Week 2 Writing Homework
Writing Prompt:
REDO WEEK 1 HOMEWORK Write a story with first sentence as ‘The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd…’ Include a trigger symbol, varied syntax, 5 senses, self-conflict, intense emotional description (400 words)
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : August 5, 2025
- Feedback will be shared in 3-5 days
53 thoughts on “Week 2 Writing Homework”
Like a staccato rhythm in the sky, the thunder rolled across the stadium and stopped every cheer, every clap, even the beating of hearts. For a moment, everything stood still. Thousands of faces turned upward as silver lightning ripped through the clouds. The sky, once sunny and blue, had turned a deep, angry grey, and the first cold raindrops slapped the ground like warning taps.
Sophie’s fingers tightened around her ticket, now damp and wrinkled. Her seat was near the front, close enough to see the players’ expressions, but she barely noticed the game anymore. The noise of the storm reminded her of something her grandfather used to say, “When thunder speaks, listen.” She never knew what he meant, until now.
Another flash lit up the sky, and in that moment, Sophie saw something strange on the pitch: a small, dark shape, half-hidden by the rain, right where the winning goal had been scored moments ago. No one else seemed to notice. The crowd was too busy pulling on ponchos and searching for cover.
But Sophie stayed still. Her heart pounded harder than the rain, and a strange feeling prickled down her spine, like the storm was calling her. She rose slowly from her seat, eyes locked on that spot. Her shoes squelched as she stepped onto the grass, water soaking through her socks, but she didn’t care.
She reached the centre of the field. The shape she’d seen was clearer now, a metal tin, the size of a lunchbox, half-buried in the mud. With trembling hands, she pulled it free. A flash of lightning lit up the lid, carved into the surface were three letters: her initials.
She gasped.
Her grandfather had disappeared three years ago, the same day a storm just like this one had swept through the city. No one had ever found out where he went. No accident, no note, no clues. Just gone. But he had always told her stories, wild, wonderful stories, about hidden maps, secret clues, and objects waiting to be found. She used to think they were just bedtime tales. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Sophie opened the tin. Inside was a note, dry despite the storm, folded neatly beside a small compass. The note read:
True north isn’t always a direction, it’s a decision.
The compass was old, brass and glass, with a needle that shimmered faintly in the lightning. But it didn’t point north. It spun slowly, then stopped, pointing toward the far end of the stadium, toward the tunnel where players entered and exited.
Sophie looked up at the storm with rain washing over her face. She smiled because she knew the adventure had just begun.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5_Schol- Varoon
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd faster than a cat chasing a tasty group of mice at full speed. White zig zags illuminated the sky like a lightbulb, revealing the many hundreds of faces across the rows of stadium seats. John could hear his heart hammering against his ribs pleading to escape. His mind flashed with thoughts – Will this end good? Will I be able to leave this stadium alive? This feels just like the time my parents brought me here! I hope I turn out to be okay. The wind turned from breeze to blaze, picking up astonishing speed. Suddenly, a metallic shine soared through the sky, landing with a ‘THUMP!’ on John’s lap. He gasped. It had his initials on it – JK, Johnathan Kirby. Suddenly the winds roared with a deafening silence, and John could here nothing but the whispers of a prophecy – and then something that nearly made young Johnathan whip his head around away from the blinding rips in the sky to the chattering of the many onlookers who came to watch the match. John stared at the score board for a moment, then at the field. 5-3, Real Madrid. He saw the players scoring goal after goal, playing fearlessly into the aggravated night. John looked back down at the tin can in his hand, bearing his initials. Suddenly, his mind flashed with memories. The can which he kicked around like a soccer ball in matches with his friends. The can which gave him so much. The can which changed his life. He bore his initials in this when it was time to let go. When his parents went missing, family member after family member left him. What if this is my call? He recalled the words immediately that his father had spoken to him the night before the disappearance. One day, anger will pass. The next, it will spread. It will spread to the only person who lets it spread, and they will be chosen by a falling holder. Maybe this is what it meant! he thought. Maybe he was the chosen one. And hopefully, he would be safe. He left the stadium and headed toward the door, but the storm looked like it had other plans. The rip in the sky ran down into the earth, smashing down pieces of ceiling, blocking the way out. And at that moment, at that cause, at that point in time, John thought – was this just some wild weather, or something a bit more sinister?
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2-Y5_Schol- AryanR
The first clap of thunder silenced the crowd like a loud note from a tuba, stopping every cheer, clap, even the beating of hearts. Time stood still. Like an orchestra perfectly in sync, the crowd’s eyes turned to the sky as lightning flashed, ripping through the sky. The sky, which used to be sunny and a light blue, transformed into a mysterious shade of grey. Rain pounded the stadium walls, a timpani.
“Evacuate! Evacuate now!” hollered Kate. Her pale face and anxious expression was illuminated in the sudden spark of lightning, casting an eerie blue shadow. She shrieked with panic as part of the stadium cascaded down, crumbling away. Reaching her hand out to clutch the microphone, she yelped “Get out of there now! It’s not safe!” Her mind drifted away from the moment and she lapsed back to the time when the curse had been delivered and sealed.
“No, not now,” she mumbled as she fell into darkness, hearing the raindrops clatter onto the floor next to her head, onto her bedraggled brown hair.
Ivy’s crooked teeth broke into an abhorrent grin. Bony fingers clutch the quill. ‘Ivy’ is written in curling letters, the black ink settling into the white parchment.
“The deal is sealed. Once this parchment endures the thousandth storm, it shall bring a tempest capable of destroying everything without hesitation. I have added words of binding, which mean this paper can never be found or destroyed. However, you must give me my payment, as I believe I have done my part quite well.”
“Of course, that would only be beneficial for both of us,” chuckled Tim unpleasantly. “You may reach into this bag and pick out five handfuls of treasure. Only then will I leave.”
Ivy reached her frighteningly gaunt arm into the bag, closing her eyes as requested.
“They… wriggle quite a lot, don’t they?” proclaimed Ivy. Tim nodded. After the witch was done, Tim cackled.
“You did fall for it! A girl will now try to save them all, but will not succeed. Your great-great-great-granddaughter, Ivy.” And with that, Tim took the parchment with him and left Ivy with five handfuls of mice and snakes. His wings flapped with pride and wretched happiness.
Gasping back to reality, Kate felt her world crumble. She was the daughter of a witch. With a trembling hand, she closed her hand around the microphone, feeling like her flame of hope had dwindled to embers.
