# Scholarship G2 W4 Writing

## Part 1.

Writing prompt:  Write an essay in which you describe a city that you visit. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene. As you describe the city, explore the themes of discovery, alienation, and danger. How do these themes affect your experience in the city? What do you learn about the city and its inhabitants? How does your time in the city change you?

Essay example:  As I stood at the edge of the lost city, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The city was a sprawling metropolis, its streets and buildings stretching out as far as the eye could see. The sun glinted off the skyscrapers, the light reflecting off the glass and steel. The air was alive with the sounds of the city, the honking of horns, the chatter of pedestrians, the hum of traffic. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, a city of endless possibility and opportunity. But as I stepped into the city, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The people seemed distant and disconnected, their eyes glazed over and unseeing. The air was thick with the scent of pollution, the stench almost overwhelming. The city was beautiful, but there was a darkness lurking beneath its surface, a malevolence that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

## Part 2.

Writing prompt:  Write a creative scene in which you describe a moment where you are sitting by a fireplace on a cold winter night. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting and atmosphere to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene.

Essay example: I ensconced myself by the fireplace on a frigid winter night, swaddled in a comfortable blanket, the heat of the flames percolating into my bones. The fire undulated and flickered, its light casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Outside, the wind howled, the trees bending and oscillating like ethereal figures. I flicked a glance at the clock, noting the tardy hour. I should have retired hours ago, but something about the salubrious crackle of the fire kept me affixed to the spot. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was intended to be here, imbibing the warmth and solace of the flames.

## Part 3.

Writing prompt: Write a creative essay set in the 1920s about a young woman who dreams of becoming a jazz singer and the challenges she faces along the way. Make sure to incorporate the setting of the 1920s into the story, and use it to enhance the character and plot. Use at least 5 instances of personification and 10 instances of metaphor to add flair to your writing

Essay example:  As the night sky twinkled with the glow of the city’s neon lights, Alice stood on stage, her heart thrumming with exhilaration. She was about to make her debut at the most popular club in the city, and she was determined to make it a performance to remember. The band struck up a lively beat, and Alice let out a joyous laugh as she began to sing. Her voice was like a fragrant flower, soft and velvety, and it seemed to envelop the listeners in a warm embrace. The audience erupted into cheers and applause, mesmerised by her charisma and talent.

### 82 thoughts on “Scholarship G2 W4 Writing”

1. 1577077626qq-com

The gentle hum of an occasional whistler and the cheers and shrieks of children frolicking in the distance echoed from the shore out to the sun. I could hear the doors squeaking wide open to many new opportunities, after all, they say once a door closes, millions of new other ones will reveal themselves. The sweet scent of childhood flowed through the city, the perfume of exuberance, youth, and freedom. From the sun leisurely sinking into the horizon, to the skyscrapers, showering in the late afternoon sunlight, shielding over its inhabitants below, it all seemed perfect. Too perfect. There was something or someone behind all of this and I needed to find out.

(I am not sure if we just do a scene or a whole story)

2. I just wanted to let you know that when I did my GA homework, it said results recording and it wouldn’t show me my answers like what happened to me with my English homework. Do you know how to fix it because I think the same thing will happen to me in the English homework this week and I will have to repeat it again.

3. PART ONE
The sky was clear, and the water spread vastly throughout the mesmerizing city. The aroma of the putrid gas smelt atrocious. Clear white clouds circled the city, as if they were honoring the wonderful megalopolis. The panorama of the lake, which was merged with islands, was stunningly attractive. The hurrying cars of the street raced, to see who was the fastest. Lights flickered on and off, and the sun smiled down onto the city, as if it was praising it. The reflective and crystal-clear water was still, and even the smallest leaf could disturb it. People were distributed along the narrow and long streets, which rooted onto the towering skyscrapers, like glue. The horizon felt near, and the sun was setting. I didn’t have much time left.

4. PART TWO
I was snuggled in a tepid blanket, with the crackling fireplace dancing around in the glacial atmosphere. My bones were thermic as the wood in the fireplace dissolved in front of my luscious eyes. On a bone-chilling night, this was luxurious. Kaleidoscopic flames appeared, lashing each other in the howling wind. Submerged in a mesomorphic blanket, it felt like summer. I tried to rise, but I was glued on the floor. It was like I was destined to be here. The solace and tepidity of the cackling flames demonically flourished around me. Outside, the screeching wind brought havoc and bedlam. It was so comfortable that I fell asleep abiding the conflagration.

5. selective superstar

Part 1-
Perspiration dripped down my wan cheeks, my fatigued limbs trembling rapidly and about to collapse on the scorching sand. My bloated tongue longed for even the tiniest drop of God’s tears as my scalded, exposed feet sizzled in the searing heat. The foreign authorities in this country refer us to numbers, not actual human beings. The image of this “freedom city” didn’t seem as promising as it looked. I was mentally chained, wishing to be a melodious robin who would tweet on flourishing trees whenever it pleased. Soon, I realized I was going to be physically chained as well. One of the authorities gripped my arm tightly and dragged me mercilessly as if I were a serial killer who had killed his family and was taking revenge by throwing me into a detention center. Was I an animal? The detention center reeked of body odor and blood and was hostile and musty. Huddling into a small ball, I let out a flood of tears, which soaked onto my ragged and shabby clothes that have hung onto my back ever since I fled from the war. I was trying to escape injustice and cruelty, and even in Australia there is no freedom. They treat us like plastic discarded casually, leaving us to be swollen up by the threatening seas of detention centers. Why?

6. selective superstar

The seething fire cackled in delight, devouring its scrumptious meal of crispy leaves and charred sticks. Teeth chattering rapidly and my gaunt body shuddering in the siberian chill, the warmth of the fire soothed my bones, allowing a spark of hope to enter my heart. Unzipping my ragged backpack, my stomach growled at the sight of food, and my sapphire eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Not just any food, but marshmallows. Spongey, cushionlike, syrapy toasted marshmallows crumbling into your mouth as you crave more. The crispness of slightly singed marshmallows was just delightful to the mind. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about how I was lost and all alone; rather, I snuggled in my fleecy blanket and enjoyed my tantalizing treats.

7. jaslynyc@gmail.com

Part 2

I sat next to the toasty flames, tending the blazing bonfire. Suddenly, the sparks flared and I recoiled, nursing the coals with my lengthy stick. My job here was to mind the tinder that kept the house snug and summery. This winter was frosty and glacial, with bitter Siberian winds unsympathetically pounding at your door. Without the hearth, we would have turned into an icicle long ago. However, nourishing the fire is like stewarding a small child. You have to be prepared to sacrifice your time and health to do so – going out in the raw weather to gather firewood for it to consume and devour, bracing yourself for its sudden, spasmodic gasps of blazes and temper, devoting your patience to stoke the heavy embers. However, I was proud to be part of such a vital, fundamental job to take care of the fire that kept everyone alive!

8. Part 1

War Of The Worlds.

Entangled and lacerated in the asphyxiating tendrils of smoke, hyperborean beads of sweat dripped down my emaciated back. Fluorescent glowing lights shone in the distance. An intoxicating hatred seeped through my shivering body. As if a dagger had wounded my heart, a mind-tingling ache had spread throughout my forlorn mind. What if I couldn’t escape the city? Turning back, I glanced at the world I was leaving behind, coils of luscious, benevolent people, turning gray. Incarcerated in a layer of morose fury. Lost hope took the hearts of citizens as the bombings grew bigger and fiercer. My watering eyes, weary yet filled with livid, irate rage.
Cadaverous, gaunt faces were all everyone has seen. Their eyes feasting on a desolate smorgasbord of disconsolate jaws. Whatever the government said didn’t matter to him anymore. Whatever his guardians said to him didn’t matter anymore. Or did it? His anorexic mind fumbling with the scarce power to think. His parents had told him explicitly not to leave the city.
“If only they could see me now”, he muttered to himself.

The warm, chivalrous arms of his parents could still be wrapped around his body. Soft, reassuring tears dripped down his face. Wisps of garroting, malevolent anger perforated his mind. His parents. Sitting beneath the headstones of deceased love. Arms and legs trembling with vehemence. They weren’t here by his side because they were puppeteered under the hands of the government for too long. A zealous zephyr ravaged across the city as he kept on running. The hellacious, ominous towers of glass reflected his disarrayed face. Scars of pain and misery lashed across his eyes like chains holding him back. The firm, nodose chain etched lines of tortuous excruciating trauma. His mutilated foot throbbed in ebbing waves of pain. Finally, out of the city. His mind flashed back to the carefree, wholesome moments in the countryside. Spending time with his mum and dad fishing. Free from the incarceration of opposing governments. Now living in Armageddon, scarred with the remnants of war. Hatred becomes life when life choses hatred over happiness. A warm, fuzzy feeling was all he felt before the world went black.

