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Personal Imaginative Coursework - Conflict

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Personal Imaginative Coursework Conflict Marion had always got on with Sinead, but I'd noticed that recently things hadn't been as peachy. She was in a room, her room, flicking through old magazines. It was starting to get dark and she hadn't yet shut the curtains. 'Knock knock'. Silence. 'Knock knock'. "Mum?" Creak. "Why's it so dark in here? I'm going out, I'll be back later." "I said I'd meet Mary at seven." Sinead went over and pulled the curtains shut, tutting as she did so. "Well you can't, I'm going out." "I told you earlier, I can still go, we're seeing 'The Fruit Picker', you know, the one with Bobby Clampton." Marion sat down, tucking her skirt under her as she always did. "I don't think so, fruitcake. I don't want you to OK?" Sinead said, facing her daughter. "But you didn't tell me you were going out and I've already made plans." "Enough. I've said no." Sinead made an annoying emphasis on the word no with her hands like she usually did before she lost her temper. "Then tell me why." Marion was starting to get impatient but didn't want Sinead to go into one, so tried to be rational. "Because I've said so." ...read more.


Him and Mark had gone in opposite directions. "The Brits are on our tail." "Down here" Voices from all directions were clouding his mind. The sirens were deafening. All he could do was think about his wife and daughter back home and know they'd be OK. It was quite a slow process as they dragged him, with a few of the others, into the back of the van, with the gunshots still roaring through the sky. Late at night, in the depths of the Irish countryside, a man knelt down beside his bed in a dorm, alongside many other men, some only boys, and prayed. Prayed that the Lord could give him strength to stand by his country and make him a martyr for freedom. But above all that the Lord might send someone to watch over his young wife and child in times when he could not be there. Because for him, knowing that God was watching over them meant knowing that they'd be safe even when he was too distant for his love to reach them. Many other men had prayed that night, for the next day was the day they'd first gone out and fought what would be the beginning of an even longer war. ...read more.


"He was caught on a job and he's been, he's been killed." Marion lifted up her arm to wipe her eye, "What on earth have you done to yourself?" Sinead's voice was trembling and cracking and her eyes shot with blood. "Nothing. I - I didn't mean to." "Oh come here, my baby." And she pulled her to her, and as they both sat there sobbing out loud, clutching each other, I went over and put my arms round them both, gently rocking them from side to side into the night, softly singing an old Irish song my mother used to sing to me: The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone In the ranks of death you will find him His father's sword he hath girded on And his wild harp slung behind him "Land of Song!" said the warrior bard "Tho' all the world betrays thee One sword, at least, they rights shall guard One faithful harp shall praise thee!" The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain Could not bring that proud soul under The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again For he tore its chords asunder And said "No chains shall sully thee Thou soul of love and brav'ry! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery!" Conflict Millie Brown, 10Ji Personal Imaginative Coursework 1 ...read more.

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