“Please listen,” she said in a choked voice. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“This storm can destroy the world. It was created by a warlock with powerful magic. Only our friendship can stop it.” She didn’t know how much of that was true, but she doubted anyone would listen anyway. But her microphone glowed with power, shifting through crimson to lilac all the way to verdant green. Cautiously, she took it off the stand, and there it was. The yellowed parchment written decades ago. The scroll that caused this fiasco. The trinket that could end all this.
Kate stared at the crowd, who gaped back at her. The paper in her hands, she prepared to rip it. Her heart sank as she was overcome with a realisation. ‘Never be found or destroyed’. Well, I could find it, she thought. Let’s see if it can be destroyed.
As she prepared to destroy it, hail battered her face and hair. Now. Do it now. And with that, she flung the parchment out into the eye of the storm. It lit up with an unearthly glow, shining bright in the obsidian sky. Suddenly, forked lightning zapped it into cinders, shattering the rainbow of colours. The fierce winds that whistled around her ears had calmed into a warm breeze. The heavy raindrops that had peltered the stadium turned into puddles on the ground. The lightning was gone. Kate smiled, her cheeks rosy and pink. She had defeated the storm. “Thank you, Ivy. You did some bad things, and some good things, and this storm wouldn’t be here if you didn’t conjure it, but since you did, thank you for helping me find the answer,” Kate said, bowing her head.
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2-Y5_Schol- Sophia Zhang
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, like a radiant stroke of bright yellow paint from the darkening clouds. Raindrops pounded the stadium walls, drumming a staccato rhythm that slowly lead up to deafening crashes of lightning, illuminating furrowed brows and eyes slammed shut. Daisy’s heart rattled in her ribcage. Her fist gripped her ticket with white knuckles, the drooping, golden paper wet and dull. It squished between her fingers, the frigid water sending slight tremors down her spine. Clutching the envelope, she quickly slipped it into the pocket of her pale pink puffer jacket,.Wind howled around her ears, batting her face with freezing air. Gasping for breath, she realised she could hear something. Tilting her head to the stage, Daisy could faintly hear the orchestra’s tubas and double basses rumbling nervously, unsure whether to continue or not. The bows moved agonizingly slowly, gradually harmonising with the tubas. Flutes slowly joined in, raising the silver bar to their mouth and blowing. Soon, the entire orchestra was playing, with trombones confidently moving their slides and saxophones creating a growing crescendo. Daisy squinted, scrunching up her eyes, and thought that she saw a pale barrier in the sky, as if holding back the lightning and thunder. Abruptly, thunder slammed claws onto the stage, growling and hissing at the band. With wide eyes and pale faces, white as snow, the orchestra dropped their instruments instantly. At that exact moment, the film preventing the thunder from coming through broke, and Daisy heard a distant ringing and shattering sound, like glass. She unconsciously patted her pocket, recalling when her father had first given her house glass window panes. They bought three sheets, all they could afford. Daisy clearly remembered that moment: first, the intense, overjoyed grin that traced her face from ear to ear, wide and large. The laughing, at how they finally got something Daisy loved. The freedom, of knowing what was outside and being able to see it. She snapped back into reality, hearing that ringing and shattering once again. The crowd looked up in confusion, trying to find the cause of the sound. But Daisy knew. She knew the root of this storm. She knew how to end it. She just needed to tell the band.
“Keep playing!” hollered Daisy. “It can stop the storm!” Her father had always told her ‘Listen when storm speaks: there is always a meaning.’ She couldn’t have felt her father’s words buzz in her head more. Everything clicked into place now. The jigsaw had finally been completed. In a way, she was grateful for this storm, or she might have grown and died without knowing how much her father had taught her.
“Tubas! Bassoons! Violas! Flutes! Clarinets! Saxophones! Percussion! Piano! Listen! Your playing will create a barrier that can stop the storm!” Daisy cried.
“Give us proof!” boomed a flute player, his voice skeptical but his eyes shining with hope.
“Up there! You can see a film forming when you play and don’t stop! Music ignites our hearts!” she added, repeating another of her father’s favourite mantras. The band nodded, believing in the only theory that they had. Their notes rose, creating a barrier on the obsidian black sky. Clouds roared and snarled, sending jagged lightning hurtling towards the band. They fearlessly played on, their pieces igniting their night sky. Daisy’s eyes shimmered with hope.
“Please work,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. The sky screamed and barked furiously, helpless and unable to ruin the concert. The barrier was thick and sturdy, weaved with treble clefs and middle Cs.
“I think it worked,” breathed Daisy, sighing with a wave of sudden relief. Stars twinkled merrily at her, as if they didn’t notice the raging battle that had lasted for three hours. The crowd was silent, absolutely speechless. They abruptly erupted with cheers, whooping and clapping. Daisy felt her cheeks tinge pink.
“Thanks, dad,’ she smiled, taking out her envelope and slipping out the faded image of her father in black and white.
“You where the real hero today. You and your mantras that I always thought were so annoying. They saved the day,” she whispered to the photograph.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
2-Y5_Schol- Aria Cui
Sorry can you please give feedback on this one?
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, like a radiant stroke of bright yellow paint from the darkening clouds. Raindrops pounded the stadium walls, drumming a staccato rhythm that slowly lead up to deafening crashes of lightning, illuminating furrowed brows and eyes slammed shut. Daisy’s heart rattled in her ribcage. Her fist gripped her ticket with white knuckles, the drooping, golden paper wet and dull. It squished between her fingers, the frigid water sending slight tremors down her spine. Clutching the envelope, she quickly slipped it into the pocket of her pale pink puffer jacket. Wind howled around her ears, batting her face with freezing air. Gasping for breath, she realised she could hear something. Tilting her head to the stage, Daisy could faintly hear the orchestra’s tubas and double basses rumbling nervously, unsure whether to continue or not. The bows moved agonizingly slowly, gradually harmonising with the tubas. Flutes slowly joined in, raising the silver bar to their mouth and blowing. Soon, the entire orchestra was playing, with trombones confidently moving their slides and saxophones creating a growing crescendo. Daisy squinted, scrunching up her eyes, and thought that she saw a pale barrier in the sky, as if holding back the lightning and thunder. Abruptly, thunder slammed claws onto the stage, growling and hissing at the band. With wide eyes and pale faces, white as snow, the orchestra dropped their instruments instantly. At that exact moment, the film preventing the thunder from coming through broke, and Daisy heard a distant ringing and shattering sound, like glass. She unconsciously patted her pocket, recalling when her father had first given her house glass window panes. They bought three sheets, all they could afford. Daisy clearly remembered that moment: first, the intense, overjoyed grin that traced her face from ear to ear, wide and large. The laughing, at how they finally got something Daisy loved. The freedom, of knowing what was outside and being able to see it. She snapped back into reality, hearing that ringing and shattering once again. The crowd looked up in confusion, trying to find the cause of the sound. But Daisy knew. She knew the root of this storm. She knew how to end it. She just needed to tell the band.