9. Part 2

Twirling Into The Twilight

Dancing, swirling, flickering cerulean flames twirled in benevolent contentness. Spiraling pillars of mesmerizing smoke rose into the heavens as zephyrs blew their distinguished souls across the lands. Hypnotic, captivating swirls of flames absorbed my eyes into its natural beauty. The piles of wood were charred and scarred as pieces of their souls were reincarnated into glamorous ribbons of warmth. Crackling in its own pleasure, another burst of laughter erupted from the fire. Fluorescent, omniscient blue tendrils of light shone from inside the fire.

Wisps of elegant, carefree smoke ran through the night sky. The stars twinkled above the swirling mass of flames. The soft pitter patter of rain ceased at the sound of sizzling. Scorched planks of oak sat at the bottom of the flames. My body pulsates with the warmth and safety of this fire. Even the animals from the lake were coming to see. A soft disturbance broke the tranquility of the evening’s perfect reflection on the lake. A pelican waddled over to the tepid, chambré fire. Playing with its feathers as droplets of water fell into the blaze. A full moon shone majestically down the lake as an eerie reflection stole its beauty. Shadows of light prancing through the trees revealed another pair of pelicans waiting for fish. I noticed the pelicans hiding in the trees as my neighbors pets, coincidentally named Phineas and Ferb. One of the pelicans looked at the other and glanced at me as if to say “Come on I know what to do today, lets go hunt some humans” The dancing flames licked at the air, hungry for more fuel. Desperate and yearning for a break from burning through the night. I decided now was a good time for smores. A soft, reassuring purr reverberated through the long, protruding beak of the pelican. As the soft, cackling of the fire came to an end, a zealous breeze had made the last of the flickering flames finish. The pelican by my side looked at me with desperate eyes. As if to say “ I want some smores too!” I feed the longing pelicans a nibble of my smore. My mind danced in rhythm to the symphony of the trees. Then, like all good things, the music stopped. The pelican trudged reluctantly back to their protective waters. I closed my fatigued weary eyes. And the last thing I saw was embers laughing and playing with the last piece of unfinished smore.

10. 1577077626qq-com

PART TWO:
Snuggled in my blanket, sheltering me from the bone-chilling frost, slapping me in the face as what seemed like blizzards gusted by. While the blazing flames thaw my lifeless body trapped under the spell of frigidness, twisting and enveloping each flame with endless warmth. The snores of weary trees slowly putting themselves to sleep, and the soft growls of grizzly bears could not make me take my eyes away from the majestic flames. I didn’t even notice, hidden among the shadows, two glowing monstrous eyes glaring into my soul.

11. Part 1

As I stood on the edge of a mountain, breathing in the crisp air, the breeze whipping me as I towered over the busting and beautiful city that would be my new home. My ragged clothes flapped in the refreshing breeze as I hiked toward the place of freedom. The dilapidated stick that was aiding me while hiking was going to die after the days of hiking through the dense forest. My hangry stomach growled as I sat down panting, exhausted from the tedious journey. I needed something to quench my extreme thirst, and I would get it in a few hours, the time I reach freedom. It was said to be a great place, but even so, sometimes people experience different times. But, no matter what, it must be much better than the war-stricken country that I had left behind. I continued walking and before long, I had reached the borders of the city. Freedom was mine. After I stepped in, I embraced the freedom. But even so, I could sense that something wasn’t quite right.

Part 2

I encased myself in the wool blanket, sitting around the crackling fire. The warmth toasted me and made me feel like this was the finest place to be. In such a cold place like Norway, a little fire like this one was the luxury of the tiny town. The cackling flames were gorgeous on a freezing winter day, such as today. The prismatic flame fought back the cold, flickering in the howling wind. I glanced at my silver pocket watch. It was late. I was meant to go back an hour ago. I stood up to go, but I was glued to the spot, glued to the warmth. I didn’t want to leave the toasty fire. It was like I was destined to stay there.

Part 3

The neon lights of the city sparkled underneath the blanket of stars. Alice stood on the large stage, behind the red curtains, ready to sing. She took a deep breath, calming herself. The anticipation of the audience was heavy in the air. After the spectacular performances before, they expected something amazing. She would have to give them that. As the curtains opened, their smiles faltered. “Just a measly black girl,” they whispered amongst themselves. She was infuriated on the inside. She would show them. She opened her mouth to sing and let out a symphony of beauty. Her voice was like a fragrant flower, soft and sleek. The audience stared in awe, and in her mind, Alice thought, “I thought so.” Once she finished, she took a bow and the audience clapped the hardest they had ever clapped. The stage was where she belonged.

12. miachen629gmail-com

Part 1
The city manifested in a maze of the metropolis as silky harp strings of sunlight plucked onto each of the buildings in a joyous symphony that echoed through the abandoned town. As opportunity unfolded in my mind like a parcel of truths, I stared down at the utopian streets congested with cars and bustling with the livelihood of one city community, but something struck me down. As I strolled on the tarmac, everyone seemed to eschew themselves in an invisible barrier of prejudice. “Another black man running through our streets,” They muttered in a tirade of hurt. What was this? I felt alienated and shunned from every society that I’ve ever been in. Every city and hut that I wanted to take shelter in, they swatted me out like a lone fly stuck onto a web of discrimination, and the spiders at any time would be ready to devour me. The sunlight splashed me with mocking topaz, heating me. I had realised yet again this was not the place for me.

Part 2
Nature was cloaked in a powdery white, a frigid environment wrangling with my body as I huddled by the ambient fireplace, a mosaic radiating warmth and crystal shards of hope. Like the dappled gold of summer filtered by the sun, ice pellets peppered in a heap outside my house, adorning it in velvety snow. The fire was my only source of warmth and self-contentment ever since I settled in Siberia, a reminder of my warm home in Australia, where my favourite pie shop diffused the same butter-scotch feeling. As the flame flickered in its last incandescent glory. This was the place for me, a tapestry of fickle pleasure where the cold beat on me as a reminder of the times of my past, woven with the warm fire that cradled in my heart like one memory of nostalgia.

Part 3
Angela was enshrouded with ambivalence the minute before her performance. All the male singers had dazzled the audience with new worlds of symphonic heartbeats, and she was to be the cherry swished on top. A cloak of scintillating stars clouded the night sky, ensnared by the neon lights of the stage. Her stage. As she stepped out imagining bathing in the applause of imminent glory, she was met with a tirade of shock. “A woman…” The judge noted down hurriedly. As she opened her mouth, she wavered in lost anticipation. Yet, she let the warm honey of her voice embrace them as they exploded in rapturous applause. The symphony echoed within the hearts of all, even the judge. At that moment, she felt that women were released from their wicked chains, unrestrained by their gender. She smiled.

13. Part 1

The sweet songs of children sing in the park put me in pleasure as I walked passed a playground that was flooded with children. The streets stretches far and long and it never seems to end. The radiant sun forces the skyscraper’s glass to turn a gold citrine colour. The fresh breeze of air wafted around my nose as the chatters of citizens flowed around the city like strong lavender perfume in the house. But there was something that was a bit off. Everything was too perfect. The ground shook lightly as I took another step forward. Darkness was lurking somewhere beneath the Earth. After some research, I had realised what I had to do. I had to calm the cyclops that are angry about what humans had did to the world that was shared between humans and cyclops. If this mission failed, humanity might be wiped out.

Would the world think that I am weird for doing all this? They probably be all thanking me if I were to tell them that I had done something so brave. But would they believe me? Everybody would probably think that this is all a made up story and that this never actually happened. Just when my brain was fighting with each other, something hideous emerged from the ground with my sister in his hands. A tsunami of fear washed all over me. Was this finally going to be the end of humanity? Had I failed?

Part 2

I engulfed myself in a dense wooly blanket, snuggling in it as I drank my warm cup of hot chocolate. Kaleidoscopic flame cackled maliciously as soft tufts of snow fell from the air. My job here was to hunt mythical snakes that lived here. Would the world hate me for hunting animals? After all, it is my job. Maybe they would be grateful that I wiped out such a dangerous type of snake. Suddenly, the fire stopped, leaving me all alone in the dark ebony woods with nothing warm to keep me alive. I have to go in search of more fire wood or I won’t survive in this weather condition. On the other hand, I can’t carry all my belongings with me. What if they get stolen? I would put under a ton of pressure and poverty. Should I risk it. Just then, a serpent popped out of nowhere, staring into my crystalline eyes. I stumbled back in fear, pondering what I should do next. Was this going to be the end of my journey?

14. PART THREE
As Crystal was about to walk onstage, she was encased in a bottle of pure anxiety. Crystal had been practicing all year for this moment. As she bravely stepped into the auditorium, the auditioner was in shock. “A dark-skinned woman?” he silently pondered, doubting her abilities. As the jazz singer opened her mouth, a sweet honey melody sprung out of her glorious mouth, as if imprisoned. She sang a symphony of happiness, and Crystal’s words danced along the lines. She was applauded heavily by her judges, who had underestimated the talented female. Crystal had suffered racism, and unjust rights and was not supported by her stubborn parents, who wanted their daughter to sing opera, but the woman had believed in herself, and rocketed up to success.

