Post by kndlover7 on May 2, 2008 13:13:20 GMT -5
Okay, for an English assignment we had to create the best ever piece of writing we had ever done. I only got a -7 on this, which I am highly dissapointed with, I think it was better than that. I am posting it here, and looking for CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. If you just tell me "OMG I LOVE IT!" or "OMG THAT SUXS!" or something like that, I will completely ignore the post. Okay, done ranting. Now read! (warning: contains scary-looking creatures and old women watching TV)
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“... and that concludes our show for tonight. Tune in tomorrow for...” as the clock turned seven thirty, Florence jerked out of her evening slumber in time to hear her favourite television programme finish. Tutting, she slid her feet into her slippers and hesitantly hoisted herself out of her favourite chintz armchair. Once on her feet, the elderly woman made her slow, cautious way into the kitchen; the same way she always did.
As her feet touched the tiled kitchen floor, a small, furry, meowing creature sneaked speedily around her legs and towards the other side of the room where the food bowls were situated. A quiet chuckle escaped the woman’s mouth as she watched the elder of her two domesticated felines pace the width of the room, meowing as if it hadn’t been fed in days.
Florence opened a wooden-panelled cupboard above her head, pulled two tins of tuna fish from the middle shelf and placed them on the work surface in front of her. She then pulled a nearby drawer open and retrieved a can opener from inside. After a few minutes of disgruntled debate – between Florence and both the tins and the cat - the tuna was open. Hungrier than ever, the animal yowled more persistently.
“Oh, hush my pet,” Florence cooed as she bent low and emptied the contents of the two tins into the twin bowls, “Mama has your dinner right here.” The creature immediately pounced on the fish like a panther on a deer. As its contented chewing echoed quietly around the kitchen, Florence noticed that her younger pet cat was yet to materialise. Even though she had known her cat to be late for dinner before, a feeling of anxiety still remained. Determined to remain calm, Florence reluctantly trudged back into the living room, sank into her armchair and waited.
Half an hour later and no sign of life, the old woman sighed heavily and headed into the kitchen for the second time that night. Filling a bowl with semi-skimmed milk, Florence approached the rear exit of her house; the sleek, porcelain dish in her shaky grasp. After a moment of fumbling with the keys, she opened the door and stepped out into the night air.
“Kitty!” she called out into the dark expanse of her well-kept garden, her voice reverberating through the gloom. Florence waited for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she called again. After another few minutes of failed attempts, her frail figure drooped slightly with sadness as she turned to return to her house.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling noise from behind her. Her face now alight with hope, she spun around as fast as she could and tried to see through the darkness. “Hello?” she called out tentatively, craning her neck and peering towards the bushes. “Are you there, kitty?” More rustling noises were heard, and Florence distinctly saw the large silhouette of a dog-like creature at the end of her garden. The bowl slipped from between her quivering fingers and crashed to the floor; it smashed upon impact.
A low growl rose from the wolfish creature as its head whipped around to look in the direction of the noise. The growl faded, and was replaced with a vicious snarl as the animal crossed the garden; bright yellow eyes pierced through the darkness; the light reflected off its huge, menacing canine teeth; saliva flowed from its gaping jaw with a splatter onto the grass below.
Paralysed with fright, Florence stood there like a statue, staring at this monstrosity with wide eyes and shaking limbs. From behind her, the now well fed feline bounded daintily out of the house and onto the concrete outside the door. Noticing the large, hairy intruder in the garden, the animal hissed and arched its back. That was all the beast needed.
With a roar, it jumped at the cat with every intention to rip it to shreds and eat any fleshy bits. But this cat was too quick for the beast, and sprinted away the moment it was given the opportunity. Florence also took this diversion as a chance to hurry back into her home, close the door and lock and bolt it shut. For the next twenty minutes, Florence flitted about the house locking all the doors and windows and taking safety precautions, before picking up the phone and informing the police.
The young cat Florence had been calling for earlier had finally returned, and was making its way down the garden path towards the door. Meowing politely, it picked up speed and ran in through the kitty flap in the door. A pair of bright yellow eyes watched closely from the huge bush at the end of the garden. A pair of bloodthirsty, merciless, unforgiving eyes, that have seen the slaughter of millions.
