Writing portfolio - creative writing
Analisa Cowan-Sanchez
“Oh my God, Avery!” Emma exclaimed as the credits started to roll. “That movie was totally scary, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again”
Avery rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Emma, we were watching Frozen, not Chainsaw Massacre.” Her friend definitely had a penchant for the dramatic. She opened her mouth to carry on, but the words were interrupted by a gentle snore; beside her, Emma was fast asleep. Chuckling to herself, Avery’s eyes fluttered shut and she allowed her mind to be stolen by the night.
Tap tap tap. Avery stirred, emerging from her slumber.
Tap tap tap.
“Emma, cut it out!" The words fell from her mouth in a clumsy heap.
Tap tap tap.
Tired and bleary eyed, she rose from the warm comfort of her bed. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the window, outside of which a gnarled sycamore grew. It’s branches twisted like distorted limbs, taunting her as it brushed against the glass panes. A biting chill wrapped itself around Avery’s shivering frame, but
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Bewildered, she found herself not in the kitchen, but in the attic. For as long as she could remember, her parents had expressly forbidden her from entering the mysterious room. Now she understood why; At the far end of the room, among all of the clutter and jumble, was a door. In the light of day, Avery would not have given it a second glance, but in the half-light that emanated from her feeble candle, the door seemed different; Somehow eerie and sinister. Despite its great craftsmanship, years of wear had nevertheless taken their toll on the once delicate frame, and scratches etched their way across the old wooden panelling. Strings of whispers surrounded her, guiding her to towards the door. Slowly, she reached out one trembling hand, knowing that despite her fears, she must open it. What horrors, what wonders, lay on the other side? Avery pushed open the door and stepped
The blazing light was shining in my face and a slight breeze blew through the arched windows. I spotted an open chest in the attic, whilst spring cleaning. The outside rim of the box was covered in dust and cobbled webs; the hinge was rusty, making a creak noise against the ghost-quiet room. Rummaging my hand around the chest there was a scratchy-substance digging against my fingers. As the sun faded from my sight I lifted up the mysterious object. It was an old rustic book; I flipped through the delicate pages, every touch made a crinkling
When you wonder at night the door will shriek across the moldy floor. The shutters will open and close, and open and close. OPEN HOUSE, there is a new house on the market. One that has lots of character. One with exterior that is crinkling and washing away. With blood of the last calling your name. The front porch is caved in like someone was murdered just before coming in. The lawn not mowed. When you get to the rough and cracked concrete you would enter but you can’t the black shadow that passed the door faster than i light. the blood marks on the rails down to the deck and on to the door handle. Now it's your turn, when the deep wail of the wind carried with dirt gets in your eye now you start to cry. this is not a place for children no no sir this is for all those who don't believe
As he stumbled through the wet forest, branches smacking his face and bushes tugging at his boots, he spied a little cottage, with smoke rising from the chimney. He walked up to the porch, completely unaware of the feeling that he’s being watched. He knocked thrice upon the door of the cottage, and waited in the pouring downfall. The door
Dread and sorrow wash throughout me. We spent so long in this cursed building to prevent us from ending up like we did. I furrow my brows. The foul smell of rotting old wood came upon my senses. Now, I could only taste dryness in my throat. This attic has still not changed one bit.
Burnt homes, flipped cars, destroyed shops were scattered. The uncertainty that had left her earlier returned at full force as they seemed to move away from the populated area. After about another ten minutes of driving, they came to a stop. ‘At be twenty doll’rs the old cab grunted out. Liana gave the grumpy old man the money and exited the car with her things. In front of her stood a gloomy, run-down ill maintained two story house. The house looked abandoned as if it held no life. The doors and windows were covered in a thick layer of dust. The window panels look rotten and ready to fall off at the slightest hint of a strong wind, ivy cling to the outer wall of the house. The land surrounding the house was filled with unkempt undergrowth.Liana urged herself forward and came to a halt in front of the dirty covered door. Taking a deep breath she reached out and knocked on the
As I look back on my writing portfolio, I realize in all my first drafts I make numerous mistakes. I would like to believe that my errors became more complex mistakes but I know one of my consistent mistakes is with indefinite and definite articles. With the first couple of letters I had very few definite articles and by the end I had too many. However, I do think that as my writings progressed I tried to write about more complexly. I feel more confident in my writing since I have had to continually practice. Overall, I believe because I tried to write with more complex Arabic grammar, I had more mistakes from my attempts. Yet I am glad I tried to use difficult grammar because it has taught me how to correctly phrase sentences in Arabic.
