Week 3 Writing Homework
Prompt :
Write a 500-word narrative based on the prompt “The Last Key,” incorporating the techniques we’ve studied to create compelling conflict and tension.
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : May 24, 2025
- Feedback will be shared in 3-5 days
28 thoughts on “Week 3 Writing Homework”
Here’s my writing
Scholarly Writing W3
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Tricia Yi – WEEK 3
attached below
the key- isabella
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Isabella Peng – WEEK 3
My work is attached.
scholary HW- key
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Anastasia Peng – WEEK 3
The Last Key
The key was colder than death.
It felt heavy in her hand, artificially sanitized amid the dust-choked relics of her grandmother’s attic. Where the doorknobs were tarnished and the porcelain was cracked, this key shone, a sliver of untarnished metal in a world that had long since rusted. But it was not the shine that made Elara’s heart tremble, it was the blood. Still wet. Still warm. It ran down the silver shaft like a tear that had not been hers.
She should have left it alone. Should have returned it to the floorboards beneath her bedroom, tucked in an envelope labelled only: DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THE LAST NIGHT.
It was the last night.
A dry wind moaned through the broken attic slats, sending he thick cloud of moths and memories into a swirl. Elara’s mouth dried. The attic door groaned shut behind her as if the house itself resented the intrusion.
The door at the end of the hall—the one her family had always pretended didn’t exist, wasn’t pretending anymore. There was a soft light pulsing under it, green and wrong, like the light of rot under a festering wound. And the key. it pulsed with it.
“Don’t,” her brother’s voice grated up from the trapdoor below, his words little more than audible over the creak of settling wood. “She said never to open it.”
“She spoke to us of many things,” Elara whispered, her eyes fixed on the door.
Her breath hitched. What if behind that door was the truth of her mother’s disappearance? What if the key finally unlocked the lies that had rotted through their family for centuries? But what if… what if she unleashed something worse?
She stepped ahead. The key bit into her palm, jagged now, its teeth crunching like broken glass. Blood oozed, flowing between her fingers. She did not flinch. She could not. This was her only chance.
The grandfather clock tolled below her. Midnight was closing in. The envelope had said last night. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.
Each toll echoed through the bones of the house—and hers.
Her mother’s scream, or something mimicking her, tore from the other side of the forbidden door. Her hand hung suspended in mid-air. The floorboards behind her screeched as if under the weight of something that had no business walking on two legs.
The key turned in her hand, metal opening like a dying flower. She felt it become one with her flesh, brass veins spreading up her arm. It was not a tool anymore. It was a part of her. A part of her heritage, truth, insanity, or both. “Choose,” a voice whispered inside her own head, gentle, maternal, poisonous. “Turn the key and see. Or walk away and live blind. “She turned it. Click. Grind. Scream. The door exploded open. Cold wind. Black feathers. A thousand eyes opening in the darkness. Elara screamed. Or maybe she laughed. She was falling, no, being pulled.
Into the truth.
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Varoon – WEEK 3
The Last Key
Lena held the key between trembling fingers. It was old—older than the house, older than the whispers that roamed the halls at night. The metal was dull, yet when moonlight kissed it, the inscriptions flickered like breathing embers.
She should turn back. She should pretend she hadn’t found it buried beneath the loose floorboard in the nursery, wrapped in silk that smelled faintly of decay. But the door stood before her, carved deep with symbols that matched the key’s ridges. The key fit. She knew it would.
She stepped forward.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The voice was wrong. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. A chorus, a single warning whispered in a hundred overlapping tones.
Her heart pounded. She tightened her grip, feeling the bumps dig into her palm.
“This door was meant to stay shut.”
Lena swallowed, but the dryness in her throat turned it into a painful scrape.
She’d lived in this house her whole life. She knew its secrets—the stories never spoken in full, the family heirlooms they never discussed. But she didn’t know why.
She turned the key.
Click. Silence.
And then—
The door swung open, exhaling a breath that had been trapped for centuries. Cold, unnatural air rushed past her, curling around her ankles like fingers dragging her forward.
Beyond the threshold, darkness pulsed. It wasn’t empty; it was moving, breathing. Waiting.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Then she saw them.
A row of figures stood in the void, barely visible yet horrifyingly distinct. Their faces—some familiar, some lost to time—were twisted in expressions of warning. Of pleading.
Among them was her mother.