15. PART 1:

Skyscrapers shot up in to the air, the morning filled with intoxication and euphoria. After all, it was my first day back in back in my home town in thirty five years time! A felicitous breeze disembogued upon my perplexed face, accompanied by making the susurrationed leaves crepitate.
A delicate sacchariferous coffee aroma wafted in my nose, as I saw a sign, ‘3 doughnuts for $3.50!’ The psychedelic poster incarcerating people and fabricating an exhaustively elongated line. The assistants apportioning the round doughnuts to the customers greeting everyone of them with an extravagant smile, blithesome of how much they’re going to get paid. As I chaperoned on compelling myself from diminishing into the line like other victims have. An inconceivable smell, intruded my nose. Gas from the muncipality vehicles that us humans velocipede around in. Oh how I wish we could have had those in the twenty hundreds! I wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble for being late! The aroma almost made me puke, people glaring at me with beady eyes. Loneliness crept in like a fox, quick, sly and agile. Feelings of hopelessness, discriminated filled my heart. Something was devilishly wrong. My hometown has changed a lot more than I could have anticipated, and I don’t have a single clue of what’s happening… 16. PART 1: Skyscrapers shot up in to the air, the morning filled with intoxication and euphoria. After all, it was my first day back in back in my home town in thirty five years time! A felicitous breeze disembogued upon my perplexed face, accompanied by making the susurrationed leaves crepitate. A delicate sacchariferous coffee aroma wafted in my nose, as I saw a sign, ‘3 doughnuts for$3.50!’ The psychedelic poster incarcerating people and fabricating an exhaustively elongated line. The assistants apportioning the round doughnuts to the customers greeting everyone of them with an extravagant smile, blithosome of how much they’re going to get paid. As I chaperoned on compelling myself from diminishing into the line like other victims have. An inconceivable smell, intruded my nose. Gas from the muncipality vehicles that us humans velocipede around in. Oh how I wish we could have had those in the twenty hundreds! I wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble for being late!
The aroma almost made me puke, people glaring at me with beady eyes. Loneliness crept in like a fox, quick, sly and agile. I felt discriminated. Something was devilishly wrong. My hometown has changed a lot more than I could have anticipated.

17. PART 1:

Skyscrapers shot up in to the air, the morning filled with intoxication and euphoria. After all, it was my first day back in back in my home town in thirty five years time! A felicitous breeze disembogued upon my perplexed face, accompanied by making the susurrationed leaves crepitate.
A delicate sacchariferous coffee aroma wafted in my nose, as I saw a sign, ‘3 doughnuts for \$3.50!’ The psychedelic poster incarcerating people and fabricating an exhaustively elongated line. The assistants apportioning the round doughnuts to the customers greeting everyone of them with an extravagant smile, blithosome of how much they’re going to get paid. As I chaperoned on compelling myself from diminishing into the line like other victims have. An inconceivable smell, intruded my nose. Gas from the muncipality vehicles that us humans velocipede around in. Oh how I wish we could have had those in the nineteen century! I wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble for being late!
The aroma almost made me puke, people glaring at me with beady eyes. Loneliness crept in like a fox, quick, sly and agile. I felt discriminated. Something was devilishly wrong. My hometown has changed a lot more than I could have anticipated.

18. Layla stood there, gazing at the lights falling across the dark sky. The fire was crackling and hissing heartily priming itself to last the integral night. Sticks and wood were thrown in, the fire eminently gobbling it up in no time. If it wasn’t for the tepid and chambrè fire, we would have had hypothermia and frozen to death precedently. The fire reminded me of my family, at home. A miniature fire of our own. My children called James and Jack who are twins, wearing the exact matching clothes and shoes, fighting about who copied who’s style, exultantly cantering through the park hopefully finding enlarged stick to burn. The attentiveness of their safety bothered my heart, but knew, sacrifices had to be made. Tear transpired down my cheeks, as I was determined then ever to set a role model, as the warmth settled me down into a deep sleep.

19. Part 1-Vinal Liyanage
As I walked into the city, I felt the cool air breathing on me. The wind was blowing my tattered clothes like a leaf blower. My feet where numb as I walked around and I saw a hot chocolate store. I rushed to it and inside it felt like Heaven. It was warm and the smell of chocolate wafted in the air. As I ordered my extra large, extra hot, hot chocolate, I felt like my eyes where twitching. I steadied my eyes, but when my eyes stopped twitching, my legs were shaking. I looked like a cold rabbit, wearing ragged, decrepit clothes. As I got my hot chocolate and started drinking it, the fowl taste entered my mouth. I looked at the person who had given me this abominable, loathsome hot chocolate. She shrugged at me and told me to drink it. She added hastily that there was also no refunds are exchange. So I chugged my hot chocolate down and my dizziness was felt. My eyes started to droop and I ran out of the creepy café. I came to a stop in the snow and saw a sign that said ‘Rat Shop this way’. I wouldn’t like to go in a shop full of rats but I was curious so I followed the sign and stopped there. There was an old broken down shop with an old man inside. “Would you like a rat to eat young man.” I didn’t want to be rude so I accepted and I told him I would take away so then I could throw the revolting piece of trash in the bin. But the old man looked at me, and in the darkness, I saw he had red eyes, and green teeth. I chucked the rat away and ran. I felt like this city was horrid, creepy and down right weird. I had to go. I took one last look at the café and saw the lady with red eyes and green teeth as well. This is probably why this town was called Van Diemen’s Land. The town was full of demons. Now when I walked up to people here I was cautious and I barely talked to them. Before I would talk and talk, until finally I figured out the truth a few days ago.

20. Part 1.
Writing prompt: Write an essay in which you describe a city that you visit. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene. As you describe the city, explore the themes of discovery, alienation, and danger. How do these themes affect your experience in the city? What do you learn about the city and its inhabitants? How does your time in the city change you?

The fragrance of the forest brought a sense of exuberance, peace and tranquility that I have never experienced before, that made me feel invincible and yet shielded,
I lost the sense of an idyllic and halcyon environment the further that I went into the city, the aroma was no longer crisp. The formidable odor of pollution, grasping its hands around my neck suffocating me to death, I no longer felt protected.
I was standing in the equidistant of the city on the right side, I saw a flourishing utopia, and the left a bustling megacity hyperventilated, wrapped in poisonous contaminant.
The further I ventured into the city. I realised that the place was not what I envisioned. The city taught me, not to judge someone or something from the outside but from the inside.

21. Part 2-Vinal Liyanage
I was sitting near the balmy flames of the fire. I rubbed my hands near it. Before I was here, enjoying the night next to the flames of calmness, I was as cold as snow put into icy water. I was going insane. Now I was resting here, in peace, silently listening to the beautiful sound of the flames popping like Pop Rocks. My glacial frosted hands were melting. The smoke rose into the air, in spirals, up to the chimney top, where the smoke would finally be free. The golden flames were growing and the more they grew the more relaxing everything was. I was turning around to get comfy. My blanket was covering me perfectly, just like the night sky. When looking outside you could hear the wind howling, like a wolf. I was beckoning the heat to come to me and embrace me.

22. Part 3-Vinal Liyanage

Betty stepped onto the stage feeling trepidatious. Then she heard the crowd go silent and then laughter and boos. The judges whispered to each other. Betty caught a word of what they said,” Women can’t sing”. Betty thought to herself in anger, I’ll show you. Then the band set off with the lively beat of music and the crowd was shocked. Betty’s voice jumped into everybody mouth and forced them to cheer and the stage light was dancing around. The birds could be heard singing the melody and the judges were like a painting; there faces were frozen with shock. Betty’s hair was like a dancer, swaying side to side. The moon was arriving at the dance, as a guest enjoying the music. The judges were as quiet as a mouse, while the audience was as loud as a dinosaur. Betty was singing proudly, just like a parent who had just known that their child was a global hero. The stage was turning as bright as Bettys new career had just become. When Betty finished her song, the judges were still shocked. Betty smiled. She has had a lot of challenges throughout her journey. Her parents and friends pressured her to sing rock and all Betty wanted to sing was jazz. But still, Betty had thought one day she would make it to the best level, and here she was.

23. Garima Malhotra

Part 1 – Pearl

The Metropolis –
As I stepped into the divine, exquisite metropolis, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was sprawling in self-righteousness, buildings pierced the clouds. Streets giggled as dutiful , fast shoes tickled them. God elegantly painted the magnificent, dazzling sunrise with the subtle strokes of a mellow artist. The colour of the once sapphire azure was now shades of vermillion, rose, gold and saffron. The scent of lavender perfume was strong, as people bustled around, getting ready for appointments, business meetings, work and parties. But, the most stunning, eye-catching feature of this extravagant megalopolis was the monumental, majestic, monarchical mansion which stood in the centre of the city.