“Keep playing!” hollered Daisy. “It can stop the storm!” Her father had always told her ‘Listen when storm speaks: there is always a meaning.’ She couldn’t have felt her father’s words buzz in her head more. Everything clicked into place now. The jigsaw had finally been completed. In a way, she was grateful for this storm, or she might have grown and died without knowing how much her father had taught her.
“Tubas! Bassoons! Violas! Flutes! Clarinets! Saxophones! Percussion! Piano! Listen! Your playing will create a barrier that can stop the storm!” Daisy cried.
“Give us proof!” boomed a flute player, his voice skeptical but his eyes shining with hope.
“Up there! You can see a film forming when you play and don’t stop! Music ignites our hearts!” she added, repeating another of her father’s favourite mantras. The band nodded, believing in the only theory that they had. Their notes rose, creating a barrier on the obsidian black sky. Clouds roared and snarled, sending jagged lightning hurtling towards the band. They fearlessly played on, their pieces igniting their night sky. Daisy’s eyes shimmered with hope.
“Please work,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. The sky screamed and barked furiously, helpless and unable to ruin the concert. The barrier was thick and sturdy, weaved with treble clefs and middle Cs.
“I think it worked,” breathed Daisy, sighing with a wave of sudden relief. Stars twinkled merrily at her, as if they didn’t notice the raging battle that had lasted for three hours. The crowd was silent, absolutely speechless. They abruptly erupted with cheers, whooping and clapping. Daisy felt her cheeks tinge pink.
“Thanks, dad,’ she smiled, taking out her envelope and slipping out the faded image of her father in black and white.
“You were the real hero today. You and your mantras that I always thought were so annoying. They saved the day,” she whispered to the photograph.
Everyone froze. Even the wind stopped for a moment as dark clouds rolled over the hills. Elara stood at the edge of the broken tower, holding the pendant that hung around her neck.
It was a round metal disc, with a swirling eye carved into it—the Mark of Vatra.
She had always been told it was cursed. A symbol of storms, fire, and forgotten magic. Her mother had hidden it away, locked in a wooden box beneath the floorboards. But Elara had found it. And now, it was glowing.
The air was thick and hot, even though the storm was coming. The scent of smoke and rain filled her nose. Somewhere in the crowd, a baby cried. Someone whispered, “It’s her.”
They were all looking at Elara. Waiting.
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t feel powerful. She felt scared. What if she made a mistake? What if the stories were true?
She remembered what her grandmother had told her:
“Don’t call the storm unless you’re ready to become it.”
But there was no going back.
The wind picked up, whipping her dark hair around her face. Thunder cracked again, louder this time. Elara’s fingers shook. The pendant burned hot in her hand.
She wanted to run. But she couldn’t.
She heard the frightened voices of the people below. She saw the ruins of her village behind them. Fire had destroyed their homes. The king’s soldiers had taken everything.
Now they were here, at the old tower, where the last storm-caller had stood hundreds of years ago. And they had come for her.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered.
But the pendant did. It pulsed with light—red, gold, then deep blue.
Elara raised it high. Lightning flashed across the sky. A powerful wind rushed around her, lifting her cloak like wings. The ground trembled.
She didn’t feel like a girl anymore. She felt like the sky had opened inside her. The storm was part of her now.
Elara screamed—not in fear, but in power.
The lightning struck behind her. The tower lit up.
And the soldiers, far below, began to run.
The people cheered.
Elara didn’t smile. She just stood tall.
She had become the storm.
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2-Y5_Schol- Nathan
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. People’s mouths stopped mid cheer. Eyes widened as another tumultuous thunder illuminated the night sky like a lamp lighting up a room. The players on the match stopped and stared. It was as if someone flicked a switch to turn time off. Someone screamed as a serpent-like thing formed in the ball lightning. A petrifying laughter echoed off the stadium walls. Sophie watches the star player’s face turn ghostly white. The smell of burning choked Sophie’s nose.
The crowd turned and stared at the star player whose face contorted from a smug smile to a terror stricken expression.
Panic washed over the crowd like a tidal wave. People scrambled for the exit as the serpent descended. Mysteriously, the doors were locked. People were shrieking. Babies were crying. Kids were wailing for their parents. Players ran for cover as the pharaonic serpent wrecked havoc. Sophie stood there as the chaos unfolded. Her great grandpa always told her to stay calm in such situations as panicking won’t help before he died. Then something hit her. The person must be in the speaker room as you only access the loud speakers if you are in the speaker room. Sophie bolted towards the speaker room and opened the door to see a bedraggled man letting out a black hearted laugh through the speaker. His laughter died down as he spotted Sophie staring. Then he disappeared into thin air. The smell of smoke stuffed the room. Sophie spotted a piece of paper on the floor. It read: Go to the never ending forest. Never go past the tree with no leaves. You will see a passageway. Go in. Don’t go out until you have found the man. As soon as Sophie finished reading the note, the serpent disappeared. Sophie looked out the window. Questions clouded her head but the real question was: Should she go on the quest or stay home where it’s safe and sound.
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. People’s mouths stopped mid cheer. Eyes widened as another tumultuous thunder illuminated the night sky like a lamp lighting up a room. The players on the match stopped and stared. It was as if someone flicked a switch to turn time off. Someone screamed as a serpent-like thing formed in the ball lightning. A petrifying laughter echoed off the stadium walls. Sophie watches the star player’s face turn ghostly white.The smell of burning choked Sophie’s nose.
The crowd turned and stared at the star player whose face contorted from a smug smile to a terror stricken expression.