Lena stepped back, shaking her head. “Mom?”
The woman who had vanished without a trace when Lena was eight. The woman no one would ever speak of again.
Her mother reached out a hand. Her lips moved, but no sound came. The figures behind her stirred, restless.
The door creaked. The key burned against Lena’s palm.
Choose.
Lena understood. She could step forward into the truth, the answers she’d craved her entire life. Or she could slam the door shut, pretend it had never opened.
Her mother’s eyes locked onto hers.
A choice. A cost.
Lena turned the key one last time.
Darkness rushed forward, swallowing her whole.
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rainie-jiangoutlook-com – WEEK 3
done finally
Felix SUN Week 3 Schoarship Writing
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zhuyingdorahotmail-com – WEEK 3
The ground shook with fear as I rushed through the house, holding my dying grandpa on my back. The slight taste of blood lingered in my mouth, and even though I felt like my arms were about to snap, the thought of losing a loved one made me persevere. I raced to the basement to seek refuge, ignoring the constant sounds of gunfire and explosions. Then, I finally collapsed onto the floor, locking the basement door just in time. World War ll was deadly, with the constant fear of being hunted… and losing someone you love.
I woke to the sound of loud explosions and saw blurry, worried faces hovering nervously above me. It seemed that other people were hiding here with me. My whole body stung relentlessly, my lips were chapped and cracked, and my feet were sore and blistered.
“Where’s Opa?” I cried, sitting upright despite the pain.
The others wore solemn looks, and I turned to find him. My heart plummeted, and I rushed over. I held his cold but familiar hands, begging him to stay. I had already lost my father, and shortly after, my mother and brother went to join him. I couldn’t bear losing someone again.
“Here, my Anelise. Take this key and keep it safe. One day, you might need to open a door no one else can.”
I finally realized – this was the last key.
Suddenly, people armed with guns and rifles burst into the room. I saw something being raised above my head. Then, everything went black.
The key felt cold and unwelcoming in my hands – just like the hearts of the people who attacked us. A wound on my hip ached, and I realized I had to survive – for my parents, for my brother, for my Opa.
As my eyes slowly flitted open, I began to plan their downfall. My gaze caught on the metal door, locked and clearly designed to keep us in. Then, I looked at the others in the room – and at the key. Suddenly, I was sure we were going to win this… together.
As soon as I finished gathering my small resistance, I took the rusty key from my pocket. Slowly but surely, I made my way to the door and pushed the key in. My gut was right – it unlocked the door with ease. My resistance and I did a silent cheer. All I needed was the key back. I tugged at it – and tugged some more – but it wouldn’t budge. Out of nowhere, I heard loud, firm voices approaching.
“Come on! We have to go, NOW!” someone’s panicked voice called.
But I wasn’t listening. I needed the key. I would risk my life for it. Then, a strong, firm hand dragged me outside, leaving behind my Opa’s precious key.
I bit back the pain of losing it and continued to build my resistance, this time with more experienced and trained people. Then, one day, I saw my Opa’s key on a small ledge and immediately lurched forward to grab it. I had it. The key was mine again.
With the help of hundreds of other rebels – and two other girls who also wanted to fight for what was right – we helped finally defeat our enemies. We continued forward until we reached a tall, black gate. I was expecting menacing, shut-off doors, but this felt… strange.
The glowing door was covered with small, unfamiliar symbols. I reached for the key in my pocket. Suddenly, it felt heavier – like the weight of a decision resting right in the palm of my hand. Something told me this wasn’t just about opening a door. It was about choosing. If I used it, I could leave – start over somewhere new. But that would mean leaving everyone else behind. Or I could stay and try to make things better, even if it was hard. One choice felt safe. The other felt right. I didn’t know what would happen next. But I knew that whatever I chose, nothing would ever be the same.