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C+C plz.
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“... and that concludes our show for tonight. Tune in tomorrow for...” as the clock turned seven thirty, Florence jerked out of her evening slumber in time to hear her favourite television programme finish. Tutting, she slid her feet into her slippers and hesitantly hoisted herself out of her favourite chintz armchair. Once on her feet, the elderly woman made her slow, cautious way into the kitchen; the same way she always did.
As her feet touched the tiled kitchen floor, a small, furry, meowing creature sneaked speedily around her legs and towards the other side of the room where the food bowls were situated. A quiet chuckle escaped the woman’s mouth as she watched the elder of her two domesticated felines pace the width of the room, meowing as if it hadn’t been fed in days.
Florence opened a wooden-panelled cupboard above her head, pulled two tins of tuna fish from the middle shelf and placed them on the work surface in front of her. She then pulled a nearby drawer open and retrieved a can opener from inside. After a few minutes of disgruntled debate – between Florence and both the tins and the cat - the tuna was open. Hungrier than ever, the animal yowled more persistently.
“Oh, hush my pet,” Florence cooed as she bent low and emptied the contents of the two tins into the twin bowls, “Mama has your dinner right here.” The creature immediately pounced on the fish like a panther on a deer. As its contented chewing echoed quietly around the kitchen, Florence noticed that her younger pet cat was yet to materialise. Even though she had known her cat to be late for dinner before, a feeling of anxiety still remained. Determined to remain calm, Florence reluctantly trudged back into the living room, sank into her armchair and waited.
Half an hour later and no sign of life, the old woman sighed heavily and headed into the kitchen for the second time that night. Filling a bowl with semi-skimmed milk, Florence approached the rear exit of her house; the sleek, porcelain dish in her shaky grasp. After a moment of fumbling with the keys, she opened the door and stepped out into the night air.
“Kitty!” she called out into the dark expanse of her well-kept garden, her voice reverberating through the gloom. Florence waited for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she called again. After another few minutes of failed attempts, her frail figure drooped slightly with sadness as she turned to return to her house.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling noise from behind her. Her face now alight with hope, she spun around as fast as she could and tried to see through the darkness. “Hello?” she called out tentatively, craning her neck and peering towards the bushes. “Are you there, kitty?” More rustling noises were heard, and Florence distinctly saw the large silhouette of a dog-like creature at the end of her garden. The bowl slipped from between her quivering fingers and crashed to the floor; it smashed upon impact.
A low growl rose from the wolfish creature as its head whipped around to look in the direction of the noise. The growl faded, and was replaced with a vicious snarl as the animal crossed the garden; bright yellow eyes pierced through the darkness; the light reflected off its huge, menacing canine teeth; saliva flowed from its gaping jaw with a splatter onto the grass below.
Paralysed with fright, Florence stood there like a statue, staring at this monstrosity with wide eyes and shaking limbs. From behind her, the now well fed feline bounded daintily out of the house and onto the concrete outside the door. Noticing the large, hairy intruder in the garden, the animal hissed and arched its back. That was all the beast needed.
With a roar, it jumped at the cat with every intention to rip it to shreds and eat any fleshy bits. But this cat was too quick for the beast, and sprinted away the moment it was given the opportunity. Florence also took this diversion as a chance to hurry back into her home, close the door and lock and bolt it shut. For the next twenty minutes, Florence flitted about the house locking all the doors and windows and taking safety precautions, before picking up the phone and informing the police.
The young cat Florence had been calling for earlier had finally returned, and was making its way down the garden path towards the door. Meowing politely, it picked up speed and ran in through the kitty flap in the door. A pair of bright yellow eyes watched closely from the huge bush at the end of the garden. A pair of bloodthirsty, merciless, unforgiving eyes, that have seen the slaughter of millions.
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C+C plz.
but, one spelling error shouldn't be enough to give you a -7. 
I'm not sure why your teacher gave you that grade. I think the piece was really good. It was well detailed, I could picture some of the scenes in my head.
