Day 2 Writing Homework
Prompt :
Write a narrative (400-500 words) about a musician who finds a timeworn [instrument] in a hidden [place]. This instrument has a strange, almost human resonance and is intertwined with a local legend of a forgotten master musician. Begin with a hook Use sound-focused sensory imagery Show, not tell Use precise verbs Vary sentence openings Build towards a final performance.
Slides: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1kilkJlpNScyIWv1PqPylfwbn0FbGXZ6K?usp=sharing
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- Due Date : October 9, 2025
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17 thoughts on “Day 2 Writing Homework”
Jhon a musician scraping the old wood off his guitar got a customer was stomping through his way in to the shop leaving permanent footmarks in the thin wooden flooring inside of the shop .His facial expression was already enough for John too understand as he was tapping his finger with ultimate rage on the weak table .and said ” I wan’t that guitar now!” poor Jhon only had one guitar in his unorganised shop and that was for himself for the special concert that he had been preparing for ,but he knew he had to give it away or else the customer would spread rumours that Jhon would take the money and not give back the instrument .So he did but that was the problem he asked for money but the fusing customer had already left the shop while slamming the door making the whole shop shake .Nolw John was sad because he had only got he money from the concert due to the way that hen had twang the strings making the audience speechles only faces could tell how good he was .
Later that day there was a rainbow in the sky when he got a fantastic idea ,which was finding the end off the rainbow so he could get money .So the next day he set off in to the vast landscape until he found the start of then rainbow and then all he had to do was just to walk on. the rainbow until he had found the money ,but things weren’t going to be that easy since he’d heard that the rainbow goes really long with multiple challenges.As the days had passed birds were soaring high into the sky and eagles were chirping as john was just getting tired every more second that he had passed until he saw his first challenge.
His first challenge was balancing on ropes since ropes were connecting to the other sides, so he had to balance but with every step he took a loud creak was produced and sounded like someone was stepping on a hard can .As he was taking the steps his heart was in his mouth he could not even dare take on step wrong but gradually his nerves crept in slowly taking control of his body he was tense but just then he had reached to the other side . He took a deep breath and felt relieved as he started to walk again feeling relentless at the same time .He kept on walking until he met his final opponent which was a man with a massive axe which took out making a sharp noise the he charged forward with his feet thumping towards him But Jhon was so small that he had just dodged him and ran straight through his legs and outran that harsh man .
Finally ,he had reached the end of the rainbow and but he realised it wasn’t money at the end but it was a timeworn which he noticed was the once used by a famous musician and Took it back home and then he tried to play it and its note was so good and joyful that he had won the concert that week and became a wealthy man .
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1 – Y5RWD2 – Tavish Singh
sigh- ence :DDDDDD donate finally xd
Wk2 Writing
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1 – Y5RWD2 – zhuyingdorahotmail-com
Timeless Secrets
The rusty timeworn guitar lay down of the dusty floor, with cracks wide open. The wrinkled guitarist tuned each guitar strand meticulously, until he reached a sweet flowing melody that felt like whipped buttercream. A melancholy silence wafted across the empty room, each note resounding against the walls. Deep sighs accompanied the diminuendo attempted on the instrument. Something didn’t feel right for him. The song would go of tune, he would miss a note or play the wrong one. It had been a long since playing it— 67 years after trying to twang the guitar strings. He always wanted to become a professional guitarist, but something always held him back from moving on, a deep dark secret…
The moment he was told this secret, he gave up playing the guitar — aged only 12, heartbroken. For days, his salty tears cascaded down from his small eyes for days. But all alone in his empty house, Pĩca Pilarté decided to start over again, on his 79th Birthday. Only to see no one able to celebrate with him. His wife was in hospital after experimenting a major heart-attack, and his children left to America, thinking that their little house in Mexico was too shabby for them. The old man’s old tears returned back but with great agony. He felt like he needed to seek revenge. For hours he practised his arpeggios, scale and classical pieces. At last, he found his deep passion for this musical instrument.
