my face was painted in an ultimate glow while the other half danced with tantalizing shadows akin to Caravaggio’s resplendent painting reminiscent to her technique of chiaroscuro (the ultimate play of light and shadow).
The sky turned into a darkish blue as another day started to end like my narrative now. My hands half alive blasted into the cacophony of hurt as the wind now blended into the sky. This key was about to miserably get lost and if so, it did happen I was domed. The nearly dried pathway now busted into tears from being stepped on as each intricate atom that was weaved on this very surface while it sang the symphony of my old distorted violin in orchestra and harmony together.
Title: The mysterious sock
Ding! Ding! Ding! I put my handball in my bag, when I realised a mysterious sock– it wasn’t there before. “How’d it get there?” I thought to myself.
“What are you waiting for?” My friends questioned me. “Come on. The bell rang.”
“I know, I’m coming!” I yelled back. I picked up the mysterious sock. “What the heck is this doing here?” I thought to myself.
“Are you coming or not?” My friends questioned. I put the sock back in my bag and walked up to class. I sat on my desk. I didn’t notice but I wasted a lot of time.
“Hello! Earth to Samuel! Earth to Samuel!” My teacher got impatient. “Samuel!”
“Y e a h ?” I said slowly.
“Are you paying attention?”
“W h a t ?”
“Are you paying attention!” She screamed impatiently.
“Of course!” I said still focusing on the mysterious sock I saw in my bag earlier.
At recess I got the mysterious sock out of my bag. I took a closer look then, “Samuel.”
“Ahhhhhh!” I quickly looked behind me.
“You fell for it. Ha!”
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s very funny!”
“Shut Up!”
“Okay.” On the way to class, I realised I lost the sock! At lunch I was finding the mysterious sock.
Then, “Samuel?”
“I’m not falling for it again!” Except my friends were nowhere to be seen! “Who was it then?” I thought. Just then, I saw the sock, except it was held by a demon! “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Then I realised no-one was around me except for the demon! Then I got an idea. Maybe if I get the sock everything will be back to normal. Then I realised the demon was coming closer to me! “Wh-wh-what d-do y-you w-want?” I stammered in horror. “H-how do I g-go back to n-normal?”
“You’ll have to get the sock.” He answered robotically.
“You have it though.”
“Exactly!” It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. So much for a sock. I sneakily followed him. After a lot of sneaking and moving, I got to this fortress. I waited for the perfect time. There wasn’t a second to waste. I hid merely seconds before the guards came. Right next to me I saw a chest. Inside it was the sock!
“Well that was easy!” I thought to myself, except the guards saw me.
“Uh-oh!” I sprinted for my life. I held the sock for enough time to send me back to Earth!
It was a thunder storming day with lightning strikes stroke in Malevolent on the sky. As I was walking down the narrow hallway and into my classroom, something buzzed, it buzzed like a fly stuck in the blinds of a massive window. I was delayed in my classroom by thinking what was in the bag. The teacher told us to fetch our math books; I fetched something else. I fetched an old, rusty coin with ridiculous symbols of fire and a four-leaf clover. I asked the class if this was someone’s coin, but no one responded. I put the coin back into my soaked bag I wondered what would happen If I flipped the coin?
Me and my friends are going to find that at break time. Today was inside break time because of the thunderstorm outside. We carefully took the disruptive coin out of my soaking bag and then… A GRAB A TOSS A SPLAT. It landed on the fire symbol. Then My Bag went on fire, well not that much because my bag was fireproof. The smoke arose and headed directly for the fire alarm, making us evacuate. The school found the fire alarm was not genuine. We were back in class looking onto our history, everybody was focused because today was a test, but I was not focused on history, I was focused on the mysterious coin that triggered the fire alarm.
I flipped the coin another time and got the four leafed clover. “Test time, students,” said the teacher sensibly. I forgot I did not listen to the teacher because she was giving out tips. We had 5 minutes and 10 questions to answer. The teacher said that It was easy, so I think I can get high marks… This is not good the am still on the first question and there is 30 seconds left. I went for it; I guessed every question and thought my parents are going to get disappointed when I show my marks. In a flash we got our marks back. When I saw my marks, I was astonished, I got all of them right, I got 100%. I was superior with joy as I guessed everything and still got 100%, Hah, talk about luck. But seriously, what is about this coin. That night I sat on my new MacBook which I recently got because of the 100% on my history exam. Well, I took a photo and searched it up on the internet, but there were no matches.
