How are we all on this lovely afternoon? (or morning depending were you are) 

Are we looking forward to our upcoming weekends. (if it is actually Friday up there)

 One. SPAM IS EVIL!!! (Sorry…too much sugar for breakfast.)

 Two. I learned a lot about the environment thanks to my fellow blogger Derek. (He wrote some real detailed stuff)

Three. I found out just how easy it is to communiate with someone from another country or maybe on the other side of the world. Are you guys in Canada enjoying your…umm…is it Autumn up there?

To those going to start blogging in future years I only have this to say…

 SPAM IS EVIL!!!

This is a really great oppertunity to meet other people in a different environment. Not ‘meet’ in the terms of being really stupid and giving your details online. (DON’T DO IT!!!) I mean meet in the terms of talking about your interests, the country that you live in. (Be vague about your address) Check your comments and look at the other sites.

 You can find out all sorts of stuff while blogging. You can find out that someone has an incredibly sarcastic sense of humor. You may find some one who is passionate about the environment. You may find a really weird person how writes fanfiction and is utterly addicted. (I’m not talking about myself… Blogging is really a great way to learn.

Au Reviour! 

Keshia

I have a serious problem.

I think I’m addicted to fanfiction. Some people can’t stop gambolling. Some people play too many video game…I spend my time reading fanfiction. When every I’m in a computer room, I check my reviews. I write stories all the time. I lost everything on my USB. What was I worried about? Not my project due in the next day…BUT SIX MONTHS WORTH OF FANFICTION! WHO EVEN SPENDS SIX MONTHS WRITING HARRY POTTER STORIES!?! (Besides the other people on the site.)

FOR GOODNESS SAKE, I HAVE A STORY OPEN NOW!

 Should I give up?

But I like it too much.

Oh well. I’m addicited… and I am not giving up for the world!!!

 Bye!

Keshia

  Hello guys!

This is my story that I wrote for class. It’s not my family story like we’re supposed to put on but it’s a horror story) Tell me what you think…

Drip Drip Drip

Keshia Hendricks
 

Little Beatrix was playing with her dolls while her sister, Eileen, stared out the window and yawned.
 

“Ellie,” whined Beatrix. “Can you get my teddy from my room?”
 

“Get it yourself!” snapped Eileen. “Just because I’m stuck babysitting you doesn’t mean you get to order me around!”
 

Beatrix crossed her arms and pouted like she did when she was about to throw a tantrum. Their parent tended to spoil their youngest daughter so this cleaver tactic usually worked. The last thing Eileen needed was her parents scolding her for making Beatrix cry.
 

“Fine,” she hissed.
 

Eileen dragged herself to her sister’s room and ploughed through the dolls to find ‘Mr. Ted’. The very instant she caught sight of one brown, furry leg among the skirts and porcelain faces, an ear-splitting scream drove all thoughts from her mind. Eileen ran to the bedroom door but, before she could get their, the window pane behind her shattered, letting in the horrible smell of decomposing flesh.  Eileen didn’t hesitate to dive under her sister’s bed when the other pane shattered. Eileen saw a pair of scabby, green legs. With every step it left behind a puddle. It stopped as if looking around and left the way it came. Eileen burst out of the room and gasped. Beatrix was gone.
 

*
 

“What do you mean by that?” cried Eileen.
 

Eileen’s mother was crying. The big, bulky man she was talking to, Boris Prittarch, shook his head sympathetically. Boris was in charge of guarding the wall that protected the villagers from the dangers of the forest.
 

“The others took her into the forest,” he said. “There’s no hope for her now.”
 

Eileen glared furiously at Boris. She pointed at his crossbow.
 

“Give it to me,” she demanded forcefully.
 

Boris flinched and put his hand to his bow.
 

“You can’t possibly be thinking of going into the forest!”
 

“Yes I am! Give me the bow!”
 

Eileen’s mother gave a small groan of despair. Boris couldn’t stop Eileen from going. Reluctantly he handed over his crossbow.
 

“Don’t loose this,” he snapped.
 

Eileen nodded and, without so much as a glance at her mother, walked through into the dark forest.
 

*
 

Every shadow moved. Every tree seemed to close in on her. Every noise made Eileen jump.
 

Drip…

At first, Eileen thought she had imagined it but the second time she heard it, she stopped.
 

Drip… drip…
 

Eileen dove out of the way for, at that moment, something leaped from the top of the trees and nearly knocked her off her feet. She ran through the trees, knowing that the thing that was following her was the same thing that she had encountered in her house. She had the sense not to slow down but she couldn’t get a clear shot with her bow.
 

“Mmf!”
 

Eileen heard a muffled cry in the distance. She seemed to have lost the creature.
 

“Ellie!”
 

Eileen turned around and found someone hiding in the shrubbery. It was Beatrix. There was fear etched on her face.
 

“Ellie, behind you!” she screeched.
 

Eileen swirled around and fired with her cross bow. She had impaled the creature. The arrow had fastened it to a tree. It was a monster. The wound she had given it had blue blood dripping from it. It was green, it was covered it dark hair and it had sharp yellow teeth. Its black hair was damp. It was a lake monster. Eileen hissed in disgust and fired another arrow, killing the creature. She picked up her little sister and headed out of the forest.
 

*
 

“We’re nearly out!” cried Beatrix.
 

Eileen smiled and held her sister a little closer. Before they could relish their success, Eileen heard a noise.
 

Drip…drip…
 

There was more than one of those creatures and they were not alone.
 

 Mrs. McLeay showed us one of Shakespear’s sonnets.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I think that Shakespear is comparing someone he loves to something else that is beautiful. He tells them how much better they are than a summer’s day. Personally, I think he really liked whoever he was writing about. I think he then say that the person he’s referring to won’t ‘fade’ from his mind.