The secret was painful, it was etched into his brain and he tried to forget about what one of his high-school teacher said. ‘You’re worthless, you’re a failure, and you will never succeed in playing any musical instrument ever again!’ But there was another secret he did not know, which was the truth that contradicted the teacher’s statement. He was gifted the guitar from the greatest guitarist of all time, which was his great-great-great-grandfather; Pedro Pilarté.
When Pĩca was 4 years old, this magical guitar was given to him, and he played it seamlessly, without any training. His parent were wowed with his great talent and were amazed. But still had no idea of where he learnt these skills. They sent him to a tutor at age 6, and she said that Pĩca was musically gifted from birth and that he could some DNA from Pedro Pilarté. All of a sudden, he heard a rhythmic knock at the front door. At last, he would see someone! As soon as he opened the door, he found himself greeting his musical tutor. She was even more old and wrinkled with a bony structure — keep in mind that she was 91 years old.
Pĩca’s eyes widened and he gave Sofìa a warm hug. She began to speak, ‘I have a secret for you, a desired secret. You are gifted musically from birth. And please check the neck of your guitar.’ Pĩca couldn’t believe his ears. Then he carefully read the cursive etching on the neck of the guitar. It read ‘Pedro Pilarté’ he asked her who he was, and she explained to him scenario. Pĩca gasped in amazement, and a bit of regret. He felt like he wasted 67 years believing a false judgement about him, but he wouldn’t have been able to have this experience of unveiling the truth. Pĩca cried once again, except it was happy tears. The timeless secret was revealed…
The end! -568 words.
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1 – Y5RWD2 – Khushi
The Forgotten Instrument Player
“Can you fix it?” Taylor exclaimed as she was shaking from head to toe as she showed the doctor the damage. I had strings broken and holes in the wood. Taylor handed the rustic guitar and anxiously waited. Her hair was ruffled by running through the leaves. Everyone knew Taylor Anderson, but no-one knew her love for music until now. Taylor sat in a new chair near the reception, pondering if this was really worth waiting and fighting for?
A day earlier, Taylor, a scavenger, rustled through the leaves. She only thought of life. Taylor liked to be solo, but always wished for a friend, of any kind. Taylor was searching the lands, looking for a companion, when she stumbled across an eerie house, full of bizarre items. In one room were toy elephants, another piles and piles of towering paper, until one room caught her eye. It had a doorknob in a shape of a musical note, and then flash! Fragments of her childhood pop into her mind as she was unconscious. Taylor’s father was a world-famous guitar player, and Taylor dreamed of a life like that too. Sadly, 2 years had gone by and her dad’s life had been full of anxiety, depression, hearing loss and muscle strain. Another 2 year later, he passed away. Fearing for the worst, she never for filled that dream.
Hours had passed, and all of a sudden she awoke and busted the door. She had lost all her fear, she was fearless! She ran through the door only to find the instruments all covered in mould! Her knees came crashing down like a wave on the squeaky floorboards. Tears ran down her dusty cheeks as she sobbed in the frightening room of instruments.
All of a sudden, Taylor realised she could still fix it! She ran to the nearest carpenter and pleaded for it to be repaired immediately. Many minutes had gone by, and the guitar was nowhere in Taylor’s sight, and things weren’t looking good.
In a flash, the repairer came out with a guitar, it was unrecognisable. She grabbed it and jumped for joy, but things weren’t over just yet. She went to the nearest country show competition and won! Likewise, she may not be a famous artist yet, but now she was living her life!
Bye: Farzana
Day 2 The Forgotten Instrument Player
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Y5RWD2-Maruf
No one ever went into the cellar beneath the abandoned chapel – not since the flood blackened its doors and time swallowed its name. There was even a trapdoor hidden out on the street, but nobody had set foot on it-until now. The old musician, Arthur, was slowly taking steps forward on Surry Street. All of a sudden, a trapdoor that blended with the rocky road opened up so quick you would miss it if you blinked. As it was dinner time, absolutely nobody was in the street with a ton of fancy restaurants.
