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“In the Room the Women Come and Go Talking of Michelangelo” [1]

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If you are lucky enough to not be aware of this special sort of torture, you are not missing out on anything, trust me. This post is only for those poor souls who are currently in the Valley of Death.

If this is not you, you should go NOW. You have better things to be reading than words forced onto a page to get marks from an English teacher. Now, my poor, dear HSC victims, I post this story up because when I did the HSC, I spent a good few hours sitting blankly at my desk trying to think of ideas for my Belonging creative writing.

Look for stories and situations apart from your own teeny issues that spark your interest and ones that you could use to explore an element of belonging. For example, I wrote one story about a woman in the air force and another about a postal officer working in Kandahar Afghanistan.

Reading tips on blogs such as Tutor Tales. When I say such as, I really mean just. Tutor Tales is great. Normally they will have the winners up. This way, you can see what good, non-student writing, looks like. Now, to the actual thing I have here. This is a practice creative writing I wrote during the year for a stimulas that went something like.

Nevertheless, I hope you find this useful! The meal was much appreciated by the guards, who having forced the prisoners to eat their watery stew, now felt like kings. As the bell rang, bouncing through the passage of the small rooms, Mark and four others pushed their chairs back and stood together, ready for their next shift.

Once inside, with the door locked, they checked each cell. Each room was small with two narrow beds filling most of the space. Sitting or lying on each bed was a man clothed in a thin white smock.

Mark hit the bars on s cell with his baton, breaking the humid hush that had settled over the rooms and causing him to sit up. The skin on his face was pale and strained and with no natural light his eyes looked like shallow pools, murky and still.

Mark hit the door again and again, the stinging sound growing louder until it reverberated through each of the rooms as if the building was shaking causing yells of complaint from the prisoners. Mark looked to the other guards, smiling behind their matching glasses. Tom walked towards the cell next to s followed by the other guards. The silence in the cells making the sound of their thick boots scuffing the ground unnaturally loud.

Grinning to each other they all began to hit each prisoners door, the sound joining into a shuddering thunder. Mark felt their power as they moved together, each strike of the baton becoming stronger and faster like a train, each wheel spinning with more force, pulling the train from the station and sending it with momentum as it races down the tracks.

In these rooms, together, they had control. When they stopped, Tom reiterated his demand. This time his voice was low and firm. Tom sat upright on his chair, tugging his uniform straight as he watched from a distance, his hands over his ears, his face pulled even tighter with dread. Three hours into the shift, a key turned in the lock and the professor entered the hall.

He walked to the center of the room, pulling back the blind that had been tied close for the last four days. Four days earlier, Professor Zimbardo stood in a classroom with twelve students, half the number he had selected for the experiment. The twenty-four young men were considered the most emotionally stable and normal of the many more they had tested.

In this place, your new identity is to be a guard. The talk had been unfruitful, completely unfruitful. But what did she expect? Judith was of another world. She would just have to leave without saying goodbye, and send a letter back home when she got there. Judith spat the word out like a seed in a cherry, her red lips forming a perfect circle. But she merely sat there and drew on her cigarette, waiting for her to finish.

Well, where are they all? Have any of them so much as hinted at a proposal? Is he still writing for that awful paper? That man is full of codswallop. But Jackie had touched a nerve in Judith, and she realised soon after that nothing she said from that point onwards would matter.

Open your eyes and look around you! Your best friend had her second child last month, and all your other friends from Wellesley are married. She stood up and stared hard at Judith. A flicker of alarm passed through the perfectly sculpted face and it lowered its gaze onto the kitchen table.

Judith lifted her face. Marcus has just come down from New York. I suppose it makes sense, I mean how could a man like that still be single? Now, how does it sound? I think the two of you will get on perfectly. Oh, look at the time!

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Creative writing is more than just memorising a story you wrote during the year. Your story needs to be adaptable, so that it can fit different types of stimuli. The easiest way to do this is to focus on: an idea about belonging; two or three characters; a central conflict; a setting; 1. Ideas about belonging A good narrative has a 'message'.

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Creative writing is part of the HSC English Module 1 exam. Through a creative writing piece, students are required to demonstrate the concept of Belonging. Here is a sample of a Belonging Essay written by a Matrix English Tutor.

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Belonging Creative Writing User Description: This is a Creative Writing Response based on the module Belonging. It is a very belonging response that utilises a range of language techniques and features. English - Creative Writing - Band 5 Short Story – Belonging. 1 year, 4 months, and 17 days. That’s how long it’s been since my carefully constructed world was split right down the middle, ripped and torn apart mercilessly, just like the.

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Jan 17,  · Now, my poor, dear HSC victims, I post this story up because when I did the HSC, I spent a good few hours sitting blankly at my desk trying to think of ideas for my Belonging creative writing. What eventually helped, was of course our best friend and worst enemy during the HSC, the internet*. Belonging creative writing labs.. write a descriptive essay for me. I'm gonna say this is your theme song ryan i'm listening as i'm finishing this essay. american melting pot essay. antisemitism essay. venomous cabbage research papers. essay writing company reviews glassdoor.