 We also had to write our own sonnets. This is one of the most depressing things I have ever written.

A Perfect Day
 

The sun didn’t come into the darkened room.
Outside there is sun, inside there is rain.
The mossy green walls close in like a tomb.
I wonder if I’ll ever smile again.
I want a perfect day. They’re hard to find.
Where I can disappear, where I can hide.
We’ll jump in puddles and get our socks wet.
We’ll bake choc’late cakes with butter and cream.
We’ll share memories we’ll never forget.
Hot choc’late and tea on a rainy day.
A cry of pain shatters my perfect dream.

I’m cold inside. I am filled with dismay.

 The middle part is happy…well, not really. The person in the poem is more or less in denial. It’s arguably happy.

Until next time…Farewell!

Keshia.

Last week we went to the Melbourne Writers’ Festival. We listened to Moris Gleitzman talk about making the books ‘Water Wings’ and ‘Bellyflop’ into movies. We also listened to Melina Marchetta (the author of Looking for Alibrandi). Two days after that I went again with another group and saw two Authors (can’t remember their names). One was an Australian-Muslim and the other was a man wrote stories about growing up.

 I liked the man who wrote stories about growing up. He was funny and his speech was interesting. I thought that the other author we saw that day was trying a bit hard not to say anything out of line and some of the questions people asked were just plain rude.

Moris’ speech was a little boring…sorry Mrs. McLeay…I mean a little hard to pay attention to. I’ve read Water Wings and I think that the book is absolutely depressing and weird. I sobbed my eyes out when I read the last chapter (I’m weird, I know.)

 Melina’s talk was interesting but it wasn’t nearly as funny as the other author. He began by telling us about a ‘bad crush experience’.

 So…see ya later!

 Keshia.

 We’re doing poetry in school. I’m not a big fan of poetry…I hate it actually. Just writing it, I don’t mind reading it. There’s this really funny poem called Mulga Bill’s Bicycle by Bango Patterson. I love that one. We learnt it in Primary School

We’re starting on haiku.  Here’s some I wrote…

Waiting for the Morning
 

Darkness, cold breeze
Dew drops before the morning
We wait for the light
 

Not a sound we hear
Quiet, early in the morn
Waiting for the news

~*~

The Best Thing
 

Food, glorious food!
The second best thing in life!
But…what is the first?

So…tell me what you think?

Until next time…bye!

 Keshia.

I’m sure you guys all have an idea of what a good teacher is. Most people like the teachers who will let you get away with murder in their classes. Others like the funny ones who try and teach you with slightly unconventional ways. Some people may like the teachers who make you work hard. I am different.

When I went to India when I was seven, I visited my friend’s school. In grade one we spend most of our time colouring in and writing small entries into little books. I was one of the few who had learned the timetables. In India however, things are different. A boy in this class, who was barely older than I was, spelt a word incorrectly. His teacher caught him by his ear and slapped him. I was appalled. In Australia, a teacher can’t even be too strict without getting into trouble. When I came back to Australia, I viewed teachers in a new light. My expectations of teachers are rather low. As long as we learn something and as long as they left my ears alone, they were fine with me.

Mrs. McLeay asked us what we expect of her as our Recreating the Writer teacher. I love writing so I’d like a teacher who gives us a lot of freedom with our writing.  In regards to restrictions, all we’ve been asked to avoid is the use of the word ‘bored’ in our blogs. She encourages us to expand our vocabulary and use words that challenge us. She doesn’t give us too many boundaries when it comes to writing. One of my year seven teachers gave us a story writing assignment that had to be on a specific topic and had to include certain elements. I hated it because she was practically telling us how we should write our story. However, when I hear the instruction ‘write a story’ with the only restriction is a word limit…Keshia goes on a writing spree! Of course, my computer did have to eat my story (It did, I swear!) and I had to write it out again last minute…never mind. The point is, Mrs. McLeay does a pretty good job when it comes to this class.

Until next time…Adios!

Keshia J

 I was just wondering if anyone ‘out there’ likes to write stories? I’m a mad, crazy, eccentric story writer. That’s why I’m in a recreating the writer class. So…anyone out there? Does anyone else write fanfiction or stories (or all of the above)? I might put a few of my stories on the blog but I’ve got to find a short one that fits right in. You can all tell me what you think (or just correct my horrible spelling).

 So…leave a reply, please.

 See ya!

 Keshia.

In our RECREATING THE WRITER class, we learn bow to improve our writing. We’ve learnt some interesting things. One thing that I particularly remember is the stratergy to cure the most evil, annoying, demented, horrible thing in the world…writer’s block.

 *

I’m sure you all want to know how to do this. What Mrs. McClay said to do, was to just write random words continously for ten minutes. It actually works (believe it or not). You don’t need to worry about the spelling, you just right write. It get’s all the ideas out of your head and…voila! No writer’s block!

 from Keshia.

ps. Hope this is useful

Welcome to my wonderful (and slightly empty) blog. I’d love to get to know you all (whoever you are). I start off my wonderful/empty blog with my introduction.

My name is Keshia and I am Australian (the folks are from India). I am in year nine and I go to all girls school which I have been forbidden to mention because we’re involved with a top secret mission…okay maybe not. I love writing and reading. I actually write Harry Potter fan fiction in my spare time and I am an expert on Harry Potter (if I say so myself). I play basketball. I play piano (but I can’t read notes that well) I do advanced maths outside school and I have been doing so for 8 years. Needless to say, I shudder everytime I see an x or a y or even the word pythagoras.

 I’d love to get to know the guys who read this blog so please leave comments. I’ll respond to them and we’ll have a ‘chat’. I post some of my school work and stories and you guys can tell me what you think.

See ya later.

 Keshia