Day 2 Writing Homework
Prompt :
Write a narrative ( 400-500 words) about a musician who finds a timeworn instrument in a hidden place. The instrument has a strange, almost human resonate and is intertwined with a local legend of a forgotten musician.
1. Begin with a shock
2. Use sound focused sensory imagery
3. Show, not tell
4. Use precise verbs
5. Vary sentence openings
6. Build towards a final performance
Slides: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_m7kxnl7YgJ4fatIgwAqCk6X-Qo9p238?usp=sharing
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- Due Date : October 2, 2025
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13 thoughts on “Day 2 Writing Homework”
My homework
The rusty old man entered his own room trying to find all his memories, the music, the instrument, the life of his. Everything he wanted. Till he heard a perfect guitar song like he once played. He followed the sound. Was it his thought or someone else playing it ? He kept on walking. Was it his wife who left and wanted to see him again. He wondered “Maybe someone bought his house and started playing it. He tried to find his memory. The wind whispered in the house. He found it. “Betty!” he cried in a hoarse voice “I missed you. I was trying to find you!” Then a creak whispered. Was it the new owner of this house? He saw a old woman in a nightie. He gasped at the old woman. “Jake. Put that old rusty fragile thing away.” she screeched softly.
” I will not put Betty the Guitar away Miranda! Betty is my life!!!” He yelled. at his life
“Fine I will go to New York to see our son. You can stay here in Michigan!” She yelled. She shut the door and stormed away He performed in an concert and lived a life.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5RWD2-Muni Marudhamuthu
In the sleepy coastal town of Windmere, where mist clung to the cliffs and gulls cried like ghosts, a young musician named Elio wandered in search of inspiration. He had grown weary of the polished perfection of modern instruments and longed for something raw, something that could speak to the soul.
One autumn afternoon, Elio stumbled upon an abandoned chapel nestled between two crumbling hills. Ivy strangled its stone walls, and the stained glass windows had long since surrendered to time. Drawn by a whisper of wind that sounded oddly melodic, he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.
The air was thick with dust and silence. At the far end of the chapel, beneath a collapsed altar, Elio spotted a peculiar shape wrapped in faded velvet. He knelt and uncovered a violin its wood darkened with age, its strings dulled but intact. The scroll was carved into the likeness of a weeping face, and the body bore faint etchings that resembled musical notes intertwined with vines.
Elio cradled the instrument, feeling a strange warmth pulse through his fingers. When he drew the bow across the strings, the sound that emerged was unlike anything he had heard. It was mournful, rich, and eerily human. Each note seemed to carry a voice, as if the violin itself remembered sorrow.
Back in town, whispers stirred. Old-timers spoke of the legend of Aurelio Vance, a virtuoso who had vanished a century ago. They said his music could make the sea weep and the stars tremble. Some claimed he had made a pact with the wind, binding his soul to his beloved violin so that his melodies would never die.
Elio became obsessed. He played the violin day and night, and with each session, the music grew more complex, more haunting. He began to dream of Aurelio visions of a man with silver hair and hollow eyes, playing atop the cliffs as storms raged around him. The dreams felt less like imagination and more like memory.
One evening, Elio performed at the town square. As he played, the wind rose, swirling around him in a dance. The townsfolk watched in awe as the music seemed to bend the air, drawing tears and stirring forgotten emotions. When the final note faded, silence fell like snow.
Elio lowered the violin and looked to the cliffs. There, just for a moment, stood the ghostly figure of Aurelio, nodding in approval before vanishing into the mist.
From that day on, the chapel was no longer abandoned. Musicians came from far and wide, hoping to hear the wind sing. And Elio, keeper of the timeworn violin, played not just for the living, but for the legend that had found voice once more.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5RWD2-Helina
In a abandoned house, in the silent and pitch black attic, there lay a once-beautiful guitar, now in ruins. Its bronze coating was fading away while the string began to resemble cobwebs recklessly straightened. Timeworn it was, it looked as if it would be left undiscovered from the rest of humanity. Left in a ever-lasting slumber, it finally woke up to the sound of a door creaking in the distance.
There, entering the house is Leonardo Colombo, a beginner musician graduating with the highest distinction in his report cards in college. Now he was looking for a job to earn enough money for a guitar. Unfortunately, nobody trusts young adults that just can out of school. So his Leonardo’s best chance to scrape a living was to search for scraps in ancient ramshackle buildings. That’s how he came across what would lead him to destiny.
