Friday, 29 January 2016

Creative Writing 1 and 2

Writing 1
One of my earliest memories was of my mother. Her almost shoulder-length, ivory-black hair covered her thick eyebrows. Her eyes, large and black as coal, were filled with warmth and love. Her tall figure bent down to pick me up and give me a peck on the cheek. I was but a small infant, red-faced and blurry-eyed, unable to walk properly. Putting me in a highchair, she would feed me porridge, which I would make a disgusted face at and refuse to eat. She would patiently feed me until I finally gave in.
I toddled up the steps of the playground and walked unsteadily to the slide. Travelling down the slide at top speed left me with a feeling of exhilaration. Craving for more, I repeated the process, until finally, I was exhausted. Sitting at the bottom of the slide, I gazed at the sky, building sandcastles in the air. All of a sudden, a thundering like a stampede if wild gazelles drifted into my ears. I looked around, seeing a herd of older children charging towards me. I fled in terror.
I sat on the soft, plush sofa, gazing at the TV screen in front of my eyes. The images changed continuously, fixing my eyes on the flickering screen. At lunchtime, my stomach grumbled its protest at having to stay empty, but I ignored it, unable to tear my gaze away from the screen. Suddenly, all the colours and shapes turned into pure blackness, save for the reflection of my angry mother. I whipped around only to see my furious mother holding the remote control, glaring at me. 
These were my earliest memories.
Writing 2
The dark alley lay before the mouse. Dark shadows crept along the vandalism-filled walls and a lone street light flickered on and off, on and off. Piles of rubbish strewed on the floor let off an unbearable, rancid stench. Every once in a while, a vehicle would rumble by, shaking the floor. “Okay, all I have to do is to get some food. A piece of cake,” the mouse told himself.
As the mouse strode forward confidently, he thought he heard a faint rustling noise, which stopped the moment he whipped his head in its direction. Glancing at the piles of rubbish, he thought he saw a pair of tiny, red eyes, which vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. The mouse twitched his whiskers and quickened his pace waving the rustling off as the wind.
Another rustling sound, this time longer and louder, crept into the mouse’s sensitive ears. His sharp eyes spotted the red eyes again, but this time, they did not disappear and they blinked more furiously than before. The small, beady eyes of the mouse darted left and right and his heart beat rapidly. He backed away slowly, then dashed away as fast as his tiny feet could go, away to safety.
And he wished he had not stepped near that dark alley.

Thursday, 28 January 2016

Creative Writing 1&2


    One of my earliest memories is of my father. He usually wore a grey shirt, with a metal necklace dangling from his neck. He always took pictures of special times with us, like that time we celebrated my grandfather's birthday. He used to play a lot with me, but now those times are gone. However happy I may be, playing with my father, I still get injured like the time I dislocated my shoulder. My father had that voice, which has now changed, but, however, different it may be, my father is still my father. He cares a lot about me, and we love each other. But sometimes I ask myself, how can I change his temper. Thankfully now it is better.

    The place where I used to play was the living room. Back then, when I was a child, the living room was huge. Without a piano or all sorts of stuff, it is not like how it is now. Almost everyday, I take out a box. In the box, I find the familiar toys I play everyday. Blue, red, grey or green, the toy cars huddled in the box. One by one, I take them out and play with them for a long time. On other days, I play with a remote control car or a mini mountain where cars automatically go up and rid down. Those were fun times, times I still had fun. Up to now, I still have some toys I used to play.

    The house I used to live in is where I still live now. However, it is very different. Back then. The living room was giant. Without the piano and other boxes or trollys or extra sofas we have now, the place was awesome. There were three bedrooms, with different door colours, two purple, one blue. Those colours did not change up till now. The blue-doored room is the master bedroom, where my parents sleep. I hang out there sometimes since it's the biggest and is very comfy. I always sit on the sofa in the living room, eat snacks and relax, until now I still do it, the sofa one of my best friends.


    The park lay before me. It was getting late; The orange sunlight reflected from the green leaves of the towering trees of the park. The light was growing less. The sky darkened. Feeling brave, I stepped into the park. I followed a trail through a park. I wanted to get home as soon as I can. Dad was busy working late, and could not fetch me from my ballet class
. The smell of the dense miniature forest overwhelmed me. The park, with a lot of corners and dark spaces to hide, can be a dangerous place for a girl like me.

    Suddenly, I heard tiny footsteps behind me. Turning around to confront whoever was behind, I heard a whimper. I was terrified. I knew I should have listened to mum and walked on the streets, instead of this shortcut. I quickened my pace and I could feel the figure accelerate too. I decided that I should run. I ran for my life. The moon was already rising. I knew I was far from help.

