Doors slamming and rain pelting down onto the brown mouldy tiles that were on the roof, it was as wet as a dripping icy pole. The violent storm was ruining our old, white house and smashing our thin windows. We ran out as fast as we could and just in time our house came crashing down onto the brown grass with pieces of old white, wood stabbing into the wet ground. We stood there in despair looking at our broken items lying on the ground. I see my toy; my rocking horse under the broken wood. I place my head on my mums shoulder and start to sob.

1 Comment on

  1. Ruth (100WC Team)
    November 4, 2013 at 7:35 am (6 years ago)

    This is a great piece of writing, full of detail and with a great build up of mood and atmosphere. The way that you have included the emotions of characters really adds to the mood. Well done!


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