Regardless of the beauty, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not quite right. I pushed my worries deep within my mind, but they kept ringing in my ear. ‘Something is just not right here’ …

Part 2 – Pearl

Fire –
Cozy arms of warmth embraced me. Fire crackled like a sizzling barbecue. Had it been only hours since I was out in the freezing, sub-zero temperatures? Only hours since the Siberian wind cracked my skin?Days since I heard news of my family’s whereabouts? I couldn’t keep track of the time. I wasn’t valiant enough to go out and experience death again. My trembling, glacial palms melted from the heat. This was where I was meant to be. I’m not heroic, not courageous , I’m just a coward. A lowly worm.A disgrace. Fire accepted me. So, with Fire I will stay. I know she will keep me safe.

Part 3 – Pearl

Sing –
Martha took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage of celebrities. All singers started from here. Their blessings are still on the floor. A wave of gasps and murmurs erupted. They were all against Martha. ‘Impossible, I hope you do well!’ whispered a small, foreign girl from the front rows. Martha smiles at her and whispers back ‘ I’m going to make history, and pave the future for you.’

Martha opens her mouth and sings. Her voice is mesmerizing. As the words flow out of her mouth, she is enveloped in memories.
Her friends and family pressuring her to quit singing and be a housewife. Her husband yelling at her for singing. The racism throughout her life of being Indian. The sexism against her, just because she is a woman.
As she ends her song, she opens her eyes. The audience is silent and the judges faces are transfixed in shock. All of a sudden the audience erupts in cheers and the judges buzzers go – Bang! Bang! Bang!!!!!!!!
Martha is invited to say a few words, as the winner of the contest. Her words were not of boast or her trying, they were something else entirely. They were ‘Be kind and equal to one another. I have experienced so much racism and sexism in my life. How does a different skin colour or different language make one group superior and another worth nothing? Why do different genders get treated differently? Remember this, if a woman gave birth to you, a woman can do anything. I give my blessing to all who enter this stage, regardless of colour, status and gender.’

24. The Lost Land of Luxuriance (Part 1)
I stood at the edges of the incandescent metropolis, a dreamlike feeling engulfed me in a sea of swirling thoughts, waves of thinking smashed into my brain, flooding my heart with many different emotions and opinions on the lost metropolitan area. I could not believe my eyes. My brain was inundated along with all my other usual senses of intuition, I stood there absolutely flabbergasted at the sight.

The labyrinthine-like land stretched on and on, it looked like it would never end. I thought it was a miracle that no one had spotted the hidden municipality. The sun radiated across sparkling, enormous, golden hive-looking buildings and the ebony-black onyx path shimmered lustrously at the passing sea of people, the paths, buildings, malls, going on and on. Silk webs hung from hive to hive, connecting them, each hive placed on one corner of the metropolis, I didn’t even know how many hives there even were. It was very far from one hive. Jewels and precious stones covered many surfaces, riches and beauty seemed to be everywhere, on everyone. It was truly what people called it; the Lost Land of Luxuriance.

The oceanic abyss of seawater washed fleets of cars along the lane. It was a land of possibilities, opportunities, and a range of possible alternatives. However, between the mess and chaos of the tide of people, I noticed a few unsettling things that cast shivers down my spine. The people’s eyes were diamond-white, with blank expressions on their faces, they seemed far away, distant, as though their minds were out of their body and something, or someone was controlling them. Was that normal for the lost land of luxuriance?

Sure, it may be beautiful, but perhaps the beauty was a trap: to wait for someone new to come and stay in the land, controlled and out of his or her mind? Perhaps this was why no traveller who might have come to the metropolis had ever returned to tell the story of the luxuriance and wealth the land contained? I should potentially go; I did not want to be another person in the river of zombies. But I had to investigate this faraway look on their faces, only someone who wasn’t already ensnared could do so now.

As I crept in, a stranger had her eyes on me, wait… not a stranger, I knew her; her name was Alia Abbott, she was my aunt’s cousin-in-law, but… wrong. She had visited my family several times, and then she had set off, three years ago, in search of the luxurious place I was now standing on. Now she was dressed like a bee, with wings and antennae and a black and yellow costume, and a stinger on the end of her tail that was probably poisonous. A voice slithered out of her mouth like a sea snake, coiled and dangerous, ready to strike, a voice that wasn’t hers, a voice that told me immediately that something, or someone was definitely controlling her.

“Finally. It has been a long time since somebody has arrived. You will be another one, in my strait of controlled zombies. I will definitely have you staying here. But I’m not telling you any more, and besides, you are surrounded. Take a look around.”

I glanced around. Whoever was talking was right. The land inhabitants had surrounded me, to the front, back, left and right. The only way to escape… was up. I only had one chance to escape, and this was going to be risky. With my drone propeller. I hadn’t used it much, and hadn’t expected to use it often. But if it worked… I would be out here, out of this dangerous trap that whoever could control the people had set up. I was going to try it, by then I noticed… the inhabitants had the same uniform, they wore the exact same thing like Alia did. Wings and all. The only thing to do was to distract them. I grabbed a sleeping dart gun out of my bag and aimed. I hit the first circle of humans with the gun, and grabbing the propeller, flew out of the way, shooting more darts out of the gun at the others that tried to follow. Soon, I was out of there, the Lost Land of Luxuriance and what was more: I got out of there free from whoever was controlling them. And I was definitely not returning.

Sitting by the Fireplace (Part 2):
I shuffled closer to the kindling of the fireplace, snuggling deeper into the lukewarmness of the blankets, as arctic winds hissed and banged, trying to put out the blaze of fire, spitting and bashing across the windows. Outside, trees were blowing away, plants were destroyed, it was utter pandemonium. But I was safe inside, by the flames of the burning hearth, feeling the tepidity of the fireplace seep into my bones. Even though I knew I should have retired many hours ago, I found myself glued to the heat of the fireplace, watching the flames crackle and charr and burn the firewood. There was still a big pile of firewood waiting for me to throw into the bonfire, to be eaten up by the searing conflagration. Something told me I should be here, next to the sparks of incalescence. And I was here, slowly dozing off by the balminess.

Alice – The Girl Who Wanted to be a Jazz Singer (Part 3):
As the sky started to cry big tears of sadness, Alice knew she had to hurry up. The singing audition was going to start in an hour! She could not be late. As she got to the train station, she tried paying for a ticket.

“Silly girl!” sneered the Ticketmaster, “You are not allowed to go on any train. You are a black girl! All my customers would die from the mere sight of you if you boarded one of my trains, premium or not! Get out, black!”

Alice sighed. She should have known. Now a large crowd were yelling at her to get out. She always faced racism. She would have to walk there. When she finally got there, forty-five minutes later, she was at the end of an extremely long queue that was as long as the Amazon River, since her skin had the blackness of an onyx. Once she got to the front of the queue, the Ticketmaster glared at her.

“You are?” demanded the Ticketmaster.

“I am Alice. I believe I am on your list of people for the audition?” asked Alice.

“Alice. Hang on… you are a black, so you need a normal guardian or parent. Sorry, no audition. Off you go!” ordered the Ticketmaster. Alice sighed. Racism stopped her, once again. She would have to walk home. As the sky grew black and clouds died, stars glowed with happiness as they looked down from their spots to see all the people.

As she rang the golden doorbell to her master’s house, her master, a white woman named Duchess Sofia Smith, cousin of the cousin of the Queen, shot fury glares out of her eyes that eyeballed Alice with her threatening gaze.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” roared Duchess Sofia Smith. “YOU DISOBEYING LITTLE THING! I ORDERED YOU TO STAY IN THE HOUSE AND CLEAN THE DISHES! AND YOU GO ON A WALK TO WHO-KNOWS-WHERE! WHERE DID YOU GO?!”

“Erm… Lady Sofia Smith… I… w-w-went to the singing audition-” started Alice.

“I TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULDN’T GO!” hissed Duchess Sofia Smith.

“Shut up, you little worm,” barked Duke Xavier Smith, who had arrived by the Duchess’s side, “You are not allowed to leave the house for a week, and we will lock all the curtains so you cannot look outside the window. We will alert your behaviour to the Black-Control Police about your behaviour towards Duchess Sofia. That is final. No crying,” he added as Alice’s eyes started to form tears of sadness, which were trickling down her face. Then Alice started to cry aloud, weeping buckets of tears as she moaned at the punishment she was given. Why couldn’t she have more rights than this?

For the next week, she planned on some sort of payback for the Duchess and the Duke. Snakes? Spiders? Sharks? There was no use, the only reason she was out of Black-Control Jail was because she had behaved for three entire years! If she did something like that, she might as well stay in jail for the rest of her life for Duke/Duchess abusement! She did not want that. She knew what she had to do now, in order to go to the audition. She had to behave, and then maybe the Duke or the Duchess would accompany her there (which was very unlikely). Worth a try, though.