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melodyc – WEEK 3
As I was drawn closer the the key, I squinted at it in bewilderment. It radiated power, filled to the brim with secrets that no one knew that they even needed. I tentatively reached my hand nearer to the key, then hastily drew it back. I observed it again. It was made of a metal I’d never seen before… not brass, not steel, certainly not aluminum.Wandering around in the eerie quietness of the house, my mind erupted with questions. What WAS this key? Should I touch this? Will it help me or not? As my thoughts intertwined with the steady ticking of the clock, I decided to touch it ; I’m a locksmith, after all. I pulled it up onto my palm. It’s cold surface chilled my skull. My hand trembled as the key nestled into my hand, yet not fully immersed, as if it wanted to run away, to go back into the attic, where it had always been. I shivered violently, feeling an unpleasant sensation of wrongness through my body. But yet… it felt like a nudge towards the right direction. I pulled my mind away from the present, thinking about last night when I found the key in under my pillow, wondering where it came from. I know now. The attic. Where I suffered multiple nights as a child. My mind took me to the nights where my parents were clenching their fists, shoving me into the attic. I slept up there, begging for mercy, begging that no one would ever hear. The scene ripped away like wet paper as I felt the floor beneath me crumble. I screamed, but my cacophony of hollering was silent in the controlled ‘tick tock’ of the clocks, still unaware of my terror. I knew this moment had to come. It was inevitable. Still, though. I was upset at myself. If only I hadn’t poked around with that key.What had I done???
Was this REALLY how this was going to end?
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Aria – WEEK 3
As my feet disobey my mind and step toward the box, my head races. I feel overwhelmed. But then my hand zips to the box, unlocks it, and I find something inside. A key. I take out the key marked with 3 arrows and a mysterious symbol – a triangle with an eye, kind of like the Eye of Horus from Ancient Egypt. Suddenly I hear a sound. Creak. Step. Run! I bound as fast as I can to the downstairs room. I’m about to open the door when I hear yet another sound. ‘Whine’. I look behind me, and there is a huge monster dog-like animal, and it’s stuck in chains. Safe for now, I think. Then I look forward. There is the door, with the same symbol as the key! Maybe I should open it. But then I remember a promise I made to my sick grandparents, who had been on very crazy adventures, but one day, when they arrived home wheezing on our front step where I found them. It was at least 3 decades ago. They explained they had been poisoned on the way back. They asked me to make on promise – never to open unknown, mysterious doors. I would be breaking a promise, I realised. But then I heard something. Something terrible. My brother screaming – in pain. Pain. I must go in and make sure he’s ok, I think. My mind like World War Three, my hands tremble towards the door. And then suddenly, as if by force my hands wrench the key inside the lock and twist. The door creaks open. Or is that my imagination? Suddenly, someone runs from behind and shuts the door closed. ‘No!’ they scream. Suddenly, blackness closes in.
When I awake, I see cold, rusted walls around are covered in moss, and the ominous feeling of evil I before felt without noticing it had gone away. Gone away, just like the possibility of seeing my brother again, and the rest of my family, again. I hadn’t seen them for years. It felt like just yesterday that I was sucked into this horrible dimension. But then I wake from my daydream, and the thing in front of me was my nightmare – the door, with the mysterious mark yet again. I decided to call it Uth, as it was nice and short and I had no other name for it. I couldn’t just call something so significant ‘marked door’ forever! The door was a vacuum, pulling me and my body inside of it. Suddenly I had a terrible thought. A thought of someone being strangled, killed maybe, by a vicious monster. Maybe that’s why the mystery person pulled me back – otherwise I would unleash that monster on everyone else who lived in this time. Then humans might even go extinct. All because of me. Me. But what if this is my last chance to see my family again? What if because of some crazy portal and a bunch of tempting doors and monsters, I never get to see the people I loved and wanted to see the most? I kept thinking of this for the rest of the night, but I was tied up, forever it seemed. But there was one thing that I knew. One thing which went past my insanity stuck here, in front of something which tempted me so much. I knew I would always have this thought for as long as I live – that my family can never be freed. And the reason the more time went on the more I knew I couldn’t save my family was that, if the monster already finished killing my family, it would be trapped there like me trapped in this area tied up. So, it would be really hungry. So, they moment I put the key in the lock and open the door, it’ll break out and WHOOP! No humans. I guess some sad memories last forever.
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AryanR – WEEK 3
Deep in the forest, Mia stood in front of an ancient wooden door hidden in the trunk of an old tree. No one else had seen it before. She had only found it using a map she had found in a chest under her bed. Some believed that there was a place where water flowed freely and food grew without end. But others said the door should NEVER be opened, as it led to something dangerous.
Glancing around, Mia spotted something reflecting from the sunlight underneath the dirt. She bent down and picked it up. It was a rusty key no bigger than her palm, and the words ‘The Last Key’ were carved on it. Suddenly, she realised that the key opened the mysterious door against the tree trunk.
