Archive for April 23rd, 2012
Arriving in Exile…
This is the third year I have been using MYST. This work is from Exile, the landscape at the beginning which we did on the training session with you, and the day of lessons. Some of the sentences we liked I’ve typed up. These are year 4 pupils. Hope you like their work!
Judith Thompson, Parklands Primary School Northampton.
Dust drifted silently across the sun-baked, sandstone rocks. The golden sun beat waves of heat down. I surveyed the lonely wasteland, a falcon zipped around beating its black wings heavily. A large dusty rock that looked like a sleeping ankylosaurus of some sort lay embedded into the golden ground and flaky cliff side, silent, unmoving. Small cacti grew upright from the rocky cliff side. Miniature bushes of some sort were planted firmly into the rocky terrain. Only then I realised, I was in the unforgiving, cruel-hearted Exile.
| … Quickly running into a cavern I sheltered for a while.…As I gaze up at the aqua blue sky, with fluffy white clouds, gracefully a bird swoops beautifully down in front of me.…Winds whispered gently across Exile…I could see little footprints a bird made on the sand.
..As purple as an aubergine the sky watched the puffy clouds go by. ..I touched the several-aged mountains, they were rough, still and fixed. |
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| Here I am alone, standing still near the gigantic mountains.I saw a graceful bird swooping eagerly in the lush pale sky, with creamy clouds.Here I am, in this unknown world with just a beautiful soaring bird to keep me company.Silently the bushes stand like an army ready for the battle to begin.
Spiky cacti, in all shapes and sizes, stood still on the shimmering sand. Drifts would come past me like they were humans. |
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| I felt like I didn’t belong.My eyes were searching frantically for some kind of comfort.White clouds of silk were beautiful.Rocky cliffs dominated the bright yellow sand.
It was amazing, so sandy, but I realised that once it was beautiful here. The shiny bird was gliding gracefully. The dry sand whispered under my feet. |
Thank you Judith, and well done Year Four! It is a pleasure to peruse polished prose from the Parklands posse.
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