For the next few months, Alice worked hard and paid attention to whatever the Duke or the Duchess said, acting exactly how they wanted. On the day of her birthday, seven months later, the Duchess gave her ten dollars to spend at the mall, and Alice picked out a sparkling big bow-tie for exactly ten dollars, and she knew she would wear that for the audition. A few weeks before the Duchess’s birthday, Alice got as many jobs as she could so she could buy the Duchess something. In the end, she managed to put together ninety-eight dollars and seventy-five cents. She paid for a silver bracelet for eighty-five dollars, and spent the remaining money on a dress that she could wear at the audition (she still hadn’t forgotten).

On the day of the Duchess’s birthday, Alice surprised the Duchess with the bracelet. The Duchess put it on immediately, and admired herself in the mirror.

“Yes?” demanded the Duchess and the Duke at the same time.

“C-could one of y-you b-bring me to the singing audition?” whispered Alice.

“Speak louder, girl!” huffed the Duke. At least they don’t call me a ‘little worm’ or a ‘disobeying little thing’ anymore! thought Alice.

“Could one of you bring me to the singing audition?” Alice called louder. This was the final moment of waiting, the final moment of decision making, the decision would impact her life. The Duke seemed uncertain, but the Duchess seemed to have decided on her answer.

“I will. Alice, you will need to get dressed. When is it?” asked the Duchess in a firm voice.

“ I will go, if my dear Sofia is going.” called the Duke, who was climbing up the stairs. The next evening, Alice went to the Ticketmaster with the Duke and the Duchess.

“You. Black girl. No ticket!” called the Ticketmaster.

“She’s with us,” snapped the Duchess with ice in her voice, handing over money for three tickets.

“She is? Duchess Sofia Smith, are you sure? That… black girl?” trembled the Ticketmaster.

“I am certain, and so is my dear Sofia.” answered the Duke.

“Very well. Here are your three tickets.” The Ticketmaster handed over three tickets. “The train will be in three minutes.”

Three minutes later, there was a rumbling sound from the tunnel. A opalescent white point poked out, and out came the rest of it. It was painted honey-coloured with bees decorated within, and the rest of it was as white as milk. It had the length of a blue whale and it had the height of a giraffe. As Alice, the Duke and the Duchess got on the train, there were multiple glances and people whispering.

“Can you believe it?”

“The Duke and the Duchess with a black girl?”

“I think I’m dreaming about heaven…”

“SHUSH! NO WHISPERING! IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY, SPEAK LOUDLY, OR I WILL REPORT THAT YOU ARE WHISPERING BEHIND OUR BACKS TO THE ROYAL POLICE!” roared the Duke. Quiet seeped around the room as the message sunk in. Everyone eyed the Duke with a respectful eye as the murmurs died down.

“Um… Duke Xavier Smith… Duchess Sofia Smith… that is a black girl!” cried a timid lady. There were nods all around, and a few looks that contained so much hatred, so that if glares could kill someone, Alice would be dead in a heartbeat. Her shoulders were trembling now, But Alice felt grateful that the Duke and the Duchess were kind of protecting her.

“This stop is… Singing Plaza, known for its beautiful singers and the Singing Audition, which is held there.” the intercom stated. “Please get off if you are stopping here. Thank you.”

The train started to run at the pace of a cheetah, then went dramatically to the pace of a snail, then stopped altogether. A crowd of people left behind the Duke and the Duchess, but Alice could still feel the glares clinging onto her. She strode to the Ticketmaster.

“Black. Again?” simpered the Ticketmaster. “I already told you, last year: you are a black, so you need a normal guardian or parent! Bye bye, black.”

“I believe I count as a ‘normal guardian or parent’. She is officially allowed to go. Now shut up, Ticketmaster, or I will get my personal butcher to make meat out of you!” threatened the Duke.

“Y-y-your majesty? Duke Xavier Smith? Is it really you? With this black? I should report you to the police.” sneered the Ticketmaster.

“Yeah… try. I will report you to the Royal Police to tell them how you have treated me, Duke Xavier Smith, whose wife is the cousin of the cousin of the Queen herself! I doubt she will be very happy by that news.” hissed the Duke.

“E-e-er… I won’t… your majesty! Forgive my behaviour!” squealed the Ticketmaster, who ran off in fright. When Alice, the Duke and the Duchess entered the auditorium, where the Singing Audition was taking place, Alice felt like she was on the train again. Glances and hisses were all around, eyes were locked on her, not believing their eyes.

“Can you believe it? The Duke and the Duchess, relatives of the Queen, with a black girl?”

“I think I am in Justice Land or something.”

“I.. am dreaming perhaps?”

As Alice waited backstage for her name to be called out, there were butterflies in her stomach, poisoning all her happiness and calmness that had once resided there. She was actually here. In the auditorium! Stage fright had completely nibbled her and spat her out, making her tremble in fright. She was going to be called any second, now! If she won, she was going to get proper training to be a jazz singer! That was perfect! She wanted that! (She still had to do her chores though.)

“Our next singer, Alice, will be performing for us ‘Tonight Is the Night’.” said the spokesperson.

As Alice took the nerve-racking walk to the stage, her stomach did a flip and a twist, making her wince in fright. When she finally got there, there were gasps and mouths open as she had her appearance, and a few whispers too. Her only thoughts were “They don’t think I belong” and “I can’t do this” and “I have to win” and “Time to sing”. So she started.

As the city’s neon sparkling lights lit up outside, it was ebony-black here. Except for the spotlight for Alice. Everyone was watching. Waiting. Perhaps glaring. She had closed her eyes, and words slipped out of her mouth, forming the song. She was a black, yet she was determined to make this song a song to remember. Her words were like gold, shiny, rememberable, and beautiful, yet malleable, able to be formed into a particular shape, enveloping the crowds in a shimmery basket, showing them what reality was like.

Once Alice’s words faded away, the crowd roared their applause. They seemed like people who had opened their eyes for the first time. Alice’s song seemed to have an effect on them! Perhaps now they would treat people like her, blacks, better!

Once she went backstage, the spokesperson named the awards. “There are two award winners,” said the spokesperson, “One of them is Lily, for singing ‘All Around the World’ and showing us how there is more than one type of people and how there is different people all around the world and the other is for Alice, for singing ‘Tonight is the Night’ and opening our eyes to how black people are being treated.”

As Alice floated onto the stage with another girl named Lily, the crowds roared a few complaints. Alice wondered whether it was because of her. “WHOOOO!” cried most of the crowd. “THEY ARE FILTHY OUTSIDERS” roared the remainder. Alice noticed that Lily had black hair, and she realised that people with black hair probably received the same treatment that she did.

Once they were on the podium, They each received a gold singing trophy and a medal, and a timetable for their jazz singing lessons. Alice felt so proud. Once she got off the podium and towards the Duke and Duchess, their smiles made her even prouder. She was now going to train to be a professional jazz singer, and she knew she was going to be a professional jazz singer.

25. jaslynyc@gmail.com

Part 3

Waiting feverishly in the wings of the stage, Kathryn thought this was the most enervating experience she had ever been in. Although she contemplated bitterly, it wasn’t like she would have been in such situations every day, thanks to her obsessive parents. Kathryn was born with a powerful, earnest voice, as her mother told her, “the gusty cry you let loose when you came into the world split my head!” But her remarkable talent came with a cost – a lusty voice came with a heart made of glass, and while she could never do extreme sports, she sang. Her parents supported her to sing opera, her voice so high it could fragmentize ornaments, training tirelessly day after day. One day, she snapped. Running away from her possessive parents, she made herself a new name – Blossom Calypso – and a new identity, as well as a new style of music. Jazz was like water, with different shapes and different styles, all of them as splendid as a blossom. When Kathryn sang, she felt the bliss and ecstasy of improvisation bloom into her soul. Lost in thought, she almost missed the announcer calling her name. Hands drenched in sweat, Kathryn stepped on stage and felt the accusing stares of the dubious audience. Even the judges seemed thunderstruck, as if thinking, “the nerve of a woman!”. And that made Kathryn aggravated. Fueled by fury, she opened her mouth and sang her heart and soul out. The music was, like her name, a blossom of grace and charm, a glorious piece of art. Her voice was as soft and smooth as a glazed tile, as powerful as a brick wall, yet cascaded over the awed audience like a fleecy, silken blanket. The dais transformed into the moonlit night with a lucent, glimmering orb of night shining above that Kathryn was singing about, a rainbow of bliss. When she stopped, everyone was as quiet as a calm sea, filled to the brim with waves of frenzied delight. Then declarations of “encore” rang out as thunderous cheers were hollered. Kathryn – no, Blossom – bowed as the spotlight shined on her jubilant face, as beautiful as a blossom.

