Mrs Burton’s English group – Exceptional descripted writing task by Mathilda

This term, Mrs Burton’s English group drew inspiration from the book, ‘Windrush Child,’ to explore descriptive writing and bring a Jamaican setting to life. Here is an example from Mathilda who beautifully captures the sights, sounds, and smells of the jungle.

A Storm Will Always Come

A breeze of wind seems to wake the jungle. As the leaves slowly unfurl and the intertwining vines quiver, a few drops of crystal-clear water drip from the rugged rocks and plummet to the ground, splashing into the aquamarine lagoon below. There are a few seconds of silence and then the jungle bursts into life. A kaleidoscope of colour whirls the air and toucans shriek loudly to one and other. The monkeys in the trees chitter and chatter as they use their rope-like arms to swing from each lush, bottle-green tree to the next. Down below, the lagoon glitters and shines, giving it the impression that it had been sewn from the finest silver and blue thread in any tailor’s dream.

The air smells of freshness and enjoyment, and the sweet scent of a ginormous eucalyptus plant where scarlet red ladybirds, with their inky black spots, crawl and squirm on the veins of the plant. As flower petals twirl and dance like ballerinas in the wind, flying fish flip and twist out of the water. Their sleek, silver, shimmering bodies are supple as they fly through the water like small firecrackers. In the thick trees, the ripest and most succulent mangoes hang, waiting to be devoured by animals and people. Gently they swing in the wind like a baby’s cradle rocking back and forth whilst they watch the rest of the world unfold. Down by the water’s edge, a poisonous green snake slithers silently around. It has black and green scales and bulbous yellow eyes which glisten in the baking hot sun. Way above, water cascades down; it is an exquisite waterfall of beauty and the wildest dreams under the sun.

Then, without warning, thunder booms and lightning cackles like a witches laugh as she mixes her potion of deception and spite. The toucans fly away, still shrieking. The monkeys swing, still having their conversation. The glittering pool of water seems to have lost some of its sparkle. A storm begins, and the wonders of the jungle shrink back into dense foliage as rain pours down in torrents. The viridescent leaves and vines creep around the trunk of a tree, and there is not a sound of the animals. Not a scale moves. Not a feather twitches. The only noise is from the thunderous storm.

By Mathilda 6B