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Descriptive writing

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Year 10 GCSE coursework: Descriptive writing I cringed suddenly as hunger struck through my body like a lightning bolt. I grasped the golden brown loaf of bread, incarserated in a thin sheet of plastic. My fingers almost sunk into the loaf as the transparent sheet made a crinkling noise. I ripped it off quickly trying to save it from suffocation. Success. It appeared to glow magically. I pulled open the gleaming white finished door of the refridgerator. It screamed loudly in pain when I tried to expose it to the bright effulgence of my undersized kitchen. I struck my arm out for the silver rectangle that reflects the light into my eyes. I winced unexpectadly. I grabbed it; it was cold and bumpy to touch. I placed it down on the creamy coloured table. I pushed the gleaming white finished door away from me. This time it screamed for joy to be returning back to its dark and cold home. I tugged at the subtle silver lid by the tab. It tore apart in three stages. The first few centimetre, then the next, and then finally, the rest. It revealed an even shinier silver coat. The tab was in the corner; I tried to grip it with my fingers. My fingers slipped off the glistening tab repeatedley. ...read more.


The knife handle was uncomfortable. The crumbs almost saturated into my hand. With my free hand I held the margarine and slowly spread the knife right through it like it was running away from one side of the brick to the next. The knife lay against the square of soft white bread. It slowly expanded its territory, marking it with this long trail of yellow substance. The substance is softer than playdough but thicker than a liquid. Soon the dagger has marked the entire square. I placed the blade back onto the kitchen table, which now was quite messy. I looked at my hand that had held the knife. the bread crumbs stuck to my hand, I rubbed my hands together to get rid of them. It looked as if my hands had dandruff, a little stream of white crumbs leaked from between my hands. I seperated my hands and my right hand (which was holding the culprate that had the crumbs which were attempting to attache themselves to my hand) had what looked like little red holes imprinted in it. I looked at my square piece of bread. It would not be long until I will be able to give into my temptation of eating the mouth-watering piece of food. ...read more.


The knife looked as if it was sliding across the buttered bread. The blood was left shadowing the knife along the bread. I dropped the knife on the table. I was happy, I jumped in the air and sporadicaly chose another jar. I opened it; it opened with effortlessness. Marmalade. I jumped up and rapidly placed it on the shelf. I repeated the procedure. My head felt weightless. I grabbed another jar. This was a very large blue plastic jar. I opened it easily again. Peanut butter. Perfect. I pushed the knife into the jar and tilted it up and pulled the light brown that was on the verge of being pale orange away from the rest of its population. It spreads a little harder this time. It expands unevenly, but I didn't care. I let the dagger fall from my hand onto the work surface. I picked up my piece of artwork. What was originally just white and had light brown around the rim. Now it's multicoloured. I bit into it. I could taste the satisfaction. The peanut butter made it stick to the top of my mouth. It tasted sweet but also savoury. I took bite after bite. Devouring slowly my treatment for the stabbing pains in my stomach. I finally took the very last mouthful. My tongue locked with the top of my mouth once again. It was delicious! Maddy Hull 10S ...read more.

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