Panic washed over the crowd like a tidal wave. People scrambled for the exit as the serpent descended. Mysteriously, the doors were locked. People were shrieking. Babies were crying. Kids were wailing for their parents. Players ran for cover as the pharaonic serpent wrecked havoc. Sophie stood there as the chaos unfolded. Her great grandpa always told her to stay calm in such situations as panicking won’t help before he died. Then something hit her. The person must be in the speaker room as you only access the loud speakers if you are in there. Sophie bolted towards the speaker room and opened the door to see a bedraggled man letting out a black hearted laugh through the speaker. His laughter died down as he spotted Sophie staring. Then he disappeared into thin air. The smell of smoke stuffed the room. Sophie spotted a piece of paper on the floor. It read: Go to the never ending forest. Never go past the tree with no leaves. You will see a passageway. Go in. Don’t go out until you have found the man. As soon as Sophie finished reading the note, the serpent disappeared. Sophie looked out the window. Questions clouded her head but the real question was: Should she go on the quest or stay home where it’s safe and sound.
Scholarly w2 scholaship ahhhh
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2-Y5_Schol- Marina.Chen
Rigid strikes of opal bruised the obsidian sky like brushes of pain tumbling through a purple mayhem. Every roar was a subtle warning of danger. Every chant gently signaled me with jagged yet unspoken words. The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, with a snap of a finger.
Eager fans cheered like a tuba, every accented staccato crescendoed through the concert stage. I cheered the loudest. On the stage stood Mum. Her chestnut hair hovered above her shoulders and rested upon her ears. Her dressed radiated with vibrant shades of yellow – my favourite colour. Her alluring fingers softly plucked the strings of her harp, every note as a humble pianisimmo. My ears adored the way her melody reverberated through the stage, her voice numbed all the pain that was hidden. Mum always puts on citrusy perfume, the sour seeds, the sweet lemonade.
Pitter patter Pitter patter. Hua la la, Hua la la. Boom! Crash! Crack! I gasped. Music stopped. My heart hammered relentlessly like a wild animal trying to escape from my chest. My heartbeat pulsated erratically as adrenaline accelerated through my veins. My jaws were clenched as a held such a tight fist- my knuckles turned white. Ghost like strikes pierced through the atmosphere, forcing a halt to the concert. An ear-piercing roar of deafening thunder suddenly reverberated through the air and streaks of incandescent lightning began flashing across the dismal sky. Mum collapsed. She was left agonized in the middle of the stage, her arms turning black. Lightning struck her. I fastened my steps up the stairs, I rushed next to Mum.
Crimson blood stained her arms towards her legs, all the manifestation written on her face. Doctors rushed on stage whilst Mum was still suffering in pain. They took her on the ambulance, the sirens grew even louder than the lightning. Every second. Every mistake might separate me and my Mum forever. However, I had never thought that it would be my last time seeing Mum through the rowdy roar of sirens. Not even the accompany of her harp. Not even a person to love me from now on. Not even her citrusy perfume. Sweet, when I remembered her harmonious harp. So sour, when I remembered all the isolation that Mum made me feel.
A Crash Of Meaningful Thunder
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. from anticipation to abrupt aghast. People started gossiping and then after another dose of lightning. Gossip turned into instant panic. The smell of agitation invaded the air. lightning drumming a presto rhythm. The stadium was filled with the sound of fortissimo distress.
She gasped.
The continuous striking of the thunder took Uzi to the memory of her father playing the African Drums when she was feeling blue. She felt the rains drops expressing the melancholy she had been feeling those times. This storm was not ordinary at the slightest. It had a faint voice coming from the atramentous clouds. Saying something, but was too faint to understand. Was it the voice of her dead father or was it just hallucination messing with her mind . As everyone sprinted to shelter, they saw the stadium in state of darkness and ebony with clouds encircling it. The storm continued like it was to stay over a decade.
Uzi smiled in relieve.
There was something rest assured would keep the hole crowd safe but not this time! Unexcitingly a pole fell down with electrical charge emerged in the core of the rusted steel. Shockingly the edge of the stadium roof stopped the fall. No one was killed or injured. After that pole fell down a sign of relieve cam to everyone as the storm had met its demise. After that moment Uzi could finally let go of her burden of desolation and live free from the chain of sadness and depression! Ever since that day she was content and joyful but not for long until the day of even more darkness came to intervene all of her ecstasy . . .
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2-Y5_Schol- JASH
Can you please mark this instead?
Rigid strikes of opal bruised the obsidian sky like brushes of pain tumbling through a purple mayhem. Every roar was a subtle warning of danger. Every chant gently signaled me with jagged yet unspoken words. The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, with a snap of a finger.
As the hour hand and the minute hand simultaneously hit 12 on the clock, I stared with drowsiness at the door. When will Mum come back? I asked myself – has Mum ever played with me since I was 7? The door clicked, I sprinted towards Mum, but all I deserved to see was the exhaustion on her face. Where was the smile that used to be permanently there? Thoughts buzzed in my ears like frenzied bees. Should I tell her? Should I tell her about my feelings? I made my final decision : nothing would interrupt Mum until the most important day of her life.
All of this – the waiting, the silence – had led to this. Eager fans cheered like a tuba, every accented staccato crescendoed through the concert stage. I cheered the loudest. On the stage stood Mum. Her chestnut hair hovered above her shoulders and rested upon her ears. Her dress radiated with vibrant shades of yellow – my favourite colour. I watched with inspiration, her alluring fingers softly plucked the strings of her harp, every note as a humble pianissimo. As she played, my ears adored the way her melody reverberated through the stage, her voice numbed all the pain that was hidden. Mum always puts on citrusy perfume, the sour seeds, the sweet lemonade.
Pitter patter Pitter patter. Hua la la, Hua la la. Boom! Crash! Crack! I gasped. Music stopped. My knuckles turned white, my heart hammered relentlessly like a wild animal trying to escape from my chest. My heartbeat pulsated erratically as adrenaline accelerated through my veins. My jaws were clenched – my lips bled. Ghost like strikes pierced through the atmosphere as it forced a halt to the concert. An ear-piercing roar of deafening thunder suddenly reverberated through the air and streaks of incandescent lightning flashed across the dismal sky. She fell. Mum quivered from fright, she was left agonized in the middle of the stage, her arms turning black. Lightning struck her. I fastened my steps up the stairs, I rushed next to Mum.
Crimson blood streamed down her arms and soaked her legs, all the manifestation written on her face. Doctors rushed on stage whilst Mum was still suffering in pain. They took her into the ambulance, the sirens grew even louder than the thunder. Every second, every mistake might separate me and my Mum forever. However, I had never thought that it would be my last time seeing Mum through the rowdy roar of sirens. Not even the accompaniment of her harp. Not even a person to love me from now on. Not even her citrusy perfume. Sweet, when I remembered her harp. Sour, of the silence between us.
