Kalani@ PaparoreSchool

WALT: I am learning to write descriptive stories. With a frantic flutter of her wings, she hovered for a fraction of a second before landing gently. Beneath her she could feel the softness of the feather, and as she walked tentatively across it the long, white strands parted. Her shell was as red as a post-box, and she had a small, circular black dot on either side. She considered herself to be the most beautiful creature in the entire garden! I  found this piece of writing kind of similar to the one  beneath because this is based on a dream as well. do you like to write ?

WALT: I am learning to write descriptive stories. Many years ago, when I was just a small boy, we found a mysterious object washed up on the beach. It was a sort of silver-grey colour, and looked like a finger, only much, much larger. My friends and I had huddled together on the beach around the thing, holding our hands up to our faces to shield our eyes from the dazzling sun, talking excitedly about what it could be. Some hours later, after we had all made up wild stories about the origin of our new toy, we dragged the colossal item that was the size of our dining table up to the village. As we made our way slowly over the sand dunes, and the long, wispy grass that marked the end of the beach and the start of the fields, a crowd seemed to be gathering. Women and young children were leaving their houses, young lads were leaving tools and ploughs unattended in the fields, and rosy-cheeked men were stumbling out of the smoke-filled tavern, all hurrying with increasing urgency towards u

WALT: I am learning to write descriptive stories. I placed my ear against the firm, wooden door. It felt warm: the sun had been shining on it all morning. From the other side I could hear voices. It sounded like two, or maybe three people whispering. One of the voices was a woman, and the others seemed to be men. Or was it the sound of a child? The tone of their voices suggested great excitement. Has a great discovery just been made? Had a long-lost secret just been unearthed? Curious, I placed my hand on the shiny, metal door handle and began to turn. Creak… the door’s stiff hinges resisted me, but gradually gave way, and I was drenched in darkness as I stepped into the room. I find it hard to write about non real thing because with a real story you  know whats going to happen and with a non real story you don't. Do you like to write ?