Mia couldn’t decide. A part of her pulled her to run back home, yet deep inside her heart, she desperately wanted to find out what was inside. But she had come so far. Giving up now wasn’t an option.
She slowly went and placed the time-worn key into the lock. The door groaned loudly as it opened, as if having an unwanted guest. The world beyond the wooden door was nothing like the forest. Her footsteps broke the silence as she followed a pathway made by strange glowing plants.
Mia walked slowly, unsure of what was going to happen next. Dark figures moved around in the corners of her eyes, as if hiding from her view. Weird animal sounds surrounded her with their weird howls. She felt like someone was watching her. But she kept going anyway.
Later, she came across a wide river of sparkling water. On the other side of it was a land filled with all kinds of fresh fruits and plants. She had found the place on the map, a peaceful land where it was filled with sunshine. She smiled as the floor beneath her feet started to shake.
Behind the trees appeared a creature, tall and made of black smoke. It had no eyes, but it could sense her easily. It stood between her and the garden. Mia froze.
She wanted to run away, remembering that the dark, lifeless path was the only pathway out. She had to decide whether to face the danger or go back with nothing. She took a deep breath before she stepped forward. Her legs were heavy, her heart beating faster than ever. The creature still didn’t move from before. Mia gathered herself up as she walked through the smoke, holding her breath.
The air grew warmer. The darkness faded. She had made it through. Behind her, the door closed on its own. The forest was gone. Before her was fresh water, fruit, and light. It was real. She could feel it. She had brought hope back with her.
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Yilin Tao – WEEK 3
“Mary, have you seen all these kidnapping cases?” asked Mary’s mum,” They have skyrocketed! The worst part is that no one knows who is taking these innocent children!”
Mary nods wearily and continues to sweep the floors while her mum rambled on and on about the kidnappings.
“No one knows how they just disappeared! How is the kidnapper doing this? This is crazy. I actually, sorta praise the guy for his speed and agility. If you were as fast as him, Mary, you would be winning every single running race you do!”
Mary turned and just as she turned, she could have sworn she saw someone standing there but the only thing she saw was a key. Mary cautiously picked up the key and examined it. It was a beautiful rose gold key with elegant carvings in them. Then Mary popped the key into her pocket and thought: Have I seen this key before? Then she noticed some inscriptions on the key. When she looked closer, her heart skipped a beat. The inscriptions said: Read the first letter of every kid’s name and put the letter together to form a name. Mary snatched the list of kidnapped children and read: Robert, Angel Yuri, Tom, Hank, Olive, Miller, Andrea and Sam.
“ RAY THOMAS!” she exclaimed as she put the first names together. Ray Thomas is the one who kidnapped 9 children! Mary paused and remembered that Ray had always disliked kids and wanted them to all be gone. She also remembered that he has a shed in his backyard concealed very well. Mary started to put the pieces together until.
“He’s keeping them in his shed in his backyard.”
Her mother turned around quickly, confused and said:
“What? Who?”
“If you check the first letter of each name it forms, Ray Thomas, the really moody guy down the street! Number 32! He’s the kidnapper!” cried Mary while her fingers pointed at the names and started to tremble as she didn’t know what horrible things Ray will do with those poor, poor kids
Mary’s mum stumbled back and quickly dialled 000, fingers skipping over the keyboard. As the police arrived at Ray’s shed with Mary and her mother, they couldn’t open it until Mary placed the key in the keyhole and the door creaked open revealing 9 weary and terrified eyes stared at them with hope. The 9 kids were skin on bone and looked like they were at death’s door. When they tried to jump up in joy, chains pulled them down and they stumbled back down. Everyone was mortified at the sight and the chief could manage to say a few words:
“That man’s going to be in huge trouble.”
When Ray arrived and tried to lie his way out but due to the lack of evidence and the victims screaming that he starved them and kept them prisoner, he was sent to prison immediately. That day, the key Mary had found saved 9 lives and mended the kid’s parent’s broken hearts. From that day forward, that key was her prized possession.
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Qiaoqiao – WEEK 3
There were many types of them in her little box. Some were big, some small and some even had a heart engraved on it. She had been collecting them throughout her lifetime and each one had its own story but there was one she always wondered about. It was calling out to her every day, as if it wanted her to find its matching partner.
