Week 5 Writing Homework
Write a narrative that continues on from the following sentence: “It was a miracle happening right before my eyes.”
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- Due Date : March 15, 2025
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24 thoughts on “Week 5 Writing Homework”
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. The barren patch of earth I had tended for years without reward was now bursting forth with life. Tiny green shoots pierced the soil, unfurling delicate leaves in the golden light of dawn. But this was no ordinary growth—it was rapid, otherworldly. Within moments, the sprouts grew into towering trees, their boughs heavy with fruit so vibrant they seemed to glow from within.
I stumbled backward, half in awe, half in fear. The watering can clattered from my hands, forgotten. My mind raced back to the strange woman who had appeared at the edge of the field just the day before, draped in a cloak of woven ivy. Her words echoed now: “Plant this seed, and your patience will reap wonders. But remember, miracles demand their price.”
At the time, I had laughed. A seed? That was all she had given me after all my pleas for help? My hands had trembled with frustration as I buried it in the soil, my hopes dimmed to an ember. Yet now, staring at the orchard that had sprung from the barren ground, I couldn’t deny it—she had kept her promise.
Cautiously, I approached one of the trees. The fruit hanging from its branches was unlike anything I had ever seen—golden with a texture that shimmered like silk. The air around it was fragrant and sweet, like a thousand blooming flowers. I reached up and plucked one. The moment it left the branch, the entire tree seemed to shudder as though alive.
As I held the fruit, an uneasy feeling prickled at the edge of my joy. The woman’s words came back again: “Miracles demand their price.” But what could it mean? Surely, this abundance was a blessing. I thought of the struggles that had brought me here—the years of drought, the long nights of prayer, the desperation that had driven me to accept the gift of a stranger. This was what I had dreamed of, wasn’t it?
Hesitating no longer, I bit into the fruit. It was unlike anything I’d ever tasted—perfectly sweet, yet impossibly rich. I felt a warmth flood through me, a sensation of pure vitality. I laughed aloud. The miracle was real.
But as the warmth spread, so did an unfamiliar heaviness. My vision blurred, and a sharp pain twisted through my chest. I dropped the fruit, clutching my heart. Around me, the vibrant orchard began to change. The golden leaves curled and blackened, the fruit rotted where it hung, and the fertile soil cracked and dried. In a matter of moments, the paradise I had been gifted turned into a barren wasteland—far worse than it had ever been before.
I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, as the memory of the woman’s smile returned to me. She hadn’t warned me to protect me; she had warned me to see if I understood the cost of my own greed.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Lawrence
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. The sun exploded in a fireball of molten gold, pouring down across the heavens like liquid flame, engulfing the earth in its heat. The world just froze, its breath held. The air was softly ruffled by a light breeze that was filled with some fragrance I couldn’t recognize, new, untamed, alive. And then, as if by magic, the earth trembled. Electric and shining flowers forced their way up through the cold barren ground, blooming in hot reds, purples, and blues. The petals uncurled like soft hands, reaching for the sun, stretching towards the warmth. I stood there, my heart thudding in time with the pulse of the earth beneath my feet, wondering if I had stumbled into some forgotten dream.
But with amazement bursting in my chest, a surge of scepticism crept up, winding itself around the astonishment. Was this really happening? The flowers seemed too lovely to be true, as if plucked out of a fairy tale, and the air hummed with an inexplicable tensity. The ghosts who came from the trees only increased my bewilderment. They were unutterably calm, radiating, well-nigh shapeless, as if they were made of light and not flesh. Their wise, old eyes flickered towards me, and something shifted far inside of me, a feeling of home, but of being completely out of place. Why am I here? I asked myself, my shaking hands. My legs were rooted, but my head reeled, divided between the raw beauty and the inane question as to why I should be the one to witness this wonder.
Then the silver-haired woman, the one whose coming seemed to calm the very air, turned to me. Her eyes, pools of moonlight, met mine. A smile, as soft as a breeze, rested on her lips. “You were always meant to be here,” she whispered, and she spoke in a melody born of the wind. And all was transformed. The fear that had gripped my heart melted away, replaced by a profound peace. The flowers ceased to seem alien but belonged to a world that welcomed me. The people moved easily passed me, their footsteps smooth like water. The earth, once distant and cold, now pulsed with life.
