Ashiq's diary entry

This week we wrote diary entries exploring different viewpoints of endangered animals. Below is Ashiq's diary entry from the perspective of an endangered tiger.

Dear diary ,

                  I am in a gloomy, dark cave with my cute cubs. I am scared  but my cubs are with filling me with hope .Will we live? Let me explain what has happened. There I was, taking care of my adorable cubs in a diminutive way  in the hulking forest.

I was axiomatic  when I saw that figure. Beyond the beautiful skies I was sensing danger. I can sniff danger. Boom! I scuttle away. The hunter is after me.

I am sprinting faster then  a soldier in a war galloping  from the tank. I help my baby cub up.  Screaming  bullets remarkably  miss me. I misguide the hunter and perish  away from the unmissable man. My baby cubs are as malnourished as a car fuming out petrol. 

From,

Tiger

PS (I hope the hunter must have a legitimate  reason for killing me).

6R's WWI diary entry

This week, 6R have been writing the final diary entry of the character Private Charlie Peaceful. Here is a section of Madison's.

The only good thing about my life now is that soon, in about two minutes, this hell on earth will be over. The tide of fear that had come over me is ebbing away slowly. Thoughts of my dear Molly and baby Tommo fill my head. I truly hope that this death won't be as futile as I think it'll be. I really hope that after this war no human will ever have to see such sights. My last drops of energy are going to be spent on love not hatred because if this war has taught me one thing, hatred is all too costly for us soldiers. 

6F's WW1 Diaries continued

Continuing our work with WW1 diaries, Matthew has written a diary entry from the perspective of Charlie, a soldier who is about to be executed by his country for "cowardice". This is his first paragraph:


Dear Diary,


As I solemnly sit and write for the final time, I fear that this war will never end. I feel a spot of relief because my time in the war will be over soon; very soon… The grip of fear in my heart has been extinguished, putting out all of the doleful feelings inside of me. Demoralising thoughts of Molly and little Tommo fill my heart, and I want to hold them in my arms for one last time. I deeply hope that my death will not be pointless and it will encourage others to fight and finish this war so that little Tommo will never have to face the terrifying horrors that I have. However, at the same time, revenge itches at my coarse skin. How could Hanley do this to me? But there is no point wasting my last moments in hatred; if the war has taught me one thing, it is that hatred is too risky.

Diary Writing 6B

This week we have been planning and writing diaries of Charlie's last moments in the book 'Private Peaceful'.
 This is an extract from our class writing session.


Well nothing is a lie, I am going to die for my family, for the blood, flesh and bones of my darling brother Tommo. Never would I have left him there, in that ditch, with the life slowly fading from his eyes. What sort of brother would I have been then? Hanley might have been able to live with Tommo's blood on his hands, but not me.


All of that is irrelevant now. Soon I will join the other faceless casualties of this merciless war. Mystery men with much hope but little luck. Saddened by the fact that I am just one more child who waved goodbye to England and hello to his demise, I know my time is up. Whilst my son has all the time in the world to grow and flourish, I know my memory will begin to fade. All he has left now are Tommo and Molly, and I hope as the soothe him to sleep they sing our song - Oranges and Lemons - and think of me, not with sadness but with joy and love.


Until we meet again in heaven, as is God's will, I can only offer you peace and happiness.


Private Charlie Peaceful

6R diary entry - WWI

Here is Zoe's diary entry from the point of view of Tommo, a soldier in Michael Morpurgo's WWI story, Private Peaceful.

   17th December 1914

Dear Diary,

With Christmas heading our way, we never give up hope, for the war should be over by then, but our hopes fade away a little each day because men have seen what they shouldn't have. Nevertheless, nobody back in England could possibly realise what a treacherous state we're in; it is pure hell on Earth: a static killing-field. A futile, bloody mess, in which men, who have done nothing, are perishing. And for what? For nothing.

Today was one of the darkest thus far. I can hardly bear to narrate what events happened last night. For many hours - which seemed to last for weeks - I truly felt Charlie was gone. When I saw him approaching, limping, bloodshod, I thought I was seeing a phantom. Others, however, weren't so fortunate. You only have to turn around to see that our numbers have been decimated - and as for those who have lives to go on? We have been demolished, in body and spirit alive.

It all began at dawn, while we were making tea. There was a bellowed order. We glanced at each other; this was it. Fuelled by pure adrenaline, I managed to escape a few hours - I do not know how - unscathed, but what I saw in that time I will never be able to erase from my mind. All I can push myself to say is that after this futile war no man will never experience something like this ever again.