Arthur landed hard on a fluffy bed, but unfortunately, he laid unconscious for ten seconds or so before the trapdoor closed up fully. After that, he stayed stationary for a long time before waking up. He jolted up, and looked around.
“I wonder where this is,” Arthur thought to himself. “But it definitely does not look like a new place. I must be in the abandoned chapel! Wait, is that a door with a keyhole? Maybe I can get out of here from there.”
Arthur pushes the doors as hard as he can, but the door would not budge. He looked around for any sort of key, and he spotted a huge rusty key on top of a brown cardboard box. He twisted the key in the keyhole and it swung open with an eerie, creaking noise. Inside, he saw one door and many treasure boxes lying around all of them being made almost entirely out of rusty gold. When he peered inside the nearest gold box, his eyes widened in pure surprise. It was a clarinet that was put together, and a label mentioned that it had not been used before. Now Arthur was shocked. He gaped. He then picked up the instrument he plays even now, and tried to talk, but no words came out. The old man immediately started to play the clarinet-fast and well. He knew he has to take it home-he had found it. Arthur remembered the days before with his band, and decided to call them to come back. Arthur raced out the abandoned chapel as fast as a horse, not even wondering why the instruments were there at the first place. He did not take any instruments, but he was going to tell the police about it. He soon got the cops to come. That same day Arthur made this face onto every single newspaper.
A day after making the newspapers, Arthur called his band mates to come to at his house. Within an hour, every single one of them were there. After setting up, the band started to play their instruments. Even though they were squeaking a lot after not playing their instruments for a month, they soon were as good as before and signed up for the battle of the bands and their career went off great again.
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Y5RWD2-Jeremy Sun
A sudden strike of thunder crashed across the gorge, hushing the once quiet whisper of the breeze as it rustled with the pines. Hope, who had been calmly composing a piece of sheet music, flinched, her pencil collapsed and her paper slided away. Her recent work had grown into songs- flat and predictable like the old pieces from centuries before. She sighed as she picked up the wrinkled paper. As she stood back up, her eyes caught the Fire Wood Manor, its top floors a pile of rubble and areas that exposed rebar and concrete, but its bottom layers remained eerily in contact.
Inspiration struck- maybe its dome nature could help her with her stale music- and also help her to get out of the rain. As Hope approached the building a gust of wind, cold and smelling of metal and mingled with damp earth, led her not toward a window, but a heavy slab door that was hidden among mysterious objects that lay before it. She pushed the door and the hinges creaked, revealing a long spiral staircase and as it descended further, it became complete darkness.
She took one last look of worry at it and her boot walked the first step. Descending a final step, her boot scraped across the stone pavements. Hope looked in front of her, and there laying in the center rested a cello. It wasn’t merely old; it looked ancient, its paint flaked like burnt sugar, the wood like gold rested beneath the flakes. It held only one imperfection: a spiral carving on the back that looked like a human ear, somehow alive.
A legend of a cellist appeared from her childhood memory, Lira- a cellist from two decades past. Her music was said to be so emotional it could create tears from the toughest people-until she disappeared, together with her instrument, which locals said was carved from a single pine tree from her backyard. Hope picked up the instrument, the wood feeling light weight as she gently picked it up with her hands. Hesitance erupted, but she placed the bow on the strings and started playing. An echo seemed to start from the strings. The notes, low and vibrating, creating an impossibly dreamable sense of warmth.
Hope opened her eyes and gasped. The rain outside had ended and she knew she no longer needed inspiration for what to write next. The music had found her.
