Creative Writing Winners!…

Thanks to everyone who submitted their horror stories, they were such scary reads!

The winning entries will be posted to the news and blog and will receive their prizes soon. 

So, without further ado, the winner is…

Oluwatoke F in 7N!!! Congrats!!! We absolutely loved reading the story, it was brilliantly written. 

And! The runner-up is…. Amelia E in 7F! It was an amazing read!! 

All the entries were brilliant so this was not an easy decision. A massive well done to everyone who entered!!!  

The winning entries are below. 

“In the darkness of the old, abandoned mansion, whispers echoed through the halls, chilling the bones of anyone brave enough to enter. Sarah, a young writer seeking inspiration for her next novel, couldn’t resist exploring the rumoured haunted house. As she wandered deeper into the shadows, a cold breeze brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of decay.

Suddenly, a door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in moonlight. In the centre, a dusty typewriter sat ominously on a desk, as if waiting for someone to tell its tale. Sarah hesitated, feeling a presence watching her every move. As she approached the typewriter, the keys began to move on their own, spelling out a message: “Beware of the spirits that dwell within these walls.”

With a pounding heart, Sarah realised she was not alone. The spirits of the mansion were using her as a vessel to tell their story. As the words flowed from her fingertips, a sense of dread consumed her. The horror of the mansion’s past came to life through her writing, trapping her in a nightmare from which she might never escape.

As Sarah’s fingers trembled over the keys, the typewriter continued to guide her through the haunted history of the mansion. The chilling tales of lost souls, tragic love stories, and unfulfilled dreams unfolded before her eyes. Each word she typed seemed to draw her deeper into the dark secrets that the house had kept hidden for so long.

The room filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of the typewriter clicking away in the stillness of the night. As Sarah’s fear mingled with fascination, she found herself unable to tear herself away from the haunting narrative that was unraveling through her fingertips.

Hours passed like minutes as Sarah became a conduit for the spirits’ voices, their stories pouring out of her in a torrent of emotions and memories. And as the final words of the manuscript took shape on the yellowed pages, Sarah felt a sense of closure wash over her, as if the spirits had finally found peace through her writing.

Leaving the mansion that night, Sarah carried with her not just a completed novel, but a newfound understanding of the power of storytelling to bridge the gap between the living and the dead. And though the echoes of the haunted house would linger in her mind for years to come, she knew that she had been forever changed by the experience – a storyteller touched by the ethereal whispers of those who had come before.” Toke F, Year 7

Kiss, Marry, Kill

“A white dress can be turned red with a change of heart. Easily, like the snap of fingers. Or, as the newly wed wife would prefer, the cold snapping of her new husband’s bones. As she put the ring on his stony hand, there was a change. A new desire. She wrapped her hand around his once the words slithered off her tongue reluctantly. 

“ I do.”, she seethed. Nothing could have prepared the guests for what was to come. 

“You may kiss the bride.”, the officiant slurred. Abigail could tell his old body was failing him, withering away. As her husband leaned forward to kiss her she stayed still.

” isn’t marriage so sweet?”, she stalled, her alluring eyes like the voice of a siren, her Lucas her oblivious fisherman. 

“ but of course it comes with difficulties”, her hand gripped his tighter. The officiant seemed a bit baffled.

“So, I guess you could say…marriage is such sweet massacre.”

Screams erupted in the church. The eyes of the angels in the stained glass windows seemed to be locked on abigail.  

“It’s the spawn of the devil!”, someone shrieked. A child. She admired her husband’s writhing body. 

“ You really are beautiful”, she ran the knife along his cheek. The tip brushed against his eyelids, which were shut in pain. 

“ And, personally, I think red suits you more”, his desperate cries echoed, and ,oh, how she loved it. She plunged the blade deeper and deeper until they resided. The eyes are the window to the soul is what they say. And well, in this case, the glass just got shattered. 

She didn’t fight when the authorities came, fighting was useless. She knew she would waste away in prison. Maybe she could starve herself. Or drown herself when she showered? Anything would work. She believed life was pointless anyway, that nothing happens worth remembering. Time will tell what the devil had planned for her. Yes, time will tell.”  Amelia E, Year 7

Thank you so much for entering, we have loved reading all of your stories!!! 😀

If anyone is interested in joining the classroom the code is, 65kmft7.  Ellie, Niamh and Rachel