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2-Y5_Schol- Tiffany Gu
done
Felix SUN Week 2 Schoarship Writing
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2-Y5_Schol- zhuyingdorahotmail-com
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. A million faces turned to scared confusion, and the stadium went from silent to complete chaos. This was supposed to be an exciting rugby game. Suddenly, the audience was the players, tackling each other and running for the exit. The smell of petrichor filled the giant stadium as a silver streak of light passed through the clouds and raced to the ground, then crashed into the damp, soggy grass below. A static explosion occurred as sparks of electricity rose further into the air like balloons. Not long after, another bolt came, splitting through the sky, and like the end of a crowded concert, even more people scrambled to find their belongings, while the thunder rumbled angrily like the bang of a timpani. The piano seemed to follow with a dissonant chord, as the lightning had reached the stadium, and a concrete part fell off like a sizable cookie crumb. With a drenched jacket and a weighty backpack in hand, Ellen frantically looked around for that black crystal. ‘That one,’ she thought, ‘the one that that stupid merchant gave me.’ Even though it had been barely one hour, she could not find anywhere in her head what that merchant looked like. All she could remember was that he sat at the giant entrance among the other shops nearby at a creaky wooden table with a tiny crystal in his wrinkled hands.
The raging storm did not slow down for Ellen. On the contrary, it continued its rampage, aiming for the food court on the opposite side of the stadium. At this point, almost half of the fences around the stadium had been completely decimated and had transformed into useless chunks of concrete and metal, planted inside the moist soil. And yet here Ellen was, checking every single seat in hopes that the crystal was there. And yet it had disappeared, like a ghost vanishing into thin air. Then, lightning struck from the skies again, illuminating the bottom row of the seats for a millisecond, but she saw it. The crystal, just rolling lifelessly on a soaking jersey that had been left behind. She didn’t waste a single second. She sprinted to the bottom and quickly yanked the crystal from its hiding place in the middle of two seats. It was cracked open, and there was a wrinkled paper, dry as a bone, in the centre of the storm. It was glowing with a strange purple through what seemed like cracks on the side of it. Carefully, Ellen flipped it.
She checked it twice. Then three times. Was she dreaming? On the paper was a short letter.
Dear Mother,
It’s almost too late to stop it. Someday, the storm’s going to come for us. You HAVE to give that crystal to Ellen. Tell her everything. Why we left her, why we need her to use this power. Though remember, DON’T TELL JAYDEN. All he wants is money, because that thing sells for a lot.
From Jacob
She looked at the black crystal in her hands again, then thought about that merchant. What was going on?
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2-Y5_Schol- Nathan Zhou
This is my Week 2 Writing.
Week 2 Writing Homework
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2-Y5-Ce
A Daring Speech
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. In that moment, every cheer and whispered conversation vanished, swallowed and dimmed by the sky’s booming voice. Lightning shook light poles and hearts like it owned them.
That’s when the wind surged into chaos. Rain pounded the plaza like drumming fists. The crowd scattered. Vendors abandoned their stalls. Mara stood there frozen as the storm took her chance away. Her goal was to deliver a small speech at the town gathering but all hope has collapsed under the storm’s power. This was her only chance to do something about it. About inequality in the world. Without this only chance Mara couldn’t do anything about it. No one could do anything about it.
As a gust flung water into her face, a faint image flickered. A flash of sea breeze, of childhood summers. She was seven years old, watching the angry storms roll off her grandmother’s porch. Wind whispered secrets past her ear as Mara’s eyes lit up at every strike of lightning. She saw her grandmother’s hand resting on her shoulder while thunder cracked overhead. That time, fear had gripped her until Grandma whispered, “The storm passes, dear. So do the troubles.”
The brief vision, triggered by the storm’s familiar sounds and scents, brought sudden clarity to her confused mind.
Snapping back, Mara inhaled a lungful of storm laced air. She realized her task wasn’t ruined, it was transformed. Instead of timidly calling people back under cover, she raised her voice, letting it carry across the storm rattled square.
“Friends! This storm reminds us how quickly calm can flee, but it also shows us how power returns. Stand with me!”
Her speech, carried with honesty and rooted in memory, drew people back to her side. The storm almost seemed like it was listening. Everyone clapped, her daring bravery leading a speech. Today Mara is the spark to the fire that burnt out all darkness.
Rewriting (A Daring Speech)
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2-Y5-sonya613@hotmail.com
writing homework
scholarship writing week 1 edit
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2-Y5-Tracy-lau
done
The first crash of thunder
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2-Y5-Vivaan
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. Jaws dropped wide open as the crowd whimpered like a litter of puppies. White goose bumps prickled across my skin while the lightning struck fiercely, splitting the sky like a jagged blade. I could feel the harsh heavy raindrops hitting my skin shouting, “You will never beat me!” I hid my face behind the crowd, hoping the storm would go but the moon chuckled with an unnatural grin like it was putting a curse on my wish to disappear. Heads spun around the sky as if it was the ruler to be placed onto the throne. My furrowed eyebrows matched everyone else’s. I bit my pale lip while taunting visions swelled in my distraught mind. Our hearts ached when the stars contrasted under the untrusted blanket of the pitch black sky.
Tears filled up my eyes even more than a tsunami could hold. The clouds turned into the shade of a black cat and the wind rustled past the wrinkled up leaves. The clouds seemed to have red menacing eyes while the rain flooded the battered pathway. The raindrops had long fingers reaching further than the street. Using all my might, I stared up at the villainous storm trying not to scream my lungs out. Lightning struck brighter than the Milky Way, almost making my eyes go blind. I placed my sweaty hand on my white face.“Oh please, please go away!” I yelled in my hand until it echoed back at me. The crowd stood with an eerie hush each time the thunder roared.
The storm was the only present sound swirling in my ears. My head would burst after the frequent alarming thunder, each making my head squeal with pain. The lightning struck in just a blink of an eye, wanting to beat the speed of light. “Why would you even want to stop me? Why do you need to test me when you know I’ll win?” The storm wrote on the dull sky.
I slouched my head, pointing at the direction where insects scurried and hid under a fallen leaf. I could feel my body rip into pieces every time the storm played another of its spells. The storm only got worse as if it was testing us on our bravery. The tumultuous thunder and lightning wanted power to take over the world. The lightning struck dazzlingly causing my heart to pump louder and my head swirl with trepidation. I looked over my shoulder and felt a warm spirit grasp hold of my hand. She was gentle and light blue like the vast never ending ocean. Despite the notorious storm, the spirit appeared to be smiling peacefully.