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Y5RWD2-Jinjin Weng
The Guitar That Changed My Life
One day, I was walking down my street when I saw a shadow of a guitar in front of me. It looked like it came from my old music teacher’s house. I thought, ‘Why is her guitar still there? I thought moved all of her stuff to her new house before.’ Oh well, I guess I’ll have a look inside. As I walked up the front steps, there was dust scattered everywhere. I opened the door, and to my surprise, the house was completely empty. I rushed in to check the upstairs because that’s where the guitar-shaped shadow was coming from. I went to all the rooms, and the last one left was my teacher’s bedroom. I opened the door with suspense, hoping the object was there. I looked in, but to my dismay, there was no object.
As I turned to leave the room to exit the house, I heard a voice. ” Don’t be sad, come and play my strings,” said the mysterious voice. I turned around to look at what was making that wonderful but mysterious sound. I thought I was dreaming, but in reality, there was actually a guitar talking to me! It had scratches and dust all over it. I recognised it as the object that was making the shadow from out of the window, but also as the guitar that was hanging in a glass box in my teacher’s living room. Even though I recognised it, I couldn’t remember where I had heard the guitar’s voice ith me before. I kept on thinking till my brain hurt, and then, finally, I figured it out. It was the voice of Callum, my favourite musician, from when I was a child. I couldn’t believe it this guitar was the reason I started playing the guitar but I am still wondering how Callum got mixed with a guitar.
“I know this is odd but can I ask you a question,” I asked.
“Sure! , what is it?” Callum replied.
“ Um…, how did you become a guitar,” I asked.
“ I fell into a pot while visiting a witch to get a potion and I had my guitar with me and my guitar and I fell into a potion and just got combined,” he said in an embarrassed tone.
“Oh is it hard living in a guitar?” I asked
“ At first but I got used to it,” Callum answered.
“Oh ok,” I said.
Like he said, I started playing his strings and he played as good as Messi in a football match. Even though his strings were worn out and about to rip he played so good, it sounded harmonical and not like a cacophony of cars in a traffic jam.
“It’s like im not even touching the strings and it’s playing co well!” I exclaimed.
“I don’t know I just play the note that hand was going to play next by looking at your hand,” Callum replied.
“You should keep on doing that we could become the best duo in the world!” I said.
“Okay,” he answered.
Just like that Callum and I started practicing for the annual Michael Jackson award competition. Since the competition has Michael Jackson hosting it we decided to play ‘Beat It’ my favourite song of Michael Jackson’s playlist. After two weeks we were already so in sync with each other that I didn’t even have to look at the string I was going to play next and he would have already done it. We were an amazing combo, imagine Messi and Ronaldo in one team playing together, that’s how good we were. We had one more week until the competition and we getting so close to perfecting the song.
1 week later….
Finally, it was time for the competition to begin and there were a lot of people watching the performances and performing. I was so worried that we weren’t going to win.
“Do you think we can pull this off?” I asked Callum
“Yeah probably the amount we practiced it would be surprising if we don’t,” he replied.
“Ok I trust you,” I said hoping that he was correct.
Just as we finished our conversation it was time for us to perform our song. We hopper onto the stage fingers crossed while we started to play ‘Beat It’. We were a magical duo but then again nobody knew the legend Callum got mixed with his guitar. Midway through the song people started cheering and clapping. By the time we finished we already knew it, we won! People jumped out of their seats screaming for us like madmans.
Callum and I got to meet Michael Jackson in his studio and perform with him. It was amazing and I was known for my entire life as the kid who beat Michael Jackson.
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Y5RWD2-Abdullah
The Hidden Melody
Whoosh! The air in the abandoned attic was thick with dust and silence, broken only by the faint whisper of wind slipping through cracks in the wooden walls. As the musician pushed aside a tattered blanket filled with holes, a faint shimmer caught his eye by the corner, a dusty object buried beneath layers of dirty clothes. His fingers brushed over rough, a little bit of rotted wood, and a strange hum then vibrated through his bones, as if the instrument itself was alive with a human inside, pulsing with a human resonance that was deep within him.
