English (continued)
valley, a dusty, bare valley, that stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it wasn’t the size of the valley that scared the man so, nor was it the scale of his surroundings that made his courage waver. No, it was the size of the huge, formidable battle raging below.
The man watched as the red-suited archers let loose a hail of arrows that fell amongst the battered, shattered, broken ranks of his own people. The man could feel his own command, the long awaited, much- needed reinforcements, waiting uneasily behind him. He knew that every single one of them, no matter how young or old, wished to do the same thing: brandish their swords and run, cursing, down the hill, to get swept into the waves of bloodshed below. But the man felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his churning stomach – surely, to send these men running down into that valley, will send them to their deaths? Were these men aware of their fate? Did these men know that they may never see another sunrise, never again feel the comfort of the ones they loved? But as another hail of arrows rained down on their comrades below, and the piercing shrieks of the wounded and the dying twisted every human heart with sympathy, grief, fear and a lust for revenge, the young man made up his mind. These men knew what lay before them; they knew that their last moments could be spent lying on that cold, bare, dusty ground, with no comfort. No comfort but the fact that they had died a hero’s death, that their last moments had helped free the once- beautiful land from war. “A hero’s death” the young man murmured under his breath; the sound lost on the chilling breeze.. And before his courage deserted him, before he faltered and told all to flee, and brought shame upon his family, he
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said, clearly but quietly, the one word everyone had been waiting for since he gazed down upon the battle. “Charge!” And he ran into the depths of doom and despair that awaited him below.
By C.J Button - Year 7
chippy. You’re full up to the brim of unhealthy, fatty foods; the wrappers and boxes displayed on your car floor. And then, when you least expect it, you see it. Your town’s “running club”. Taunting you right in front of your eyes! If you’re really unlucky they’re running on the road alongside your car!
Don’t get me started on.... Don’t get me started on people who voluntarily go on jogs. I understand people participating in this strange activity if you’re being forced against your will, for example a Matravers P.E lesson but… I could rant all day about random people who wear bright pink and yellow running jackets but now, I have a real reason to rant. My ‘Friday Night Takeaway’ parents are now ‘run three times a week’ parents. MY PARENTS! They even have a cool, crisp glass of water with dinner. What’s next? Protein shakes? Gym memberships? I can’t handle it. There are only TWO true reasons to run, and that’s if you’re late and chasing after the bus, or if your dog’s got off the lead and your catching it.
There are many things about such people that annoy me. You may think they are harmless but it seems they are just out to show off their athletic physique. Picture this: You’re on your daily drive home from a takeaway of your choice, McDonalds, KFC or even just a portion of chips from the nearest
A problem with runners is that they stick out like a sore thumb. You’re walking on one end of the road and you can see a bright yellow blob running towards you from the other end. They don’t even try to blend in! It’s like they all meet up and decide to all wear the same thing. A strict uniform of luminous colours, which is okay if its 8 o’clock at night. But no. They have to be seen from outer space in the day time. There is no need!
There are runners. And then…there are running snobs. A new breed of runners who decide to flaunt what they do. They ‘map their run’, take selfies in their new outfits and finish it off by posting it to all their friends who really do NOT care. They have special watches and devices that count their paces or the low level of their healthy heartbeats.
The worst thing about people who jog, is that, generally, I know for a fact, they do not enjoy it. Not one bit. They come back, red faced, sweating like a dog in the heat, begging for a drink of water. They take a big, cocky gander at their Fit Bit (which are stupidly overpriced, but don’t get me started on that), and for some reason they expect it to say they have ran a 5k marathon! Then, they have the cheek to act disappointed! It’s like a form of self-torture. You know what isn’t a form of torture? EATING A BURGER! Get a life.
By Alice Wain - Year 10
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