    The figure caught up, and the footsteps sounded like it was coming from my side. Turning my head around, I looked away, afraid of looking the stalker in his eyes. Crack! I stepped on a twig and fell. The figure was right beside me. I scrambled to my feet, and I ran, again. The figure was fast, following me beside. I ran off the path, into the woods, where there is safety. Squeezing through hole after hole, between trees and jumping over roots, I reached a dead corner. I'm doomed.

    I wished I listened to my mum and did not take this shortcut.

M. Faqih Akmal CWT 1 and 2

Creative Writing Task 1         
Muhammad Faqih Akmal, 17

          My uncle was so tall that nobody could ever touch his head. His body was bulging with rock-hard muscles and his face was so handsome as if he was an angel. He loved to play soccer. He had the fastest pace in town until a goal was scored within seconds, everyone was very still. He had a skill of a thousand player combined.

         The field beside my grandmother's house was so huge that it can fit a plane. Greeneries on the field, streams of water pouring from a mountain and trees surround the area. The gentle breeze there was just perfect for kite flying and it was such a beautiful scenery.

         My house was the most outstanding in town. The colours are just dazzling and eye-catching. On the roof, I can hear children playing soccer, laughing and birds chirping harmoniously. Even the stream of water beside my house cannot be any clearer. These are my earliest memories.

Creative Writing Task 2        
Muhammad Faqih Akmal, 17

         James was walking into a deep dark alley. The sun had set and the sky was dark with the twinkling of small shiny starts. He stepped into a puddle of water that was gleaming in the street light. Dustbins were scattered everywhere and the smell was unpleasant. “It's just dark. Everything is the same in the light,” James thought to himself.

         He continued walking confidently but not for long. He sensed that someone was following behind him. He dared not to, but he turned around to check it out. Suddenly, it vanished into thin air and that made him walk briskly. Goosebumps were all over his body as he tried only to face forward.

         James felt a huge hand gripping his shoulder. Strange sounds of laughter were heard and it was all overwhelming. That urged him to run without direction as it was a life and death situation. He closed his eyes tightly hoping for the end of the alley. He saw a light over him and sounds of traffic. He was gasping heavily.

Adib's Task 1 and 2

 Task 1

          These are my earliest memories. I was only a few years old then. I felt so short. I wanted a cup. I was in the kitchen, looking up at the rack filled with cups. I kept on staring at the cups. Being unknowledgeable at the time and not knowing what to do, I defecated in my diapers. I looked around and saw my sister. She had short hair then compared to now, chubbier than what she looks like now, but still as fair as ever. Though she is very pretty now. I gave her a sort of signal, and she brought me to the toilet as how she usually does when my mother isn't home. Those were my earliest memories.

Task 2

          The cemetery lay before him. After being threatened to enter the cemetery at night, and had his wallet held hostage, he went to the cemetery as a dare by the older boys. It was dark, with only a glimpse of light shone down on Tyler. The air smelled of stone, with a hint of grass. Hootings of owls screech through the night. Telling himself he could do it, he approached the cemetery.

          As he entered the cemetery, with the older boys standing at the only way that leads to the outside, waving his wallet, he had thought he saw what looked like part of a glowing white dress vanishing behind a tree in his peripheral vision. Tyler turned to look, but nothing was beyond the tree. All of a sudden he felt like something was looking over his shoulder. He, of course, turned behind but found nothing. Right after that, he felt as if something was whispering in his ear and it felt like was someone breathing on his neck. Looking around much more cautiously, he thought to himself that it was all his brain tricking him, but his tone of voice was far from a tone that was certain.

          Right at that point, he saw multiple shimmering lights, as if they were invisible objects giving off light and vanishing behind another tree. He saw them several times, but couldn't see them properly. That was the last straw. He bolted with neck-breaking speed, pushed through the older boys blocking the entrance with inhuman strength while managing to snatch his wallet away. Running so fast and so far, he had lost three kilograms by that point.

         He now knows better than to go in a cemetery at night for a wallet.

Name: Sim Hng Kang
Creative Writing 1
Edison, my cousin.  He was the one I remember from kindergarten until now.  My cousin was just an average size person.  He attended the same kindergarten class as me.  I remember the broad, cheery smile on his face whenever he played with me.  He looked like any ordinary person.  But his character was different.  He was funny, patient, quite the sort of type that teachers and students would treasure.  He was not the sort the sort of person that a bully would want to bully.  He was kind and friendly to everyone and the sort of person that cares for others.  The teachers would usually praise him for his characters.  We used to play at the playground, the playground near the kindergarten school that I used to attend.  I vaguely remember the sounds of laughter from him, the clumsy way he climbed the stairs and the funny way he slid down.  The playground was special to me, special in the way that it could store my childhood memory like a hard drive.  The playground, that particular playground, is where after kindergarten class we used to play.

