Week 1 Writing Homework
Prompt :
Write a narrative (approximately 400-500 words) that begins with the sentence: “I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the door.” Your narrative must demonstrate mastery of compelling openings, sensory description, and precise diction.
Slides: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1HXtbLKAkT0-hLNjcmg-6f9ksj4bmG5W5?usp=sharing
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : October 24, 2025
- Feedback will be shared in 3-5 days
7 thoughts on “Week 1 Writing Homework”
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the door.
You see, Gran’s cottage was never quiet. It always burbled and chattered—pots clanked, floorboards groaned, the kettle whistled madly to itself. But now, as I set one foot inside, everything was hushed, like someone had pressed a finger to the lips of the whole house. The smell was the first oddity: instead of Gran’s apple crumble, I tasted something violently medicinal, like mouthwash and burned rubber had thrown a party in the kitchen.
My shoes made sticky little squeaks on the linoleum. I peered around; there was Gran’s tea mug, toppled on its side, a chocolate digestive lying beside it as if it had fainted from shock. Gran was nowhere to be seen. That alone was peculiar—she delighted in appearing suddenly, flour dust swirling around her like snowy magic. On the wall, the old cuckoo clock sounded two o’clock and, right on cue, its wooden bird flung out with a creak and a squawk so loud I jumped nearly out of my skin.
The living room was in chaos. Gran’s knitting, usually wound up as tight as a snake’s coil, was sprawled in woolly blue rivers across the sofa. Her slippers—patched, pink, and always perfectly paired—were scattered as if she’d leapt out of them. And in the air, somewhere up by the ceiling, a faint and feverish humming, like bees plotting mischief.
I crept to the hallway, visions of burglars in striped jumpers tiptoeing through my imagination. There, plastered across the doormat, was a footprint. Not Gran’s dainty Mary Janes, but a monstrous thing—wet, muddy, and shaped like a rogue potato. It pointed straight towards the stairs.
Swallowing hard, I trailed after it, half-expecting the bogeyman of Gran’s bedtime stories to leap out of the broom cupboard. The house seemed to shrink and huddle around me. My hand was clammy as I gripped the banister and inched up, up, up. At the top, the bedroom door was just ajar. A giggle—startling, unmistakably Gran’s—floated out. Relief washed over me in a warm, ticklish wave.
But as I stepped forward, something shiny zipped past my ear and stuck to the wall with a rude plop. Gran, perched atop her armchair and armed with a slingshot, grinned at me, cheeks round as puddings. “Caught you!” she chortled. “I knew you’d come snooping. Now, how about some apple crumble?”
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
WK1-IG
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the door. I shivered, frightened by the sight that I was seeing. It reeked of garbage making me feel queasy and faint. It was orders, I had to prove myself in the community. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. I stifled a gasp, I knew it was there again. I knew what it was this time. I sprinted across the eerie alley as he chased after me, faster than the human bullet. What to do, what to do? My pair of handcuffs thumped against my chest. My first piece of equipment I thought as I raced towards the police station, or rather I fell into a dumpster full of the smelliest pairs of socks. There was no escape right now, was there?
I blinked, what happened? I was in something putrid, a dumpster I think. Oh no, the memories came rushing back. I could see images of the police being disappointed in me, I would nev- stop thinking about that, they would say it was okay if I made it back. There it was again, the ball of overwhelming shame. I was in the prison cell with bars made with materials probably stronger than diamond. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, what was that my Grandpa used to say when I felt sick? Was it when you’re stuck, punch some targets? No, not even close. Oh, when it’s stuck, put it down? Closer. When it’s stuck, get it out! In my case, I just had to push the middle bars into the next bars. It was quite hard, I was not listening when we had this lesson. To be fair, I became a police officer in 1998 and I don’t think anyone else would recall this exact lesson. I believe I need something explosive and I put on my gloves and push it at the same time as it explodes. After that, I had to do it for the other side and wait for everything to go hot. I tried it, and I ended up with my gloves gone and my bars pushed a single centimetre. Would I even get out? I should never lose hope, I pushed with all my force, my meaning to live and… I blacked out.
I woke up in a strange environment, everything blue and white. Wait, was I dreaming? It looked like a police car! “We couldn’t see you, so we sent a search party, are you okay?” Officer Bell asked me.
“The monster kidnapped me-” I started.
