Laira Green Primary School

Tel: 01752 660427 Bramley Rd, Laira, Plymouth, PL3 6BP

Cherries Share Their Writing

Cherry Class have been working on writing descriptions of settings.  We are reading The Railway Children by E Nesbit and are really enjoying the story.  We would like to share some of our writing with you.

From The Cherries

By Amber – Over the tsunami-like hills, a lonely station lies. It wasn’t like any station, it was mysterious and ancient station. There were sleepers like striped animals ready to be ran over, seas of trees in the distance .The sky was as blue as Pluto and the clouds as white as pearl in the deep blue sea.  As well posts with beautiful coloured flowers emerald, ruby, sapphire and gold. In caramel coloured baskets with rusty chains. The exhausted and drowsy the station master was trying to not fall asleep and very very bored only a few passengers a day.  The train old and black as the night sky rushed past.

By Jaden – As the old train station sat on the seas of turf forever rolling on & on down the hills, a flood of people roamed the station like a tsunami. Every five or ten minutes, a train whizzed by as fast as an arrow, ranging from black to blue. Signs covered the fence like paint with bricks creating a sturdy building with men in posh uniform & reading newspapers. While mugs of cider sat next to their long, slim body, outside the platforms sloped down to heaps and heaps of coal.

By Cody – There, in the vast mountains and hills sat a grey, dull and silent station waiting to awake from sleep. The station master, the coal watcher, was waiting for crime to pounce. The longer he stood there dozing off, the darker the bags under his eyes grew. Under the surface of the moon, perched a lamp that flickered (like a switch doing its daily workout).  Amongst the sleepers, lay a track like a skinned animal waiting to be stepped on. When the train passed, it gritted its wheels like teeth against the track, the tunnel yet vast and unexplored sitting scorching hot wet or dry.

By Eboni – A lonely station sits in a sea of trees and hills with only one person roaming the grounds keeping an eye on the black dusty coal heap. With decrepit rooves and crumbling walls, will it always be safe? The swaying baskets,with roses as red as a devil’s eye, hang on a single thread. Every hour a luminous lamp needs to be replaced because of the rampaging wind. When the trains come by, because of the old wheels it sounds like a girl in a horror film screaming. In the middle of the the tracks, the so-called Green dragon with a coat of lime green and gleaming, gloomy grey.

By Lexie – In the middle of nowhere, the station sat among a sea of hills – alone.  Above the tracks, a little platform with bits of grit flowing in the wind and steam in the cold fresh air, bursting with people. The big wooden sleepers sat squashed in the ground by the 10 ton trains that came through every hour.  Pretty flowers, which swung in the dimness of the dark, sat peacefully in their swaying baskets. The black steam train rummaged through the blindness of the sun – so-called the green dragon. It flew by like an eagle on to its prey.

By Paisley – The station sat like a lost child in the dead of night, just waiting for someone to find it. As the wind blew, the flowers and the leaves from the hanging basket, that hung from the copper chain, the flowers were like a collage of art. As the train, like a black arrow flew through the platform it almost couldn’t stop. Among all of this, the sleepers lay down like a skinned animal waiting to catch it’s prey. Surrounding it was a sea of trees. The fence that circled it was ramshackled, old and mossy.

By Isaac BM – The station stood, an only child in a park, in an ocean of hills and valleys. A lonely platform, the place of departure, sat waiting for new passengers to arrive. The huge long sleepers held the ancient, dilapidated tracks up for years leading into the vast unknown distance. The old station master kept a beady eye on the dusty coal mountain as he drifted into another world – a deep sleep. The hanging baskets blew in the wind and the deep blue petals were mind trancingand you could stare for hours.

By Diego – As a train past me – cutting through the air, I saw the hanging baskets swaying gently as the breeze blew. The station was built since the Victorians and was still standing. It was covered with vines and the dark trees were in a border of fences. All of the flowers were beautiful. The sleepers looked like they were about to be crushed by a lightning fast black arrow. There was a furious police man guarding a heap of coal.The railway was built on an ocean of hills placed under it.




This entry was posted on September 23, 2017 by in Uncategorized.

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