The place where I remember very clearly was my grandmother’s house.  Although it was old, the place was cleaned up regularly.  It was as if the table was glittering under the sun’s rays, the clean floor brimming to my grandmother, as if it was thanking her for putting her sweat and stain into it.  The room was large, mostly because it did not have much furniture.  And because of that, Edison and I could meet up and play together.  These are my earliest memories.

Creative Writing 2
It seemed so spooky as it is very dark.  Tall trees towered over it, and the trees appeared to be going to crush it.  There were little evil-looking eyes, and those seemed to be surrounding it.  This would be fun!  The little mouse thought.

Suddenly, there was a blinking light.  Then, it was gone.  The blinking light caught the attention of the little mouse.  The little mouse tried to confront it.  But the blinking light stopped when it tried.  The little mouse gulped.  But it told itself cheerfully that nothing is going to happen to itself.

Then, the light seemed to get nearer and brighter.  The light seemed luminous and spooky.  The little mouse broke out cold sweat.  It quickened his pace.  It ran.  But it did not know where to.

Now, the little mouse wished it had listened to its mother:  Never go wandering out of home after dark.

Creative Writing Task 2

            The park lay before her. With the dimmest street light for the whole park, the bushes formed shadows that formed scary figures. The fallen brown leaves crickeled and crackled. There was a pin-drop silence with the leaves occasionally swaying when the wind blew. "This is perfectly fine, nothing will happen," Jane said to herself.

            Just at the moment, Jane thought something crossed the path behind her. The sound of the leaves crickling was heard behind her. As she turned to confront herself, only the sight of the empty path could be seen. Turning around, she stared at the long path that led her to help. Encouragingly she told herself,"It's alright, there is totally nothing here,".

By: Khrisha Mayilsamy


Chin Siang Creative Writing (2)

  The park lay before him.The dried and dead leaves crumpled and rustled beneath his feet.There was nothing in the park except trees,owls,squirrels and the full moon's beam permeating through the holes in the trees.The owls hooted as Bob walked past its nest filled with little chicks.Bob felt exhilarated as he observed all the nocturnal wildlife.

  Out of the blue, Bob saw a glimpse of light by the corner of his eye.He peered over his shoulders to find little glowing lights illuminating in the dark night.Goosebumps spread across his arms like a disease and he nearly let out a sharp high pitched scream that could have woken up the dead.

  Just as Bob thought it couldn't get any worse, hundreds more started glowing as if they were the stars in the dark night sky.Bob then started sprinting to the opposite side so fast he felt like he left a trail of smoke behind.Running like one of the three blind mice, he dived into a pile of leaves like a professional rugby player and started cringing, shaken to the core.

  Filled with regret and remorse, Bob wished he could go back in time and listened to his friends who told him not to go to the park alone at night.

Ray Wehn's Creative Writing Task 1

      One of my earliest memories began in my grandmother’s room. My grandmother was looking at herself in the huge mirror placed next to her bed. She had grey curly hair and was wearing a flower-patterned shirt. She sat down on a green chair next to her bed and turned on the television. She would watch shows on nature and loved to share stories of them with me.

      One of the places I used to play was the grass patch near the carpark of my block. My mother brought my brother and I down from my house to the grass patch near the carpark. My brother would look for ants on the grass and snails on trees, while I would run off and look for heavy objects that were left on the grass patch. I would lift them up and look for earthworms. The earthworms would climb out of the soil.

      One of the things I loved most about my house is the scenery. Whenever I am sad or stressed, I would look out of my window and enjoy the beautiful and calming view of the forest. The forest stretched from Choa Chu Kang all the way to Jurong. The birds chirping and the greenery calms me. These are my earliest memories.

Creative Writing Task 1 and 2

Name: Chin Zhi Khang
Class: S1-04

Creative Writing Task 1

One of my earliest memories was with my paternal grandmother. She always has a sweet smile on top of a wrinkled face and grey hair. She always walks around limping a bit more to her left. She always creates jokes with my younger sisters and me.
    My favourite place during my childhood was a park in Kuala Lumpur, where I used to stay. I have already forgotten what the park was called, but I do remember that I go there weekly with my family. It was also the place I learnt how to cycle and also the place I fell and got a scar on my leg! It was the most memorable times of my childhood.
    This place was where I grew up from young before I moved to Singapore for primary school education. It was in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and it was my house.
It was a terrace house, two stories high. I remembered when I played with my cousin, running up and down the stairs. I used to enjoy killing the flies that went into my house before dinner as I felt that I had learnt something new.

    These were my earliest memories.