26. The city center is as crowded that if somebody take a mammal step they will fall onto the rails. The people had to be pushed into the train as there was to many people. The humongous skyscrapers tower into This is Tokyo the most populated city on earth. The malls a crowded with people trying to get the latest technology or the best essential goods. The aromas of the scrumptious quality food explode out of the restaurant and into the nostrils of people.In Shibuya crossing it looks as if one thousand people are crossing at once. Everybody seem joyful. Everybody has a decent amount of money. There was no sign of poverty. In Minato the busy rumbling sounds of the cars that rolls of drown any other sounds. Over in Uraysa the Disney land attracts lots of laughter and smiles. It shines. Like a ember of fire standing attractively. It takes in a lot of tourist making it more seen and happy. Outside the buses are beeping the trains are tooting. This is what is expected of a lively city. The Skytree looking down seeing hundreds of small building s and many miniature ones far away. This is a city of industry, of nature , of beauty which shaped daylight. Night time is a completely different story.

At night the city still haven’t slept it is still bustling. Bright neon light show the cities it way many restaurants still have customers. On special nights fireworks go up embedded the dark black sky with colourful paintings. Parades are held showing how active this city is. How empowering it is against the darkness.

In summer the hot weather gives yo changes to swim or to go to the beach. Autumn creates are orange pictures with leaves dropping on the floor waiting for people to jump on. In winter the snow decorate the city white. The chilly temps turn blasts at people. In spring it gives the city vibrancy as the first cherry blossoms bloom.

27. Sarah scrutinised at the lights falling across the dark sky. The stars were scintillating as human individuals congregated around the arena, rectifying in the chairs which croaked in trepidation as they snoozed, their eyes contemplating the singers ingratiating voices sweet as honey. The judges
The other singers, with sanguined subconsciousness and tenacious faces locked on the judges behelded eyes bounding and quavering with suavity as the propitious and auspicious sound reverberated in the stadium.
“Sarah, can you please come on the stage.” the judges called vociferated, “if you don’t come up before we call one more time, you will be disqualified.”
The deliberation had distracted me once again as I sauntered up. The expected thunderstruck and disconcerted face and their glued eyes on me, the tallest judge, with a bushy moustache and a shaggy coat, finally managed to break the silence and exclaimed, “A black skinned women at our show?” Which made the crowd burst into hysterics and cachinnation. Then, I could take it no more. Getting discriminated because of skin colour. I was ready to change this for me. AND everyone around me getting snickered behind their back due to racism. Getting rejected by my own parents and family sneering at me that I will NEVER make it.
Then, the tall man, apparently called Steven replied, “Well, take it away Sarah.” The instant moment after she opened her mouth, an intricate sound ricocheted around, a honey sweet, unbroken tranquility of exquisiteness, the sound crept in to people’s hearts warming, that type of sound that will make anyone fall asleep. Soft and halyconned, the sound, like a string tied the people in an enduring knot, forming a delicate tapestry, heartening and forging hope and vivacity in them , making the crowd sing along. When the song concluded, the judges and crowds stood up in respect and a sonorous sound of clapping resounding in the background. A directive to prohibit racism and set black skinned people free. Her hard panting of her breathe hearable from far afar, and it was over. She had done it.

28. I sat next to the blistering flames, tending the blazing fire. Suddenly, the sparks flared and I retracted, fixing the coal with my overlong stick. My job here was to mind the tinder that kept the house snug and summery and that was all. This winter was frosty and glacial, with bitter Siberian winds unsympathetically pounding at your door. Without the hearth, I would have turned into an icicle long ago. I was sick. I had to warm clothes had to inhale and exhale the only oxygen in the steam of the fire and had to suffer from the piercing cold and the flaring fire. You have to be prepared to sacrifice your time and health to do so – going out in the raw weather taking on all risks to gather firewood for the Dark Lord to consume and devour, bracing yourself for its sudden, spasmodic gasps of blazes and temper, devoting your patience to stoke the heavy embers. I was a servant, a maid, but most importantly, a creature, and a tree. I was a creature, unrecognized by society following faithfully my one and only master, myself. I was a tree, growing and nourishing but not knowing if I was doing so to be a pig for slaughter or not. I was Cinderella.

1. Sorry there were some typing errors, here’s the fixed one:

I sat next to the blistering flames, tending the blazing fire. Suddenly, the sparks flared and I retracted, fixing the coal with my overlong stick. My job here was to mind the tinder that kept the house snug and summery and that was all. This winter was frosty and glacial, with bitter Siberian winds unsympathetically pounding at your door. Without the heat, I would have turned into an icicle long ago. But still, I was sick. And not just and small sneeze sick like most posh people in this town, I was on the verge of dying sick. I had no warm clothes and had to inhale the only oxygen in the steam of the fire, I had to suffer from the piercing cold and the flaring fire. I had no one to take care of me, despite this serious illness, not even the wicked house owners. They would fancy facing their back to to face and watch me grit my teeth of the evening cold; but still, I persisted. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in revenge. You have to be prepared to sacrifice your time and health to do so and to go out in the raw weather taking on all risks to gather firewood for the dark fire to consume and devour, bracing yourself for its sudden, spasmodic gasps of blazes and temper, devoting your patience to stoke the heavy embers. It’s seem like the only thing I was actually connected to actually hated me. I was used to that anyway, ’cause everyone around here hates me. I was a servant, a maid, but most importantly, a creature, and a tree. I was a creature, unrecognized by society following faithfully my one and only master, myself. I was a tree, growing and nourishing but not knowing if I was doing so to be a pig for slaughter or not. I was, Cinderella.

29. Part 1: The sky was cloudless and the rivers was as pure as ice. As I went to investigate the city, I saw a small power plant, the smell was repugnant, it almost made me faint. My fatigued limbs felt as if they were going to fall off with exhaustion. As I limped around the city roads, people looked at me and walked away from me as if I had some infectious disease-I couldn’t blame them, I was dressed in the ragged remains of worn-out clothes. Then I saw a policeman dressed in what seemed like a blue t-shirt but when he got closer, I saw that he was wearing a blue suit. I quickly faced towards a glass window and pretended to be looking through it. My pretence proved useless as the policeman grabbed me by the shoulder and said in a gruff voice “you’re coming with me, sonny.” I freaked out as I was roughly dragged along the pavement. People moved aside for us and when we finally got to a police station, he threw me inside. “Why?” I moaned as I sank to the floor…

30. A gentle breeze swept over me, reminding me of home, as I looked down at the sprawling metropolis from the balcony of my apartment. The sound of teenagers chatting and children playing drifted up to me as I marvelled at the city and pondered all of the opportunities that it could provide. Yet there was something off. Something not funny about this place. It was nothing at all like my home in the country where everything was quiet except for the sound of laughing children, where there was never any rubbish anywhere and where the sky was always a bright, brilliant blue. In the city, you could hear the sound of traffic from anywhere in the city, there were can of soda littered all over the streets and the sky was always covered with dark, pessimistic clouds.

31. As the stage lights flashed on and off, Grace was getting ready to go on stage. She thought that this would be a night that everyone would would remember. Tonight was going to be history. The vermillion curtains flung open, leaving the little girl on the stage alone. The audience whispered quietly among each other. Hatred faces were shown by a number of people. Grace knew what was going on. Will this problem be the toughest challenge she had to face in her journey? Racism has always been a hard part of Grace’s life. She will not allow it to stop her from being a jazz singer.

32. A forbearing breeze blew across my face as I watched the city from the balcony of my apartment. I felt everything, everything was alive. I could hear the sound of school children laughing, the blaring of car horns, the chit-chat of pedestrians walking across the road and the hum of traffic. I was dumbfounded about how busy the city was. Yet there was something off. Something that was not right about this city. It was nothing like home. I felt a gust of heavy, rough wind on my balcony. There was never any litter lying on the ground. The air was like a thick brink trying to block me from the outside world. The city was amazing, but there was a darkness, lying beneath the ground, as if wanting to hide till he wanted to come out. A malevolence that made everyone who heard about it chatter.

33. PART ONE: (270 words)

Chaotic and disorienting beams of light leaked out of the looming buildings. Robotic and monotone zombies marched as their blank eyes were suctioned to their miniature devices. Many mechanical creatures scuttled around with unsettlingly yellow eyes in anarchic traffic. Through heavy and weary eyelids, John stared at the gloomy and grey scene. He tapped a random stranger’s shoulder inquisitively for directions to the nearest and cheapest apartment but no response came back. His awkward pronunciations of the language left him dejected. A stormy cloud drifted above the bustling city. Droplets of adulterated and toxic liquid poured down. As John glanced up, the darkness enveloped him. He floated weightlessly as a memory grasped him tightly.

John checked his pockets in his filthy clothes and no money was to be seen. He sighed despairingly until his father came and embraced him. His father said, “Son, you must invest your money and go to the city of Sydney. There, hopeful opportunities await!” His warm heart faded to the past. John was aroused back to consciousness. The cold reality punched him in the gut. The winds lashed at his limbs. What opportunities?” John thought miserably. The relentless weather pattered on his back. A bright neon light blinded him momentarily. OPEN. John walked into the tiny convenience store. His stomach growled as he walked past many treats. A large sign was plastered to the wall. Please join our employees! We are extremely understaffed and the first month of working will be triple the pay! John only absorbed the words pay and working. His eyes popped. “Could this be the start of opportunity?” John thought optimistically.