Zoe was looking for the right doors that match locks whenever she could. She found the pairing, as it had names engraved or stuck on them. This morning, as she tested the keys, her eyes widened with shock. Each time she put the special key in, it changed shape to the door holes shape, and it could create portals to different countries. Her dad’s tractor, her bedroom and even the attic door that was long forgotten could all be unlocked by this key.
As she sits down on the couch, she turns on the radio to see today’s news. There was war against many countries, thousands of innocent people getting killed. Children were crying, homes were gone, and people were praying to live. Her eyes filled up with water as she thought of her aunty.
Zoe’s aunty had experienced war before when she was young. Each night, she hoped to live another day and stop the war. She was a loving aunty that placed her heart into Zoe’s, always fulfilling her with love and laughter. There was a big bomb was entering her hometown, exploding the area into pieces of dust and ruble. Thousands were killed during the bomb, including Zoes aunty.
She had the same emotions before like the people in war, feeling pity for the innocent people. She decided that she would test a few first. She made the portal, convincing a child and a mother to come here tonight. They were happy living here and wanted to stay here until it is safe to go back.
As they walk down the streets, the neighbors saw them and pondered with confusion. What were they doing? Who were they? Why were they here? When the neighbors looked at Zoes house and saw two little tents and realized they were refugees that came from war zones.
They reported to Zoe and complained there foreign singing and that they were different to them and they didn’t want them here on their street. She apologised and explained to them how they feel. The pain and family losses they experienced made them feel more accepting.
After 2 weeks of living here, they decided to move in. If they follow the rules, there will be no arguments. Zoe smiled with happiness as she got ready to bring more and more people.
Zoe drew the big circle outside, and thousands of happy faces started to make themselves home. There were joyful faces everywhere and they cheered with happiness. She told them the rules, and they all agreed. They now lived peacefully in a safe place and when the war stops, they can go back home.
As she sat down on the balcony chair, staring at all the people, she held the key and thought to herself, this key can really have a lot of impact on everyone. With a little help, it can unlock freedom and happiness, anywhere, anytime.
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Alessia Li – WEEK 3
The Last Key By Prahar
The key was hotter than the sun.
The antique mantelpiece was rusted and reeked of a strange, dank stench. Small clumps, agglomerations even of dust motes freely swam in the heavy, clammy air. Dirt particles were trapped between crevices and crannies of the dark birch floorboards. I stood still, like a lake, anticipating the moment. The moment when my parents woThe Last Key By Prahar
uld barge in through the charred door in the musty old attic. Of all my seventeen years, that moment never came. The molten key was the last remnant of my long lost relatives, reminiscing me of the grief and sorrow I had felt all these years. When I was born, my parents had abandoned me, but left behind a smoking hot key in a basket. As I grew, I fiddled around with the key until I was compelled to reveal the true meaning of what the key was hiding. It entrapped deep memories of my mysterious past, making my heart ache due to the absence of love. Yet, there the key lay still, smouldering hot ashes beginning to swirl in a rushed flurry around me. Before I knew it, tears gushed down my vermillion coloured cheeks, almost resembling a river. I had yearned to learn of my past, every second bringing back treacherous old times. However, accompanying the archaic key was a note. This note contained a message : THIS SACRED KEY OPENS A DOOR, ONE THAT SIGNIFIES THE REASON OF OUR PASSING. YOU MAY SAVE OUR LIVES BY BRINGING US BACK, BUT THE LOVE WE NEVER PROVIDED CAN NEVER FILL YOUR HEART. Thinking of this letter sent jagged cracks through my heart, instigating my longing to retrieve my parents and live happily, like the family I never had.
