Over Christmas and the start of January, boarders in Year
7-9 took part in an inaugural writing competition. Run by House Tutor Miss
Clayton, the remit was to write a short story on any topic of their choice.
There were over 25 entries for this competition and we were thrilled to see
such a superb array of different stories.
Miss Clayton awarded 4 entries a
‘Highly Commended’ for stories that showed particular flair in their writing. These
were awarded to:
The top 3 entries all received a certificate and a £5, £10
or £15 Amazon gift voucher as a reward for their unique and interesting
stories. Miss Clayton noted that she was incredibly impressed with the range of
different topics covered and the quality of writing from boys across all of the
year groups. The top 3 entries are published in full beneath this and were:
1st Place: George Cook
2nd Place: Dhruvak
3rd Place: Ayomide
Well done to all boys who took part and good luck to the
Senior boarders who will take part in a Poetry competition later in the year!
By George Cook
It was dark, too dark. The only sound he could hear was the
sound of his own breath; deep, heavy and scared. He knew something was wrong.
He called out only to be answered by a deathly silence. He stopped walking,
there was something here; he could feel it. He took a moment to look around, it
was the last thing he ever did.
"Definite suicide." the detective announced. All
of the surrounding policemen were shocked. Jonathan Hellvan was a well-known
drug smuggler and the police had been trying to track him down and arrest him
for over two years. But the forensics were 100% sure, for some reason Hellvan
had decided to stab himself.
Meanwhile, 4 miles away, the killer walked purposely,
ignoring the surrounding beggars until eventually he arrived at the place he
called home. He sat in his torn chair but he did not sleep. He had no need for
it. He survived by killing. It was his only desire. He turned on his flickering
light and began to read. The words seemed to ooze into his brain as he stared
into the book, unflinching until morning arrived.
The sun rose slowly over the hills before spilling its light
on the town like a spilled glass of water. He turned his head, almost zombie
like away from the sun. The light was his one great fear, he was a shadow in
the dark, almost invisible, but the sunlight revealed him and his actions for
all others to see. He stood up and walked over to his door. He put his hand on
the handle and collapsed to his knees! His mind went haywire! Voices screamed
at him from all directions but all he could hear was the anger of those that
were deceased due to him. He tried to get out but there was no chance of him
escaping. He screamed and banged at the door but to no avail, his mind was
rotting, getting weaker by the day. He fought and fought but his regret was too
strong and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious!
He awoke several hours later still inside his own home but
now his lust for death was even stronger. He stood up and walked straight out
of his home, into the dark alleys that surrounded the town. He walked and
walked, looking for a suitable target but something was different today,
everyone seemed suspicious and he kept hearing the name "Hellvan." He
quickened his pace, someone had found out about his hobby. He turned around to
face two large men, he prepared for the worst and got his blade ready but the
men walked by without batting an eyelid. He breathed a sigh of relief as he
felt something in the back of his brain. His conscience was trying to tell him
something and he fought it as hard as he could but the words remained there:
"stop killing". He began to stagger home, aware of the people
watching him but all he heard was: "stop killing". He reached his
home and collapsed to the floor, stone dead. He had lost the battle, he had
lost the war but not against an enemy but against his own conscience.
By Ayomide Olotu
“Hsss…” “Hsss…” “Hsss…”
Alex’s groggy self slowly awoke: his eyelids suddenly
fluttered to life, due to the irritating hissing sound that was harassing his
ears. “What’s that sound?” Alex pondered. “What could it be, it’s certainly not
a human sound, and so, what is it?” Without even realizing, a slow worm-like
figure inaudibly slewed along cold, hard sand - covered ground, its eyes fixed
hungrily on Alex.
It was until Alex turned around -he noticed it – a shady and
inhumane silhouette glaring viciously at him. When his eyes had finally caught
hold of the creature, he saw the weapons that would be the cause of his demise.
Two sharp, white daggers- sharp enough to rip through his flesh and cut open
his veins- but they were the least of his worries, for the daggers glistened
with dangerous venom- strong enough to kill ten fully grown men. This was when
Alex realised what he was up against; a King Cobra.
