Year 10 GCSE coursework: Descriptive writing

I cringed suddenly as hunger struck through my body like a lightning bolt. I
grasped the golden brown loaI oI bread, incarserated in a thin sheet oI
plastic. My Iingers almost sunk into the loaI as the transparent sheet made a
crinkling noise. I ripped it oII quickly trying to save it Irom suIIocation.
Success. It appeared to glow magically. I pulled open the gleaming white
Iinished door oI the reIridgerator. It screamed loudly in pain when I tried to
expose it to the bright eIIulgence oI my undersized kitchen. I struck my arm
out Ior the silver rectangle that reIlects the light into my eyes. I winced
unexpectadly. I grabbed it; it was cold and bumpy to touch. I placed it down
on the creamy coloured table. I pushed the gleaming white Iinished door
away Irom me. This time it screamed Ior ioy to be returning back to its dark
and cold home.
I tugged at the subtle silver lid by the tab. It tore apart in three stages. The
Iirst Iew centimetre, then the next, and then Iinally, the rest.
It revealed an even shinier silver coat. The tab was in the corner; I tried to
grip it with my Iingers. My Iingers slipped oII the glistening tab repeatedley.
Irritated I got the black handled shiny silver kniIe and sliced through the
edges oI the clothing Ior the top oI the rectangle.
It crackled as it curled into a mini pair oI binoculars in the middle oI the
rectangle. I picked it up and threw it into the tall grey-blotched bin. My
index Iinger and thumb were leIt with grease smeared on them. I pinched the
small bright pink tablecloth that lay next to me to get rid oI the unwanted
mess that would ruin my skin iI they got in contact with it! Now a creamy
yellow brick oI margarine was revealed.
I walked at a casual pace to the cupboard and pulled the small dark brown
cupboard door towards me. Silence. I reached Ior what looked like a plain
white plate with my other hand. My hand turned into a crocodile`s mouth as
it snatched the Ilat saucer Irom the cupboard.
The quite plate had a delicate pattern oI Ilowers and little brown rabbits
eating some bright green grass around the rim. I pushed the cupboard door
away Irom me with my Iree hand. Silence again. I walked back to my work
place. I settled the plate down next to the untouched loaI oI bread. I picked
up the kniIe that I had used previously to cut oII the dressing on top oI the
margarine. I stabbed it into the end oI the loaI. A little bit oI the coating
Ilaked oII like snow onto the table. I eased the scalpel vertically all the way
through. I was halI way through cutting the loaI and my method oI cutting
wasen't being successIul. I brought the kniIe back up to me, careIully. I lay
the kniIe horizontally on the loaI oI now, not so pretty bread. It hit the point
inside the bread where I leIt oII. I manouvered the kniIe backwards and
Iorwards. The bread was noisy. It complained with pain by making loud
grinding noises. Very irritating. The annoying ordeal was Iinally over. The
slice oI bread was Iinally seperated Irom the rest oI its body. I picked up the
bread and placed it on my bunny plate.
How imperIect. The slice oI bread was ruined. The edges were all iagged.
The sides were uneven. They were sloping to one side. But the inside was
beautiIul. Pure soIt white, it did have a Iew specks oI brown though. It
looked so delicious!
I wrapped the rest oI the loaI into the dilapidated piece oI transparent
plastic, that was once killing it earlier but is now being used to help it Irom
the going stale. I reached Ior the kniIe once again to carry on trying to reach
the overall delightIul taste oI my piece oI bread. The kniIe is not as shiny
anymore. The crumbs Irom the bread are spread all over the kniIe: Irom the
top oI the blade to the end oI the bottom oI the handle. The kniIe handle was
uncomIortable. The crumbs almost saturated into my hand. With my Iree
hand I held the margarine and slowly spread the kniIe right through it like it
was running away Irom one side oI the brick to the next.
The kniIe lay against the square oI soIt white bread. It slowly expanded its
territory, marking it with this long trail oI yellow substance. The substance is
soIter than playdough but thicker than a liquid. Soon the dagger has marked
the entire square. I placed the blade back onto the kitchen table, which now
