English 9

Not Again.

Within ten seconds to dusk, I stood in front of it. There it was, the place I worked so hard to get to, right before my eyes. I entered without a noise. It’s dark and gloomy inside, like a ancient closed down hospital accompanied by destructive vines and glorious moss.

I pulled out my camera to admire different perspectives and out fell a flyer for ghost evacuations. Bizarre considering my location at the moment. I’m think about the things that could be in here hoping to get some on film. Continue reading

The Black Powder Mystery

Gerald approached the palace gates. As the guard begins to open the gate, he almost pushes over several guests to reach the front. This is the moment he had been waiting for -the coronation of Frederick the 1st.

In the palace, all the guests find their place. As Gerald looks around the ballroom, he locks eyes with Gotthard and Otto. “Is everything set up?” asks Gerald. “Yes, we are prepared,” responds Otto, with a brief smile. Gotthard wanders off.
Continue reading

Tuning into Cartoon

It was late that night and I was still watching the television and I remember thinking to myself that I’m going to be tired for work. Suddenly the program changed to a white screen with perfect round circle which I’m assuming is snow but it was falling from bottom to top as if there were a fan that blew the snow that fell overnight but it was consistent. Afterwards I turned of the television with that tiny red button on the remote control which in my opinion is too small. Any who, I poured a glass of water and headed off to bed. I had quite the sleep that night, tossing and turning. The next morning, I woke up feeling different, but I had just suspected I slept funny. It was then I realized everything was in cartoon form. I rubbed my eyes as if I were imagining it, but it was now reality, my reality. Continue reading

The enchantress

The enchantress just wanted her kissss without failure. She is not the most important character but is required for the story. In this essay I will describe her physical appearances and why I think she is required.

The enchantress had different “looks”, such as the following.

The enchantress takes on multiple appearances starting of with David’s mother:

“Her skin was very white, but there was a hint of pink at her cheeks, and her lips were full and moist. Her red hair glowed like fire”. When David saw her, he heard her voice but her lips did not move (198). Then her eyes opened and she started to mutate into Rose but it wasn’t Rose:  “These eyes were black, devoid of color, like lumps of coal set in snow.[…] (198). Her hair was black, not red, and it pooled like liquid night. Her lips opened, and David saw that her teeth were very white and very sharp, the canines” (198). The enchantress wasn’t just an image she also had personality.

The enchantress was the voice of David’s mother that he heard. She was testing him when he reached her castle. When David awoke her with a freezing kiss (198) she asked what I think is, a trick question: “ “Am I not beautiful?”. Her head tilted slightly, and her face looked troubled. “Am I not pretty enough for you? ” (199). I find this troubling because there is no right way to answer the question. She was repeatedly asking a twelve year-old boy. When David killed her she thanked him as if she was tired of killing for a living. The enchantress was happy for her way of life to finally be over. This concludes her personality.

These past two paragraphs conclude my opinions on the enchantress. The fact that she was the voice of David’s mother proves that she was vital to the story. If the voice of David’s mother was not resolved it would have left the question of why he heard her unanswered which leaves a sense that is incomplete. Without the confirmation of what the voice was, we may assume that it was just a trick that the crooked man played on David or could keep us in a state of curiosity. In this case I think that resolving where Davids mother’s voice came from help bring the book to an end, what is a book without resolution?

Blood Ties

I know I shouldn’t have killed him. Something in the smell of his blood that night was so tempting. I know I should have been quiet but I needed to be seen, somehow. Bad luck, was the police that was around, and I finished my night in prison. Now I’m waiting. I don’t really know for what. Food or death?

Later in the darkness of the night, between the howling of a wolf and the crackling of tree branches, I thought I heard something. A light noise. Maybe the wind. Or death. But then a shadow, that stopped net in front of my cell.

I looked up. Despite the dark, the reflection of the moon helped me distinguish the shape of my brother and his blond, wild hair. Madness took hold of me for a few seconds. I couldn’t help it. It was as if I had just discovered that he harmed someone I loved. I couldn’t find who or what, so I started to come down to let him help me. He didn’t see my strange behavior. He was in his own world…

He had the key. I don’t know how come… I didn’t ask. He opened the cell silently to let me out. We walked slowly and carefully to the parking lot where his car was parked. Once we got in, we started talking.

“Thanks” I said, calmly. “Why though? I haven’t seen you for at least 10 years! Since…”

“I know, You’ll see…”

We drove on in silence. I was too tired to ask more questions.

After ten minutes, the road became unfamiliar. I usually know every road, every intersection…

“Where are we going?” I asked

I learned, with time, that my brother could be surprisingly unpredictable.

“To my new apartment. We’ll be safe there. It’s close to the lake. We’re going to have to take a break before getting there. I’m tired…”

We stopped in front of the lake fifteen minutes later, the view was beautiful.

The half moon was as white as fresh snow and was reflecting on the calm, dark water of the lake. He was still in the car when I got out to sit at the edge of the water. I was still angry at him, but I still didn’t know why. At that moment the madness became worse … my hands were shaking, wanting to grab something really tight. Then I heard my brother coming up behind me. The madness was boiling in each and every one of my muscles.

