Year 7 Writing

I’ve Woken the Myths

I stand motionless in front of the two doors, my brain forcing me to choose one. My pulse pounds in my ears; I know if I don’t pick one, bad things will happen. One door radiates light and safety, its golden design automatically reminds me of happiness. But the other door is what takes my breath away, its dark, jagged shadows gives away dread and fear, its flaming pattern whispers danger and destruction with every flicker.

So naturally, I step toward the dark one.

As my palm rests on the handle, a shock of electricity quivers up my forearm; I take one last look at the dark metal, for a second my reflection warps across its surface, something tells me the door is laughing. I cast a look at the other door as a strike of fear vibrates through my shaking body; I move to leave and take the safe path, but my hand is frozen on the handle, all that's left to do is step into the darkness.

The air inside is thick, and heavy with the stench of rotting flesh. My eyes adjust, and I see them. Twisted, large shapes jutting out of the darkness. A serpent with five heads curls around a column, its tongues tasting the air around me. In the shadows a Harpy screeches, claws slicing the air, waiting for the taste of human flesh. Gorgons. Cyclopes. Hydras. Creatures I’ve only ever heard about in myths - every nightmare in flesh, edges toward me, all competing for the first taste of my blood.
I’ve woken the myths.

The door slams shut behind me.

The silence that follows is alive, the walls pulse faintly, like the inside of a living organ, slick with condensation and etched with symbols I don’t recognize. The floor shifts under my feet as though the ground itself is breathing, each exhale smelling of ashes and copper. Whispers curl through the air—words I vaguely recognise, but never recall learning. My heart thrashes against my ribs; every instinct tells me I’ve stepped into a place that was never meant for the living.

I spin around, pounding on the door, there’s no point, I have no escape. A large figure lumbers out of the shadows behind me, horns twisting to the ceiling, hot breath drying the sweat off my face. My legs feel like stone; I want to run but I'm frozen, with no chance of escape. I wish I could; I don’t want to die.

The creature’s clawed hand rises, catching the dim light—

And then, in a thunderous voice that shakes the ground beneath me, it bellows,
“Welcome home…”.

By Scarlett

 The classroom is silent except for the quiet scratching of pencils. But above in the vents lurks a

spider, Itsy Bitsy. She's small and helpless. She drops into an open backpack and sees a

cheese sandwich with pale green fluff growing on it. Itsy gnaws through the sandwich’s plastic

covering, chewing the moldy cheese. Cool slop runs down Itsy’s throat. She finds a nook in the

backpack and sleeps before her next meal...

Slowly, Itsy’s eyes open. She crawls out of the bag, to a cool wooden floor. No longer at school,

her long, hairy legs slink across the floor and under a thick oak door. Itsy turns slowly and

pushes herself up a rough plaster wall. Now only a speck on the wall, she is carried into an air

vent.

In a dark corner, Itsy Bitsy spins a little web. Soon a fly comes through the vents. Its wings

suddenly stop flapping as it gets tangled in Itsy’s web. She leaps onto the fly. Her long fangs

slowly sink into its squishy body. Warm venom flows through its body, as it stops trying to

escape. With a full belly, Itsy falls asleep...

Days later, Itsy Bitsy wakes from her slumber. With her hairy legs slipping on the air vent’s

smooth metal, she struggles to find the attic entrance. Everything’s dark except for furniture

covered in sheets illuminated by moonlight shining through a single dirty window. In a back

corner, behind a sofa covered in motheaten blankets, Itsy weaves her web. Before long, flies

are caught in her web, but Itsy knows they are no longer enough to satisfy her. She crawls

outside to look for more.

Everything is dark. The moon lights up a rabbit eating underneath a birch tree. Itsy scuttles

across the grass. Before the rabbit spots her, she wraps her legs around its body and sinks her

fangs in. She feasts, but this only lasts a few days. Itsy decides to expand her web. Now she is

4 feet long and eating rabbits for every meal, even eating a cat that was unluckily caught in her

web.

******

“Oh, Charlie get up!” shouts his mother. And as she walks in to wake him she notices a brown

spot on his ceiling. It looks like water damage. “Dave, Charlie's got a water leak.”

Charlie's father walks in. “We’ll get it fixed later, Linda.”

Later that night while everybody sleeps, Itsy Bitsy sneaks into Charlie’s room.

Itsy Bitsy spider climbed onto Charlie's bed,

Down went her fangs into Charlie's head,

Out poured his blood from his little brain,

And the Itsy Bitsy spider was fed once again

Itsy crawled under Charlie's bed and slept.

*****

“Dave! Charlie won’t wake up!” Itsy startles, then skitters onto Linda’s leg, sinking her fangs into

it. She shouts before falling stiffly to the ground. Dave walks in and sees Itsy on his wife. He

runs to call for help, but only manages to croak out “Spider-Huge-19 Corbond St!” before Itsy

bites him. Itsy drags the bodies to her web in the attic. And feasts...

*****

The exterminator approaches the house. Itsy leaps on him and he stumbles. He shoots acid

towards Itsy, who slams him through the wall, rupturing a gas line. The smell of gas fills the

house. Itsy falls to the ground, the acid’s working. The exterminator opens his zippo and tosses

it into the house. It explodes in glorious flames and smoke. Out of the flames crawls Itsy Bitsy,

her skin charred. She lets out a high screech and dies.

But in the attic something hatches, hundreds of things. Hairy things. Deadly things. 8-eyed things…

By Lewis