The following are some descriptive pieces written by the year sixes under the title, Ways of Seeing. The objective was:
To describe an object, person or setting in a way that includes relevant details and is accurate and evocative.
John apprehensively stared all the way down from the wooden platform. The lake gleefully looked back up at him, ready to swallow another victim. John took a long, deep breath, closed his eyes, and screamed. He had been shoved off! His vision instantly blurred as the inhospitable landscape of cliffs, boulders and spinifex suddenly appeared. His view was getting more and more distorted and surreal, as he witnessed cliffs stretching and then nettles growing in the lake, like he had contracted phantasmagoria. His long, black hair was fighting to stay on his head and his tall body was excruciatingly elongated as his puny legs were instantaneously dragged down and his arms were paralysed by the sudden descent as he plunged from the bungee-jumping platform and into the deceivingly tranquil lake. His brown eyes were bulging with trepidation as the lake closed in every microsecond. And suddenly, John felt a bone-breaking jolt as he was abruptly tugged back up to the platform. A wave of great relief and jubilance washed over him as his ride had finished.
Amy strode down the deserted alleyway, her long brown hair swishing behind her, narrowed blue eyes missing nothing. She abruptly halted outside a run-down bungalow. She looked out of place, knocking smartly on the door of the dirt coated house, wearing tailored white clothes that glowed against the darkening sky. A thin, hurried looking man answered the door, all colour draining from his face as his hollow eyes fell on Amy. Her manicured hand drew out of her pocket, clutching something too small, too fragile to see. Resting that careless hand on his arm, her fingers hovered over a button that would lead the man to the doors of death. “I’ll give you one last chance, my boy. Just hand it over and all this will disappear.” She said this lightly, as if discussing the weather. “Never!” He croaked his voice cracking.
“Have it your way, then.” Smiling softly, her fingers pushed down. Then her heart began to break as she watched him fall to the ground.
Bruce was ready for this. He had prepared for his whole life for this one moment. He stood in his position, ready to charge through the opposing team’s defences and touch down. He was muscular and buff but this was obscured by his red football gear. He waited silently for the whistle whilst he fixed his helmet that shadowed over his dark, brown hair. You could see the determination in his maroon eyes. He tensed his muscles as the umpire got into position. The whistle blew and he flinched at the disturbing sound, exposing the dark skin on his legs. He charged through the lines and grunted in a low voice as he collided with another player. No-one knew how he was so strong or where he had come from and Bruce wasn’t one to share personal information.
Andre Grade 6
Sapphire walks down the dead silent corridor of her new school, her long brown hair tied in a ponytail, bobbing up and down behind her. Her right hand grasps the bright, colourful, string bracelets from her friends back in Queensland, twisting them around her wrist nervously, as she approaches the door. As she enters the room, all eyes are upon her. Her teacher directs her to a desk near the back of the classroom. While here teacher begins the lesson, girls from the front of the classroom stare at Sapphire as if she is some sort of alien. The girl next to Sapphire taps her and smiles. Suddenly the butterflies in Sapphires stomach disappear. Sapphire finally feels safe and at home.