He gently lifted the timeworn instrument, its surface scarred and and covered in dust, yet somehow still emanating a haunting, yet warm tone. The strings, frayed and uneven, seemed to pulse with a heartbeat, echoing a rhythm that felt intertwined with his own. The resonance was unlike any sound he had ever known—almost a human heartbeat, as if the instrument carried the memories and emotions of a master musician that had long gone. His fingertips trembled as he traced the contours, feeling the subtle vibrations that seemed to whisper stories of passion, loss, and longing.
The musician’s mind was then flooded with images of a master who once played this very instrument—an artist whose soul poured into every note at every piece, whose music could stir the air and awaken the shadows. The resonance was bizarre, a strange human echo that seemed to reach out and touch his own spirit. As he ran his fingers along the strings, the instrument responded with a whispering hum, inviting him to unlock its secrets. The air around him thickened with anticipation, every sound a ripple in the silence, every vibration a thread connecting him to the past.
He spent days tuning and coaxing melodies from the ancient strings, each note resonating with a deeper, almost mystical clarity. His fingers danced over the fretboard, coaxing out melodies that seemed to breathe and pulse with life. The strange resonance grew stronger, weaving itself into his own music, transforming his playing into a dialogue with the unseen master who once wielded this instrument. The sounds became more than music—they were a conversation across time, a communion of souls.
Finally, on the night of the full moon, he prepared for the performance that would unite the echoes of the past with his present. The room was silent save for the gentle hum of the instrument, now fully intertwined with his spirit. As he struck the first chord, the resonance surged through the air like a living thing, filling the space with a luminous, human warmth. Notes soared and dipped, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to transcend time itself. The music swelled, reaching a crescendo that felt like the very heartbeat of history, alive and pulsing with human emotion.
In that moment, the musician understood—this was more than an instrument; it was a vessel of human resonance, a bridge to a master whose spirit still played through its strings. As the final note faded into the silence, he knew he had become part of its timeless story, a conduit for the human soul’s eternal song that brought happiness to all.
A loud shriek came from the dusty guitar in the attic. An old man was plucking the untuned guitar with care. It came from the attic. He recalled a fragile memory. His late father told him that this was a guitar from ancestors a hundred ago. Joe carefully picked it up with his dry, wrinkled hands and began tightening the strings. The old guitar was not used for years and sat in the attic, gathering dust. Joe pulled an extremely thin string and it broke with an ear-splitting crack. Dust motes began circling around the guitar like a pride of lions. Joe shook it on the polished table. The guitar exploded with more layers of dust coming out of the huge hole in the guitar.
He began tuning the guitar with his strong fingers. The attic vibrated with the screeches and screams of the guitar. Joe’s hearing aid was whistling from all the noise. He ignored it and started to polish the guitar. He used a wet towel a gently scraped all the muck and grime from the guitar. The old tissue was covered in bits of dust, dirt and somehow bits of metal and plastic. Joe picked up the guitar and strummed the newly tuned strings. It sang like a country singer. Joe beamed with delight. The family heirloom was finally fixed and ready to be played. Joe trotted down the creaky stairs with the guitar. He played a song that he had learnt many years ago. He stared outside of the window. A person was hanging up a poster on the electric line. It said:
For those who are interested in talent or those who are wanting to show themselves to the public, this is your CHANCE! Book for a place in the Hyde City Talent Show. The winner gets $100,000,000! Do it now before all seats are taken! Book seats in TicketUrDay! Mark the date on the 4th of April!
Joe stared at the note with his eyes wide open. He couldn’t believe that his dream had come true. Ever since he was a young boy in the 1900’s he always wanted to show off his talent on the guitar. He spotted a QR code on the poster. Joe ran towards the electric line and scanned it with his cracked phone. He couldn’t wait to participate it in the next week.
