Writers' spine-chillling sagas

Budding writers at Fleetwood High School have succeeded in a national competition.

Tuesday, 29th November 2016, 2:53 pm
Updated Tuesday, 6th December 2016, 3:41 pm
Sophie Proctor and Sophie Malpas

More than 80 pupils entered the Young Writer’s Mini Saga Competition which has led to the possibility of their work being included in a special anthology due out in January 2017.

The pupils had to write their spine-chilling saga using up to 100 words and the successful young authors had their work selected by the judges, based on imagination, perception, expression and creative use of language.

Here they explain their inspiration and reveal their stories...

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We were inspired to enter this competition because we enjoyed watching a short clip during our English lesson which introduced us to the topic.

Initially we thought it would be really easy but we found it difficult to keep our stories to only one hundred words.

We planned the story and then wrote the first version.

Afterwards we had to be really ruthless and cut lots out, we had to keep counting to make sure we didn’t go over the word count or our stories wouldn’t be considered.

It is really exciting to know that our stories are good enough to be published and we will be able to buy a book with our own work in it.

Gone... By Sophie Proctor, Year 8

In the dead of the night, I perambulated through the tenebrous woods – with my sister, Molly.

We observed a decrepit manor, the door was wide open.

We entered the solitary building.

The statue’s eyes followed me everywhere I went.


I heard a scream.

She was gone. “Molly,” no answer.

As I tiptoed up the antediluvian blood-stained staircase, I found an inanimate body lying in the ebony bathtub.

It was my unimpeachable sister.

A Boreal breath on my unsubstantial skin, sent a perturbing chill down my trembling spine.

I heard the cocking of a gun; followed by the words: you’re next……….

Unexpected Guests? By Sophie Malpas,Year 8

John walked into the graveyard, the gravestones coal-black, scattered with cobwebs.

The night littered with fog, John walked through the musty gate as silent as a mouse.

Trembling, John gifted the flowers to his grandfather’s grave.

As he turned back... crash!

They clattered to the ground like dominoes.

Zombies and ghosts came jumping out.

John was frozen like a statue; ghosts approached him faster than a cheetah!

John gave a loud yelp (although he knew it was useless).

One zombie’s hand touched John’s shoulder as another pushed him forward.

John swerved round and recognised a familiar face….