Time passed slowly. I breathed in deeply, the air warm and heavy, filling my lungs with something more than oxygen, something that was eternal. As the miracle unfolded around me, I knew that it was not just the world that had changed, it was I. The miracle did not merely awaken the earth, it awakened something in me, something old and primal, connecting me to the beat of life itself. And in that moment, I knew that I was more than I was, more than myself, something eternal.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Varoon
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. A tall, plump man dressed in a bright red pyjama robe was standing right in front of me. A wave of excitement rushed through me, and I was bursting with joyfulness. All the doubt from my six years of living were finally washed away, and a flood of certainty filled my body. I finally knew that I had been right the whole time, and no one would ever be able to tell me that Santa didn’t exist, because I had seen him with my own eyes.
As I watched the old man place my presents that I had waited ever so long for, I suddenly felt pleased with myself. I prided myself with great honor as I remembered that it was I who had always believed in the fascinating stories of this marvelous man. Santa was like the father of my ever growing imagination, and not once had I stopped to think that there was a possibility that he didn’t exist. I wanted to give the large man a great big hug with my tiny arms, but I knew that he wasn’t meant to know I was here.
Suddenly, I saw a bright red figure exiting through the back door. A rush of anger poured through me like a deluge of rain, and I was ready to pounce at any second.
“Hey! You’re meant to leave through the chimney!” I screamed.
“B…b…but you don’t have one,” replied Santa uncertainly, as he hurried towards his sled.
Immediately, I realized what I had done wrong. I was terribly ashamed of myself and wanted to go back in time. I had allowed the stories and fairytales to be carved into my mind and had now started to carve them into everyone else’s mind. I had been so lost in fantasy that I had forgotten about the real world. However, at least now I knew that i could believe in fiction if I really wanted to, but I would always live in a non-fiction world.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Tricia Yi
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes.
The old oak tree in my grandmother’s backyard—dead for as long as I could remember—was alive. Not just alive, but thriving. Thick green vines curled up its gnarled trunk, weaving through branches that should have been brittle and hollow. Soft pink blossoms stretched open like they had been waiting for this moment all along.
I stepped closer, barely breathing. The air around the tree shimmered, though the evening breeze was cool. A low hum filled my ears—not quite a sound, not quite a voice, but something in between. A whisper just beyond the edge of understanding.
Hesitantly, I reached out, pressing my fingertips against the rough bark. Warmth surged up my arm, but it wasn’t just heat—it was movement, a pulse, something alive. A rhythm that seemed to match my own heartbeat.
And then, the whisper became clear.
You have awakened it.
I spun around, heart pounding, but I was alone. Only the wind stirred the grass, and the sky had slipped into twilight. My grandmother used to tell me stories about this tree—how it had once been sacred, how it chose people, how it had a will of its own. I had always dismissed them as just that: stories.
But now… now I wasn’t so sure.
The ground beneath me trembled, almost imperceptibly. The blossoms glowed, faint and flickering, like embers caught in the dark.
I had awakened something.
I just didn’t know if it was a gift—or a warning.
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Schol-Y5_WK5- Jayden Zhou _ Ian Zhou
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. That dried up and dying land over hundreds of meters long yes! It had finally been filled up to the top of the brim and I mean it I had been waiting for years just for this happy and exiting news I would come visit this dried up patch of land cracking and breaking it wouldn’t have lasted another week if it kept on going on which would not be good at all. But thankfully it had rain heaps oh and I mean heaps of rain flattered down like a cyclone. It was finally enough to fill up this dry patch of dirt but super hard like metal.
I was filled with amazement bursting I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. I had to burst out all my excitement for the so-called river or lake or pond again not only was this good for us seeing that the drought is gone. But also, it is good for the environment because first lots of different types of fish can come and have a new habitat if anyone is migrating. Second, the fauna who need a drink but there is not a lot of water near it they could (if they were near) just drink from this (pond, lake and river) it would be refreshing, and you wouldn’t have to walk so far just for water.
Then it was that I realized that there were always lots and lots of different types of flora so I wondered where had it all gone next week I came back and saw these great healthy and strong plants I was so surprised and shocked sure the water went down by a little bit probably from the flora but oh boy this was incredible I was filled with excitement cheering and cheering over and over again I was filled and overflowed with happiness. This was my dream for this dry-looking dessert to something so wonderful I could never have dreamed of! I am still overfilled with joy over these couple of months how the plants keep on growing stronger and taller and they’re all healthy. This was one of the miracles in my life, what about yours?