“Not a monster, it was a man disguised as a monster,” he snarled. “Don’t worry, we got him”
After that, I settled back to my busy life arresting criminals.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
WK1-K
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the door. Was it the smell of dusty books or the gloomy look of the dark library? The shelves were arranged in a way that blocked people from entering its heart, a boundary to pass. The floorboards creaked with the pain of my weight. Dust swirled around the library, making my head hurt. There must have been a broken window because of the empty draught floating in like a trespasser.
I continued towards the centre of the ancient library, cautious of any sounds or noises that I could hear. I could feel the dust tickling my nose like a duster, but with a strong smell. My eyes darted left and right, examining the old library. I tiptoed towards a door on the far left of the library, trying to resist the urge to pick up a book and read it. That wasn’t what I was here for. I was here to investigate.
I crept up towards the splintery door and turned the brass handle. CREAK! It went, making my heart beat so fast that I thought it was about to burst out of my chest! On the other side of the door was a deeply furnished room, probably for VIPs. There were squishy couches adorned with puffy cushions that seemed to already occupy the couch. Turquoise coloured wallpaper with honeybees dancing on it stretched across the giant walls. A piano was situated on the far right of the opulent room, probably to entertain the special people.
After a thorough inspection of the large room, I felt around for the big brass door handle and made my way back to the main room. After having a look at the deeply adorned room full of fancy furniture, the rest of the library appeared very dull. Feeling the draught again, my teeth began to chatter and my legs began to shake. Still shivering, I crept around the library, taking notice of anything that looked out of place or suspicious.
After a while, I heard a loud knock. I thought it was the wind just banging on the door, so I just kept on working. Then, in less than a minute I heard another knock. This time, it was louder. My brain was racing with guesses of what it could be. Was it a monster? Was it a magical creature that shouldn’t exist? I didn’t know, so I screamed loudly. Very loudly. So loudly that I bet I alerted the people who lived a kilometre away.
I dashed out of the library as fast as the wind, my legs still quivering. I only stopped when I had reached the closest house I could see. My heard was pounding and my breathing was fast and shallow. I could taste the wind on my tongue. After I had recovered, I took out my phone and rang the boss. “I think I have a theory of who committed the murder,” I announced to him, eager to share my findings.
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the door. Was it the smell of dusty books or the gloomy look of the dark library? The shelves were arranged in a way that blocked people from entering its heart, a boundary to pass. The floorboards creaked with the pain of my weight. Dust swirled around the library, creating a whirlwind. There must have been a broken window because of the empty draught floating in like a trespasser.
I continued towards the centre of the ancient library, cautious of any sounds or noises that I could hear. I could feel the dust tickling my nose like a duster, but with a strong smell. My eyes darted left and right, examining the old library. I tiptoed towards a door on the far left of the library, trying to resist the urge to pick up a book and read it. That wasn’t what I was here for. I was here to investigate.
I crept up towards the splintery door and turned the brass handle. CREAK! It went, making my heart beat so fast that I thought it was about to burst out of my chest! On the other side of the door was a deeply furnished room, probably for VIPs. There were squishy couches adorned with puffy cushions that seemed to already occupy the couch. Turquoise coloured wallpaper with honeybees dancing on it stretched across the giant walls. A piano was situated on the far right of the opulent room, probably to entertain the special people.
After a thorough inspection of the large room, I felt around for the big brass door handle and made my way back to the main room. After having a look at the deeply adorned room full of fancy furniture, the rest of the library appeared very dull. Feeling the draught again, my teeth began to chatter and my legs began to shake. Still shivering, I crept around the library, taking notice of anything that looked out of place or suspicious.
After a while, I heard a loud knock. I thought it was the wind just banging on the door, so I just kept on working. Then, in less than a minute I heard another knock. This time, it was louder. My brain was racing with guesses of what it could be. Was it a monster? Was it a magical creature that shouldn’t exist? I didn’t know, so I screamed loudly. Very loudly. So loudly that I bet I alerted the people who lived a kilometre away.
I dashed out of the library as fast as the wind, my legs still quivering. I only stopped when I had reached the closest house I could see. My heard was pounding and my breathing was fast and shallow. I could taste the wind on my tongue. After I had recovered, I took out my phone and rang the boss. “I think I have a theory of who committed the murder,” I announced to him, eager to share my findings.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
WK1-F