It forcefully lunged at his head, but luckily, he swiftly
and masterfully evaded the strike, but the next time the serpent lunged- it
struck him- he felt the daggers pierce through his skin and the venom slowly
being injected into his blood stream. Alex slowly fell to the floor, then the
world in front of his eyes turned black. Painfully, dreadfully and vigorously,
Alex used all the strength he could muster and stood up, dazed and sick, but he
still got up. He fumbled around for a weapon he could use to kill the snake and
he found one, a rock. Big in size, and heavy this would either do serious
damage to the skull or smash the King Cobra’s skull in half; if he missed then
it was instant death for him. He swiftly rolled to the side to avoid another
dangerous strike, and got up onto his two feet and lunged powerfully at the
The snake was still
ready to inflict more pain on Alex’s feeble body, but Alex was too agile and
ran around the sly figure. Now Alex had the advantage, being behind the snake,
and leapt with full intensity, full power and will power. “CRUNCH!” “CRUNCH!”
went the King Cobra’s skull as it was crushed by the weight of the stone and by
the weight of Alex. But as soon as this heroic deed was completed, Alex’s
muscles convulsed under the weight of his legs and he collapsed.
Alex awoke on the desert floor, tired, confused and in a lot
of pain. “What happened, all I can remember is the sna-“Oh no!” “This is bad!”
Alex gazed horrifically at where he had been bitten painfully by the snake and
the venom that was seeping through his veins. Alex rose to his frail and shaken
feet and began at a walking pace. “I need to find someone to patch me up or I
could die!” Alex then thought to himself “I won’t find anyone in this desert, I
might as well let myself die.” The roof of his mouth felt dry and rough, he
felt queasy and nauseous, and his head felt heavy. The weight of his head
finally succeeded in the battle of conciseness and he fainted.
A serpent’s death,
A grove of trees,
A friend’s last
A freezing breeze,
A mountain climb,
A grand bell’s chime,
A friend you hate,
This is your fate.
Alex woke up startled from the dream, in the company of
other human beings, “Where am I?” “Am I at home?”
Lily of the
By Dhruvak Tomar
Crash! The screen on Richards’s iPhone shattered on the
floor. Undeterred, he raced down the stairs briskly. Doctors and patients alike
peered at him, silently judging the man for his impudence as he shoved his way
to the ground floor. Frantically, he searched for the exit in a sea of white
coats, the overwhelming smell of antiseptics and disinfectant flooding his nose
and the doctor’s words ringing in his ears like the incessant ringing of an
alarm clock; except there was no snooze button. The echo of the four harsh
words that were the root of this obstinate situation: Lily of the Valley.
Panting, he ran through the automatic doors, onto the street
and jumped into his car- a dark blue 1986 Ford Mustang. The vehicle was a
rusted remnant of itself, not unlike its owner. The demonic death trap
showcased a shoddy paint job, and an ancient V6 engine. But today those 6
cylinders were enough. He shoved the keys in the ignition and floored the gas.
He launched down the road. The engine was roaring like a lion, ready to catch
its prey. The torrential rain pelted the bonnet of his car as he sped through
downtown L.A., knowing that his near future was being dictated by alarmingly
Across town, Jeremy was casually relaxing in his living
room, blissfully unaware that as he flicked through the channels on his TV; an
unwelcome guest was racing towards his apartment.
Jeremy’s apartment had a remarkably distinct character. The
exposed brick walls stood solid, the only traditional presence in the house
drowning in the technology and furniture of the modern American man. Almost as
if the 21st had come and discarded everything except the walls, they were a
timeless touch. Not surprisingly, the only natural possession was a lone plant,
subtly standing in the corner of the room.
Stealthily, Richard pulled up outside Jeremy’s block, a
handgun sitting in his lap.
Today had not been a good day for Jeremy. Underneath the
proud exterior he projected, he was a miserable man, suffering through the
unforgiving trials of life. Living each day assiduously since that fateful
It was 8 o’clock that
night at his apartment when everything started to unravel. Jeremy was eating
dinner with his girlfriend, Kate. Her voracious appetite that night puzzled
him, but he let it go unnoticed and took the matter no further with her. Not
until he was halfway through his salad did he spot something wrong. Abruptly
her body went rigid. Her eyes opened and closed. Arms drooped by her sides.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, she made attempts to speak. Horrific
thoughts running through his mind, Jeremy picked up his phone and called 911.
Desperately terrifying to make sense of the words she was saying with no luck.
By the time the ambulance had arrived she was in a frightful state, the blood
had drained from her face and was unrecognisable.
