Snowy egrets soar into view, amid a baby blue sky, as I sit relaxed on my Grandma’s astro-turfed front lawn. Although geriatric, my Grandma’s an extremely feisty character, still eligible, and enjoys the odd apocalyptic, multi-ethnic gathering. When it comes to the hallowed village bingo, she’s brutal. For all her life she’s lived in this slightly run down bungalow at the rear end of a cul-de-sac. She inherited the bungalow, colonnade and all, and a comfortable sum of money from her late father. From the mid-80s she’s had a giant feud and then split up from my Grandfather who’s suffered from dementia.
Grandma eventually, after about twenty years into the marriage, saw him as banal. Since her father was forced into the Warsaw Ghetto during the Nazi occupation of Poland and escaped through a hidden crawlspace, her side of the family has been pretty tough about everything – most insults of whatever nomenclature caroming off her.
Some people regard my laziness as veritable but really I just meticulously avoid being seen to do anything. My Grandma doesn’t believe this and sends me sceptical, dour looks and gives me a lecture on avoiding infractions in her droning tone. She’s always urging me to help trim her palmettos. If I don’t, I think she might bust my rotator cuff. As I abide there in the holidays, I have no choice but to obey her dominating ordeal!
We love guided reading especially sharing our roles:
Freeze Framer, Drama Director, Connector, Chair, Creator, Word Checker.
We hope you like these examples of our work.
George sprinted to the finish line; he was a metre away when he heard a screaming crack in his shin bone! He fell down with a thunder of feet running over him, desperately trying to get the rugby ball ...that’s all he remembered until darkness filled him! He sat up startled, lots of eyes glared down at him, it was hot as if he was being cooked in an oven, and his body was shrivelled up like a shrimp. He suddenly remembered about his books, the books about the underworld, but it couldn’t be he thought to himself. He got his sight back and look around properly. He saw wars, he saw fire, and he saw people hanging themselves because they couldn’t cope! He saw the entire thing he dreamed of never seeing. He struggled up, not remembering his leg and screamed in agonty, he crawled over to a man. He was well built, muscles, big cheekbones, tattoos all over him, he had a deep, gruff voice and was very dour. It was only when he dragged himself back to his little corner that he knew that there was blood trickling down from his head, he transplanted his t-shirt onto his head and put pressure on it! He only came to the thought then that there were people caving him with weapons. George had paranoia (dyslexia) and looked at the scrolls they were giving him. He concentrated so hard, however the onlookers were very impatient and decided they would charge and so they did, and so George used the last of his energy to crawl to the wall, but now he was stuck they surrounded him, smirking as they did so. However just at that moment, a booming voice called and they dropped their weapons leaving them clanking on the floor and lay down not moving an inch. Everybody was doing this except George, the booming voice came again, George was overwhelmed that just a voice could make these vicious, dangerous murderers settle down and drop their weapons. A tall cosmetic looking man came over with people marching after him. George looked closely and saw he was wearing a black cloak with read diapers. “Who would worship him?” muttered George.