Wainbows
07-01-2008, 06:33 PM
pleasepleasplease take the time to help and read lol im really stuck http://www.clubhabboforum.net/images/smilies/frown.gif
I want to get this up to an A grade but my teacher said i needed to make more
original references aka more it more original. Has anyone got any lines i can improve etc!! im realyl really stuck cheers :)!
I glanced over to my mother; she was sobbing into her old, patterned handkerchief, as per usual. This wasn’t an unusual sight any more.
Her sorrows began on an average November morning, a crisp yet glorious day, however, things quickly changed as there was a knock on the door. My mother was in our overgrown back garden, trying to sort things out, and father was out collecting our daily rations. I pushed myself off the itchy armchair and put my satin slippers on. I had received them for my thirteenth birthday and they had been sewn to my feet for two whole years. I leant up on my tiptoes and looked through the little peephole to see who was in my company. A man was outside. A tall man he was, I could only just see the top of his head, which even then was covered in a velvet hat. He wore a solemn expression on his face and his stance showed he would rather be elsewhere. I quickly opened the door, catching my slipper on it.
‘Ever so sorry to disturb you miss but you got a mother or father in?’
He had a deep, husky voice with a slight tinge of a London accent, this was unusual to hear. He was obviously a man of great importance. However, he wasn’t looking at me. The man was staring down at his feet and the brown, leather shoes at the bottom of his sturdy legs were staring back at him. I ran to get my mother to tell her about this mysterious guest wanting her company.
My mother was lying down on the lush green grass next to a small flowerbed carefully picking which seeds to plant. She was always in the garden, in fact it was her favourite place – she said it was peaceful and calm outside,(except for the bugs). I called to her telling her about our visitor and she looked over, scraping back her long blonde locks behind her delicate face.
‘Pardon dear, I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?’
For the second time I explained about the man. Immediately all colour drained from her already pale face. As quick as can be imagined, she leapt out of her comfortable pose and ran to the front door. I strolled in to see the mysterious man talking to my mother, as she sobbed into her new handkerchief.
‘I’m so sorry madam. I wish there was something I could do. However, if we get any news on your son, you will be immediately informed.’
These were the words that I would remember forever. There are always words which a person remembers relating to a bad event. The words which you are either told or those you said to yourself at the time.
I never saw this man again but his news about my older brother’s disappearance had affected not only me but my dearest family. My mother blamed herself, walking around the house muttering about how she should have never let her Philip go to war. My father wrote to everyone he could possibly think of just to get some information out of them about his son; it didn’t work. Missing In Action. The worst possible thing anyone can be in the family’s eyes. Neither dead nor alive, never knowing where they are and worst of all – never being told anything.
Whilst my mother sobbed about her long lost son, my baby brother Matthew sat happily on the floor playing with his toy train, made by my grandfather before he passed away. Matthew had been with my grandmother in Devon when we heard about Philip, not that he would have noticed anything different anyway. I slowly slipped off the side of the itchy armchair and sat cross-legged next to my baby brother. Stroking his blonde curly hair, I looked out the window and realised it was time for a walk. I said goodbye to my mother, grabbed my old, leather shoes and prepared to go to for a nice, long stroll to my usual place.
‘Make sure you bring your coat,’ my father called in from the kitchen. I looked at my old, scabby coat – surely I was getting too old for that? I decided to ignore my father and I ran outside. When was the normal warmth of spring going to arrive? Our small picturesque village had changed since the war began as it seemed as though everyone had lost someone, either family or a friend. My neighbours, the Jones’s, used to be the liveliest people in the town. They were the kind of family everyone wanted to be a member of! Every other day a new visitor would be round knocking on their door, ready for some sort of gathering. This had quickly changed. No one ever knocked of their door anymore; ever since their son had gone missing a few months back.
I decided to go to the local post office. I knew the route like the back of my hand, I had been walking down here for years, either to go get some bread or just to see Mrs Brown and her son Charlie. I peered through the glass of the door to see many people all queuing to get their rations. Going through, I heard the ring of the
bell above my own head as Mrs Brown waved to me. The middle-aged woman pointed to the backroom door to indicate where Charlie was. I dotted past her quickly with a slight glance of a smile poking out the side of my mouth.
Charlie was sitting on the floor of the dusty room, I smiled at him, ‘Hello Charlie, haven’t seen you in a while. How are things?’
‘Things are not well I’m sad to say. My mother is having trouble stocking up with the essentials. Even bread is hard to get nowadays, let alone the luxuries of tea and fruits. I didn’t quite realise how the war would affect me and my family like this,’ Charlie told me with a slight uneasiness about his tone. I went to sit next to him.
‘But surely things will get better won’t they? I mean the war is not meant to last too much longer. It was meant to be over by Christmas but still, it can’t possibly go on much more. Can it?’
I looked over to see his bright blue eyes staring back at me. I then realised how naïve I had been to even say such a remark, only people like Annie Smith still had hope about the war being over soon. It was here to stay. We sat in silence for a long time, both understanding each other’s thoughts without needing to talk it through.
Eventually, I stood up, brushed the dust off my skirt which I had picked up off the mucky floor, and then walked to the backroom door. Just as I was about to leave I turned around to speak to him.
‘Charlie, will we always stay friends? Even during this tiresome war?’
Then he gave me that traditional toothy smile and he replied, ‘Of course we will.’
