Week 2 Writing Homework
Writing Prompt: Describe exploring an abandoned tree-house on a windy night.
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- Due Date : August 9, 2025
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Writing Prompt: Describe exploring an abandoned tree-house on a windy night.
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
14 thoughts on “Week 2 Writing Homework”
Abandoned treehouse
The treehouse glinted evilly in the moonlight,silver beams casting a brilliant,blinding white glow on one side,the other shrouded in darkness.It leers at me,mocking me with an evil grin.I grasp the frayed rope ladder,and begin to carefully climb the treehouse.The frail rope creaked under my weight; each creak was a moan of agony that would last an eternity.When
I finally hauled myself up onto the platform, my hands burning red and raw from the rope,shaking with exhaustion.I glance around at the treehouse-musty,mysterious and the question that’s been asked for decades finally solved.The crooked planks hang limp in the moonlight,stretched in a position of agony, and the smashed windows glitter like the diamonds of the fall of a great empress.But then I hear it.The steady heartbeat of the treehouse,despite a wound that has worsened,the treehouse is still alive.But as I glance around,I realize something.It’s dying.I glance at the half-collapsed cabinet,the beanbag chair slumped in a corner,and the rotting chair,all not even willing to fight,but to just leave this world.I suddenly realize I have to help this treehouse,to restore it and turn it into something better.As I slowly climb down the ladder,I start making small plans to improve the treehouse.And walking back,the icy wind tearing at my exposed flesh,the plan is fully formed.
Abandoned treehouse
The treehouse glinted evilly in the moonlight,silver beams casting a brilliant,blinding white glow on one side,the other shrouded in darkness.It leers at me,mocking me with an evil grin.I grasp the frayed rope ladder,and begin to carefully climb the treehouse.The frail rope creaked under my weight; each creak was a moan of agony that would last an eternity.When
I finally hauled myself up onto the platform,my hands burning red and raw from the rope,shaking with exhaustion.I glance around at the treehouse-musty,mysterious and the question that’s been asked for decades finally solved.The crooked planks hang limp in the moonlight,stretched in a position of agony, and the smashed windows glitter like the diamonds of the fall of a great empress.But then I hear it.The steady heartbeat of the treehouse,despite a wound that has worsened,the treehouse is still alive.But as I glance around,I realize something.It’s dying.I glance at the half-collapsed cabinet,the beanbag chair slumped in a corner,and the rotting chair,all not even willing to fight,but to just leave this world.I suddenly realize I have to help this treehouse,to restore it and turn it into something better.As I slowly climb down the ladder,I start making small plans to improve the treehouse.And walking back,the icy wind tearing at my exposed flesh,the plan is fully formed.
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2-Y4-Alina Cai
Branches clawed at the sky as I crept toward the tree-house, its crooked silhouette swaying under the weight of time. The house loomed above me like a forgotten watchtower, perched in the gnarled arms of an ancient gum tree. The damp, cold ladder groaned beneath my feet, every wooden rung splintered and cold like forgotten bones. My heart thudded in my chest. I climbed higher, each step echoing inside me, until finally, I reached the platform.
I paused. Something thudded a dull, echoing noise and I was frozen. Shadows danced on the ground like restless spirits. The air smelled of wet bark, old soil, and something musty, like a suitcase left too long in the attic. My torch flickered weakly in my hand. Somewhere behind me, a kookaburra laughed, sharp and jarring in the stillness. Every sound felt too loud for this. The air tasted like damp moss, so I grabbed the first rung. It was slick and rough, the grain raised and split from years of storms and silence. The door to the tree house was hanging off one hinge, swinging slowly in the wind, a breathless invitation. I stepped inside, the floorboards moaning underfoot, and the smell of mildew wrapped around me like a damp blanket. The walls were covered in peeling posters, faded by sun and rain, their once-bright colours now ghosts of childhood. A broken lantern lay on its side. Crayon drawings curled at the edges, pinned to the wall with rusty nails. A curtain flapped in the shattered window, whispering secrets to the night.
Branches clawed at the sky as I crept toward the tree-house, its crooked silhouette swaying under the weight of time. The house loomed above me like a forgotten watchtower, perched in the gnarled arms of an ancient gum tree. The damp, cold ladder groaned beneath my feet, every wooden rung splintered and cold like forgotten bones. My heart thudded in my chest. I climbed higher, each step echoing inside me, until finally, I reached the platform.I paused. Something thudded a dull, echoing noise and I was frozen. Shadows danced on the ground like restless spirits. The air smelled of wet bark, old soil, and something musty, like a suitcase left too long in the attic. My torch flickered weakly in my hand. Somewhere behind me, a kookaburra laughed, sharp and jarring in the stillness. Every sound felt too loud for this. The air tasted like damp moss, so I grabbed the first rung. It was slick and rough, the grain raised and split from years of storms and silence. The door to the tree house was hanging off one hinge, swinging slowly in the wind, a breathless invitation. I stepped inside, the floorboards moaning underfoot, and the smell of mildew wrapped around me like a damp blanket. The walls were covered in peeling posters, faded by sun and rain, their once-bright colours now ghosts of childhood. A broken lantern lay on its side. Crayon drawings curled at the edges, pinned to the wall with rusty nails. A curtain flapped in the shattered window, whispering secrets to the night.