Then I heard his voice, softly talking to me:

“I’m sorry, I know what you know and I can’t risk that…”

I wanted to turn around to ask him why but he wouldn’t let me.

Then, as if my life had turned into slow motion, I saw the edge of a familiar knife coming closer and closer to me. I couldn’t think of anything before that knife was deep into my throat, blood leaking on my white prison shirt.

That knife in my throat didn’t surprise me that much…as if I knew that my life would finish like that. Strange images came back into my mind; forgotten images of my childhood, always with a blond little boy with that same knife that is in my throat right now, in his left hand. On one image, the boy’s parents’, terrified, were trying to calm him down. As the images became clearer, I could see another one, more like a movie with two characters: that same little boy and his mom, my mom. He was stabbing that same knife into her chest and our mom was crying silently; not in pain, but in sadness.

All at once, all images disappeared from my mind and everything became so clear for an instant, then I took my last breath and, as a small tear ran down my translucid cheek, darkness slowly started invading me.

And a Knife

The movement of the windscreen wipers was hypnotic. All that could be heard was the white noise of the rain battering the car.

He spotted a figure at the side of the road with his thumb out. It was not a good night for hitchhiking. He must have been quite desperate to get where he was going. The doctor signaled and pulled over. ‘Where are you going?’ asked the doctor.

“I’m going to my aunt Jemima’s. That’s north”. The hitchhiker climbed in. He was young and had wild red hair and a thick beard.

‘Awful night, eh?” said the doctor.

‘Yes. Yes, it is.’

They drove on in silence for a short while. The BBC radio phone-in blaring out from the car’s speakers filled in for conversation. They listened to the radio and their own thoughts as they moved on.

The doctor tapped the steering wheel nervously. The hitchhiker stared at him in his scrubs and lab coat. His own parka and t-shirt looked scruffy

The radio show carried on as they drove. The hitchhiker shifted in his seat and stared out the windscreen.

‘Is there music we could listen to? It calms me down.’

The doctor said nothing.

Suddenly there was a news bulletin on the radio.

‘We are getting reports that a patient has escaped from a nearby psychiatric institution. The man is said to be psychopathic and has a history of murder.’

The hitchhiker jabbed a finger on the button on the radio panel. Tinny pop music blurted out from the speakers. The doctor stared at his passenger, his question unasked.

‘I hate the news.’ answered the hitchhiker. ‘It’s depressing.

They drove on. The rain pounded on the car.

‘What do you do for a living?’ asked the doctor.

The hitchhiker was quiet for a moment.

‘I’m a writer.’

‘Have you had anything published?’

‘No. I’m an undiscovered artist.’

‘What are you working on?’

‘I’m writing a novel. It’s about a serial killer.’

The doctor didn’t speak. He flicked the radio station back on.

They drove on through the storm down the snaking lanes.

An hour later. The storm still raging. The hitchhiker looked out the window.

 Another news bulletin came over the radio.

‘We’re getting more information on the patient. His name is Simon Hughes. He escaped earlier this evening. He is extremely dangerous and completely unpredictable. He made his escape by changing from his hospital issued uniform into a doctor’s  uniform and pretending to be one of the medical staff. He stole a car and drove off.’

The hitchhiker turned to the doctor.

‘What did you say your name was?’

‘ I never said my name.’

Panicked, the hitchhiker glanced down at the doctor’s feet and noticed something he hadn’t before.


A crumpled patient’s robe, and a knife.    

Woodsman Character Sketch

The Woodsman is a kind, caring, compassionate, “guardian of the woods.” The Woodsman watches over the children that come into the woods. I will show how much the Woodsmen cares about the children in the woods. The Woodsman has gracious qualities such as his gentle eyes and understanding personality.

The Woodsman portrays a loving, compassionate, fatherly figure. He keeps the other world together because he his friendly, soft-hearted qualities. “The Woodsman lowered David to the ground. “Stay close to me,” he said. “If anything happens, run for the cottage.” (106) His character and personality is very strong, stable and predictable.

The Woodsman is a strong, burly man with a good sense of humour. His big, strong frame could potentially turn young and vulnerable children away. It takes children a while to get used to such an intimidating, strong figure. But the Woodsman kind and compassionate qualities make up for his intimidating figure.

The Woodsman’s care and compassion shine through in his personality. His outstanding personality as he cares for the children that come into the other world.“These woods are in my care.” (98) The Woodsmen takes charge of his responsibilities and sticks to his values.  His personality came through when he lent some clothes to David when he just came into the other world.

Anything Can Happen

It was a bitterly cold winter day. Alan Robertson wanted to go to Buffalo Pound Lake not too far from his house in Regina. He texted his friends to see if they wanted to go to the lake, to go ice fishing. He then texts his sister to see if she wants to go ice fishing with them too. His friends responded saying “Why would you choose today to go fishing?” Alan texted back saying “I’ve had a crazy week, I want to take a break.”

Continue reading

Jonathan Tulvey

      Sitting on his throne, not tall enough to reach the top of it, an open book on his lap, was an angry little man, who was called king.

