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.
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- Due Date : July 11, 2025
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2 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