Year 10 students have been hard at work developing their creative writing skills this year, and their efforts have paid off. They have thoroughly impressed their teachers, bringing their imaginations to life on the page with powerful, thought-provoking and wonderfully unexpected results.
Below is a standout piece by Ania. Enjoy!
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A Walk in the Mountains By Ania C
The hostile roar of a sporadic storm raged high above my head, yet I had no choice but to continue along a secluded trail decorated with distorted shapes of overhanging clouds. The whispers of past walkers flew by me with the wind, sending warning of their fate. I stepped cautiously, weaving through the remains of fallen rock, as I proceeded through the cliff’s narrow corridor.
A harsh rain beat down over the serene landscape and drenched every creature unfortunate enough to be caught up in it. The trees shook and trembled under the relentless pounding endured by the rain, their limp branches a testament to the force the gale produced with such violent torment. I felt the eyes of what I prayed were bats follow my movements from the trees, watching from afar as I battled nature’s fury. The inky sky mirrored the desperate state of the ground beneath; crowded with windswept clouds and frantic lightning that darted across the sky. It taunted my desperate position.
Hopelessly lost, I turned a sharp corner and appeared in a clearing between two cliffs. A temporary lake had formed in the centre and warm light shone onto the water’s surface. A building stood behind, cloaked in the shadows of the surrounding trees. “That must be the source of such inviting light,” I thought to myself as I hurried closer. While hidden, its suggestion of refuge hung heavy in the whisked air. It brought an unknown tranquility, like a sweet escape from the horror that the park now faced.
Had I found safety?
As I progressed along the brief walk towards the building, muffled music floated through the air, just reaching my ears before the storm’s cacophony. Drawing closer, I could make out the worn cobbles of the walls, weathered from years of endless exposure to the elements. The walls leant precariously, blown by the wind. It had a chimney, perched high above a low, tiled roof which shrouded the building in an eternal gloom, and hunched as if a man troubled by time, far from the glow within. The contorted chimney billowed out a constant, light smoke which climbed far into the sky until it merged with the spiralled clouds.
I stepped towards a small door, hidden by the captivating features of the rest of the building. The door looked robust; like it had stood to see thousands of grating winters and draining summers before. The intricacies of an ancient pattern were carved deep into the oak panels which acted like valleys for the rivers of rain that ran down onto the swampy earth.
The door, as well as the building itself, stood proud for its size and drew me in with an intense force. Although still a mystery as to what I would find inside, the compact hut brought not only a sense of curiosity, but a certain safety regardless of what the interior housed.
With this immense feeling overwhelming me, I reached for the rusted handle.
As my eyes adjusted to the vivid light, I saw swarms of people huddled around tables that scattered the room. They did not seem to be hikers like me, no boots, or coats to shield them from the storm. They were all too engrossed in their conversations to notice my abrupt appearance, lost in the stories of their fellow friends, the look of laughter in their eyes. I briskly stepped inside, onto a plush red carpet that cushioned my stride. Hastily, I grabbed onto the frigid handle of the aged timber and closed the door, locking away the tempest.
Heat radiated onto my skin, something that had become a foreign feeling. Candles were lit on each table and filled the room with a smooth light. A simple song drifted through the air, coming from a table in the back corner. It seated no less than 10 people, each blissfully singing along. A woman rushed from person to person delivering drinks, her too humming the tune as she dashed past me. They all seemed unbothered by the wind that rattled the windows and shook the beams that wandered the ceiling like the building’s sketches. To them, it was simply the undesirable weather of winter, and they would not let that ruin their night.
I stood at the doorway, basking in the gentle hum of chatter. I absorbed my surroundings slowly, appreciating each unfamiliar face and note in the music as a sign of security. While the fire of the storm blazed, I watched as the rain flowed over the windowpanes and flooded the ground outside. My worry lessened with each moment spent in their company, however the whir of the wind served as a quiet reminder of the threat the storm posed.
I moved my gaze to the other side of the central bar, as I did, I caught a pair of eyes watching me, intently.
There sat a man with a frosted beard and furrowed brow. He rested in a cramped corner, sat on a stool, leaning back onto the counter beside him. His back had a curve like that of the roof, his fragile frame outweighed by his stifling magnetism. He could not have been less than 80, but his eyes had a youthful glint as he inspected me from across the room.
The world felt silent.
While others continued their discussions, my mind was captured by the presence of this puzzling man. His eyes wrinkled like ripples on the water as he grinned at me. I could not help but return the gesture, smiling broadly as he leaned forward and studied my features.
Apprehension brewed; I was unsure of what interest he had in me. As I tried to convince myself that it was my alien nature, he motioned to a chair before him, welcoming me to join.
Something in me could not decline.