The storm leisurely settled to a peaceful sprinkle of dancing raindrops. The moon glowed with written letters repeating, “peace is the way to bring harmony and needs to be maintained.” The swift harsh wind paced slowly to a soft breeze. The crowd wandered with their amused heads with thoughts, thoughts of the sudden disappearance of the iniquitous storm.
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2-Y5-Lihini
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, not a single person speaking or moving. Maya and Tara Harper, twin sisters cheerleading for the Titan Rangers football club suddenly came to a halt. A couple of minutes earlier it had been sunny without a cloud in the sky. The rain started pouring and everyone ran for shelter. Even the players who were desperate to win the only grand final for this year were running.
Everything was a blur. All the fans and football players left. The cheerleaders started to run too. Suddenly Tara tripped on a scarf and fell. She picked herself up and saw something glowing brightly on the ground. A mustard seed necklace. A symbol of faith and growth. She cautiously picked it up.
‘It can’t be,’ She thought. ‘They were forbidden decades ago.’
A couple of months after the game it was still raining nonstop. The floods had swept the family car which had been parked on the street, away. Luckily the house was on stilts so it wasn’t affected. They couldn’t go to school. Nothing was fun anymore.
Tara hadn’t told anyone about the necklace but she’d been researching online. She had found it was illegal to have the necklace and she could end up in jail. She became slightly worried and made sure to keep the necklace safe.
One day she came across a headline that said, MUSTARD SEEDS BANNED DUE TO DEATHLY FLOODS. The article said that any mustard seed that was exposed to sunlight would cause unstoppable rain. The mustard seeds had had a spell put on it by a nasty witch. The floods had caused many people and animals to die . The witch had vanished as soon as the spell was cast. With no way to reverse the spell the government had no choice but to ban them. They got rid of the existing mustard seeds by going to the volcano at the edge of town and throwing it into the deep molten lava. The rains finally stopped. The article was published two decades ago. She knew what she had to do.
The next day Tara heaved the blow-up dingy from her shed and onto what was now just a large body of water. She rowed it out towards the volcano. After what seemed like forever she arrived. She climbed out and stepped onto the only piece of dry land. She stared up at the volcano, forbidding her to near it. It was large and had millions of tiny piece of lava spitting out of the top. It smelled of a burning campfire. It reminded her of a dragon blowing fire. She froze, knees shaking and heart beating as if a jaguar was about to have her for dinner. She was soaked from the rain but she was glad it held the lava back slightly. She stepped out towards the volcano, climbing till she was at the top. Slowly and carefully she pulled the necklace out of her pocket. She threw the necklace into the hole and then there was a loud explosion, which knocked her off the ledge she was standing on. She fell onto her back, wincing in pain. She saw orange and felt an unimaginable heat then suddenly felt a sturdy hand pulling her onto her feet, and a voice – Maya’s voice – telling her to run. She was lightning, running for her life.
Back in the dingy, rowing home, Maya explained that she saw Tara rowing away from the house, and took a boogie board to follow her. Tara explained the whole story about the mustard seeds. Maya was disappointed that Tara hadn’t asked her to help.
‘You almost died,’ exclaimed Maya.
‘Thank you. I’ve learned my lesson to always ask for help,’ said Tara. Tara hugged her sister, face streaming in tears. She was glad to be safe.
Sorry, can you please provide comments on the one below (posted 5 August)
Here’s my homework😐
Scholarly W2
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2-Y5-Tricia Yi
Don’t Doubt It!
The first crash of lightning silenced the crowd, air turning stone cold. Momentarily, not a single sound was made apart from the furious and dramatic staccato rhythm made by the acrid, earthy raindrops pattering on the solid concrete walls, bouncing the raindrops off their surface like tiny pellets. The stadium burst back into its usual commotion, laughter, chatting and cheering, the medley of sounds echoing in my ears as if nothing had happened.
A great force of electricity struck again, clawing at the stadium below, narrowly missing it. My ears winced from the noisy sound of the shockwave; a master cracking a whip repeatedly on a poor, defenceless and innocent slave.
Quicker than the lightning had come and gone, the alarm wailed out, a baby crying, a baby crying due to the absence of its mother. Immobilised, I sat there frozen in time. Why would I need to leave? The siren isn’t indicating anything, I thought, the thunderstorm is calming, the rain has even ceased – what was the problem: what could go wrong? People even squealed – what was so scary?
A further announcement instructed everyone to evacuate the building immediately. I chuckled at the foolish people, ignoring the rest of the notice.
By now, mobs of people were streaming out of the stadium like mice scurrying back to the safety of their holes. The suddenly deserted and dishevelled stadium had nothing wrong with it – why were throngs of people trying to squish out of every exit? I surveyed the stadium for any signs of danger, but there were none. I tried again and again, to find a particular crack in the wall hiding a suspicious glow.
Before I realised it, fire was seeping through the walls like water trickling out of every crack. Legs betraying me, I stumbled, kissing the protective railing. Alarmed, I bolted to the nearest exit, heart trying to break out of my chest. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt that I could have broken the world record with that speed.
Narrowly escaping the vicious snake, its bright red tough threatened to engulf me. Scolding myself for stupidity, I found my car easily on the ‘desert’ and sped back home.
A sharp and jarring pain surged through my arm. I quickly but carefully drove to the hospital, there for a day. My burned arm was treated, but the scorch mark was still there forever in my heart, a foolish teenager that refused to run on the verge of danger.
The nasty burn on my arm was a priceless reminder of my stupidity and that everything happens for a reason, a lesson more expensive than any diamond or rare material.
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2-Y5-Zac Cui
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. Millions of spectators froze suddenly and quickly. The thunder and lighting spinning and dancing through the stadium roaring, screaming. Everyone stood still as the stadium light felt like it wants to run away as quickly as a cheetah. Hannah shivering as the rain sprinkles down the drained seats.
” What should we do now!”
Hannah Yelled.
Hannah’s best friend Lilly next to her, was the most petrified out the millions of people was screeching the loudest.
“Help, what are we going to do!”
The score board turned to 5-6 the crowd was roaring not because of the score but the towering storm. The storm began to be bolder, louder the rain started to pour so much that it would fill a jug in seconds!
” We have to leave!” Lilly exclaimed.
From millions of people watching had now became hundreds and now less than half the seats were less than a half empty. From full seats to less than half left!
” We must leave!” Hannah whispered with fear.