I walked away back to my house with a slight smile emerging all the way.
I want to get this up to an A grade but my teacher said i needed to make more
original references aka more it more original. Has anyone got any lines i can improve etc!! im realyl really stuck cheers :)!
I glanced over to my mother; she was sobbing into her old, patterned handkerchief, as per usual. This wasn’t an unusual sight any more.
Her sorrows began on an average November morning, a crisp yet glorious day, however, things quickly changed as there was a knock on the door. My mother was in our overgrown back garden, trying to sort things out, and father was out collecting our daily rations. I pushed myself off the itchy armchair and put my satin slippers on. I had received them for my thirteenth birthday and they had been sewn to my feet for two whole years. I leant up on my tiptoes and looked through the little peephole to see who was in my company. A man was outside. A tall man he was, I could only just see the top of his head, which even then was covered in a velvet hat. He wore a solemn expression on his face and his stance showed he would rather be elsewhere. I quickly opened the door, catching my slipper on it.
‘Ever so sorry to disturb you miss but you got a mother or father in?’
He had a deep, husky voice with a slight tinge of a London accent, this was unusual to hear. He was obviously a man of great importance. However, he wasn’t looking at me. The man was staring down at his feet and the brown, leather shoes at the bottom of his sturdy legs were staring back at him. I ran to get my mother to tell her about this mysterious guest wanting her company.
My mother was lying down on the lush green grass next to a small flowerbed carefully picking which seeds to plant. She was always in the garden, in fact it was her favourite place – she said it was peaceful and calm outside,(except for the bugs). I called to her telling her about our visitor and she looked over, scraping back her long blonde locks behind her delicate face.
‘Pardon dear, I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?’
For the second time I explained about the man. Immediately all colour drained from her already pale face. As quick as can be imagined, she leapt out of her comfortable pose and ran to the front door. I strolled in to see the mysterious man talking to my mother, as she sobbed into her new handkerchief.
‘I’m so sorry madam. I wish there was something I could do. However, if we get any news on your son, you will be immediately informed.’
These were the words that I would remember forever. There are always words which a person remembers relating to a bad event. The words which you are either told or those you said to yourself at the time.
I never saw this man again but his news about my older brother’s disappearance had affected not only me but my dearest family. My mother blamed herself, walking around the house muttering about how she should have never let her Philip go to war. My father wrote to everyone he could possibly think of just to get some information out of them about his son; it didn’t work. Missing In Action. The worst possible thing anyone can be in the family’s eyes. Neither dead nor alive, never knowing where they are and worst of all – never being told anything.
Whilst my mother sobbed about her long lost son, my baby brother Matthew sat happily on the floor playing with his toy train, made by my grandfather before he passed away. Matthew had been with my grandmother in Devon when we heard about Philip, not that he would have noticed anything different anyway. I slowly slipped off the side of the itchy armchair and sat cross-legged next to my baby brother. Stroking his blonde curly hair, I looked out the window and realised it was time for a walk. I said goodbye to my mother, grabbed my old, leather shoes and prepared to go to for a nice, long stroll to my usual place.
‘Make sure you bring your coat,’ my father called in from the kitchen. I looked at my old, scabby coat – surely I was getting too old for that? I decided to ignore my father and I ran outside. When was the normal warmth of spring going to arrive? Our small picturesque village had changed since the war began as it seemed as though everyone had lost someone, either family or a friend. My neighbours, the Jones’s, used to be the liveliest people in the town. They were the kind of family everyone wanted to be a member of! Every other day a new visitor would be round knocking on their door, ready for some sort of gathering. This had quickly changed. No one ever knocked of their door anymore; ever since their son had gone missing a few months back.
I decided to go to the local post office. I knew the route like the back of my hand, I had been walking down here for years, either to go get some bread or just to see Mrs Brown and her son Charlie. I peered through the glass of the door to see many people all queuing to get their rations. Going through, I heard the ring of the
bell above my own head as Mrs Brown waved to me. The middle-aged woman pointed to the backroom door to indicate where Charlie was. I dotted past her quickly with a slight glance of a smile poking out the side of my mouth.
Charlie was sitting on the floor of the dusty room, I smiled at him, ‘Hello Charlie, haven’t seen you in a while. How are things?’
‘Things are not well I’m sad to say. My mother is having trouble stocking up with the essentials. Even bread is hard to get nowadays, let alone the luxuries of tea and fruits. I didn’t quite realise how the war would affect me and my family like this,’ Charlie told me with a slight uneasiness about his tone. I went to sit next to him.
‘But surely things will get better won’t they? I mean the war is not meant to last too much longer. It was meant to be over by Christmas but still, it can’t possibly go on much more. Can it?’
I looked over to see his bright blue eyes staring back at me. I then realised how naïve I had been to even say such a remark, only people like Annie Smith still had hope about the war being over soon. It was here to stay. We sat in silence for a long time, both understanding each other’s thoughts without needing to talk it through.
Eventually, I stood up, brushed the dust off my skirt which I had picked up off the mucky floor, and then walked to the backroom door. Just as I was about to leave I turned around to speak to him.
‘Charlie, will we always stay friends? Even during this tiresome war?’
Then he gave me that traditional toothy smile and he replied, ‘Of course we will.’
I walked away back to my house with a slight smile emerging all the way.