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Schol-Y5_WK5- ABBY FAN
My Orange Curtain
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. I was alive, it felt unreal. As if it was a hallucination. I tried to look around, I lay in a hospital bed, a TV on the side monitoring my health. Enthusiasms and optimism rushed through my veins; I thought I might be ok. However, my fabric of life was still very fragile. My death’s despair, dissolved. But my eyelids grew heavy, my resilience wouldn’t let go, I fortified my consciousness. A cacophony of beeps went off, as a group of doctors rushed towards me. Everything went black. I realized it was curtains for me, all my creativity and optimism had led to this. I should have remembered that curiosity killed the cat, as so did optimism kill me. The cold lights shone on me, as the hospital bed felt as hard as a boulder. I assembled all my strength and wrote letters and poems to all that I dearly loved on my phone. I never knew this would come like this.
Dear Tom King (my one and only son)
These are my last words; I was burdened with happiness when you were around, life felt like a mere illusion, and I guess it was. I knew life was just like a turn once you’re done with all your happy moments, the corner approaches, and when you reach the turn, you’ll end up passed. I wish you have a wonderful family,
and grow to have great prosperity. (always remember to treasure your time, because it not infinite)
Your Father, John King
Dear Carrisa Wong (A special daughter)
these are my final words, please take care of your brother Tom, treasure the great moments you’ll have, life is short so remember that you always need to value life, I don’t have much more to say, hope you have a nice family, and a great future.
Your Father, John King
As for my wife had already got graved, I never knew my last moments would be AI, if only I was just a bit more careful, I might have survived.
As myself, I will except death, because either way it’s inevitable. My reflection on life would be “life is short so treasure the moments of the pure beautiful life that you still have. My breath is becoming heavier, and I don’t think I can be quiet anymore, this is my end I’ll except it.
It is time to close my own orange curtains.
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Schol-Y5_WK5- luyao Yang
done
Felix SUN Week 5 Writing Scholarship
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Schol-Y5_WK5- zhuyingdorahotmail-com
It was a miracle happening before my eyes. The ethereal, multicolored seeds I had planted years ago had now decided to shoot to the surface, like a rocket preparing for launch. It was beautiful. Green sprouts shaped like fans, surpassing the layer of damp soil that I had buried them. Swaying in the wind, they grew rapidly, it was extraordinary. My eyes widened at this sight, followed by a flicker of triumph. My hard work had been rewarded after all! The sprouts quickly changed shape into twisting tree trunks, each pattern more extravagant than the last. They twisted up until the verdant green leaves appeared, slowly crawling outward. Multicolored fruits shaped like pears popped out instantly. My trembling hand reached out and grabbed one by the stem. I bit into the crunchy skin, and started chewing the flesh. Little did I know, it was surprisingly bitter. My face crinkled into a frown of disgust. Suddenly, I had remembered the child’s words. “This seed is a wonder, a miracle that will bring you joy and happiness. However, you must be patient. Do not rush the process. If you do, your blessing will be replaced by a punishment. Only one of the fruits will bring you happiness, however. You must find out which one.” I smiled. Now I knew the meaning of the ominous words I had been told. I didn’t rush the process, I thought. So I received a blessing. And the one fruit… that must be the sweet one! I smiled at my orchard, covered in the fantastical trees. Time to look, I thought.
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Schol-Y5_WK5- Aria
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. The meteor had been destroyed just in time. It exploded into a million pieces and everyone was safe thanks to the children in the village. Our emotions in my family changed from fear to relive instantly.
When I was making breakfast for my children a few days ago, the radio was on as usual and with the news talking in the background. Suddenly, the news caught my attention and it said, “There will be a meteor crashing into our village in a few days time if we don’t stop it.” My family and I started screaming as loud as a lion’s roar. After a long pause the new reporter said, “We have the scientists working on a project to stop the meteor destroying our beloved town.” We were relived on hearing that there was a potential solution.
My family and I were eager to find out more information about the meteor and hope that the scientists can stop it. The next morning, I heard some terrifying news. The scientists did not catch the falling rock and it is still heading our way! The laser did not have time to relocate the rock so they were helpless. Now the village will be wiped out and destroyed! Our lovely home that I have been living for decades will not survive. Tears formed in my eyes.
We made the decision of trying to destroy the meteor with the community. All the historical sites in this town will disappear. The scientists don’t work collaboratively together. They kept arguing on how they should design it and who was right with the direction of the meteor. With just a couple days left, I asked all the kids to help us because they had the creativity to do it.
Day and night they were working with each and every child participating in the project. They worked really hard together and would not spare a second. They had the idea of smashing the rocks into pieces. Each of them bought pieces of materials needed to make the arrows. The children created arrows out of vacuum tubes that had small explosions inside. But how would they get it into the sky? While the children were thinking of a solution, they were staring at the cannon outside the window. That’s it!