Creative Writing Task 2

The downhill street lay before him. Street lights flickered while some were out. An icy cold breeze blew around him. It was quiet, all the way down the street. All the lights in the house were out. A lone figure strolled down the street, wearing a jacket with the hood over his head. The place was deserted. Jack was feeling exhilarated since it was the first time he was walking down the street alone.
    Jack continued to walk down the familiar street with his head down. Suddenly, he heard soft scampering noises behind him. He turned behind and thought he saw a shadow moving into an alley under the dim flickering lights. “Who...who is there?” Jack stammered as he turned around. When he found that the shadow had vanished, he turned back and continued walking. His slow stroll quickened, and he was on his way to his house up front.
    Another shadow ran past behind him much closer than the first one. He looked back and subsequently quickened his pace. As he turned back, he thought that another shadow just passed by in front of him. He felt that his heart had skipped a beat. He stopped, checking his surroundings before starting to run forward.
    Jack finally reached his house and went in, shut his door and went straight up to his room. He should have listened to his parents, to stay at home when they are at home.

Creative Writing Task 1

                   One of my earliest memories is about my grandfather. He had glittering white hair here and there. He wore a white shirt and a black pant like in a black and white film. In his hand, a gold watch sparkled in the sunlight. In a soft tone, he consoles me when I sob to go to school.  With a firm grip of my hand, he brings me to the shop nearby and buys me a treat which is chocolate, walking me to school with a huge smile.

                   A place that I used to play is the playground under my block. Children always pushing each other to play on the narrow, curvy yellow tube. The slide always populated by children made the other slide deserted. The orange coloured straight and long slide was the favourite for me. Even though it was not smooth, with many breaks in between it was always an enjoyable ride.

                   The huge wide corridor led to the small garden and the house. Being spacious, it was suitable for games. As passing by to the end of the pathway the smell of peanuts and old unwanted things enter my nostrils. With a thick dark brown wooden door, the room where peanuts and the old things were kept covered.

                   These were all my earliest memories.

 By: Khrisha Mayilsamy

Creative Writing Task 1&2

Creative Writing 1:
  My grandma, I recalled her every day waking up at 10 a.m sharp without avail. Her short, curled up red hair, wearing a simple plain T-shirt and a dark coloured shorts. My memories with her were rather vague, but I still recalled going out at 11, crossing the same street everyday, buying ingredients for dinner. The hot sun would always bake the road with occasional breezed every now and then. Even though I stopped living with her now, I could still remember the very same gloomy storeroom where I used to play hide-and-seek with her. Even though her reprimands were always in a mixture of Chinese and Hokkien; all Greek to me, I will still forever remember them in my heart.
  Another of my earliest memories was this street soccer court, it was under a tall but frail tree which blocks the intense rays of the sun from frying us. I was always there from 5 to 7 p.m., and I could remember the strong smell of decaying leaves, which I utterly enjoyed as a kid. The walls were run-down, and I could see a mixture of red paint and rust on the soccer goal. The vibrations of the metal fence surrounding the court throughout the area will be forever etched in my mind.
  I also remembered the house where I used to live with my grandma; it was not particularly big, but it was just right for the whole family. I remembered everyday, looking at that tiny dim lightbulb in my bedroom with absolute pity; it was as if it was about to fuse any moment. The old grandfather clock in that very room always brings back memories with its eerie ticking sounds every night, preventing me from sleeping.
  These are my earliest memories.

Creative Writing 2:
  The pavement laid before John, the surroundings was extremely quiet with occasional creaking of the cricket, the whole area was engulfed with huge and menacing graffiti with dried leaves crackling together in an eerie tone, Despite all those noises, John felt relaxed, enjoying the cool breeze, " This is so refreshing!" he told himself.
  Suddenly, a faint noise resonated in a distance, John immediately became nervous as he glanced behind his back to see a black sihouette following  him, John then took a deep breath, mustered all his courage and turned behind, only to find the shadow was gone, " Am I seeing things?" John thought ,cold sweat trickled down his neck as he took a few teetering steps before running like there was no tomorrow.
  The sounds grew louder and louder, with the black figure following John's tail, and now that figure had blinking green lights, fixated on John.  John tried all efforts in admonishing himself about the existence of ghost, but his efforts were futile, fear was like a venom coursing through his veins, sending him into a feverish frenzy, and start dashing even faster like an escaped lunatic. He missed when his rubber soles was the only sound in the deserted pavement, now, it was accompanied by a sharp squeak behind him, the scent of the surroundings was no longer refreshing. Instead, the smell of fear lingered around.
  He prayed vehemently, wishing that the devilish creature would stop chasing him, and regretted not listening to his mum who had weaned him, "Never go walking alone during dark.".