PART TWO: (358 words)

I melted into a crimson velvet chair. The crisp and crackling flames danced on the fresh firewood in the homely fireplace. My eyelids closed and opened sluggishly after the long day of intense labour. The hot chocolate pooled in my wide mouth as I rocked on my chair contentedly. The bitter and pale snow clawed at the meticulously designed panes of glass. A barbaric blizzard swirled around my abode. The air instantaneously became pale blue. As I stood to peer outside, my worn muscles ached painfully. I shuffled to the door and heaved it open. The temperature sharply punched me in my already sore chest. The screams of rushing air echoed in my ears. I immediately slammed the door closed.

The rickety oak planks that supported the structure of my home began to wobble vigorously. The white beasts of snow grew in size and leaned against my house. The once serene and tranquil snowflakes in the background became giant snow mounds. The weight of the milky snow made the wood groan. The delicate windows shattered easily and the shards littered the ground. The howling blizzard shot gales of frost into the interior of my home. The whole house careened dangerously to one side. A devilish cackle from the rapidly spinning snowstorm rang in my ruby-red and numb ears. Hopelessness clouded my thought. The roof splintered to smithereens. A tonnage of snow buried me. The remaining walls of my residence were entombed in the white death. Only debris was left of the disaster. When I shoved the slushy material off my face, I only saw the debris of my once lovely habitation.

I waited for my own inevitable fate. The eternal winds still jeered me from all angles. I closed my eyes despairingly and a tear escaped down my scarlet cheeks. The malicious sounds of nature died down. I opened my eyes curiously. The stormy torment halted. The desert of nothingness surrounded me. The sun emerged for once. The warmth replayed in my heart. The remoteness of the area made my heart grey but the new joy of the sun gave hope for the future in this alienated wasteland.

PART THREE: (354 words)

As the midnight sky twinkled with an eerie and unnatural glow, Alice stood on the varnished stage of mahogany. Her cardiac beated rhythmically and vigorously as a spotlight centred on her. She was about to perform her first song in the most popular club in the city. Adrenaline pulses through her veins but anxiety was still piercing her heart. What if she failed? Failure wasn’t a possibility for her. Not after the slavery she had went through. Not after being discriminated against by the rich. The percussive jazz band began to play. The beat clung to her mind. Alice began move her shoulders from side to side. She exhaled softly. This was her chance to shine, instead of labouring in the shadows.

As she sung beautifully, the nostalgic feeling of a warm zephyr in the Summer gave joy to the shocked audience. Her smooth voice fluctuate with ease as an angelic melody replayed over and over in the minds of the adoring listeners. Alice released her inner pains through notes of exuberance. The lovely music came to a halt. The lights died down. Alice’s sillouhette was barely visible. Suddenly, the stage lights blinded the audience. Her voice skyrocketed to an ending vibrato. Alice gasped and stress slipped out of her. The audience erupted into a volcanic cheer and applause. She stepped back. No one in the country had ever applauded her efforts. Perhaps she could make a difference.

Alice looked back at the past. Her entire family worked in an unjust coal mine. Their salary could barely keep the family afloat in their ocean of financial worry. After many years of hard labour, Alice’s family escaped the wretched place. But the fateful day was too painful for Alice’s mind to ever think again. She was sacked and stolen from her family. Her captors kidnapped her when her parents split up from trivial arguments. Alice escaped from the frightening experience but it scarred her. As she came back to reality, Alice realised her fantastical achievement. A tear glistened in her watery eye. No longer was she a barely payed employee. She could make a difference.

34. I found myself, sitting by the fireplace on this cold winter night in my cosy, yet rough armchair. The flickering of flames that I saw, felt like it was percolating into my bones. I thought about what was happening outside. Was it the forceful wind making a hurricane, making plants being destroyed and buildings falling down? Or was it the opposite? I didn’t bother to look. Even though I knew I should have retired many, many hours ago. Later, I shuffled and huddled closer and closer to the fireplace. I couldn’t help but think that I should be here, next to the flicking of the hot flames grabbing whatever was thrown in it. And here I was, slowly dozing off in my warm blanket.

35. Part 1:
I perused the edge of the city with my ambitious eyes ready to take in a whole new Disneyland. What I saw shocked me. Luscious emerald green hedges circled the moonstone gold plated rim of the magnificent water fountain. I lifted my phone and took photos of the breathtaking city. The sun glimpsed into my phone shining a reflection into the fountain. There I saw friendly people walking their dogs or eating macaroons and croissants in nearby bakeries. I shuff;ed my eyes everywhere until I saw the caption of the ‘City of Love’. An luminous oak brown model that was gold and hearty to the human eye. The Eiffel tower. My eyes twinkled as I realized I was staring at France!

Part 2:
I sat myself down on my lilac armchair and gazed into the burning scarlet fire. It illuminated my face, shining, taking in the blood red whisper. Sparks of murderous flames danced around the sandstone fireplace. I glanced at the lonely grandfather clock sitting in my isolated house. It was nine. Bert, my dear son, was supposed to be here by now. I promised him I would allow him one visit but it seemed like he didn’t want it. I closed my eyes and waited. I heard the fire crackling until I heard no more.

Part 3:
As the stars twinkled in the night sky Emma curled huddled up in her makeover chair. It would be any second now that she had to go on stage. Her heart thumped ferociously and her eyes blooded with worrisome tears. Quotes of anxiety swarmed around her brain. The devil of Emma said there would be no chance of making it through the performance, while her happy memories reminded her of the amazing times she had, presenting her voice to the public. She would sing in the park, the museum and the streets. Her wobbling frown became a luminous smile. She stood on stage. With a big breath, Emma sang. Her voice was a fragrant lilac in the flower meadows. It sounded as soft as cotton in the fields. When she finished her solo, the crowd broke into applause. This day was all Emma was waiting for. Flowers showered her as she felt a warm tingle of pride and happiness in her. Never again would Emma be afraid. She would sing to hearts desire freely and happily!

36. Part 2
Crackling flames welcomed me as I before the cheerful fireplace, encased in a fluffy fleece blanket. The heat of the inferno warmed me to the core and seeped into my bones. Outside, the wind howled like a pack of wolves, searching for lost members, as snow fell heavily onto the path. I pitied the people out there, forced to work late into the night just to be able to make sure that their family went to sleep with a full stomach. The fire continued to flicker into the night, forever undying as I glanced at the clock. It was past midnight but I was still idly sitting in front of my fireplace, glued to the floor. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where I was meant to be, in front of the fire.

37. Racism in the 1920s
Alice was just 16 when she aspired of being a jazz singer. She loved the sound of it, the vibe and everything about it but there was a problem lurking in the shadows about to pop later that day.
Alice was shaking with excitement and she just couldn’t contain everything. ‘Come on Alice! Just go out their and kill it!’ Her mind was pushing her on, yet she was nervous. Today would be her big debut. She had always dreamt of this: The dazzling lights shining on her and the crowd cheering. Alice’s had even moved to Los Angeles (The home of Hollywood) just for her and they had sacrificed everything.
When the time came to leave the house for the audition, she had to go by bus as the family didn’t have a car. The audition was to be in a Jazz band. They were called the “Jazz Prancers and they were renowned around the world”. There were three singers but since one dropped out, the leader had to find a replacement. When the bus finally, arrived, something atrocious occurred. The bus was a rickety one with scratches here and there. It had blue stripes painted across but now there was large dots with rust.
The bus driver honked at Alice and yelled “Hey you little filthy mudskin!”. Alice had never experienced this before. However, when Alice went to the shops with her mother on weekends, some people gave her dirty looks. Of course, she didn’t know why until now. Alice hopped on the bus and sat far away from the driver. There weren’t much seats but there was one left. She started pinching herself begging not to cry. The bus trudged on until it stopped at a stop where an elderly woman clambered on. Alice hadn’t noticed this as she had her earplugs in and was enjoying the music. Suddenly, someone shoved her off the seat and offered it to the elderly woman. Alice felt a fury inside of her but decided to keep it in. Why did Alice have to give up her seat out of everyone? Was it because of her skin? Surely not.

When Alice got of the bus, she sprinted to the performing theatre, knowing she was 2 minutes late. When Alice arrived, she begged the judges to let her audition even though she was late.

As the night sky twinkled with the glow of the city’s neon lights, Alice stood on stage, her heart beating loudly with euphoria. She was about to make her debut at the most popular club in the city, and she was determined to make it a performance to remember. The band struck up a vivacious beat, and Alice let out a jubilant laugh as she began to sing. Her voice was like a fragrant rose, calming and velvety, and it seemed to drown the listeners in a benevolent embrace. The audience erupted into cheers and applause, captivated by her charisma and talent.
But the question was, would the judges decline or accept her? Would they accept her for who she is or decline her for her skin colour?

38. Writing prompt: Write a creative scene in which you describe a moment where you are sitting by a fireplace on a cold winter night. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting and atmosphere to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene.

