Creative writing - I stand staring out at the deserted playground.

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English Coursework

I stand staring out at the deserted playground. The rain lashes down hard on the windows and the wind howls around. I look around me and the carpeted floors have wet muddy footmarks stamped upon them, as individual crispy curled autumn leaves are blown though the doors as children rush in from the bitter weather.

Their cheeks are a rosy pink and the cold crisp morning has left their hands like ice blocks. I enter the dining area and am filled with a sense of warm comfort as the heat from the kitchens sweep around me. However, the faces of my friends do not fill me with such joy. They enter looking lethargic and wind blown. Then in comes a puny first year. Tears roll down her face as a teacher approaches her. I look down to see a colossal hole in her tights, her skirt covered in the last of the leaves that stick to the wet mud that has soaked her skirt. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. Crying is obviously the most obvious thing for this pint – sized first year. My hands still feel numb so I depart the hall to enter the toilets where the ‘hhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmm’ of hand dryers can be heard as the doors swing to and fro. Girls of all ages fight for places at the mirrors and hand dryers, so as to be able to fix their damp hair and warm their icicle like hands. Suddenly, all too soon, the door is swung open and we are being ushered in the direction of our form rooms for morning registration.

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As we enter our box sized form room we are filled with a sense of coldness once more. The lonesome radiator at the back of the classroom is crowded as we fight for places near it. The atmosphere is dull and drowsy as our form teacher opens the door with a cheery smile on her face. Her attempt to try to bring some happiness to the class abruptly ends as she feels the bitterness of the room.

As the bell for the conclusion of first lesson sounds, the clatter and scraping of chairs fills the school.

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