Creative Writing

Task 1( My Earliest Memories)
Done by: Chloe Wong

One of my memories is my mother. I remember her then long and dark, black hair which flowed down her shoulders I remember the ever so gentle and delicate way she held me, carefully swaying me slowly, which made me fall asleep. I also remember her bright and smiling beautiful face beaming at me.
I remember the place that I played in was a small little playhouse. It was tucked in a corner beside the kitchen. The playhouse was bright and colourful. It came in blue, red and yellow. The playhouse was a little tent with flaps that covered the entrance. I always filled the tiny space with all my soft toys and Barbie dolls. I could play for hours as time crept past with top speed.
I remember the slope that we would always drive down which led to the carpark. This sight would always be my signal that we were home. My house was not very large but not too small either. When we stepped into the door, the first place that I would see is the living room with the grey sofa and glass table. The living room would always be a place where I watched TV. These are my earliest memories.  

Task 2( Getting Scared)

The secluded and dark alley lay before her. The alley would be pitch black if not for the dim lights shone from the tall and thin street lights. The echoing of her heels on the concrete floor was the only sound that could be heard through the lonely alley. The revolting smell of the drain near the alley lingered in the air. “ This is going to be fine,” Mary told herself.
At the corner of her eye, a shadow fluttered across the wall. Quick and large, the shadow was, fluttering from wall to wall around her. The night was darker and more still than ever and home was quite a distance away. Mary quickened her pace and told herself to keep on walking. 
Suddenly, the shadow seemed to appear on every wall, dancing all around Mary, as if teasing her. The sound of someone or something could be heard rushing quickly all around Mary. Ignoring her exhaustion, Mary ran straight, just straight, until she caught sight of home. With a rush a desperation, she pushed the door open, slamming it behind her.
Mary had never felt so relieved in her life and regretted not listening to her parent’s who had warned her: never walk by yourself after dark.

Chin Siang Creative Writing (1)

Creative Writing Number 1:

  One of my earliest memories was with my third helper.She wore normal clothes and had freckles.She also had hair that never reached her shoulders and always wore a hairband that had the exact same colour of her jet black hair. She was always there for me when i cried and i was mischievous and young,so i used to make fun of her religion, which now i think back at it is kind of impolite.I also used to ask her to sing a children’s song for me, the same one every time, to enlighten me.She had a sweet voice and i will always end up rolling on the floor laughing hysterically.Out of every helper that had been hired by my parents, the third one was hands down the best and my favourite one.

  The place that i used to love playing at is what i nicknamed it ‘White Shelter’.It had an enormous piece of cloth over the place.I used to ride my tricycle that was my favourite toy then down the path and up the ledge.My father would laugh everytime he saw me do that and after a few rounds around it i would play badminton with him.I was still quite young and could barely hit the shuttlecock, so everytime that i did, i would take it as an achievement.The laughter and shouting of the children at the nearby excercise corner will forever be etched in my mind.

  It is my house in Malaysia,Kuching.It is a two storey bungalow and was so spacious i could run around the house as if it were a field.The living room was enormous and right beside it would be my uncle’s room.Right opposite would be my second uncles’s room, which is also the room i stay in whenever i visit my grandparents and cousins.There would be a second room next to it for relaxing and right behind it would be a kitchen like no other.The kitchen included every cooking equipment under the sun and where all my house’s delicacies were made and all the laundry was done.My house also had a garden and a carpark which kept all the seven or eight cars safe.

  And these were my earliest memories.

Creative Writing 1 and 2 - Kamal Sawlani (15)

Creative Writing 1 - Kamal Sawlani (15)


Creative Writing 2 - Kamal Sawlani (15)

The restaurant laid before me, brightly lit as compared to the gloomy and mysterious pavement that I was on. “Should I go in?” I thought. As I was toying about with this idea, about a dozen humans trampled on me. They pushed me to the side of the pavement and left the restaurant in a blink of the eye as I fell into the deep, dark and disgusting drains of Paris. “Why can’t we animals not be considered as pests?” I said to myself, depressed that I had failed to enter the restaurant once again.

   At that instant, I saw a small crack in the building of the restaurant gleaming with light. I could imagine the taste and aroma of the tantalizing food. I entered the kitchen. However, to my horror, I saw fire spouting out of the bottom of one of the stoves where I was hiding. I quickened my pace, my determination not hindered.

   “It’s just my imagination. It was not fire; it's just a small sound of the chef igniting the stove and the heat of the oven,” I comforted myself. I ran across to the underneath of another stove. “Yikes! It's nothing… It’s nothing… Just my imagination,” I comforted myself once again. I ran, not knowing where, until a smell caught my nose. Mmm. Turkey with carrots and potatoes.I took refuge in the tray, hidden by the plump turkey.    I was about to eat a carrot when the chef was about to put the tray into the oven! I managed to exit the oven. My heart was palpitating wildly. “This was not the best idea,” I told myself as I exited through the very same hole I entered through.

   I would never enter a kitchen after that unpleasant experience. I was too spooked to do so. I was quivering in fright.