On a cold winter night, the sky was illuminated by the bright shining stars. A frosty wooden house was on top of a mountain. In the house, a boy, named Johnny, was sitting beside the window, waiting for his uncle, Lucas, to come home. However, the only thing that Johnny heard was the rattling and shaking of the windowsill. The wind was gutsy and frosty, whistling through the window gaps, piercing through his clothes, like a burning knife cutting through icicles.
Through the wind, he heard the sound of a car approaching towards the house. He bolted, and wrenched the door open,
”Hi uncle Lucas!” Johnny exclaimed.
”Hi!, it is freezing tonight” uncle Lucas greeted him back.
”Let’s light up the fireplace, shall we?” uncle Lucas asked.
The second that uncle Lucas lit the fire, Johnny felt a sense of joy, pure delight and contentment, almost as if he was invisible and untouchable.
We sat down next to the fireplace, playing a game of chess. Johnny was excited to finally beat his uncle.

39. Part 3.
Writing prompt: Write a creative essay set in the 1920s about a young woman who dreams of becoming a jazz singer and the challenges she faces along the way. Make sure to incorporate the setting of the 1920s into the story, and use it to enhance the character and plot. Use at least 5 instances of personification and 10 instances of metaphor to add flair to your writing.

There were many social developments during the 1920s of America. After the war, men and women wanted to establish new ways of life. They left old traditions from past generations behind and questioned the customs of their parents and grandparents. Ava was one of those women.
Ever since Ava could talk, her parents always dreamed of Ava being in The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They forced her to study and sing rock music. She hated every second of it. They made her life miserable, by projecting their dream onto her, like a horrendous movie on a wall, playing in an infinite loop. She felt caged, a circus animal performer with no autonomy, her spirit’s beaten to oblivion.
One day she snapped like an aggressive circus lioness, and she refused to obey her parents. Her dream was to become an accomplished jazz singer at Harlem’s Cotton Club, where both whites and blacks gathered to listen to jazz. Her true passion and undying love.
Her parents gave her an ultimatum, if she failed to perform at the Harlem’s Cotton Club within 5 years, she will follow her parent’s directions.
Every spare moment that she had, she dedicated them to jazz. By the age of 18 she would be able to audition for a spot in the Harlem’s Cotton Club.

40. Part 1.
The morning sun yawned, casting a candescent, orange-gold aurora across the waking city. Scores of people lumbered in a rhythmic procession, each seemingly trained to walk sluggishly past the towering steel structures in a zombified unison. The citizens then divided into neat lines, walking into respective buildings. I couldn’t exactly put a finger on it but they all seemed the same person on the interior yet completely different on the exterior. Each pair of eyes seemed to be transfixed on a distant point on the horizon, glazed over like they were all wearing blurred contact lenses. The supposed city of opportunity was like a milling metropolis full of brainwashed robots. That was the last thing I remembered before my vision clouded and I was walking down the undulating hills towards the open city walls to merge with the others.

Part 2.
The freezing fire flickered lazily, offering me no reprieve from the cruel tyrant that whipped me with its glacial zephyr straps. Instead, it threatened to die out despite the constant firewood I threw into the hearth. Not that it even mattered. Cold bit at my bones and I could have sworn that frost was creeping up me, sending me into an icy paralysis despite the thick woolen blanket that was draped around me. Not that it even mattered. Only the mesmeric fire that undulated over the wooden flooring, littered with charred plywood kept me alive. Only the flames that licked the iron bars that stood between it and I. I knew that somehow my heart would feel at home in that fire except I never would be. That was when it hit me, one jarring stab of numbing, bitter ice.

“So cold.”

41. dylan-nguyen4567gmail-com

I wearily trudged out of the airplane after a lengthy flight all the way from the family country side farm to a massive megalopolis that I have never seen before. After we took a taxi to our hotel and got to our room, I rushed to the balcony and focused my gaze at the beautiful city. I had never seen a place this vast before, full of sky-high and shining buildings and I could see the famous bridge from here.

I took a huge breath in, expecting fresh air, but something was not right. Definitely not right. The air didn’t smell fresh like the air back at the farm, it smelled awful. The scent smelt like campfire smoke, but only much worse. I gagged at the stench of it, and nearly choked. Suddenly, a loud beep brought my hands to my ears. What was this unfamiliar noise? Then I heard it again and again and again and again. I stared down and noticed a giraffe’s neck length of vehicles slowly building itself to become longer and longer. I hid under the bedsheets with a pillow to my ear, attempting to block out the beeping sound, frightened about this new place I would be staying in for a while.

42. Pt1: By Aidan
The deafening noises of cars rumbling and the ear-piercing screams of little children on the streets were the first things I heard when I entered the lost city. Looking around, I saw light reflections coming off large skyscrapers, and billboards promoting the next new big inventions. It was a whole new world. However, when I looked closely at pedestrians, something seemed off. Most of them were on their phones, disconnected from the world around them. The sky was a dark red, the air was warm like a sauna and a subtle yet strong smell of pollution surrounded me.. The city seemed magical, however, I could sense a problem, a problem that could cause the fall of mankind.

Pt2: By Aidan
I sat down by the fireplace on a snowy, winter night while sipping a warm cup of tea. The heat of the flames encased my skin, creating a barrier from the chills outside. The fire flickered, sending sparks of heat flying everywhere, creating ghostly shadows on the wall. The rickety grandfather clock struck. I should have walked away hours ago, but something about the crackle of the fire and the warmth of the tea strapped me in like a seatbelt. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was meant to be here embracing the comfort of the flames.

Pt3: By Aidan
As the night sky was illuminated with bright flashing stars, Alice stood on the club stage, her hands trembling with excitement. She was going to start her career with a bang and was going to make this night one to remember for the audience. The loud, jazzy music started playing as she let out all her performance nerves with a joyous laugh. She started singing in a soft voice, but as the audience cheers got louder, she became more energetic and started getting into the rhythm. As she started the chorus, the audience erupted into cheers, transfixed by her silky voice.

43. Part 1:
Writing prompt: Write an essay in which you describe a city that you visit. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may include dialogue and other relevant details that add to the scene. As you describe the city, explore the themes of discovery, alienation, and danger. How do these themes affect your experience in the city? What do you learn about the city and its inhabitants? How does your time in the city change you?

As the morning sun stretches its arms, a brilliant and radiating glow spreads all over the humongous city. The brilliant city was engulfed in a crowd of noise and streets of people directed towards their workplaces. All pedestrians work in an orderly fashion and in their towering work buildings. The magnificent lumbering towers and the marvellous, shining waters surface all bring out the unique and exquisite view of a city. But something wasn’t right. It didn’t seem like a normal city to me. More like a superb and remarkable secret metropolis. There is definitely a secret in the city. The citizens of the metropolis are definitely weird. It was as if they were robots or they were mind controlled. I just don’t know. There wasn’t a thing different except the citizens. I would look carefully into it.

Part 2:Writing prompt: Write a creative scene in which you describe a moment where you are sitting by a fireplace on a cold winter night. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting and atmosphere to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene.

Part 2:
Writing prompt: Write a creative scene in which you describe a moment where you are sitting by a fireplace on a cold winter night. In your writing, use descriptive language to bring the setting and atmosphere to life and create a vivid picture for the reader. You may also include dialogue and any other relevant details that add to the scene.

The scorching fire heated up my body in the relentlessly cold night. The fire waned to die out and the wood was diminishing. A creak. A louder creak! I looked up to see a miniature hole starting to open apart. Still, it was a hole. As rain suddenly entered through that micro hole, my fire was extinguished. “Perfect, just perfect,” I thought to myself.
I ripped apart my bag of charcoal and set it upon the fireplace. I took my match and struck it once. Twice. Three times, Yes got it. Then something freezing fell on my head and match, water and ice. I opened my matchbox. That was my last match.

Part 3:
Writing prompt: Write a creative essay set in the 1920s about a young woman who dreams of becoming a jazz singer and the challenges she faces along the way. Make sure to incorporate the setting of the 1920s into the story, and use it to enhance the character and plot. .

There are many jobs in the world. Engineer, doctor, florist, you name it all. Out of all those jobs, Lucas and April became classical musicians. Then they had a daughter. That changed their lives.
Jane was the perfect daughter for them. She just didn’t think that. After all the commotion in the 1920s, she thought she would be a classical musician. Or so she thought. She never expected her 2 parents to pass away before she knew how to become a classical musician. Her horse yawned as it started to pull her away from her home. The only relative she had left alive was her aunt, who was a hip-hop artist. Her aunt treats her like rubbish and forces her to dedicate her life to hip-hop. One day, Jane couldn’t take it anymore. She had a massive row with her aunt and disobeyed her. All her aunt was to say was classical was rubbish. Jane couldn’t help but agree but she hated hip-hop as well. She wanted a more calm type of music. That’s when her best friend Olive, suggested jazz.