Suddenly, the crooked and razor sharp metal on the key pierced through my veins. I was in sheer pain in its true form. Crimson coloured blood leaked out of my slit palm, the secrets embedded in the key transferred to my heart. My screams echoed through the attic, sounding like deep bellows. I kneeled down on the floor. The key burnt more and more every minute. Then, the portal appeared. At first, it seemed like a blurry image of glistening flecks of flaky purple and lava coloured red due to the tears overflowing in my overly red eyes. Eventually I regained my senses and stood up to look at the portal. The searing hot mark on my right palm stayed, my skin crumbling. I had kept the enchanted key in my pocket, wishing no too cause more immense harm. Finally, I gained the courage to go into the portal, but as I stepped through, nothing happened. But, I realised imminently. The key was for the portal. It all clicked like a jigsaw puzzle in my mind, the thoughts racing. Was I in anticipation or bracing myself. Regardless, I fished out the key. I slowly inserted the key. Cries of my mother flooded my head, her screams filling my mind. I was doing this for her. I longed to know of the past and this was my only chance. Reluctantly, I walked in. Then, nothing. Racing. Flying. Thudding. Yelling. All of this happened as I walked into the warped portal. Ultimately I awoke, mere minutes seeming like an eternity, as I was apparently asleep in the new realm. a burly, but small guard ambled over towards me, thoroughly examining my surroundings. I was greatly perplexed, a flurry of thoughts gathering in my mind. “glorpity glorpity glory glorp?” the alien seemed to mutter under his breath. I gradually arose, staring up at the troopers. Finally, the guard gave up. “Why are you here?” He boomed like thunder. I trembled fearfully. “Answer…the…QUESTION!” He roared, resembling a hungry lion. “I uh… came to uh… search for…my mother here… I guess.” I said with great uncertainty, my voice quavering after each and every word. “Hmmmmm.” The clearly exasperated guard groaned, wondering who I was. He beckoned for me to follow suit.
Eventually, we stumbled upon a palace, boasting immense grandeur. Gleaming marble walls and columns neatly were arranged in the palatial mansion, the vast expanse shocking me. “Is this your mother?” The guard solemnly spoke, as though he had been scared of me. Suddenly a tall and lanky woman not a day over forty elegantly walked over to the front porch of the fortress. I. Was. Shocked.
There, my mother stood before me, my whole life’s mystery eventfully solved. Tears rained down my face as I ran towards my mother. She had wispy grey hair, her skin a pallid shade of white, flaky and shiny. I embraced her, my warm tears against her. She never spoke to me but I whispered tot her: “Where were you when I needed you the most?”
“I have been trapped here by a wretched dictator.” She turned to face the balcony.
“Let’s escape this place, then.” I whispered, loud enough to hear. The guard slammed his spear down on the cracked, barren ground of the deserts. “I have been maliciously cursed by the dictator to remain in this palace.” Every day, I miss you badly. She said in a tremulous voice. “Where is father?” I inquired. My mother nodded slowly. “No, he couldn’t have… but surely… oh dear. My parents were now trapped and dead.
I never wanted to leave but had no choice now. I bid my reluctant farewells to my mother and trudged along with the guard back to the portal.
Then, I dashed back…
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Sinduja – WEEK 3
She stretched her fragile, creaking limbs, and got out of bed. She rummaged around her wardrobe, and pulled out some random, colourful, clothes. Somewhere, in her scattered brain, she knew that this was her last chance. Or else… She quickly spun the dial on her safe. While some people put diamonds, some put money, Eldra Troy put her keys in her safe. Because she had been looking for the right key for a century. And so far…
The door in her bedroom remained locked, shrouded forever, teetering on the brim of existence. She walked out the door, and out onto her balcony. She gazed around her neighbourhood, witnessing generations go by. ‘Oh, that must be Ms Crawly’s grand-daughter now!’ she remarked to herself, watching a middle aged woman cross the road.
She focused back onto her task. Where was it? Where was it? She frantically scanned the bustling neighbourhood. It had to be- She laid her eyes on a mat that read ‘welcome.’ She suppressed a giggle. Nevertheless, she descended downstairs, and pulled off the mat.
She had a sharp, ragged, intake of breath as she gazed at the gleaming key that was below. As she picked it up, she felt a shiver run through her bones. This key gleamed like no others, it shone in the pale sunlight. A beautiful sensation ran through Eldra’s decaying body, almost as if she was holding sunlight itself. She knew instinctively that it was the one. It had to be. Otherwise, she would die, all her hard work rendered meaningless.
She bolted upstairs, breaking the boundaries of her fragile body. She ran to the door, and shoved the key into the lock. For a moment, she wasn’t sure it would work. But then, the door swung open, with a ‘click!’
Inside, was a library. But not just any library. No, engraved on a silver plate was ‘Bibliotheca magica’ Latin for library of magic. She walked to a book, and opened it. As she murmured the century old words, she began to feel a change. Her body…
She was becoming young again!
She read through more books, obtaining more and more power, until magic pulsed through her very veins.
She rose up into the air. ‘Finally! Finally, I will rule the world,’ she yelled, an evil grin playing upon her lips. A cloud of dark purple dust rose behind her.
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lauren.gluga@gmail.com – WEEK 3