Creative Writing Task 1&2

Creative Writing Task 1

My Earliest Memories

One of my earliest memories was me sitting on a tall baby chair in the kitchen. My mother was there too, cooking up a storm. It smelled delicious. My mother was an average height person, donning smart but casual home clothes. A red top and a pair of white shorts. She still kept her long hair, and a smile. I wither her curiously, stopping her with a “Ma Ma!” whenever I needed to drink water. It was a smile I cannot forget.

    One place I played in when I was young was my parents’ bedroom, or mine when I was young. There was a huge bed, lower than what it is now, but still satisfactory. It had pillows and bolsters, also my sister and my soft toys, which I sometimes played with. There was a sofa bed, which could extend into a mattress, which my sister and I used to sleep on. It had many bigger soft toys, about my size when I was five. There also was a cupboard, a dull one, which was used for a reason too old for me to remember.

    A place where I lived in, there was a tortoise, a fake or real one, I will never find out, as it was removed when I was four. It was black, and was placed on a green stool. I was always tried to touch and feel it, yet I didn’t. There was a long table, with statues of gods placed above it. I learnt to walk there. I still remember the time I finally started to walk, and fell, causing me to cry.

    These were my earliest memories.

Creative Writing Task 2

A Scary Tale

The street lay before him. The only source of light was the moon god itself. It was majestically white and bright. Everything else was buildings and buildings, broken lamp posts and run-down cars. The eerie feeling was enough to scare a middle-aged man. “It is going to be alright!” Jerry told himself.

    Jerry held his mini torchlight confidently. Suddenly, he heard a wild sound of a wolf. Jerry turned around and shone his torchlight at the mysterious source. A shadow appeared behind him and disappeared as he slowly turned his head to his full body. The built was just right for a werewolf! Jerry quickened his pace, almost hitting a run-down car. The “werewolf” was following him!

    The howling started again. The shadow increased in built. The faster Jerry went, the faster the shadow trailed in darkness. At that moment, howling started, having some volume and sound. Jerry met his limit. He dropped his torchlight. Scrambling for it, he rushed away, home in plain sight. He ran into the house. The light was on. The werewolf appeared in front of him!

    Jerry regretted going for supper at midnight. Now, he was on the run from a werewolf!

Tan Jing Zhi Lucas (Creative Writing Task 2)

The park lay before John. The moonlight reflected off the droplets of water on the grass. The sky was unusually dark, not a single star in sight. The moon was hung in the air ever so empty as if everything and anything were avoiding it. The rough pathway was slippery and eerily quiet. He skipped with a grin on his face.

All of a sudden, he felt a sudden gush of wind blow by him, and he seemed to have noticed a dark character at the corner of his eye. He also thought he had smelled a strange scent, that of an animal. A split second later, the figure had disappeared, nowhere to be seen. He tried searching through the bushes for it, but the more he looked, the more nervous he became. Adrenaline rose in him, but he refused to accept the fact that he was afraid. He warned himself to remain calm.

Then, he felt the wind again, this time, the dark character bigger than before. It seemed to disappear every time he looked at it as if I could kill it just by looking at it. His heart pumped faster. He ran clumsily, aimlessly. At last, he found refuge in a fallen tree trunk, panting, but cautious not to make too much noise.

He wished he had listened to his grandparents: always walk home with a friend at night.

Yeo Jia Hao Calvin (Creative Writing Task 2) Grammarlied and Corrected

  The closed-down school lay before Mary, tempting her to enter it. The white walls were covered with mould. The school gate has already rusted badly. Shadowy figures seemed to appear behind the cracked windows, but nevertheless, Mary felt welcomed, and the adventurous girl made her first step into the forbidden building.

  "Here we go!"

  Eyes wide and chest out, she explored the school with curiosity. Classroom after classroom, Mary calmly took a stroll down the hallway. The immense stench of stray animal dung radiated through the corridor. This was when something moved in her corner of her eye. The crickets' ringing did not help bring down the eeriness of the atmosphere. "Nah, ghosts aren't real," Mary whispered under her breath before she almost tripped over a misplaced tile.

  Suddenly, Mary thought she heard squeaky wheels rolling on the floor, the creepy sound getting louder and louder. She got down on the floor, still trying to avoid the centipedes and cockroaches scurrying around. Horrific, gory images flowed through her mind uncontrollably. Panic was soon coming to overwhelm her.

  She wished she had listened to her superstitious relatives.


The carpark lay before him. Deserted and silent in the centre of nowhere. Leaves and all kinds of litter crunched under his feet. It seemed like an abandoned area for years with weird stuff on the ground, decomposing.

                 He strode into the car park his nose held high in the air comforting himself while shoving all the rumors about that place out of his head.

