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CREATIVE WRITING PROGRAM
“Absolutely brilliant. Matt's creative writing workshops have ignited a spark in the students involved - the sessions have supported students in producing some incredible writing over the course of the year. I look forward to their book being published - and having Matt work with us again in the next academic year.”
- Farhat Alam, Literacy Co-ordinator at University Academy Keighley
WHISPERS
I’m very excited to offer the creative writing program to all schools in West Yorkshire. Check out one of the pieces written from it, featured in our first publication, ‘Whispers.’
Dust
By Kieran, Year 10
I woke up to find myself laying atop a blanket of dust, and a ferocious gale pinning me down. It took several moments to push myself up. To my left, were the tops of buildings, arched roofs peeking to the surface like moles. To my right, was a white wheel, on its side, buried. Three carriages were visible, each with broken glass, and one splattered with blood. A sign hung lazily on two thin, metal poles. ‘The London Eye’. Behind it, was a wide gap of flat soil and dust, with a portion of a tour boat sticking out. Holes had been dug around it, as if wolves had frantically searched for food. Further behind this, the roofs continued - these ones flat.
Wood burned in every street, the air filthy with smoke. The fires bent in strange positions as the hurricane howled. Bronze leaves rustled and curled on the ground, as if they were dancing. Papers and dust flew rapidly in the air. I covered my eyes with my hands and moved to the next street.
A figure dragged his limp legs along the soil, which caused clusters of sand to gather on his skin. His hair, grey, dangled over his face. His arms flailed against the wind, however he managed to keep moving. His lips were cracked and his voice was gravely, as if he hadn’t drank in days. His eye was a bright blue, and it focused on me. The other eye was not present, a deep, red scar in its place.
He whispered something inaudible, before dropping his head. No longer moving, he was rushed away by the wind like a brush sweeping up dirt.
