Getting Creative

Alison Sanza

Teacher - English

This term, students in Year 7 English learned to create, establish and develop characters using a range of characterisation tools – physical description; actions and reactions; dialogue and inner thoughts. 

The task required students to create original characters and place them in a scenario which allowed them to demonstrate the development of each character’s personality and traits. Additionally, students were expected to include well-selected verbs and adverbs, a range of punctuation and varied sentence structures to enhance their characterisation. 

Here are some excerpts of their fabulous work.

Asha Rai Leong

Year 7

No. My blood runs cold, making my colourless skin even paler. My breaths coming in quick, short gasps, heart pounding in my ears; but it doesn’t register, nothing getting past the film of desperation clouding my perception. Because it can’t - can’t be true, can’t be real, can’t be HAPPENING! My hard jaw goes slack, falling agape.  

“W-what!?” I whisper, too unbelieving to raise my voice.  

But somewhere in the officer’s apathetic condolences I stop listening, because deep down I know it’s not a lie. That’s what does it, because how could I not realise! How could every falling leaf and practiced footstep stay the same, when somebody’s life is gone, erased; snuffed out like a candle in a breeze.  

So, I hang up on the Officer and run. Run like my life depends on it. Away from the fundamental truths drilled into my brain, and everything, and everyone… and myself. Away from the splintering, shattering shards left of my reality. Escaping before the fragile dam that holds me together warps and breaks, consuming me in an indescribable, writhing prison of agony and heartbreak; leaving only sad emptiness in its ugly wake.    

Hannah Richards  

Year 7

The sun faded the moment I stepped outside and the gazes of all the students averted onto me. I felt hunted, vulnerable… alone.  I felt my face contort and my eyes filling with tears like lava running down my face. I was like a bird hiding from hunters, the only place I had to hide was the open blue sky; nowhere. My legs fell beneath me, crumbling from the weight of thoughts that were filling my head, the laughs I could hear felt like sharp, jagged knives slowly sinking into my skin. As I staggered away through the crowds that had amassed to watch me fall, a long a list of seemingly unattainable wishes emerged in my head: to have friends, to talk smoothly and not stutter, to hold my head high and proud and ultimately, to be happy.

Zoe Cohen

Year 7

“Where are we going?!” I whisper intently, irate about his lack of explanation. “We have to get out of here! The sanctuary isn’t safe anymore!” He glares at me. “Why are you mad at me?” I whisper loudly back at him. “Mad?! I’m not mad at you!” He responds in a shocked tone. “Then what’s wrong?” I question, the fury tinging my voice clearer than I would have liked. “I thought you were dead!” he says in a cracking voice. I pull him towards me and embrace him, his soft caerulean shirt drying the tears that are slowly trickling down my cheeks. And then, he is wrenched from my grasp, leaving me standing there in shock.  

Inez Bellun  

Year 7

Milonda stood; she was a frightening presence. Her flame red hair was short cut around her face. Her strong, muscled limbs were scarred and tanned. At her side hung a sword, about a metre in length, the hilt studded with black stones. 

The queen began to explain of a ferocious creature that lived in the mountains but came down at night and killed many of the citizens of the country.  

“And I want you to go and kill it,” the queen finished simply.  

“What kind of creature is it, my lady?” Milonda inquired, with quiet assurance. 

“It’s a Millomakai,” the queen replied. 

A sinister sneer crept on to Milonda’s face, her green eyes narrowed with determination. A Millomakai! She’d fought much worse in her training. However, judging by the expression on the queen’s face she’d expected this news to come as a great shock. Milonda decided to play up to that. 

Patrick Choi  

Year 7

“Surrender now and you shall not be harmed!” the King shouted with a booming voice – a voice so loud it pierced through the very bearings of my heart. I stood there, atop the cliff, with the cold, bright moonlight reflecting against the dark black metal plates of my armour. I could never surrender, especially not to a man of his kind. With a roar the dreaded king commanded his army into battle. The sound of hooves became louder with every second that flashed by. 

Concentrating, I started to feel the magic flow through me, pulsing throughout my body and into my fingertips. I muttered some simple words under my breath, commanding my dark magic from my fingertips into the rigid, cracked ground. Every time they rise – every single one of these monsters takes with them a piece of me. A piece of my soul. It hurts, but it must be done. The undead rise through my command, all with a deadly weapon of their choice. Some had shiny dark metal blades, whilst others were armed with bows and spears.                                                     

Will Barnett 

Year 7

Bob took a step back from the edge of the roof and sat down. He shook with fear, even more petrified now that the ladder was gone. The man reached the roof, it was Bob’s turn to glare, but, although he thought he had quite a good withering glare (and he did), it had no effect on this tall mysterious stranger. 

“Get up,” the man commanded, in a tone that dared him to disobey. He shakily got to his feet and the man pushed him right up to the edge of the roof, he held him over the edge and asked his name in a tone that, had the circumstances been different, would have been politely curious. 

“Bob,” said Bob shaky with fear of the drop below, and outrage. An outrage that fuelled him to look the man in the eye. For the first time he realised that the man’s eyes were not the ordinary brown he had thought, but a dark reddish maroon. Bob shuddered as he looked long into those dark eyes, and for a brief savage second, he wished they were the pools of this foul, eldritch man’s blood.  

Santi Carver 

Year 7

There was a strong smell of fries wafting around the empty restaurant with chips and sauce scattered along the floor. 

Adam was leaning on the sticky, marble counter with his hand pressed up on to his cheek when an annoying co-worker bumped into him, spilling chips all over the kitchen tiles. "Oh, sorry," he said, noticing Adam's football shirt underneath his uniform. His black cap struggled to contain his dark, curly hair while his stained red shirt was see-through in places. With frustration, he quickly dropped down to help clean up the floor. As he crawled across the tiles, his black Nike shoes stuck to the ground and he preferred to be anywhere else in the world. 

 BEEP! The doors opened…a man wearing sunnies, boardshorts, Australian flag thongs and a singlet, walked through the glass doors. “I’ll have three burgers with a side of four large chips!” he growled. “Coming right up,” sighed Adam. A minute later, the man was getting frustrated. “Where’s my meal?!” “Right here, sir,” said Adam as he gagged at the smell of the burgers and handed the meal to him. The ill-mannered man swallowed the burgers whole with chunks of bread flying everywhere and crumbs getting stuck in his beard. Adam turned away from the man to be able to take a breath without losing his appetite. This was his usual routine when course, rude customers came in. 

Peggy Ford 

Year 7

I was seeing it again. Watching him die, unable to cure him. I saw it every night, and every day, and the weight of my sorrow and guilt for not being able to save him never lessened. If my wife was still alive, she would tell me to get over it, but I couldn’t. I groaned in misery, and rolled out of bed onto the floor with a loud bump. “Dad, you OK?” my daughter called in response to the noise. I remained silent. “I’m coming to check on you,” she declared, her voice sounding louder. The door opened and she stuck her brown-haired head into my room. “Is this another tantrum because you’re still mourning that dirty old horse?” she asked. I grunted, stood up, pulled on my boots and slumped out of the room to avoid answering her question, hearing her audible sigh from behind me.