Open to students, parents and staff – the winners of the English Department’s 50 word competition are announced today!
In celebration of World Book Day in March, the task was to write a 50 word story involving a suitcase. Over 200 entries were submitted and Mark Payne, Head of English at Wolverhampton Grammar School has now announced the winners.
“The breadth of creative writing on show was extraordinary” commented Mr Payne. “Content was sourced from personal memories, world news as well as the writer’s own imagination. There is nothing more challenging that constructing a compelling and self-contained world in just fifty words, but the winners and highly commended authors here did just that.”
Book tokens have been awarded to the winning entries in each category. Congratulations to all our writers.
JUNIOR SCHOOL PRIZE
Max Gilbert – Year 5
Michael’s Granny and Grandad lived in a dark and mysterious house.
One night, Michael crept into the attic and saw Grandad kneeling over the suitcase looking sad, eyes closed.
The suitcase said ‘Dad’.
He died a long time ago.
Grandad quietly remembered him.
Michael walked away to find Granny.
YEAR 7-9 PRIZE
Zena Asbury – Year 7
Leather tickled against my zip. Hands tapped a tune gracefully on my back. It was hard to control my frustration. Every year I would be moved from my snug bed where I hibernated happily and taken to different places for two weeks. It was nothing like home; it wasn’t right.
YEAR 10-13 PRIZE
Harvey Brown – Upper Sixth
The girl watches the woman wade into the water, clasping the suitcase to her chest, then letting go.
“What was in there?”
“Nothing,” she whispers, limping away from the bank.
The woman is out of sight when the girl dives after the lost nothing drifting away into the dark.
STAFF AND PARENT PRIZE
Lauren Austin – Junior School
White knuckles on the handle, we turned the key for the first time.
Our first home. The blank pages of our future stacked haphazardly on our shared bookcase.
Now, spines broken, the promise of what was is no longer.
The same suitcase sits near the door. This time, leaving.
Guy Jack – Core Curriculum Support Teacher
“Time for work.”
She opened her suitcase.
Light poured out into space.
Old leather shredded into layers of Earth;
Pens flew and bled their inky seas –
The crack of pocket zippers was lightning.
She looked down on her work:
And the world was born.
Sahand Kadir – Lower Sixth
I’m opened up, after what felt like forever, and I am used. Books. Clothes. Photos. Money. Black, lustrous pressure cooker; I hear little things shaking inside it, and now they’re shaking inside me. She’s driving us now; leaves me behind. It’s cold, but I feel toasty inside.
Adya Rao – Year 10
Wuhan. Desolation flourishes through its streets. Eerie wisps of silence slyly surround my hopeless self. Dysfunctional traffic lights gaze sorrowfully at me. Teeming with sweat, my face masks clings to me- eyes repeatedly scanning this new ghost town and all left within it. My suitcase loyally wheels beside me, heading into the unknown.
Charlotte Anderson – Year 7
A stupendously awkward silence followed the enigmatic suitcase opening. The many curious scientists surrounding it stood stock still, as they saw in it a decomposed body, but this was not enough to hide them from its identity. All the colour drained from their faces as they realised what it was. A Dodo.
Gillis Robbie – Lower Sixth
“I won’t fit!” hissed Janine as her head was pushed tightly against her chest.
“Nonsense!” replied Maria. “You’ve lost a stone since I told you Jack and I were going to Greece and you asked me, “Do you think you could take me in your suitcase?” Come on now… PUSH!”
William Beards – Upper Sixth
The snow fell and did not cease to fall. It slipped through the air gracefully, dancing over the clasps and settling on the cracked and torn leather. The frayed corners and the palimpsest of stickers, naming places thousands of miles away, was hidden under hundreds bearing the same inefficacious forms.
Mya Bharj – Year 7
Suitcase on Strike
I quit. I have been through some rough times as a suitcase. I’ve been trod on and bashed around in airports. When my sister got old you threw her away and replaced her. I just want to sit down and like you, enjoy my holidays.
Mike Connor – Parent
Clearing out the attic of my parent’s house, I spot my old suitcase. A reflection of my childhood; a new country, seaside holidays, father splashing, mother screeching, all of us laughing.
The little suitcase now contains only memories. Photos, trinkets, souvenirs to my younger self.
I may be a while.
Rob Negrine – Parent
So. Undeterred, Isaac trod carefully across sacred earth.
Soil. Undisturbed immaculate terra-firma caressed anxiously – soon exploring.
Searching. Ultrasonic interrogation – targeting, collating, analysing, selecting, examining.
Scared. Usurping inner torment. Clawing and scraping. Excavating.
Suddenly uncovered in totality. Cleaned and swept energetically.
Silently unlocked – iridescent treasure! Compelling and substantial evidence.
Lily Hemmings – Year 6
I stand in a dark, gloomy corner, a thick layer of dust obscuring my natural beauty. I’m getting more excited each minute. The next holiday is coming soon. The cupboard door opens. My heart leaps. Will I be the chosen suitcase? Darkness falls. I’m still here, sad and lonely.
William Ahmed – Year 9
Shuddering with the effort, the gnarled, antiquated suitcase cracked itself open with a resounding wail of abrasion. Filled with a warm feeling of satisfaction, it slowly but surely shifted its line of sight in the vague direction of the impossibly tall homosapien whom it regarded as its master.