                 He strode blindly into space when a low hissing sound filled the thick, filthy air. He snapped into reality as he spotted a white small white eye! One eye! It was staring back at him. His body stiffened as the eye disappeared. He stood silently, rooted to the spot, waiting, to see if the monster reappeared. For awhile, nothing. His body relaxed and he told himself to stop hallucinating. He let out a breath as he ventured deeper into the carpark.

                A few moments later, he heard the same hiss again, in fact, it started to turn into a soft growl. Was it a one-eyed bear that roamed this cave? He shivered and thought he saw something behind and spun, but nothing. His heart started running a marathon as he dashed into the darkness not knowing what lay ahead.

               Unfortunately, no one saw him ever again.


She had short mushroom-like hair with crooked teeth and always wore baggy jeans with a polo shirt. Her eyes were always full of joy and friendliness. She loved to chew on marshmallows and sweets, and it made her earrings sparkle in the light.

                   A place I enjoyed playing when I was little was my auntie’s house. Even though her house lacked of toys, I enjoyed playing with her cats. They were loving and friendly. Sometimes, when I was young, I would sneak up the stairs into my uncles room to play games with the cats by my side.

                  I really enjoyed sitting on the coach and watching tv. It was soft under my body and had little teddy bear prints on it. It was my very own coach near the window. From my coach, I could see the trees and sometimes yellow minors perched on them. It was a beautiful sight.

Creative writing task 2 (Rae)

 The dark street lay before her. It was like ghost town, with no other living things in sight except the tall and bushy trees. The lights from the street lamps were shining dimly. “This is like those haunted houses i visit at amusement parks,” she told herself. But she mustered up her courage and continued walking.

     Then she heard a faint noise, a spooky and eerie one, it was whistling. She turned her head, left, right and back, but there was not a single soul. So where could the whistling sound come from, if it was not from a human being? Her heart started pounding, she quickened her steps, hoping that her home would quickly be in her sight.

    The whistling becomes louder, louder than ever. It was as though someone was whistling right before her, and she could recognise the song of the whistling, it was the song played in the horror movie. She screamed and started to run, not knowing where she wanted to go already, as long as she could go somewhere that had a few people, and not a cold, dark and creepy street.

  She knew, she would never walk on this street again, never.

Creative writing task 1 (Rae)


My earliest memories
   One of my earliest memories was my mother. She was still pretty young when I was a young child. Her hair, solid black, was smooths, shiny, at shoulder length, with her fringe touching her eyes. Her face, with rosy cheeks, was not extremely smooth but was not full of wrinkles either. She loved listening to old Chinese and Cantonese songs, and would sometimes hum the tune of it when she was doing housework.

    A place i used to play in was my uncle’s house. It was a terrace house, 3 stories high. At the gate, was a metal swing. It was old, with the white paint chipping off, but my cousins and I still enjoyed playing with it. Of course, as young, active kids, we loved climbing up and down on the staircase, our steps making loud, irritating noises. We would play until we were exhausted and out of breath, but would only be satisfied if we were.

   A place in my earliest memory is my home. I grew up there, so it gives me a sense of security. I remember, the kitchen, was the place i was most interested in. When my father was baking cookies, i would always try to help. The kitchen always had a smell of appetising food when someone was cooking, and even if no one was, i would always rummage the cupboard for titbits, and would never leave empty handed.

   This were my earliest memories


Creative Writing Task 2

The empty street lay before her. Liz found herself surrounded by tall and menacing buildings. The only source of light were dim and flickering lampposts. The road was still wet from the sudden rain. She could smell the wet pavement, and she hated it. She was angry at herself for missing the last bus home. However, she could not help but to smile. She could finally show her mother how brave and independent she was, and Liz always loved a good personal challenge.
   From behind her, she heard the faint sound of footsteps. She thought she was imagining things, but the footsteps only got louder. Swiftly, she turned her head around to see who it was, but in the empty street, there was only silence. It was getting darker, and she was far from home.
   The footsteps seemingly got louder, faster, closer. They echoed through the empty street, and suddenly the sound of footsteps seemed to have multiplied. The lampost closest to her flickered. She ran, faster and farther than she had ever ran. She took a left turn, another, then a right turn. She soon found herself in a foreign street. She was lost.
   And she wished she had agreed when her father offered to pick her up and drive her home.