It has been two days since the incident and he had received
no news concerning Kate.
Richard stepped out of his car and looked up at the
apartment block looming above him, it blended in perfectly with the night sky,
rising high and straight like a finger pointing to the moon. Falling rain drops
trickled down his arm, his leather jacket providing a frictionless surface for
them as they travelled down his sleeve, onto the gun held loosely in his hands.
Stealthily he walked into the apartment block and trudged up the stairs. The
raindrops on the gun glistening as he passed windows, letting in the light from
the streetlamps outside.
3 Flights of stairs later Richard had reached Jeremy’s front
door. He stood there contemplating what his next actions should be, the gun
resting awkwardly in his jacket pocket. Apprehensively he knocked twice on his
door, half of him praying that he wouldn’t answer.
Slowly, the door creaked open and Jeremy stood there,
wearing joggers and a vest. His short brown hair was deliberately styled at
every angle as to seem messy but handsome in charming manner. It was a
difficult balance that he had been struck perfectly. At first Jeremy stood
silently, bewildered by this late night guest. Before he could get his thoughts
together Richard spoke, “Are you going to invite me in or not?” Trying
desperately to make his voice sound casual. “Sure, yes come in,” Jeremy
replied, slightly taken aback by this visit from Kate’s brother so late at
night. He ushered him into the living room and offered him a seat at the sofa.
Richard refused without saying a word. “I’m sorry for the mess, a tornado flew
around my house just before you came,” he said jokingly. Still no response from
Richard. Jeremy sat there mystified, soaking in the situation.
As Jeremy sat there Richard stood, trying to stay afloat on
the river of the thoughts running through his mind, finally, after a few
minutes of nervous silence he decided that he wanted a clarification first.
Shaking, he said, “Kate’s in hospital.” Jeremy replied with an inattentive nod.
“The doctors are saying she was poisoned, poisoned on the night that she was
having dinner with you.” Again he replied with a nod. Richard took a few steps
closer to the spot where Jeremey was perched on the black leather sofa.
“Poisoned by a meal that you planned, that you cooked, that you made her eat,”
he shouted, unable to keep his composure.
The words hit Jeremy like a knife, piercing through his skin
and ripping apart the very nature of his being. He stood up in protest, “what
are you trying to say?” he demanded, nostrils flaring and his deep blue eyes
staring right at the man with a dangerous glint. “That I killed and poisoned my
girlfriend, is that it?” “No, “Richard responded, “That you killed and poisoned
my sister.” He spoke the words with a deep loathing but no aggression. Like a
cobra raising its head out of the sand to check on its prey, Richard wanted no
explanation from Jeremy. The kill was an inevitable eventuality. He pulled the
gun out of his jacket pocket and held it steady pointing straight at Jeremy.
Paralysed with fear Jeremy fell to the ground, head resting
on the hard wood floors. His brooding eyes lit with panic. Heartbeat racing.
Veins bulging across his forehead. “Stop, stop!” he protested “killing me will
do nothing to better the situation,” the words barely making it out of his
mouth as he gasped for air.
Heavily breathing Richard staggered towards him, gun firmly
fixed on its target. Like a child lighting a match for the first time he was
apprehensive, but remained unflinched. “I-I don’t care,” he stammered. “You’re
not the victim here, I am” “you don’t believe I killed her do you Richard? You
can’t, it’s implausible, and what reason would I have to kill the woman I
loved? We’re both the victims here, victims of misfortune.”
Jeremy shielded his eyes as he heard the shot fire and
rolled on the floor. The bullet, narrowly missing his ear, ricocheted and
lodged inside a brick on the wall. Richard approached again for a second shot;
tears streaming down his face. Trembling, he placed his finger on the trigger,
ready for the kill. Looking Jeremy right in the eye
As Richard looked down at the man lying by his feet he
couldn’t help but to fell sympathetic, reluctantly he slowly lowered his gun
and placed it back in his jacket pocket. His whole body had gone numb. Too
ashamed to say another word he hurried out of the apartment, leaving Jeremy
lying on the floor in a state of shock. Perplexed but relieved. Immediately he
ran and shut the front door.
As he walked back to the sofa Jeremy looked across the room
into the corner where two exposed brick walls met and stared at the plant
standing there, the Lily of the Valley. The most sweetly scented plant with the
most poisonous berries, a deadly combination…