I wish I was back home with Molly and Ma and I want to get out of this hell on Earth, but Charlie says to not think about it and concentrate on not getting myself killed. But I do wish I was with all of them because I am scared and frightened here.

This evening we were informed that Sergeant Hanley is our new commander. We loathe him more than any dreadful Fritz. I can not imagine how I will go on; but I have no other choice.

Tommo.

6F WW1 diary writing

6F have been looking at writing recounts in the context of WW1 diaries. This is the first paragraph of Amy's, where she has written from the perspective of Michael Morpurgo's character, Tommo.

17^th December 1914

Dear Diary,

Christmas slowly walks towards us - there in no happiness though - everyone just wants to go home to their caring, loving families. They would not understand back at home; what it’s like. You see your fearless friends falling around you, row by row - like skittles. Everyone fading away until it is only you left. All of the brave soldiers here have hearts of courage. Why do they have to risk their lives? What is this all for? Nothing…

Diary Writing 6B

This week we have been learning about the features of diary writing. We planned and wrote a diary in the role of the character Tommo from Michael Morpurgo's book 'Private Peaceful'. Here is James' writing.

Dear Diary,

                     Christmas is getting closer. Hopefully, this dreadful war will end; every day is just mad killing. So we can celebrate Christmas happily. Nobody can compare anything to this war. Thousands have died. For what? Nothing. So many people have met their deaths. My opinion is that we just stop the whole thing. Sadly, I can’t stop this, I must go on…

Last night was the most evil night yet. Refusing, to even think about what happened last night. Although, I was on my own, I was still clinging to hope. Waiting, for Charlie to return. Suddenly, out of the gloom was Charlie . Bloodshot. However he was moving, but slightly. But a lot were “Lucky”. Not! Barely anyone was lucky.

First, it started at dawn. When we were eating breakfast. The sergeant (our commander) instructed “Right lads, on three we go over the top understood. One… two… three!”

We stared at each other. The time was now. We went. Luckily, I escaped the brutal hours. Later on, the stuff I witnessed in that time. No man should never see killing, fighting and attacks, I hope I will never witness any of that again (even though I know I will).

This evening we were informed that Sergeant Hanley is our new commander. We all hate his bones. I can’t see how I will go on. I must or punishments will be in order for me.

Until next time,

Tommo

James Allcott 6B

Street Child - Diary Entry

In Year 5 we have been reading 'Street Child' by Berlie Doherty. We have written diary entries from Jim Jarvis, a Victorian child, who has suffered a series of unfortunate events and is now being forced to live in the workhouse. 

This is an entry from Juvan in 5E.


Friday, 3rd January 1873

Dear Diary,

                  As the days quickly passed by, Ma whispered to leave because she was too ill to sleep in the crooked bed. But the saddest thing is that I can’t see my stricken sisters again although they were a bit annoying. Also I feel very sorry for my mother because she’s sick…

                 So, I know that she has to be respected with… LOVE! So, I will earn 5 shillings for my mum by working so very hard. Even though I’m very stricken, I’ll still try hard to earn a shilling! But, as I walked to the coin factory, I accidentally breathed in carbon dioxide…

From Jim.

Street Child - Diary entry

In Year 5 we have been reading 'Street Child' by Berlie Doherty. We have written diary entries from Jim Jarvis, a Victorian child, who has suffered a series of unfortunate events and is now being forced to live in the workhouse. 

Thursday, 18^th December 1865

Pimlico, London

Dear my cherished and beloved diary,

            I am exceptionally distraught. Terror surrounds my soul like a pack of ravenous wolves. My hope is slowly deceasing and transforming into horror and fear. Happiness has been trapped with long lost memories, desperate to return. Unfortunately, we have been evicted from our only shelter. Why was our landlord so heartless and cruel? Will we ever escape this misery?

            Standing outside the workhouse doors, I was petrified. My legs were like jelly, uncontrollably shaking. All joyful memories of times with my father and sisters are now locked away in my heart. Is this the end? Will my feeble body be able to survive the treacherous, hard workhouse conditions? As I think of my doomed future, I fill with dread. Are all of the terrifying stories true? It is really going to be hell on earth?

            The wailings of the mad people and the yelps of the innocent orphans being whipped fill my ears. I can hear the scraping of cutlery as starving children eat every last scrap of food off their plates. The innocent and frightened faces stare at me through the barred windows as the colossal iron gates get whipped in the wind like the poor, innocent orphans.

            If I survive tonight I will write to you tomorrow diary,

                                                           

                                                 Jim Jarvis

Josie, 5C