Story part 2 -

"What the hell is going on here?"

Maria's father came pushing past everyone standing in the door, his face was an illuminous red and his eyes, though usually a hazel shade, were a strict black.

Maria looked up worryingly at her father from the horses side, a tall man, small spectacles, rough mouse-brown hair and spotted, fair skin. Maria had been given her mothers looks - fair-skinnned, sandy-blond hair, emerald green eyes and ears that stuck out from the side of her head.

"I'm not sure Mr Monty, but it's Green Dreamer, her leg's been wounded. I don't know if it's from the storm or, if I must say... to me it appears a gun shot wound."

Maria's body felt numb. She was shaky and for some reason she found it considerably hard to swallow the saliva that had collected together in her mouth.

Mat bent down to investigate the wound. Using his naked hands he pulled from the wound a bullet, silver and discoloured due to the covering of fresh blood.

He shut his eyes for a few brief moments and then rose from his knees and hurried back out through the stables.

Maria followed after him.

"Dad, why are you walking away from an injured horse, what's going on?"

Her father did not pause to talk, instead he continued to his office.

Maria entered behind him.

"What the heck is going on dad? For god sake tell me!"

Mat looked at his daughter frustratingly. Then he shook his head and stood up.

"I'll tell you what's going on. Someone's trying to hurt the horses, and us. They're just trying to threaten us, but we're smarter than them and we will beat them."

Story beginning #1

The horses were unsteady in the paddocks. The storm had struck so suddenly that no-one had thought to collect them. Maria was in her room when she heard the first distressed whinny.

"Get them in!", called Donald, the stable hand. While his voice had always been hoarse it sounded somewhat shaky and distressing.

The rain slashed at the windows and bucketed from the roofs gutter. Golf-ball sized Hail smashed into tiny, crystallized pieces on the concrete path.

Maria rolled hesitantly from her bed. She had been working all day in the scorching heat, her face was a soft, rosemary red and her sandy blond hair was still sticking to the sweat on her neck. All she had wanted was a quick nap before she would have to start another feeding round at the stables.

"What now?", she moaned, stumbling to the window and tugging at the blinds. The glass was covered in cool, rushing rivers of rain that collected in small pools at the corner of the house's outside wall.

The stable hands were rushing fiercely through the rain & hail, horses being pulled on lead-ropes and abandoned at the nearest available shelter.

Maria could hear shouting and calling above the thrashing of the rain and rumble of the furious, grey clouds that clumped together in the sky.

She was suddenly awake and grabbing her coat the 16 year old bolted out the door to the main stable block.

In one particular stall a crowd of worried faces stood at the door. Maria pushed her way through the crowd, while she was not particularly tall and could not see past the many heads she could clearly tell the sound of her fathers most trusted employee, Jonathan.

"What's going on?", she asked before appearing to a chestnut mare by the name Acorn. The mare was covered in thick, creamy white sweat and was on the ground, panting furiously. Her foreleg revealed a gaping red wound, dark scarlet blood leaking uncontrollably from her leg.

Jonathan looked up at Maria. Jonathan was quite handsome, he was older but his thin wisps of jet black hair and soft dark blue eyes made him singularly attractive. Maria's mother and father, Kim and David Monty, had hired Jonathan with great pleasure for his charisma and extended knowledge of horses and racing.

"Maria, I think you ought to fetch your father..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Poetry through song - Taylor Swift

I think using song and lyrics to create a poem is a really engaging and interesting way of captivating the reader. Many songwriters create poems through their music, one of these people being Taylor Swift – a very successful young songwriter and singer.

Many of her songs are almost like poetry and she uses different poetic techniques in her songs. One of the techniques she uses often is rhyme – one of the strongest poetic techniques. She also uses personification, assonance & alliteration through her songs.

E.g.

Corey's eyes are like a jungle

He smiles, it's like the radio

He whispers songs into my window, in words that nobody knows

There's pretty girls on every corner,that watch him as he's walking home

Saying, does he know.. Will you ever know?

You're beautiful, every little piece, love

Don't you know, you're really gonna be someone? Ask anyone

A Rose for the ANZAC Boys:

This is a really lovely and heartwarming story. It is another fantastic novel from Jackie French about a young 16 year old girl and her friends who start a free canteen in London to escape the boredom of boarding school, offering meat, hot drinks, breads and medical help. Midge, her nickname everyone calls her by, then starts to help drive the emergency vehicles and ambulance cars as she is one of the only women that can drive. Midge learnt to drive out on her old farmm named Glen Donal, a sheep farm in NZ.

While I am only half way through this book it is a wonderful novel, very detailed and well researched. The saddest part so far would have to be when Captain Harry dies.

You see, Midge meets this lovely young man at the bakery, a captain, who she falls in love with (and he falls in love with her too!). One day he plans to visit her on her birthday when he unexpectedly gets called in at the front and killed in action :( Midge is terribly upset but still she moves on, continues to work hard and I am up to the bit where she meets another lovely young man, a friend of Captain Harry, who also becomes her good friend and penpal!

The secret world of wombats

"Underneath your feet is a strange world... a world of wombats!"

The secret world of wombats is an interesting book from Jackie French giving you the low-down on wombats. Jackie French lived with wombats for many years and she quotes 'They are my muse'.

Year 8

Hi everyone,

In the future, on this blog, I will be posting a lot of English stories and other shorts I have written! :)

Year 8 2010

Hi everyone!!

Welcome to 2010!!

I am in 8B this year and our english teacher is Ms Gibson!!