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Subjects > English and MFL student writing
The saintly glow of the twilight tree. Stumbling through a
misty forest, counting the trees in an order known to no
mathematician. Back and forth contemplating the night’s
decisions. Then the day creeps in, the weeks the months the
years. Shattered fragments of memory tease me, buzzing
around my head. They sting with precision and yet leave
nothing. The trees cold touch save me from no memory. The
rain falls and I forget to swim. I hear the screams of those I
cannot save. Of those I put into the water: the days that so
many drowned at my hand, at my lack of courage. I swirl
through the forest as glow after glow clouds my vision. He
returns to haunt me: those long days and nights blurring
into one painful eternity. He always comes when I am at my
most vulnerable. When I am alone.
I take shelter with my back pressed against the cool roots.
I trace where they intertwine with the blank ground. Keep
your head down. The last words, the hint of safety. Fleeting
fractured memories dance in front of me. Upward gaze
weighed down. Kevlar and khaki blur. Men, women and
children. Once we’re in the water, we all drown the same.
How many times have I wandered this forest? Searching
for what cannot be found. Trainers gave way to black boots:
bright colours to green: green to red: cobbled streets to sand.
Never-ending, even now I see the light grains dancing before
me.
Morphing into ghostly figures, love lost all.
I can still see her at the window. Nothing but a shadow of a
former love: a former life. The grains settle, each one making
a tiny indent on my skin. Swirling torrents cascade as I am
dwarfed by the strength of the tree. Imitating planted feet,
straight back: almost. Sand storms past me, the trees sway
and I follow. Twisting and turning into a path of light. A hazy
mirage, the beautiful lie.
She will find me, as the sun rises: among my forest. Sand
will cover my mouth, my hands, and my feet. She will take a
once proud man in her arms like a child. Innocence returns
with the sun.
I walk my forest: the concrete soil, the light bulb fruits rotting
away. Bark scratched off to lovers, to hate. The need to be
recognised fulfilled. A deer in the headlights turns away.
The mocking jay fulfils its purpose, cursing my return. Many
smile, but from their high perches, one cannot see their eyes.
The trees no longer glow, the saints have departed.
Yet she remains. More powerful that the lights that fail to
defeat the darkness, more powerful that the fruits that fall
and rot, only protecting their season. More powerful than the
metal only stealing the light, to reflect it as its own. More
powerful than any light created by man. There is no light
more pure than the one that suffers.
The saintly glow of the twilight woman.
Day 1: The flight went quickly
and we said
Hola Barcelona
at 9:30 pm Spanish time. We arrived at the youth hostel at I
don’t know what time and the other people in my room and I
(including Senor Owen, El Joe, Ethan the Ethan and Zak the Zak)
decided to just sleep because we wanted to.
Day 2: I was woken first by an annoying sound on a phone and
then the banging on the door of
Buenos Dias
. So to say I was
awake, I said
Estamos awakey
, which means, we are awake
in Spanish. We went to the Picasso museum and it was weird
because it was a Picasso museum. We visited Plaza Cataluña
and then Park Guell, which was pretty amazing with good
palm trees, interesting architecture and nice views and that
was where we ate lunch. The next part was brilliant for me -
we chilled on the banter tourist bus again to Camp Nou, the
home of Barcelona FC, the second best team in the world after
Arsenal. It is the biggest stadium in Europe with capacity for
98,000 people. We went on an amazing tour around the stadium
but unfortunately, we couldn’t give them a game because most
of them were in the World Cup in Brazil. After that, we visited
the city centre before going to a pizza place for dinner; hanging
around at the port and sleeping at the Youth Hostel.
Day3: Thiswas thesecond favouritepart forme, SagradaFamilia.
It is an incomplete cathedral thing with weird architecture.
We went on a tour, and climbed up the tower, which was great
Hola Barcelona !!
A story by Ollie Tysoe in Year 11
A poem by Flora Vaughn-Thomas in Year 8
because of the views. I was a tiny tiny tiny bit freaked out but it
was still great. Some of us found the heights fine but some were
a tiny tiny tiny bit freaked out. Then we went to Las Ramblas
which is a market and the old town - and we got half price off a
football because we misread the price. We thought it was €9.99,
not €39.99 and the shopkeeper panicked and gave us half price
as he thought that we were being cheeky deliberately, but we
weren’t. Good advice for the future - pretend you misread the
price. At 6pm, we were taught how to cook by a Spanish chef,
who said I wasn’t peeling potatoes properly but I actually was,
which was weird. We made tortillas and the chef didn’t speak
much English so I had to speak Spanish and she understood
and the tortillas were delicious.
Day 4: The last day (unfortunately), and we went on a cable
car to Montjuic - a place by a castle. We had lunch and I took
lots of selfies as I wanted to win the selfie competition. After
that, we played football and I was the best because I am really
good. We visited Plaza Espana, and Las Arenas, which is an old
bullfighting arena turned into a shopping centre. We had free
time for shopping before heading down to the port again by the
Metro to eat. Finally and unfortunately, we walked, depressed,
to the youth hostel and slept for the last time in Barcelona.
Day 5: I woke up at 6am. That is too early. At about 8am, the bus
took us to the airport. We left at 11.30 and we were welcomed to
England with rain and wind.
Tom Giorgi
What if people were classed as 'one'?
Would we change?
What if all our questions were answered?
Would we be happier? Yes or no?
Do you have the answer?
Yes? or No?
When the fire flickers, we call it the same: fire.
And when water drops and splashes, we still call it water.
When it is dark and you see a star, you call it light.
But ... light comes in different forms.
That is how it is 'classed'
But what if we are wrong?
What if, when the fire flickers, it is alive and saying
something?
And what if the water communicates by gurgling?
What if 'light' is just another word for glowing luminous
colours?