For the following days, he began practicing on the guitar for a long as he could every single day. He only had breaks to eat or when he had a cramp in his finger. Finally, the day came and he wobbled on to the stage. He was trembling like a sick dog. He had the urge to go to the backstage but Joe knew that this was his chance to be a billionaire. He started strumming the old guitar and his eyes filled with tears at the memory of his late father. After Joe stopped a large podium came out.
The host came out of the backstage with tears in his eyes.
“3rd place,” he roared. “Is Reggie the Dancing Elephant.”
A baby elephant came wandering on the stage with its bright green eyes glistening at the crowd. It snorted as it received its case of $10,000.
“2nd place goes to The WonderWay Circus!
A clown waddled onto the stage in his too tight jeans and sprayed some water into the crowd with is flower button. He reached for the case of 100,000.
“Finally to 1st place is Joe the Guitarist, making us all Backstage People cry with happiness!”
Joe was overwhelmed when he took the case from the host. He quivered with happiness and was the first one to leave the stage. Joe would never have a happy moment of his life like this one.
A loud shriek came from the dusty guitar in the attic. An old man was plucking the untuned guitar with care. It came from the attic. He recalled a fragile memory. His late father told him that this was a guitar from ancestors a hundred ago. Joe carefully picked it up with his dry, wrinkled hands and began tightening the strings. The old guitar was not used for years and sat in the attic, gathering dust. Joe pulled an extremely thin string and it broke with an ear-splitting crack. Dust motes began circling around the guitar like a pride of lions. Joe shook it on the polished table. The guitar exploded with more layers of dust coming out of the huge hole in the guitar.
He began tuning the guitar with his strong fingers. The attic vibrated with the screeches and screams of the guitar. Joe’s hearing aid was whistling from all the noise. He ignored it and started to polish the guitar. He used a wet towel a gently scraped all the muck and grime from the guitar. The old tissue was covered in bits of dust, dirt and somehow bits of metal and plastic. Joe picked up the guitar and strummed the newly tuned strings. It sang like a country singer. Joe beamed with delight. The family heirloom was finally fixed and ready to be played. Joe trotted down the creaky stairs with the guitar. He played a song that he had learnt many years ago. He stared outside of the window. A person was hanging up a poster on the electric line. It said:
For those who are interested in talent or those who are wanting to show themselves to the public, this is your CHANCE! Book for a place in the Hyde City Talent Show. The winner gets $100,000,000! Do it now before all seats are taken! Book seats in TicketUrDay! Mark the date on the 4th of April!
Joe stared at the note with his eyes wide open. He couldn’t believe that his dream had come true. Ever since he was a young boy in the 1900’s he always wanted to show off his talent on the guitar. He spotted a QR code on the poster. Joe ran towards the electric line and scanned it with his cracked phone. He couldn’t wait to participate it in the next week.
For the following days, he began practicing on the guitar for a long as he could every single day. He only had breaks to eat or when he had a cramp in his finger. Finally, the day came and he wobbled on to the stage. He was trembling like a sick dog. He had the urge to go to the backstage but Joe knew that this was his chance to be a billionaire. He started strumming the old guitar and his eyes filled with tears at the memory of his late father. After Joe stopped a large podium came out.
The host came out of the backstage with tears in his eyes.
“3rd place,” he roared. “Is Reggie the Dancing Elephant.”
A baby elephant came wandering on the stage with its bright green eyes glistening at the crowd. It snorted as it received its case of $10,000.
“2nd place goes to The WonderWay Circus!
A clown waddled onto the stage in his too tight jeans and sprayed some water into the crowd with is flower button. He reached for the case of 100,000.
“Finally to 1st place is Joe the Guitarist, making us all Backstage People cry with happiness!”
Joe was overwhelmed when he took the case from the host. He quivered with happiness and was the first one to leave the stage. Joe would never have a happy moment of his life like this one.
The Worn Guitar