Creative Writing Task 1

One of my earliest memories is my mother. She had short, dark brown hair that always had a clip with a white flower. I remember she often wore a simple white blouse and a long black skirt that almost reached her ankles. She was always happy, showing a smile that everyone loved. I remember how she always stopped eating halfway through a meal to help me with mine.
I remember going to the playground downstairs every day. I loved how it was so close to the small forest. There were large, tall trees surrounding the playground area. It was often filled with the sounds of insects and birds chirping. It would have been terrifying, if not for the laughter of my neighbours. We would run around the colourful playground, climbing up and down.
I remember the living room, which seemed a lot larger when I was younger. It always smelt like fried chicken, noodles or fish, whatever it was that my mother was cooking. I loved to slide on the smooth floor whenever I wore socks. I remember waddling down the long hallway and into my parent’s room, where I slept as well. I slept on a mattress on the floor, but I often climbed into my parent’s bed as I feared the monsters under the bed. I would wedge myself in between my parents for maximum comfort. Sometimes on boring afternoons, I would climb onto the bed to jump on it. I remember my mother coming in and catching me mid-air, and tell me for the umpteenth time not to jump on the bed.

   These are my earliest and greatest memories.

Joshua Lee's creative writing task 2

  The street lay before young Tim. Great big brick houses loomed over him as walked down the long and winding road. Darkness fell and created an eerie shadow over the buildings, the dim light of the lamps made little difference. The soft sounds of the patter of feet on the wet ground echoed around the alley, sending chills down Tim's spine. 'I am a brave boy. I am a brave boy; I am not scared of anything. I just need to go out to buy some bread,' Tim told himself.

  He ambled down the road, wary of his surroundings for it was an infamous street that he was on. Suddenly, a loud crunch came from a poorly lit alley. Tim turned around to face the noise, and he spotted a pair of little red eyes, but they disappeared as soon as they appeared.

  Tim walked a little faster after that; he told himself that he was just imagining it and continued walking briskly without breaking pace, checking his surroundings constantly. For a while, there was peace and silence. Without warning, hundreds of pairs of beady red eyes popped out from nowhere and a chorus of high- pitched squeaks erupted. Tim ran hastily as fast as his feet could carry him; he knew not where to run but hid behind a crate breathing heavily.

  He wished he had not volunteered to buy the bread.

Tan Jing Zhi Lucas (Creative Writing Task 1)

My Earliest Memories

One of my earliest memories is of my sister. She had short hair, reaching until about her jaw level. She wore a bright green singlet and red shorts. We would play in the living room all day, focusing on our toys and oblivious to everything else in our surroundings. Our helper, with much longer hair, would come over to play with us from time to time. At some point in time, we would end up clutching our stomachs, bursting into laughter for the weirdest reasons.

The place where I used to play was my living room. I would lie on the cold, hard white marble floor, and feel like never getting up. Around me, there would be many cupboards full of books, all towering above me. There was also that tiny screen that I would occasionally stare at for what seemed like an eternity. But what I remember the clearest, is the black leather sofa. I could spend hours jumping on it and would never get bored. That was the living room where I loved to play.

Another place in my home that I remember distinctly is the bedroom. Every night, two mattresses would lay on the ground next to my parents bed. My father would always read to my sister and I a bedtime story before we dozed off. Around me, the cupboards made me feel safe and cozy, and I would sleep soundly.

These were some of my earliest memories.

Joshua Lee's creative writing task 1

 When I was a very young, I remembered the kind and gentle face that was my mother. In the few memories that I could recall, I often remembered her doing cross-stitch on a sheet of cloth while I affectionately sat against her tall figure on a bed with her great lock of shiny brown hair and pillows behind us. From what I could recall, she was an avid chef who frequented the kitchen often, she whipped up wonderful meals with a bright smile always on her face.

  When I was a young innocent little boy, there was a special place that I played in. It was a place where was my dreams took flight, where I could imagine I was up in the sky among the stars with fluffy white magnolia clouds around me while watching a beautiful sunset. A place where the impossible was possible, this pace was my bedroom.

  In my first house, there were lovely floral decorations along with paintings beautified by the light from the many windows in the house. However, when dark came and all was still and silent, the 3rd floor was an unspoken forbidden place fo a young boy such as myself. It was eerie and frightening with many dark crooks and crannies within.

  These were some of my earliest memories.

Yeo Jia Hao Calvin (Creative Writing Task 1) Grammarlied and Corrected

  Her hair was pitch black, tied up with a fluorescent hair band. She would always have a big bright smile whenever I saw remind me of her as that was her "signature style" of clothing. This lady was my domestic helper from several years after several years ago, Aunt Yati.

  The gleaming yellow swing I would always sit on appeared in my memory. It was accompanied with a navy blue slide that would always have fallen, crunchy leaves on it. If I were lucky enough, I would dash to the milky grey see-saw and welcomed a friend to play with me. The playground was surrounded by gigantic lush trees with leaves that rustled when the cooling wind blew. This place was where I played when I was a toddler.

  I will always remember that small little dusty corner in my parents' bedroom that I would cover it with my bolsters, blankets and pillows. I always called it my "Rest Corner". After playing, tiredness would always lead me to this corner.

  These memories, I would remember forever.

Thursday, 14 January 2016

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