English News
During the fourth term, the English department focused on sharpening the creative writing skills of the BIS students.
All Year 7, 8, 9 and 11 students were tasked with writing narrative and descriptive essays this term, whether it be for a CASS or for the exam.
Creative writing is one of the elements of teaching English that is most enjoyable – not only for the students to write, but for the teachers to mark! It enables the students to express their creativity and come up with stories that have never been told before. The sky truly is the limit when it comes to creative writing.
It is so refreshing and rewarding to read through some of our students’ creative pieces and to be able to see the future novelists and script writers.
As a treat for our readers, we have included one of the narrative pieces written by Nicholas Neethling in Year 9 below:
Artecua Demenzis by Nicholas Neethling
The burn of ice, the tunnel of darkness, the loneliness, all dramatically leading up to a state of desperation. A hungry desperation – starving and lustful with no sense of consequence – with its feedings a torment.
Friday, 07:54, 1908. Screams echoed wherever one went in this place, the mishaps and the damned all crying for the sense of hope that existed prior to their foolish mistakes. This was Rokka Penitentiary. Shadows escaped but souls were left wrecked and misplaced. The bitter-sweet evolution of pain coursed through the veins of the “Whisper Killer”.
Sat, chained to a wall and what appeared to be deep in thought, was this monster. However, after five months, the state had sentenced him to death by the ropes.
07:55 came. With a nail tearing, blood boiling screech, the bolt moved.
07:56, a dark figure appeared, standing nearly 7ft tall; this was the warden.
“By the laws of the constitution and sentencing by the honourable Judge Michael Harringway. You, Artecua Demenzis, have been sentence to hang tomorrow at midday.”
For a moment the room was silent and still without a thought of any kind.
07:57 came. The room stood silent still…
07:58, the door whined closed and once again the bolt sent all listeners of the locking of the bolt through the ninth hell. All except one – Artecua Demenzis. He had not moved even to look at the slowly growing dust collection around him. He remained unaffected for the following 27 hours.
Saturday, 11:50, 1908. The bolt grinded open, again the warden had appeared, this time with three other men – prison guards. The men removed the wall-mounted shackle and dropped it to the ground. Now Artecua’s body was completely limp as they dragged him down the halls and into the underground of the facility.
11:56, around the corner appeared the gallows. Although internally unbothered with the situation, Artecua Demenzis had heard the murmurs of the small crowd of people who were hurt, damaged, or forever changed by his actions; thus, he put on a show to remember. Hysterical laughter filled the room. He hadn’t made a sound for months, but this carried pure emotions of satisfaction and no regret.
11:58, the Pope gasped at the sight of this monster but read the piece, nonetheless.
“For filth like yourself, I wouldn’t give it to ya. However, have you any final words, Mr. Demenzis?”
“See? Killing doesn’t end the killing… I will be back – maybe with a changed form, but in this life or the next. I am inevitable…”
The clock struck twelve. The platform dropped. But still the laughter did not stop.
