Category Archives: 100WC 23.04.2021

One day, a man called Mr chips was going to a historical place in outer Wales. Once he got there, he saw how amazing it was and wanted to stay there forever. All of a sudden, the sky turned dark and the air turned silent. Mr chip regretted ever coming here. He could hear somebody moving around him.. It was getting closer. Mr Chip thought that this might be his last day on earth. The creature came up to Mr Chip and said.”Who lives in a apple under a tree?”He replied with?”Bob sponge triangle pants!!”It was his favourite cartoon character!

After days and days of rowing my oar broke just like me. I miss my parents. The last time I saw them was when a letter was sent out to all citizens, a new rule occurred all children were sent on a boat to an unknown destination. I was frightened. I suddenly felt wistful. It was a hard war in Downtown village. After days of rowing, I saw an island glowing as it was luring me in. When I arrived all I saw was mushrooms. A wrinkled old lady was sitting on a bench; she quietly whispered to me “you are not safe.”

I live on Madagascar island; in the village of Crouton. My whole life I have been dreaming to touch sail out on a little wooden boat and find more islands. “One day,” I always tell myself “I will find an island” But Crouton’s rule is the opposite. I will always be wistful for the ocean.“Myla, we need mushrooms for the salad dear, please find some” Mother called me down. All I found were wrinkled ones, usually those taste the best. I was on my way back home when I found a washed out oar. Someone was out there

The hall is empty. The servants and maids are nowhere to be seen. The picture frames hang, slanted. The faces look down on me. My ancestors. The people I was supposed to inherit this land from; but there was a dilemma. This ‘’problem’’ had started when the mansions’ master went missing. It’s rumored that he visited number 29 – the house across the street. Ugh. My bones shiver just talking about it. For 29 is the house where the old stable owners’ daughter died in the fire. 

What goes on at Number 29? Where did the gate & the rest of the fence go? The house, gone. Nothing but grass. A year ago, the house had a happy family and suddenly disappeared into thin air. No one saw or heard anything except a boy; he died the day after he saw the house go, never to be seen again. Then one day a girl went to the gate, she wondered what had happened to it and the house; she began to explore. She saw a bright red necklace, which she hesitantly, picked up. There was a red lock and when she opened it a bright black light came out, she cried for help but nothing came out. There she went, in the necklace, along with the boy crying for help.

What goes on at Number 29? Where is the gate & the rest of the fence?

I first saw them a few months ago, and now they’re mine. A group of wild horses roaming some woods, then a journey back home, and they’re in some brand new stables we recently built. We were going on a small adventure through the woods, and we suddenly heard something, or someone, let out a pitiful howl. We curiously went further and eventually saw a group of wild horses, one of them lying there hopelessly on the ground. We walked towards the harmed horse and saw the problem. She was hit. We soon aided her and brought her home safely.

It was a still, dark night. Stars were clearer than ever against the intimidating pitch black sky. Sheep grazed on the hill. Something rustled. The creature waited to emerge from the shadows, to lure it’s unfortunate prey. In a dimly lit farmhouse a couple of metres away, a girl stared out of her window. Catching sight of the monster she bounded purposefully into the deep, sinister woods. She wielded a gun. As it let out a pitiful howl, the creature slank back into the shadows. It must be patient. It’s time would come. Soon, very soon by the looks of things.

I let out a pitiful howl. It may have been my last. I couldn’t move. The fallen tree had me trapped. Why did I run? I should have listened to them. All of these thoughts loomed in my head, but one stood out. I was going to die. No. I couldn’t give up. Grunting and struggling, I desperately tried to wriggle out from under the branch, piercing my paw with a sharp rock trying. The searing pain was blinding. I could feel cold, wet blood trickling in between my toes. As I gasped and panted, my breath was coming in raspy gulps. I was never going to see my family ever again. I curled up, my leg still painfully stuck, and accepted death.