Long, long ago there was a poor girl called Polly who lived next to a beach. She had a strange, little cottage with a rusty bike but she was happy. Early one morning, Polly went for a walk to collect shells. She collected flat shells, curved shells and thin shells. Suddenly, Polly found the most beautiful shell she had ever seen lying next to a rock pool! Slowly, Polly bent down to pick up the shell, which was glistening in the sun. To her amazement, the shell spoke. “I will grant you two wishes so choose wisely!” said the magnificent shell.
10 things found in an Explorer’s rucksack by Eliyana @Belmont
A pocket-peck knife, which fits in your pocket, that can cut through anything.
A Genie which lives in a bottle, can grant your every wish.
A giant leopard-print jacket, so you can run as fast as a cheetah and fly as high as an Asian-goose, also for your warmth.
A Wanns uniscope, made up of goblin grief and gladiator glass, to peek into the possible future.
An ordinary pastel pen, which is actually an extraordinary pen, that when used can make your sketches come to life.
A liar’s tongue, that is never wrong, so no one can drown me in their wicked lies, as sharp as a nettle’s sting.
A pair of enchanted torches which can lighten up your day as well as night, to keep you in a bright mood.
A talking rabbit, which can sneak into any crevice, that stays loyal to you.
A rusted, dusted ancient key, that can unlock any entrance, for endless possibilities.
A magic mirror, which reflects your past, to remind you of the time gone by.
What?
What is quiet? Words on a page, an unknown secret yet to be told and candy floss clouds dreaming by.
What is harsh? Boris Johnson keeping us in isolation, long division sums that take forever to complete and rocking heavy metal.
What is comforting? A Mr Whippy on a hot summers day, a hug when you’re caught in a bubble of sadness and fuchsia sunset in the late afternoon sky.
What is shiny? A shard of glass glistening in the light, a newly polished wedding ring easily slid on a finger and a magpies kaleidoscopic wing.
What is frail? A skeletons finger pointing towards the past, a diamond compass dealt from under the sea and a room full of eerie silence.
What is quiet? Words on a page, an unknown secret yet to be told and candy floss clouds dreaming by.
Jasmine by Eliyana@Belmont
Despite the eeriness and the fact that her palms were sweating, Jasmine creeped towards the silhouette- caged master bedroom. Gazing out of the skylight, a mournful, young girl about the same age as Jasmine met her eyes. Lilly (as Jasmine found out from her wristband), who was clothed in a pink ballgown and tiara, turned to see who had made the floorboard creak. Lilly looked as if she was about to perish. Her dark blue eyes seemed as if they were almost moving. A single tear dripped on her sapphire shoes. She wrung her hands in despair.
Widows Web by Eliyana @Belmont
Jasmine edged towards the enclosed entrance tentatively. She mocked herself for being such a baby. Her thin cloak wiped her eyes, she kicked open the door. On the ceiling, a black widow spun it’s withered web. To one side, a table lay strewn with a golden horn, blood-stained cutlery and a crown of Ruby’s, emeralds, diamonds and sapphires. On the mantle piece, a mask sat. It looked too heavy to be worn and wherever you’d go it’s eyes would always follow you. On the floor, scratches lay everywhere. The door slammed shut. The only passageway out of the heart of the petrified forest.
Seasons by Eliyana @Belmont
Autumn
Flaming fireworks fly,
tawny mustard wings on hotdogs,
leaves dance in the dark.
Sizzling sparklers smoke,
conkers crunch beneath my feet,
leaves fall around me
Winter
Snow changes to slush,
elves prepare presents in a jiffy,
pantomime keeps time.
Frosted grass catches
the sunlight it glitters,
like glass splinters.
You are the end! By Eliyana @Belmont
You are a twilight sky of rippling hair.
You are the grief as the heavens cry out in pain.
You are the smell of pleasure in a party popper.
You are the stormy sea slapping the sandy shore.
You are the laughter of the lighthouse tittering at the rocks below.
You are the smell of candy from a sweet shop absorbing children for a price.
You are the impossibility of a red arctic, a silent erupting volcano and a non-sporting Mr Togher.
You are number 8 ,a superhero’s mask, the snowman’s body and a double loop the loop of a rollercoaster.
YOU ARE THE END!
Latest Comments