They leave the stadium doors the storm is still going strong loud thunder, the lightning is still flashing.
Hannah and Lilly would of left hours ago but they would have another gigantic problem to think about the bus.
even if they leave now the bus stop would probably have hundreds waiting for the bus and when it arrives there will be no room left! Not even a tiny spot for someone to stand. Half an hour later a warm breeze touches them within minutes their soaked clothes become dry they are on the bus!
They looked out of the window and wondered when the storm was going to stop.
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2-Y5-Ariana Huang
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, the stadium so quiet you could even hear a fly buzz. Rain poured down onto us, people seeking their ponchos. The game had stopped mid kick. One moment – nothing stirring, just the cold patter of rain – the next, an inhumane silhouette casted on the plain grass fields. Everyone didn’t seem to notice; too busy protecting themselves from the icy water.
Thunder continued to slap the defenseless grass, as the shadow consumed all the color as it approached. Green? Gone in a hurry. Hot pink? Drained from existence. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the pull of my joy, happiness, all I had lived for, forcing itself into it. What could this mysterious compulsion be? I had this vague memory in the back in my head – so close, yet so far.
“Gabriela Angelini,” I heard its voice, deep and rich, like a droning of a trumpet. It took a moment for me to realise it knew my name. Suddenly, memories flooded back.
“Khaos,” I muttered underneath my breath. The goddess, the creator of chaos itself, the curser. How she could turn anything into dust just with the effortless flick of her hand. How the echo of her voice could kill. How she could turn my father – anyone against me.
“Yes, it is, my love,” she smiled wickedly. She was dressed in black robes, her skin making her look like she bathed in moonlight, a blood red laurel wreath covered her head. She looked ethereal – in an eerie way. Her eyes were pure white; I could feel them boring into my soul.
“After a millennia, at last, I am finally truly free,” she grinned, stretching her arms as they expanded. “Your mother sealed me off for good last time, I thought you would do better, young Gabriela.”
I knew something. My father was cursed – turned against my mother and I under the influence of Khaos’ dreams.
“That’s right, my sweet,” she cooed eerily as if she could read my thoughts. “Your father was the perfect pawn; damaged and depressed. It didn’t take much to make him one of my loyal slaves. As for the other mortals in this stadium…”
I looked around quickly, the crowd was gone. No living soul treaded across the landmass anymore – just Khaos, the bad weather, and I.
“…They’ll look gorgeous in my palace,” she finished with a smile. Pure horror spread across my face, my skin turning pale as if I had just seen a ghost. I could feel a strong aura begin to form around her.
“W-What did you do t-to them?” My voice cracked midsentence, my hands trembling with fear.
Khaos just spread her arms open huskily.
“Just did a little fixing to them, love,” she raised her hands up. “And I’m sorry to say that our chatting time has come to an end, it’s time for you to die.” People – things came charging at me.
I couldn’t describe what they were. All wearing white dresses, with red spots stained on it – I don’t suppose it was paint. Their jet black hair covered their faces, their skin, pale as pure white. Oh, wow cool, I get to experience watching weird people coming at me? Awesome! It was terrifying, their speed only giving me a moment to react. But it was too late, red strikes flashing at me. The last thing I heard was wicked laughing and a shrill voice shrieking, “I’ve always wanted to say that!” before everything going black. Was I… dead?
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2-Y5-Jo Gao
done! my homework is attached below.
Scholarship Writing Wk 2
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2-Y5-melodyc
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, not a single person speaking or moving. Maya and Tara Harper, twin sisters cheerleading for the Titan Rangers football club, came to a halt. A couple of minutes earlier it had been sunny without a cloud in the sky. Then the rain started. Everyone including the players that were desperate to win the grand final ran for shelter.
Everything was a blur. Everyone left the stadium. Whilst leaving Tara tripped on a scarf and fell. She stood up and saw something glowing brightly on the ground. A mustard seed necklace. A symbol of faith and growth. She cautiously picked it up.
‘It can’t be,’ She thought. ‘They were forbidden decades ago.’
Months after the game it was still raining nonstop. The floods had swept all the cars parked on the street away. Luckily most houses were on stilts so they weren’t affected. Still, they couldn’t go to school due to the flooding. With nothing to do they sat on the floor at home bored.
Tara had found online it was illegal to have the necklace and if you were found with one you could end up in jail. She became more worried and made sure to keep the necklace safe. She didn’t tell Maya. She didn’t want anyone else to get in trouble..
One day she came across a headline: MUSTARD SEEDS BANNED DUE TO DEATHLY FLOODS. The article said any mustard seed that was exposed to sunlight would cause unstoppable rain. The mustard seeds had had a spell put on them by a horrendous witch. The floods had caused many animals and people to die . The witch had vanished. With no way to reverse the spell, the government had no choice but to ban them. They got rid of the existing seeds by throwing them into the deep molten lava of the volcano at the edge of town. After that, the rain finally stopped. This article was published two decades ago. Tara knew what she had to do.
The next day Tara heaved the blow-up dingy from her shed, onto what was now a large body of water. She rowed towards the volcano. She arrived and climbed out stepping onto the only piece of dry land. She stared up at the volcano. It was large, and had millions of tiny pieces of lava spitting out of the top. It smelled of a burning campfire. It reminded her of the sun. She froze, knees shaking and heart beating as if a jaguar was about to have her for dinner. She was soaked from the rain but she was glad it held the lava back slightly. She climbed till she was at the top, pulling the necklace out of her pocket. She threw the necklace into the hole. Then there was a loud explosion, knocking her off the ledge. She fell onto her back, wincing in pain. She saw orange and felt an unimaginable amount of heat. She felt a sturdy hand pulling her onto her feet, and a voice – Maya’s voice – telling her to run. She was lightning, running for her life.
Back in the dingy, rowing home, Maya explained she saw Tara rowing away from the house. She took a boogie board to follow her. Tara explained the whole story about the mustard seeds. Maya was disappointed that Tara hadn’t asked her for help.
‘You almost died,’ exclaimed Maya.
‘I’ve learned my lesson now, I won’t keep secrets from you,’ said Tara. Tara hugged her sister, face streaming in tears. She was glad to be safe.
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2-Y5-Stefanie
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Scholarly Zoom Writing Week 2
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2-Y5-Thomas
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd, its roar of fury cutting through the deafening silence like a knife. People stared up at the gloomy sky, the sight of lightning danced in the clouds.
Some people gasped, while others pointed at the sky, explaining the weather to the children squealing with delight.