It was a historical object, been used at the old world war but it still could work. With the arrows on their shoulders, they carried each of them to the hill and got ready to fire them at the same time, together. By noon, we could see the giant boulder falling in the sky. With a split second the arrows soared up in the sky breaking the rocks into pieces and smoke filled the area. When the dust cleared, everyone cheered for the children. Even though they are small, they can do big things that have lots of impact to their village if they have the courage, teamwork and patience.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Alessia Li
It was a miracle before my eyes; the plant had grown, and the seed my father had given me had finally turned into a flower. Day after day, month after month, I had nurtured this tiny seed, and now it was a beautiful flower. My heart pounded in my chest as I could only remember the promise my dad had made to me:
“Take care of this seed no matter what. Water it, protect it, and if it grows and blooms, remember that I will come back from the war. I promise.”
I was only seven and didn’t understand war, but my heart still clung to hope. Every day, I would water it, protect it against dangers, and whisper to it when I missed dad the most. Seasons passed; autumn became winter, winter became spring, but the seed remained a bare patch of dirt. My mother told me not to put all my hope on the seed, and my brother just scoffed, saying the seed was just a thing dad had given me to make me feel better. However, I didn’t give up. I made sure it got everything it needed and tried to make it grow by trying everything I knew.
Then one day, as I trudged home from school, the weight of the ongoing war pressing heavily on my mind, I paused to peer into the garden. This time, instead of the usual barren patch of dirt, a small shoot had emerged, its delicate green leaves glistening in the sunlight. My heart leaped with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief; it may have been the smallest plant, barely a few centimetres tall, but it meant the world to me. The war had been raging for months, far longer than any of us had anticipated, casting a shadow over our daily lives. At a particularly tense moment, when my mother gathered my brother and me in the living room, her voice tinged with urgency, she announced that we were moving away. The war was approaching us, and it was no longer safe to stay in our rural home. We were relocating to the city, a place of unfamiliarity and bustling activity, but also a sanctuary from the conflict. As we prepared for our departure, I realised that the sprout in the garden could not be easily transported with us. Its roots were still embedded in the soil, and it was too fragile to be moved without care. Yet, it mattered too much to me to leave behind. With a sense of determination, I carefully dug the plant up, ensuring that I did not disturb its delicate root system. I placed it in a small pot, its soil still damp and fragrant, and clutched it tightly as we moved to our new apartment.
I placed the pot on a windowsill, making sure it had the right amount of sunshine and nutrients. Gradually, the shoot turned into a stem, stem to a bulb, until one night while I was looking at the bulb, observing, it happened. The bulb cracked, and out came a magnificent flower—a miracle was happening. My dad was going to come back; I was sure of it. I had completed my part of the promise, and all I could do was wait for my dad to complete his part.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Nathan Zhou
Here
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes
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Schol-Y5_WK5-Caspar Liu
It was a miracle happening right before my eyes. The single flickering firefly I had followed into the dense forest was now joined by thousands of its kind, creating a wave of light that illuminated the dark canopy above. I had only meant to take a walk, to clear my mind from the noise of daily life, but somehow, I’d stumbled into a scene that seemed to surpass reality.
The fireflies were not just glowing—they were forming shapes. At first, it was simple patterns, like spinning spirals and expanding circles. But then the movements grew more complicated, forming delicate images of stars, trees, and the outline of a face I thought I recognized. I felt a pang in my chest. The face resembled my grandmother’s, the woman who had often told me of the forest’s secrets when I was a child.
“Nature hides its wonders for those who dare to seek them,” she used to say, her voice as soft and warm as sunlight shone on her wrinkles on her face.
Now, as the fireflies seemed to combined into a living memory of her words, I felt a connection between the past and the present, as if the forest itself had been waiting for me. A soft zephyr stirred, carrying with it the scent of lavender—her favourite flower—and I could almost hear her laughter in the rustling leaves.
Then, in the center of the clearing, something began to rise—a small tree growing at an impossible speed. Its branches stretched skyward, decorated with blossoms that seemed to glow with their own inner light. The fireflies swirled around it, guiding its transformation from a fragile sprout into a towering tree that radiated life. I felt urged to move closer, drawn by an invisible pull.
As I reached out and placed my hand against the bark, a warmth spread through me, not just physically, but emotionally—an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. And in that moment, I understood: the miracle was not just about what I was seeing. It was about the reminder that even in the darkest times, there’s light, growth, and the chance to reconnect with the magic we’ve lost.
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Schol-Y5_WK5-rainie-jiangoutlook-com