Creeping into the lonely two-storied house, Leonardo tip-toed through the sinister hallway, paintings stripped with old age along with piles of desks upturned, looking as if on touch of it would disintegrate the wooden object into fine powdered dust. Broken vases littered the fragile floor, placing a hazard of creating a cut on the heel of the foot. Leonardo sneaked his way around the inside of the house, every step vibrating across the rooms and bringing suspense
He finally reached the attic, carefully sliding the dilapidated hatch onto a lone box seated right next to the entrance. As Leonardo climbed out of the trapdoor opening, his eyes scanned the garret and eventually landed onto the splintered instrument. To a professional musician, this was to be considered garbage. But for him, this was a spark of hope. Leonardo slithered towards the guitar, his pupils filled with obsession, as the path to destiny came closer until it was in his arms, like a caring mother holding a newborn child. A grin appeared on his face after years of despair. That was going to be the best day he ever experienced.
Leonardo finally rushed out of the hut, the instrument in his arms and determination in his brain. Greatness was up ahead. But there needed to be some tweaks before it was time to shine. With the extra wooden remains from other items, Leonardo repaired the shattered guitar with expert refinement. It no longer resembled a heap of wood recklessly glued together. The instrument looked more professional, with its fresh streaks of bronze paint and new replaced sliver strings. Now the only problem was to attract an audience.
Leonardo had learned in his years in a high school for music that copyrighting a song was found illegal if unregistered. There wound be a heavy fine and many other things that will damage your reputation. To avoid this sort of conflict, Leonardo Colombo decided to create a new song himself. Songwriting was extremely difficult and exhausting, especially without accidentally acquiring a idea that has been used. But with the help of ten years of college experience, he was able to compose a set of lyrics for his new piece.
Now he needed a publisher, but who would produce a song from a person almost consider a beggar. Months passed by and soon his rejections by judges skyrocketed to over 400. The same feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed Leonardo as his total continue to rise. It was getting too stressing to try again. And just at the moment he was going to give up on himself, his luck changed. Fortunately, as he made his way out of the studio, Leonardo bumped into a person who turned out to be a publisher herself. She was much more considerate that the other deciders, who valued wealth and profit over quality. Leonardo then got his song officially published, after a whopping 600 fails. And before, he knew it, it was show time.
Years pass and Leonardo became a worldwide hero, performing songs so incredibly, he was known as Mahmood’s ‘son’. His story was shared across the planet, from the icy tips of Greenland to the scorching Southern shores of Australia. Many of Leonardo’s pieces were often described as ‘lilting music wafting through the air like a friendly ghost filled to the brim with enlightenment’. The bond between him and his first faithful guitar on a news report on his life was known as ‘intertwined together like a flower to the rich soil’, which gave the air of resonance very common.
Leonardo is still alive today, joyfully strumming through the night on his guitar that had change his life.
Also my file if you want to check that it is not copied.
Day 2 Writing Homework
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5RWD2-Austin zhou
Strings of the forgotten
As Lucas walked into a place once filled with laughter and joy he felt a strange feeling of danger Creak! His immense weight broke a splintered floorboard in pieces sending him into a secret ancient underground tomb. Brave Lucas then explored the place to find his great great grandfathers guitar.
He rounded the corner, his heart pounded as if he ran 50 kilometres non-stop. And there it was, a half-hidden guitar in the shadows resting on his great great grandfathers coffin. When he touched it memories of all the bad things reverberated around him like shadows keeping a grave shut tightly for decades. Then there was a slight shock that caused Lucas to faint on the musty crusty dusty basement.
Hours passed and he woke up from this tragedy. His parents began to worry and called the police but they wouldn’t help because they said everyone who entered didn’t make it back. Lucas also began to worry if he would to survive. He walked like a drunk man because he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in the past 36 hours. Lucas snatched this soul guitar running outside and not looking back even once.
Back at his giant village his parents were so gratefully glad that he was safe and sound in their cozy safe home. Little did they know Lucas was going to please the whole village with his guitar skills healing everyone’s souls. As he wanted to sign up for the musical at a theatre he had to go past a audition. Then he started playing in delight to be there.
As he started playing this magical extraordinary guitar without a sheet of paper to glance but secretly in his head he had this written down “D3 A3 B7 C3 A8 A7 A8 A8 A8 A8” because the judges couldn’t read Lucas’ mind they instantly let him join the theatre band his guitar only let out green notes coming from it healing peoples souls by generating this wonderful music for the judges. “
By Kurtis
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5RWD2-Kurtis Lee
Teacher, by the way, about question 33 of english homework day 2 of course, why is the answer C cause they said that the vadalism happened in South Australia in the first paragraph:
An ancient Aboriginal artwork was vandalised in a holy cave in South Australia, reigniting outrage about
the lack of security at the heritage-listed site. Authorities have condemned the demolition as a “huge,
devastating loss” of “unique in Australia” artwork.
