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Express yourself in the fiction and poetry section.
Tense silence dropped, quick and heavy, an anchor crashing through our still and lonely classroom. Pens scratched frantically, answers - like sparrows darting restlessly before our eyes. Hurriedly we pinned them down, fastened them with ink and lead, paper dripping knowledge for those brave enough to look. The wall clock's sharp tick stabbed us with every lost second, as we snatched helplessly at answers flitting just beyond our reach.
Flurries of paper rippled through the stagnant air, desperately trying to beat the ticking clock. Still it stabbed away, ink smudging, brows sweating, fingers swelling, pulses drumming thickly in our ears in unison, blood dripping from a paper cut - peppering answers crimson. Beyond it all, a teacher prowled, predatorial gaze darting from head to bending head, piercing as though to read each flustered mind, to pry at each hectic students thoughts.
Still the clock stabbed, merciless, the flurry of ink, blood, paper, sweat - a frenzy before my blurring eyes as I lunged to grab that last elusive sparrow before the final cry -
Time's up!
By: Gillian Greer