was quite messy. I looked at my hand that had held the kniIe. the bread
crumbs stuck to my hand, I rubbed my hands together to get rid oI them. It
looked as iI my hands had dandruII, a little stream oI white crumbs leaked
Irom between my hands. I seperated my hands and my right hand (which
was holding the culprate that had the crumbs which were attempting to
attache themselves to my hand) had what looked like little red holes
imprinted in it.
I looked at my square piece oI bread. It would not be long until I will be
able to give into my temptation oI eating the mouth-watering piece oI Iood.
The hunger pains struck my body again, like a kniIe had iust been stabbed
into my stomach. The pain was excrutiating. The only treatment Ior it was
Iood.
I opened the short, Iat wooden door above my head. Darkness suIIocated it.
I could hardly see anything that was being held hostage. UnIortunately I
could only save one prisoner, actually no. I changed my mind, I would save
two. I pushed my body up with my toes like a ballerina. One arm balancing
my body on the table, the other was extending as Iar as it could go. Success.
I held something in my hand. I relaxed my delicate petite toes on the ground
as I went to open my iar that would satisIy my hunger. I held the silver circle
that had scraps and lines oI black on it that had disentegrated over the time it
had been in there. My right hand lurched down on it, strangalling it. I
gripped the lower sphere with my leIt hand, it was cool to touch. I twisted
both my hands opposite ways. My miniature muscles tensed up as they tried
to release the contents oI the urn. I let out a small sigh and relaxed. But
seconds later I had my second attempt. Pop!` The lid had separated itselI
Irom the liIe oI the ordinary. I had exposed it to a new sight.
I peered inside. The sight oI the contents was not a pleasant one. Looking
back at me was green and IluIIy. The content, which I had iust been
inIormed, was applesauce has transistioned itselI into a iar oI mould. The
smell suddenly attacks me. I cough gasping Ior air that would not be so that
peutrid. I retched. It smelt like a dead animal that had been suIIocated in my
brother`s old gym socks that had been used repeatidly but never washed. I
slammed the lid on it as Iast as I could, and threw it into the bin. ThankIully
it landed swiItly into the rubbish holder.
I resentIully attempted to Iind the iars that I wanted. Being more careIul and
slow I repeated the actions. My tip toes wobbled more than they did beIore; I
was still recovering Irom the awIul incident with the last iar. My arm
stretched, I grasped a new iar. I brought it to my Iace so I could inspect it
more. It still had the label on it. 100º Real Jam' I stabbed the kniIe that I
had been using between the lid and the mini iug. POP!` louder this time the
lid eases oII. I hesitate to look in. I lean my head Iorwards and open my
eyes. A Ilat red surIace with black speckles. I breathe in. Strawberries!
I pierce the smooth surIace with the kniIe and twist it. I curved hill oI
strawberry iam lay on my kniIe. The kniIe looked as iI it was sliding across
the buttered bread. The blood was leIt shadowing the kniIe along the bread. I
dropped the kniIe on the table. I was happy, I iumped in the air and
sporadicaly chose another iar. I opened it; it opened with eIIortlessness.
Marmalade. I iumped up and rapidly placed it on the shelI. I repeated the
procedure. My head Ielt weightless. I grabbed another iar. This was a very
large blue plastic iar. I opened it easily again. Peanut butter. PerIect. I
pushed the kniIe into the iar and tilted it up and pulled the light brown that
was on the verge oI being pale orange away Irom the rest oI its population. It
spreads a little harder this time. It expands unevenly, but I didn`t care. I let
the dagger Iall Irom my hand onto the work surIace.
I picked up my piece oI artwork. What was originally iust white and had
light brown around the rim. Now it`s multicoloured.
I bit into it. I could taste the satisIaction. The peanut butter made it stick to
the top oI my mouth. It tasted sweet but also savoury. I took bite aIter bite.
Devouring slowly my treatment Ior the stabbing pains in my stomach. I
Iinally took the very last mouthIul. My tongue locked with the top oI my
mouth once again. It was delicious!

Maddy Hull 10S


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