I am sending you email from Ileana Vass. Sorry that did not do it earlier.
Aurorah- Rae, as you are showing an interest in dramatic play I wondered if you would enjoy playing the game “Jack In A Box”. To play this game we needed a box, which I found and a group of interested friends to help us play. We all sat in a circle and then I explained all the rules of this game to the group.
That night, Anne couldn’t sleep. Her mind was clogged with too many thoughts. The door seemed odd. It had radiated a sort of power that Anne had never felt before. She kept tossing and turning in bed, unable to calm down enough to sleep. Anne sat up in bed, and turned her head. Her eyes rested on her lamp, which had been there since they had moved in. This time, however, it seemed different. She held her hand up to touch it, just like she had with the door. A certain power seemed to intensify, although it might have just been the heat. For a split second, Anne thought she saw a bear etched in the silver base, but when she blinked, it was gone. The girl lay back to rest, her thoughts more tangled than ever.
The floorboards creaked and groaned beneath me as I stumbled through the door to this house that sat on the edge of town. It had lain forlorn for at least a year now, a curtain of moss and debris littered the lawn and porch, the interior of the house was surprisingly in good shape, victorian-era furniture covered by a veil of dust sat by the grand fireplace, the kitchen still had appliances such as a stove, fridge, and microwave. In a place like this, you would think that someone would have broken in and took this stuff to sell or pawn. I walk slowly up the grand staircase, praying that the floorboards wouldn’t crumble beneath me as I trekked to the top. I finally reach the top and let out a sigh of relief, my breath fogs in front of me and
As I was walking down the stairs with the creek of the old rudget wood, my cold heart began to tremble. Glancing with my dark brown eyes,the small doorknob began to turn. I saw a light flashing, and I knew then that I was going to figure out what was Does behind that tiny door.
Hazel lay on the stone cold bed with a white cover trimmed with lace. The blanket covered her frail body, and each breath she took felt like an eternity. She shivered, and goosebumps ran up and down her arms. The room around her was grey and musty making it difficult for her to breath. It was dull, for there were no Windows, nor were there doors. Hazel looked around and had no idea where she was or how she would escape. Then she gazed down at her hands and saw chains. Her wrists were raw and bruised where the cuffs clung to her arm. She caught another glimpse of the room. How had she gotten in if there was no way out?
Finally coming to the door, I push it open only to reveal a stark black room. Turning around I grabbed a nearby candle. As I entered the room I could see the oversized plush chairs scattered about in the room. A large desk stood next to the fireplace. Walking towards it I held my hand close to the flame keeping it from spluttering out. As I lighted the fireplace I began to see the whole room and all its glory. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, and walls painted a dark burgundy stood in the circular room. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of my grandfather. Painted in his younger days the painting showed a proud man in a dark gray suit. His eyes were like mine. An endless black that could pierce anyone. His hair was a dark brown. The same color as the dolls, unlike my onyx hair. The room smelled of parchment and ink. A smell I have long come to love.
As we travelled up the dark winding road, we came insight of ardtornish house, my house. once we stopped I dashed out of the carriage umbrella in hand, trying to evade the bullets of rain firing down upon me. It had been a long day and I hadn’t realised how tired I was until the events of today had finally finished, so I decided to retire to my bed. I slothed my way up the gloomy staircase and dragged my feet along the hallway until i came to a sudden halt. I noticed that there was a figure silhouetted in the moonlight above my glass attic hatch. I assumed it was an intruder, but I was confused to why it was staring directly at me. but in my blindness of danger I pulled the cord down to release the ladder to my attic, but as the cloud of dust that came down with ladder disappeared, the figure had vanished.
She sat up on the bearskin bed, at began to look around. At her feet was a wooden box that sat two feet tall and four feet wide. It rested against the wall, in the corner. She moved her gaze along the wall to the left and found an empty wall with a small window next to a door. Through the window she could see part of the wooden frame of the front porch. The door neared the corner of the cabin. As