As I was on my laptop I searched up these mysterious Symbols, the fire one means bad luck and also fire but the four leafed clover meant luck and joy embracing I got full marks on my test because flipped the coin and it landed on the four-leaf clover.
The Title was : The COIN
The familiar weight of my schoolbag felt oddly different that Tuesday morning. I slung it onto my desk, the usual thud replaced by a muffled clink. Reaching for my textbook, my fingers brushed against something hard, cold, and undeniably out of place. It was a skull talisman, no bigger than my thumb, carved from what felt like ancient, petrified wood. Its eye sockets, hollow as forgotten dreams, seemed to bore into me even in the dim classroom light. A shiver, like a ghostly whisper, traced its way down my spine. This wasn’t some forgotten trinket; it radiated an aura of age, of secrets whispered across centuries.
My best friend, Liam, a living god of sarcasm and annoyingness, nudged me. “Earth to Maya? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, you know, a pop quiz.” ( Thats him trying to be funny) I quickly shoved the talisman deeper into my bag, a growing unease coiling in my stomach. The air around me seemed to thicken, heavy with an unspoken dread. The skull, I instinctively knew, was a harbinger, a tiny symbol of impending doom. Its presence in my bag felt less like an accident and more like a carefully laid trap, a prophecy waiting to unfold.
Later that day, during the dreaded math lesson, Mr. Harrison, a man whose lectures were as predictable as the tides, started coughing. It began subtly, a polite clearing of the throat, but it quickly escalated into a rattling, lung-wrenching hacking. Panic, a wild current, surged through the classroom. His face, usually a placid canvas, contorted in a grimace. As the coughing intensified, I noticed a strange glow emitting from my bag. The talisman pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible warmth against my leg, a silent siren in the rising cacophony. It was then, amidst the chaos, that I remembered the school’s persistent rumors: the old wing, where our classroom was located, was built over an ancient burial ground. A cold dread, far deeper than any fear of math, settled over me. The skull wasn’t just a symbol; it was an active participant, a conductor of the dark energy that was now suffocating the room.
Mr. Harrison collapsed, a crumpled heap of tweed and chalk dust. And then the classroom erupted in cries because there, right in our midst was a single ghost!. The ghost gave a daunty howl and high pitched scream only to poof into the air. Not soon after did the principal, Mr La Campo come and relieve us from the the doom but also reveal that this was no joke, but reality. I then realised the true depth and meaning of this skull.
The meaning of death……..
The familiar weight of my schoolbag felt oddly different that Tuesday morning. I slung it onto my desk, the usual thud replaced by a muffled clink. Reaching for my textbook, my fingers brushed against something hard, cold, and undeniably out of place. It was a skull talisman, no bigger than my thumb, carved from what felt like ancient, petrified wood. Its eye sockets, hollow as forgotten dreams, seemed to bore into me even in the dim classroom light. A shiver, like a ghostly whisper, traced its way down my spine. This wasn’t some forgotten trinket; it radiated an aura of age, of secrets whispered across centuries.
My best friend, Liam, a living god of sarcasm and annoyingness, nudged me. “Earth to Maya? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, you know, a pop quiz.” ( Thats him trying to be funny) I quickly shoved the talisman deeper into my bag, a growing unease coiling in my stomach. The air around me seemed to thicken, heavy with an unspoken dread. The skull, I instinctively knew, was a harbinger, a tiny symbol of impending doom. Its presence in my bag felt less like an accident and more like a carefully laid trap, a prophecy waiting to unfold.