This strange tiny man was seen, during the novel, at two stages of his life, behind David’s eyes. At these two stages, he was an angry and naive and selfish boy, but still an essential character to the novel. This king, with the real name of Jonathan Tulvey, was a little boy from the real world, sent to the world where he would become king by the Crooked man, taking away with him his adopted sister.

      Jonathan Tulvey grew up in the same world as David and was brought into the other world by the Crooked man. He was a naive, angry and selfish boy. He trusted the Crooked man and brought Anna, his adopted little sister, into this other world because the Crooked man told him that he could get rid of her. He accepted this bargain because he was angry at his sister because she took his place in his parent’s heart.He was selfish because he didn’t care about what could occur to Anna, who had her heart eaten by the Crooked man and spent the time that Jonathan spent on the throne in a jar. “I was a child,” said the king. “I was angry”. I did not understand the harm that I was doing.”(p.280, paper edition).

      David’s journey would never have happened if he wasn’t looking for something. Something that would make him go back to his world. In most of the tales that he heard during his journey, a book belonging to the king was mentioned; a book that contained all the knowledge of the kingdom, that would help him go home, the Book of Lost Things.  

In the end, it turns out this book was only the king’s own life diary, but it was essential to the story, for David to have a reason to go on this journey. “The book has value to me” said the king (p.277, paper edition). Thanks to that book, we can say that the king is an essential character to the novel.

I think that the character of Jonathan Tulvey was essential to the novel and that his moral trait influenced the way the story started and ended.

Rainy monday

It was a monday like the others. The weather was really bad.  It was even hard to see the bus station just on the corner of the street.

A bus arrives, stops, and two police officers with a very tall man wearing a blue jacket get in. The bus goes on, splashing some rare passer-by.

“So you’re telling me that we don’t know who it is, where he is, and you want me and Mark to find him? I hope you have another solution!” says one of the policeman by phone.

The man on the phone answers something. The policeman, named Matt, hangs up his phone.

Seeing the questioning look of his colleague, Matt answers to the unasked question:

“The boss just called me. We have to investigate on a serial killer, we don’t know who or where he is, and we have to stop him before tomorrow, or we are fired up. We just have his method: he kills people with a pink pen. Crazy world.”

“Bad news.” answers Mark.

There is a silence for a while. The rain makes a continuous noise.

The bus stops abruptly and the man with the blue jacket gets off. There are only a dozen of passengers left.

Matt’s phone rings and the tall policeman answers nervously.

“More information? he asks.

There’s an inaudible reply.

“Around where we are? Really? And you call this an information? Around where?… This district? Okay, call me again when you have some real information, please.”

Another silence.

“Did you notice?” asks Mark to his colleague.

“Notice what? That we are not in a good situation? Yes I did. That my car broke down this morning and now and I have to take the bus every morning? Yes I did. That…”

“No, interrupts Mark. This guy, with a blue jacket. The tall one, waiting for the bus. He was already in this bus ten minutes ago.”


“Nothing.” he stops for a while. “Boss is calling you again.”

Matt has another conversation with his boss.

“We have a name. Brandon Mac Levy. He has escaped the psychiatric hospital. We have a picture too.”

Mark looks at the picture for a moment. “He doesn’t seem really dangerous. He looks like a child.”

“A child who kills people is dangerous. Even with pink pens.”

Another silence. Mark looks outside. A lot of rain. The bus is going too fast by his opinion. “Not a good day”, he thinks. “The bus doesn’t stop often, nobody’s outside”.

They are listening to the radio, but they hear mostly background noise.

Suddenly, a news release captures their attention:

“….man was found dead….. don’t know his name yet…… don’t worry…..under control….for the weather, nothing special, only rain…..”

“Crazy world…” says Matt to himself.

“Boss is calling you again” answers Mark.

Matt picks up his phone grunting.

“Yes, boss, I heard this on the radio. Really?? No… Where was it? Okay. Call me later.”

And to his colleague:

“The dead man we heard on the radio was killed with a pen. A pink pen. The body was found in the bus station, around 6 am. The killer (our killer) stole a bus. That’s it.”

“Creepy.” he answers. “Pay attention, the next stop is ours.”

Then he pulls the button “stop”, but the bus continues to go. Too fast. Matt looks at the rear-view mirror and drop a muffled scream. A childish face.

It was almost a monday like the others.

Précis writing: The Stormy Drive

                                                            The rain was pouring.
 It simulated driving through a curtain of water. The thwack-thwack of the windscreen wipers

 was hypnotic. He was reminded of the opening scenes of a Hitchcock film.

Through the rain he spotted a person with their thumb out. Why on earth would anyone be hitchhiking tonight? He signalled and      pulled over. The hitchhiker climbed in and shut the door quickly.

‘Awful night.’ said the driver.
‘Yes. Yes it is.’

Drops of water trickled down the hitchhiker’s face .The stranger glanced over his shoulder into the   darkness behind them.

‘What’s your name?’ asked the driver.

     ‘Friends call me Si.’

They drove on. The BBC radio blared out.

‘Where are you heading?’ asked the driver.
‘North.’ The hitchhiker replied.
‘Where, exactly?’
‘Just north…’
Continue reading