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Original Writing Coursework

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Introduction

Original Writing Coursework The sound of footsteps echoed through the realms of my mind - never ending, like a beat of a drum, reminiscent of my heart, which was thumping uncontrollably in the barrel of my chest. I quickened my pace in an effort to escape the ominous shadows that were pursuing me. I clutched my coat in desperation, praying that it would somehow protect me from the dangers of darkness. My fingertips were gelid, as were my toes - all extremities, freezing, as the sickening breeze sent a shiver up my spine. I felt paralysed with fear. The floorboards creaked - sounding like a tortured moan. I was left to wonder to myself, why I ever dared entering this unwelcoming house. The friendly sunshine of the outdoors seemed a lifetime away - as did my friends. They can't save me now. I'm alone. But I don't need them. It's their fault I'm in here. They thought it was a joke - but I'm not one fond of jokes like that. ...read more.

Middle

Just as I became familiar with the eerie silence which accompanied this house, a startling cry of thunder seemed to seek the entire house, though now, I didn't seem as scared. Maybe this house wasn't so bad after all, and my feelings were just exaggerating themselves? The bookcase seemed to monitor the room from the secluded corner. I walked over to examine it's domineering figure, and removed a book from it's extensive archive. A gust of wind came rushing through the window - my black coat billowing behind my like the wings of a dark angel. I sat down, in a heavily comfortable armchair, and noticed a solitary piece of cream coloured paper. A fountain pen rested above it - lid off - the puse ink looked to have leaked over the table, giving it a mysterious purple colour. In a house devoid of life, this room seemed the only exception. The colours, the atmosphere, the excitement was like no other. The perfect abode to begin writing a novel - a notion which seemed to have stemmed from the previous owner. ...read more.

Conclusion

I finally reached the ominous door, and struck it open in a desperate fashion. As I came out it hit me - it was the dead of night. The torrential downpour had failed to cease - the thunder still touched my heart with a heavy pierce. My run steadily accelerated into a sprint. I sprinted through the unearthly streets; I sprinted past the homes, past the parks, through the night; I sprinted past the shops, past the people, and through the cascading rain. I sang the song my mother used to sing to me - in hopes of finding some comfort whilst in the daunting night. The chorus of ''twinkle, twinkle, little star'' played on repeat in my head - it made my journey home seem half the time. I crashed through my front door, almost in tears, frightened half to death by my ordeal. The other half of me which had survived was gripped by fatigue. I felt like a puppet, with a drunken puppeteer - I collapsed on the floor of my bedroom. I was home. I was safe. ?? ?? ?? ?? Ryan Denny 1 ...read more.

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