Later that day, during the dreaded math lesson, Mr. Harrison, a man whose lectures were as predictable as the tides, started coughing. It began subtly, a polite clearing of the throat, but it quickly escalated into a rattling, lung-wrenching hacking. Panic, a wild current, surged through the classroom. His face, usually a placid canvas, contorted in a grimace. As the coughing intensified, I noticed a strange glow emitting from my bag. The talisman pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible warmth against my leg, a silent siren in the rising cacophony. It was then, amidst the chaos, that I remembered the school’s persistent rumors: the old wing, where our classroom was located, was built over an ancient burial ground. A cold dread, far deeper than any fear of math, settled over me. The skull wasn’t just a symbol; it was an active participant, a conductor of the dark energy that was now suffocating the room.
Mr. Harrison collapsed, a crumpled heap of tweed and chalk dust. And then the classroom erupted in cries because there, right in our midst was a single ghost!. The ghost gave a daunty howl and high pitched scream only to poof into the air. Not soon after did the principal, Mr La Campo come and relieve us from the the doom but also reveal that this was no joke, but reality. I then realised the true depth and meaning of this skull.
The meaning of death……..
The strange object
The strange object
Droplets of water ripped open from the heavy clouds above pouring on over the world, the sky turned to a gloomy arena where something bad was hinting. It was raining cats and dogs while my umbrella started to scream like a newborn baby just pulled out of sleep, creating unusual shapes in mid-air fall. I restlessly carried myself over the luring polished pavements. The day unravelled like a picture that flipped open from Leonardo Da Vinci’s colourful transcendent sketchbook. I explored my adventurous hand through my metallic weaved precariously reminiscent bag, covered in turquoise, for the attempt to find the ultimate savour to my horrendous nightmare, the metal key to literature. The wind roared and the leaves howled, plotting something bad is going to happen…
“AHA”, I boosted in ebullient energy as I had touched upon a key that acted in the place of my partner, the paper folded under my hands spelling the plot twist that I had planned earlier while whispering dune tones of what the techniques master Tim had shown me. I started scribbling down more ideas that were bought along to my plan while perspiration gasped the core of my right hand. My pencil nearly dropping out, but I continued to right. Now my hand had started to ache like a gun fire shot on my hand, the scene was like anything. As my light in my room started to flicker like the last ballet I saw with my grandpa last Christmas, half of my face was painted in an ultimate glow while the other half danced with tantalizing shadows akin to Caravaggio’s resplendent painting reminiscent to her technique of chiaroscuro (the ultimate play of light and shadow).
The sky turned into a darkish blue as another day started to end like my narrative now. My hands half alive blasted into the cacophony of hurt as the wind now blended into the sky. This key was about to miserably get lost and if so, it did happen I was domed. The nearly dried pathway now busted into tears from being stepped on as each intricate atom that was weaved on this very surface while it sang the symphony of my old, distorted violin in orchestra and harmony together.
Droplets of water ripped open from the heavy clouds above pouring on over the world, the sky turned to a gloomy arena where something bad was hinting. It was raining cats and dogs while my umbrella started to scream like a newborn baby just pulled out of sleep, creating unusual shapes in mid-air fall. I restlessly carried myself over the luring polished pavements. The day unravelled like a picture that flipped open from Leonardo Da Vinci’s colourful transcendent sketchbook. I explored my adventurous hand through my metallic weaved precariously reminiscent bag, covered in turquoise, for the attempt to find the ultimate savour to my horrendous nightmare, the metal key to literature. The wind roared and the leaves howled, plotting something bad is going to happen…
“AHA”, I boosted in ebullient energy as I had touched upon a key that acted in the place of my partner, the paper folded under my hands spelling the plot twist that I had planned earlier while whispering dune tones of what the techniques master Tim had shown me. I started scribbling down more ideas that were bought along to my plan while perspiration gasped the core of my right hand. My pencil nearly dropping out, but I continued to right. Now my hand had started to ache like a gun fire shot on my hand, the scene was like anything. As my light in my room started to flicker like the last ballet I saw with my grandpa last Christmas, half of my face was painted in an ultimate glow while the other half danced with tantalizing shadows akin to Caravaggio’s resplendent painting reminiscent to her technique of chiaroscuro (the ultimate play of light and shadow).