This is the extract I found it in.
Hi, Austin. Please message #ScholarlyAsk regarding your concern. 🙂
Soaring Melodies
Joanne stepped forward. The attic was dusty, but had a radiant light shining through, like a forgotten room that still had hope. In the attic, in a small corner of the room, was a violin. Joanne gasped. Was the violin still truly there? It was 587 years old, yet it still shone. Startled, she went and picked up the violin, reluctantly plucking it’s strings. Each ring was a whisper in the dark, the violin singing, wishing to be played once more. “Alright then!” Joanne sighed, “I do need a violin to play for the concert, so I might as well use you.”
Joanne set the violin down on her dining table. First, she needed to tune the discordant instrument. The violin sung a weak song as the pegs were turned. “Ah, well, I might as well change all of the strings,” Joanne sighed, “and get the bow rehaired.” Joanne began packing up the old violin, passed down from mother to daughter, mother to daughter, and so on. She packed it in her safest case, a muted magenta hard travel case, with a silk cover for her violin, and one extra light blue cover on top of the travel case. Now that I think of it, that just sounds so complicated. Oh well, it is the safest! She thought. AND the concert is in just one week! She gripped her violin case handle, and began walking to her favourite violin shop, Irwin Violins.
“WHAT! IT MIGHT TAKE 8 DAYS? BUT THE CONCERT IS IN 7 DAYS!” Joanne shrieked, furiously frowning. She couldn’t believe her ears. Joanne continued to panic, shooting Irwin with bullet of questions. At last, she calmed down, looked Irwin dead serious in the eyes and said, “Ok, I know you are probably stressed, because of me, but can you please try to get it done in 3 days? I need 4 days to get used to the violin, so please?” Irwin raised his eyebrow, before sighing and agreeing. “BUT Miss Huey, I may not be able to make it come by 3 days.” Joanne gasped as if she was having a stroke. “Hahahaha! It might take 2 days. I was joking!” he laughed, “I’ll have to you in around 3 days, hopefully.” Joanne smiled. Irwin was always very funny. They started talking about how much time Irwin would have. In the end, they both decided that Irwin would change the strings and the bow hairs as Joanne had to teach.
Joanne began walking away towards the school. It was 8 am, and she was already late. “Oh no! I’m late! Oh well. My first lesson is at 8:30… No big deal!” Joanne whispered, “If I walk a bit faster, I should be there by 8:25. Wait, it’s already 8:05? I need to walk even faster.” Joanne continued, hurrying while still being cautious. After 30 minutes, Joanne was running for time. Her first lesson was her best student, who also had a concert the next day. Joanne knew if she was any later, she would be fired, or at least that her student would not be successful the next day. Fortunately, Joanne made it one time. But when she went to her classroom, her student was not there. Instead, on her desk, read a note:
Dear Miss Huey,
You are late, so I left to go to Irwin violins as that is where I expect you to be.
I left this here to let you know, as on Mondays you usually travel by car.
If we don’t have a lesson, I will be pleased to have one either tomorrow at
7:00 am or today at 4:00 pm. – Lucy Monostrosi
Joanne sighed. How could this get any worse? Joanne sat at her desk and spun on her chair, checking her emails and messages. She read one against her siblings, Kylie and Luca. Kylie said: I heard you were late for your violin lesson with Lucy. Don’t ask, her mother, my employee told me. How can you nail a full concert if you can’t even go to your lesson on time? Luca replied: Really? That is bad. But honestly, how? Joanne felt tears weld at her eyes. They were supposed to support her, always have her back, never give up on her. But now they didn’t. Days went by. Joanne never was late for a single lesson, nor did she reply to them. Now her phone was blowing up with messages from Luca and Kylie asking her what was wrong. They already know. They started it, She thought, anger building up in her. At last, her violin was ready, she had practised for 18.5 hours and her concert was in a hour.
Joanne sat on a chair behind grand curtains, trembling. Not with fear, but an urge to play a song ringing in her head. A new song, an improvisation telling her story and how she was. A hour went by. It was finally the time to show her skills. Joanne walked onto the stage. She gave her intro and started playing what her heart called to play. Everyone was amazed. Especially Luca and Kylie, who sat there gaping at Joannes beautiful sound. I’m just playing what I am now, and no one can change that. Joanne thought. Suddenly, something came to mind. It was now like the violin was speaking to her as she played. “I told you. I gave you hope. Now we can both shine together,” it whispered. Once a silent voice in an attic, broken on the inside, now a shining star with a master to play with it. It wasn’t just a journey for Joanne, it was also for the violin.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5RWD2-Chloe Chan