Check out the bottom of this page for all of the grammar vocabulary definitions we looked at in the survey.
Have a great holiday.
Mr. Goldon 29th March 2019.
Friday 29th March 2019
LO: Can I write a suitable ending for my Skellig back-story?
Michael found me. // I was grumpy at first. Didn’t want to be disturbed.
Wallowed in self-pity. //Dawning realisation that his family needed help. Their baby was very sick. I could use my powers of good to heal her.// I did so.// I left.
“Whaddaya want?” I croaked, barely able to make a sound.
The boy just looked at me. I further opened my eyes to get a look at him. Backing away, the boy scrambled for the garage door. I drifted back into my deep sleep.
I was awoken once more sometime later. The boy was back. This time, he spoke.
“I’m Michael. What are you?”
What am I? I am nobody. I am nothing. I told him that but he didn’t leave. In fact, he kept on pestering me even though I just wanted to sleep the last sleep, breathe my last breath.
The next thing I heard was crying and shouting. It was at that moment that I knew I had a chance to help. This was it; a way back to heaven.
Soon enough, I found out that Michael’s baby sister was gravely ill. He brought along sustenance to help me survive – not just to survive but to get stronger. So strong that my angel powers returned.
With my newfound strength, I cured Joy.
I moved on. On to where? Reader, no one but me knows.
Thursday 28th March 2019
LO: Can I write a suitable resolution for my Skellig back-story?
|Plan: Left in garage. // Ernie taken by another angel who didn’t notice me. Too busy trying to impress the powers that be! // I, Skellig, was left to die. However, I was found by a family of owls and they looked after me. They kept me alive – but barely so with the small amounts of food. // I just wanted to die – didn’t even want to be disturbed any more. Then Michael found me.
After drifting back into unconsciousness, I was woken by the opening of a door. Alas, not the garage door but Ernie’s front door.
Moments later I heard the sure swoop of angel wings. A wry smile crossed my face; I knew at that moment Ernie’s soul was being transported by another angel. I, on the other hand, was forgotten. I knew that I could only make it back to heaven with an act of kindness but how could that happen? Weeping myself back to slumber, I was broken.
Waking once more, still almost welded to the floor, I heard the rustle of feathers. These were not mine though; they were those of an owl. What was it doing?
Unable to shift my body, I looked down to see my gnarled hands. It was then that I caught sight of a small pile of insects. A dawning realisation moved across my mind – this creature was helping me. My goodness! Bless this bird for it had decided to feed me!
For what seemed like weeks, the owl (along with the blackbirds) helped me survive; a diet of insects, spiders, rodents and bluebottles. Yet this was only sufficient to enable me to stay alive – just.
Slowly, time passed and the life within me drained. Unable to move even a finger now, I shut my eyes and steadied myself for what would come next. Solemnly, I readied myself to greet Death. I closed my eyes for the last time…
Who knows how long it was, but the next thing I knew was that my eyes lit from a torchlight. There, before me, stood the boy.
Wednesday 27th March 2019
LO: Can I come up with a suitable dilemma (problem) so that my Skellig back-story is worth reading?
Storm damaged my wings. Fell to Earth. Ended up in the garage – but even though I called out, no one came. No one helped – Ernie was deaf so couldn’t hear. Even if he had been listening, he couldn’t walk so couldn’t help.
How would I finish the job? You could only magically transfer back up to heaven if you did some good – but what use was I all broken and battered?
Immense pain was the first thing I felt as I opened my eyes. My legs ached, my arms ached - even my eyelids felt like lead. What time was it? What day was it? I couldn’t work out how long I’d been out cold. The first sound was the whistle of the wind and the faint singing of birds.
Hopelessly, I sat there. Unable to move. I needed help. Attempting to call out, all I could muster was a tiny squeak as soft as a fledgling. Wheezing, I pushed the dust from my lungs and attempted to try again.
No one was coming. How would I get back to heaven? How could I get Ernie now, given I was broken myself? All around me was darkness; bits of pipe, rakes, tea-chests, bin bags, webs, spiders, insects. If only someone could help me. If only.
Tuesday 26th March 2019
LO: Can I come up with a suitable build-up that moves the story on for my Skellig backstory?
Normal day in heaven. Given new job – collect Ernie Myers who was about to die from Falconer Road.
Tempest (storm) brewing, but usually just flew through them to get to Earth.
It had been a completely ‘run of the mill’-type day at work. I’d been handed a job ticket from the back office; a ‘swoop/fetch’ in the north of England. God had given me an envelope with the instruction ‘Collect Ernie Myers from Falconer Road and fly his soul up to Cloud 9’. That should have been an easy job; get him and drop him at the Pearly Gates for St. Peter to process. Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan.
I’d have to say that this was the worst job yet for me – and I’d been collecting the dead for over a decade. It would have been okay if the storm hadn’t occurred. Travelling through a tempest damaged my silky wings so badly that I fell. I fell and fell and fell. Dropping like a stone, I had no control over where I would end up except to point my body in the direction of Ernie’s house.
The roof broke my fall. It was his garage: Ernie’s.
Monday 25th March 2019
LO: Can I come up with a suitable introduction that ‘hooks the reader’ for my Skellig backstory?
He found me on what I think was a Sunday morning. As he got closer, I could feel his breath on my cold, pale face. They’d only just moved in to Falconer Road the day before. Little did they know that I had been here for such a long time. So long that I’d almost forgotten how long it actually was. If only he’d left me to finish it. If only…