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2-Y4-chasenew
Abandoned treehouse
The treehouse glinted evilly in the moonlight, silver beams casting a brilliant, blinding white glow on one side, the other shrouded in darkness.The silhouette of the abandoned treehouse stands out like a lone wolf shrouded in silver mist. It leers at me, mocking me with an evil grin.I grasp the frayed rope ladder, and begin to carefully climb the treehouse.The frail rope creaked under my weight; each creak was a moan of agony that would last an eternity.When
I finally hauled myself up onto the platform, my hands burning red and raw from the rope, I was shaking with exhaustion.I glance around at the treehouse-musty, mysterious and the question that’s been asked for decades finally solved.The crooked planks hang limp in the moonlight, stretched in a position of agony, and the smashed windows glitter like the diamonds of the fall of a great empress.But then I hear it.The steady heartbeat of the treehouse, despite a wound that has worsened, the treehouse is still there.Now, I realize just how long the treehouse has been abandoned.But as I glance around, I realize something, for the first time.It’s dying.I glance at the half-collapsed cabinet, the beanbag chair slumped in a corner, and the rotting stool, all not even willing to fight, but to just leave this world.I suddenly realize I have to help this treehouse, to restore it and turn it into something better.As I slowly climb down the ladder, I start making small plans to improve the treehouse.And walking back, the icy wind tearing at my exposed flesh, the plan is fully formed.
Abandoned treehouse
The treehouse glinted evilly in the moonlight, silver beams casting a brilliant, blinding white glow on one side, the other shrouded in darkness.The silhouette of the abandoned treehouse stands out like a lone wolf shrouded in silver mist. It leers at me, mocking me with an evil grin.I grasp the frayed rope ladder, and begin to carefully climb the treehouse.The frail rope creaked under my weight; each creak was a moan of agony that would last an eternity.When
I finally hauled myself up onto the platform, my hands burning red and raw from the rope, I was shaking with exhaustion.I glance around at the treehouse-musty, mysterious and the question that’s been asked for decades finally solved.The crooked planks hang limp in the moonlight, stretched in a position of agony, and the smashed windows glitter like the diamonds of the fall of a great empress.But then I hear it.The steady heartbeat of the treehouse, despite a wound that has worsened, the treehouse is still there.Now, I realize just how long the treehouse has been abandoned.But as I glance around,I realize something, for the first time.It’s dying.I glance at the half-collapsed cabinet, the beanbag chair slumped in a corner, and the rotting stool, all not even willing to fight, but to just leave this world.I suddenly realize I have to help this treehouse, to restore it and turn it into something better.As I slowly climb down the ladder, I start making small plans to improve the treehouse.And walking back, the icy wind tearing at my exposed flesh, the plan is fully formed.
The wind screamed through the trees like a warning, but I couldn’t resist. The abandoned tree-house at the edge of the woods had whispered my name for years—and tonight, I answered.
Branches clawed at my jacket as I climbed the hill. The tree-house loomed above, barely visible under the moonlight, swaying ever so slightly with the wind. Its wooden ladder, cracked and splintered, looked ready to fall apart, but I grabbed it anyway. One rung at a time.
Each step creaked like a groan from the past. Leaves blew in circles below me, and the trees shuddered all around. I reached the top, heart pounding, and slowly pushed open the trapdoor.
The hinges squealed.
The air inside was thick with dust and old wood. A broken lantern lay in one corner, and a stack of yellowed comic books in another. Spiderwebs hung like curtains, swaying gently as the wind seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I stepped inside, and the trapdoor slammed shut behind me. BANG.
I spun around, breath caught in my throat. Nothing but the shadows. I whispered, “Hello?”
No answer. Just the wind, moaning through the tiny window.
I crouched beside an old chest tucked in the corner, fingers trembling as I lifted the lid. Inside were small treasures—an old flashlight, a cracked compass, a notebook with faded scribbles: “Operation Ghost Watch — Day 11.”
I turned the page. “Something is in the woods. Watching. It only comes when the wind is loud.”
My blood turned to ice.
A soft creak echoed from behind me.
I whipped around.
A figure stood in the shadows. Not moving. Not speaking.
I blinked. It vanished.
The wind howled louder now, rattling the boards. The tree-house rocked. I ran to the trapdoor, yanked it open, and scrambled down the ladder, slipping on the final rung and landing hard.
I didn’t look back.
Behind me, the tree-house creaked again—like it was laughing.
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2 – Y4-Schol- Nanqiao YU
The abandoned, silent, untouched treehouse stood towering menacingly over me. The wolves howled far away and the owls hooted noisily. I touched the ancient, frayed rope, which was jagged and rough, and started climbing up. The ancient treehouse smelt like gasoline and smoke, so I had to hold my breath. It seemed like the dark bushes whispered “Don’t go up there!” To me, and the shadowy trees rasped “It’s not safe there!” But I just kept on going up. When I got to the top, I was puzzled by what I saw. It was a wooden chest with a sign on it stating “INSIDE IS A GHOST. DO NOT OPEN.” Yeah right, like I’d believe that, ghosts aren’t real. The floorboards creaked and moaned “Don’t open it, ghost inside!” To me, but I reached for the chest anyways. The next thing I knew, I was floating above the town, high, high above, like 100 meters above the treehouse! The gargantuan tree carrying the treehouse growled at me, “YOU TOUCHED THE CHEST. NOW YOU PAY THE CONSEQUENCES.” I was thinking hard, and I ended up screaming “I NEED A PARACHUTE!!!” And boom, there was a parachute in front of me. I was thinking, what unknown magic is this? As my mouth opened and I tasted the bitter air. I wanted to land on the ground and boom, I was on the ground. Then, I woke up from a deep slumber. Phew, that was just a nightmare!
ANCIENT TREEHOUSE
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2 – Y4-Schol- Caspar Luk
Abandoned Treehouse
Abandoned Treehouse
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2 – Y4-Schol- Jeff