However, what they didn’t know was that today the Earth would crumble in the hands of a special kind of race. The Aliens.
A little boy to my left played with his toy helicopter, its wheel spinning relentlessly. A girl to my right covered her ears, scared that the lightning would be too loud.
All the commercials on the towering buildings cut off in a millisecond. Streetlights faded like dying fireflies, each fainting in a pattern like a scale.
In a heartbeat, all that seemed lively had turned into weeping angels. The city felt isolated and still, as if the world had stopped rotating on its axis. One by one, people slowly and quietly disappeared into the shadows in search of their cars. The only adults that stood there was a couple, a teenager, and 10-year-old me.
Then, lightning acted. Striking the man, who was still clutching the woman’s hand, and then burst in mid-air. This act was simple yet dangerous, killing the man in an instant. The woman rushed over to the figure, screaming the word James and choking on air.
The teenager rushed to the woman, calming the screaming figure.
“Ma’am! We must go!”
I started crying. I had just come back from a writing class and had dinner. Aliens were almost a new world.
The woman grabbed my hand leading me towards her car. She slammed the door shut and sped through the empty road.
Out of thin air, an alien jumped on our window, slobber getting everywhere as it tried to eat us. The woman screamed sweat and tears falling down her cheeks.
“Where do you live?” she asked me as she tried to throw the creature off.
I told her my address, and she zipped across the road towards my home. The alien was flung to the side, where a giant but unnoticed UFO laid. The alien crashed through the walls hitting a blue cube.
The spawner! I thought with a gaping mouth.
The woman did not care, however. She drove all the way to our houses, where our family waited with concerned faces.
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2-Y5-Tina Y
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd like a referee whistle in a soccer match making everyone stop in an instant. Faces turned white in fear as the lighting vigorously twirled in the
melancholy sky. In a blink of an eye, the arena went silent as if time seemed to stop. Everyone was frozen in dismay. Sitting in the corner Jack stood up scanning the arena where small crowds huddled in scattered groups. The sky wept and the rain poured, but still his eyes remained dry. People started murmuring about going out and leaving. Jack stood still as drops of sweat rolled down his face. He stood tall staring at the fierce storm. Suddenly, the storm stopped as Jack grips onto a squished piece of paper in his pocket tightly. It was true.
Jack sat on a red bench in the arena as his memory came back. He found this paper yesterday while walking down side walk, when it got stuck on his bag. When he went home he placed his bag on the table. That’s when he saw the piece of paper. He thought it wasn’t that much of a thing so he closed the lights and was about to have a quick nap. Suddenly Jack caught a glimpse of light right at the corner of his eye. He suspiciously glanced over to the bag where he saw the piece of paper. Glowing. Glowing? Subconsciously he leans towards the light like a desperate moth’s desire to
feel the burn of a flame it cannot understand. Drawn not by logic, but by some natural gravitational pull towards the glow that somehow they believe promises warmth, truth maybe, or at least the illusion of it. As shadows stretch long behind him, he inches closer, unaware if he seeks revelation or ruin when suddenly, the hypnotisation gets interrupted. Words start appearing on the paper, letter by letter. “Tomorrow you will go to the arena. There will be a great storm. And…” And…and what?!
Jack anxiously shakes his head as he finds himself back at the red bench in the arena. Desperately reaching into his pocket for the paper he had stuffed in this morning only to reveal that the last part disappeared. Sounds of the crowd suddenly go hazy, tingling sensations travel from the tip of his fingers to the bottom of his toes. Jack runs to a security guard for help but goes right through him and falls to the ground. An electrifying shock hit Jack to his realisation, still attempting to reach another but this time. No surprises. His hands went right through the person’s body. Jack panicked as he tried to find an exit when suddenly his head started aching, his vision started to blur, breathing felt heavy. And then. Thud.
The Retaliation
The first crash of thunder silenced the crowd. Lightning flashed, illuminated the pale faces, ghostly in the spray from the torrential rain. For a millisecond, a dark shape, barely visible, flashed in the clouds, a ghostly silhouette, curled up.
But no one noticed. They were too busy hopping into cars, pulling out their phones to record, or yelling at people. The person yelling at people was, in fact, a rich billionaire by the name of Elon Musk. “Get me a helicopter, NOOOW!” Musk screamed at his phone, which promptly went dead, because, although it was water-resistant, it was certainly not water-proof, and no phone could survive pounding rain of this force.
Musk made a sound that could be approximated to the sound a tiger makes when it has missed dinner, and has just caught the scent of prey. He stormed up to the nearest person, snatched their phone, and dialled the emergency number. As the tone played, Musk, dripping wet from shielding his new-found phone, muttered, “Should never have agreed to this stupid ribbon-cutting, now I have to get rescued.”
As Musk threw the phone away in frustration, a rogue bolt of raw energy zapped it with such force that it caught fire. He screamed. He’d never realised how mush danger he was in, not really. Now he was so close to death, he could smell the singed metal. He was unharmed, but terrified out of his mind.
Turning our eyes to the sky, we see a storm of incredible catastrophe. The sky looked like it was at war with the earth. And the curled up figure no longer seemed content to hide in a corner of the sky. With an incredible CRACKA BOOM!, it descended with a flash of pure, glowing energy.
The remnants of people left shouted, yelled, ran towards the unfamiliar object, but it merely uncoiled to reveal a sinuous green body that shone with emerald scales, claws like sharpened daggers, and shifty eyes that could look like a pool of fire, and the eye of a storm in the same moment.
A dragon. The dragon stretched out a pair of huge, shining wings, and leisurely said, “Humans. We have tolerated you on our land for too long. Now you go too far, destroying the last sanctuary on our Earth.”
If we go back to Musk, he was not handing it well. Ripping out handfuls of his own white hair, he started talking drunkenly to himself, even though he’d not had a single shot of alcohol.
“An investment. I made an investment. Now some great dragon, a dragon, a dragon, a dragon, tells me that it was a sanct- oh whatever. It was an investment. An investment.”
And his speech loop repeated, with some slight variations.
The dragon continued. “I am but a messenger of the times to come. Nature is not submissive. We are fighting back.”
“F-f-fighting b-back!” yelled a voice that was little more than a high-pitched whistle. “Humans r-rule the w-w-world. The world is s-s-submissive.”
The dragon laughed. “You are one of the harbingers of destruction, ‘tis true. But so am I. Imagine today, a thousand times worse. And we are done hiding.”
The dragon’s eyes flashed red. “And this is the retaliation