The sky turned into a darkish blue as another day started to end like my narrative now. My hands half alive blasted into the cacophony of hurt as the wind now blended into the sky. This key was about to miserably get lost and if so, it did happen I was domed. The nearly dried pathway now busted into tears from being stepped on as each intricate atom that was weaved on this very surface while it sang the symphony of my old, distorted violin in orchestra and harmony together.
Droplets of water ripped open from the heavy clouds above pouring on over the world, the sky turned to a gloomy arena where something bad was hinting. It was raining cats and dogs while my umbrella started to scream like a newborn baby just pulled out of sleep, creating unusual shapes in mid-air fall. I restlessly carried myself over the luring polished pavements. The day unravelled like a picture that flipped open from Leonardo Da Vinci’s colourful transcendent sketchbook. I explored my adventurous hand through my metallic weaved precariously reminiscent bag, covered in turquoise, for the attempt to find the ultimate savour to my horrendous nightmare, the metal key to literature. The wind roared and the leaves howled, plotting something bad is going to happen…
“AHA”, I boosted in ebullient energy as I had touched upon a key that acted in the place of my partner, the paper folded under my hands spelling the plot twist that I had planned earlier while whispering dune tones of what the techniques master Tim had shown me. I started scribbling down more ideas that were bought along to my plan while perspiration gasped the core of my right hand. My pencil nearly dropping out, but I continued to right. Now my hand had started to ache like a gun fire shot on my hand, the scene was like anything. As my light in my room started to flicker like the last ballet I saw with my grandpa last Christmas, half of my face was painted in an ultimate glow while the other half danced with tantalizing shadows akin to Caravaggio’s resplendent painting reminiscent to her technique of chiaroscuro (the ultimate play of light and shadow).
The sky turned into a darkish blue as another day started to end like my narrative now. My hands half alive blasted into the cacophony of hurt as the wind now blended into the sky. This key was about to miserably get lost and if so, it did happen I was domed. The nearly dried pathway now busted into tears from being stepped on as each intricate atom that was weaved on this very surface while it sang the symphony of my old, distorted violin in orchestra and harmony together.
My eyes soared up as I hesitated every single time I went a step with my weighty 10kg bagpack. My mind shattered with thoughts about what’s causing my bag to feel like holding 5 tonnes.
As soon as I made it to the school gate, my mouth soared up leaving it with an unquestionable feeling. I zipped open my bag, not expecting an astonished look glued to my face. I tried not to panic and hid the object in the far end of my bag.
Maybe it was a key? Oh, don’t be stupid! Why would a golden blemished key stand in the front section of my unpleasant, hideous bag. Two different things that would never go together.
I then forgot all about that key thing and walked to class. “ Nature is important to help our ecosystem and the society we are living in, ” said Ms Hudson.” The only thing I was hearing was, “ look inside your bag.” I trembled silently in my tummy as I faked a smile, pretending I was concentrating.
After what felt like an eternity of convincing, I slid my hand into the back pocket of my bag. It was then I realized the key had grown ten times its original size.
“Use the key for the object beside you.” It was Paula’s locker. No one ever dared to speak a word to her. I unlocked her locker, and it gleamed with a golden, vibrant light, revealing her backstory.
She struggled with a common issue: an inability to express herself. The bullying she endured at her previous school continued unabated in her new environment.
The struggles faced by Leah, Mia, and Tady—such as Leah’s mother passing away just before her birthday, Mia’s secret financial difficulties, and Tady’s adoption by an unfriendly family—shed light on the reasons behind their social isolation and experiences with bullying.
Tears welled up, and I tried to hide them, but they revealed a lifetime of buried stories. I couldn’t hold back my quiet sobs.
I arrived the next day in good spirits, with the key readily accessible in my pocket. I initiated anti-bullying campaigns highlighting their impact on individuals. I displayed posters encouraging people to offer a smile or a hug. Additionally, I posted messages promoting open communication, ensuring that if anyone felt isolated, a group of four elected individuals would be available to listen and help them through their difficulties.
Our school has since transformed into a more vibrant and conducive environment for learning. This experience opened my eyes to the struggles others faced; what I once dismissed as odd, I now understand completely!