S2 Unit on Creative Writing

Context:

The unit compromises of 3-4 weeks of lessons based on a timetable of 4x45 minute periods. 1 period a week is dedicated to pupils completed their Book Trail by reading a book of their choosing. This unit is appropriate for a very capable S1 class, any S2 class, or a “lower set” S3 class do to the PLPs assigned by the department. Pupils will be studying both Urban Legends and ‘Uneasy Homecoming’ by Will Jenkins to help them create their own successful scary story. This unit can be adapted through timings and certain tasks in whichever way is appropriate.

This topic is chosen due to its success at appealing to any type of pupil, with whatever support needs necessary. Pupils are engaged throughout and enjoy gruesome and tense stories.

The aim of this unit is for pupils to understand the importance of characterisation, setting and narration. All of which should be addressed prior to set classes in S3. The final outcome will be peer assessed initially, and finally marked by the teacher. With feedback on not only technical aspect of their writing, but their success in consistent use of a chosen narrative stance, and the success of characters and setting.

By the end of the unit pupils should:

- Be able to explain the importance of setting and description of setting in a scary story.

- Be able to explore the creation of both convincing protagonists and antagonists within other stories as well as their own.

- Be able to understand the difference between first person narration and third person narration.

- Be able to understand the pros and cons of each different narrative point. - To communicate and work effectively as part of a group.- To lead class discussions in a mature and fair manner.

Lesson 1: Slides 1 - 11

- Greet pupils at door, asking names and telling them where to sit via the seating plan on the board. (3 minutes)

- Introduce yourself, welcome the pupils to second year. - Give out new jotters and folders, informing pupils to look after both. Instructions on

what to write on the front of both will be on the board. (No graffiti policy) - Task 1: Reflection exercise. To get a gage on the pupil’s ability to write in full

sentences, ask them to think reflectively and answer the questions on the board in their jotters. Give the instructions and ask a pupil to relay back what the task is they have to do. Respond and speak encouragingly.

- Task 2: Get the pupils to share first year experiences with one another, whilst you handout Appendix 1. Question conversations further as you go around the class (such as “why did you enjoy Frankenstein?”)

- Task 3: Think, Pair and Share what we may think an Urban Legend is. - Task 4: Listen to the Urban Legends (which will be displayed on the board) and fill in

the worksheet given to them. Our different views will be shared as a class.

Lesson 2: Slides 12 – 16

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- Ask a few pupils to recap to the class what we were doing yesterday, asking some

what they noticed was important in order to like the Urban Legend (such as setting, or the antagonist)

- Give pupils new title and date for their jotters. - Task 1: Discuss with your pairs/tables what you may think our success criteria for our

own Urban Legends could be. Pupils to pick their own amongst themselves and share out the whiteboard pen.

- Task 2: 5-minute timer on the board, and pupils instructed to share ideas on their own urban legends and begin to plan in their jotter. Model planning on the whiteboard to help. Spin the wheel for those who find picking a setting difficult.

- Walk around and help develop ideas.- Task 3: Write an urban legend following success criteria given.

Lesson 3: Slides 17 – 23

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- Recap lesson from previous day, give back jotters and give the pupils a few minutes

to read through feedback and look up any spelling errors etc.- Talk through learning intentions. - Task 1: Talk to pupils about what is needed in a scary story. Get groups to discuss

with one another which is the most important aspect in a story (list on the PowerPoint slide 20) and get pupils to “convince” the class why their chosen aspect

is the most important. Try to get pupils to engage in debate and get them to lead the conversation.

- Task 2: Memory game to introduce lesson. Once a pupil reads out photos memorised asked the pupils to begin to predict what ‘Uneasy Homecoming’ may be about.

- Plenary: Exit passes on what they are most looking forward to learning in this Creative Writing unit.

Lesson 4: Slides 23- 27

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Recap previous lesson and ask some pupils to remind the class of their predictions,

as I give out Appendix 2 (Uneasy Homecoming booklet).- Task 1: Read to the class and ask some pupils to read also to ensure everyone is

keeping engaged and their listening is being put to the test. - Task 2: Ask pupils to share their thoughts on the story, and as we did with the Urban

Legend lesson, give it a rating out of five in their jotter with a justification. Think, pair and share.

- Task 3: Talk to pupils about the importance of setting, and how this can be utilised in their final scary stories to create suspense. Pupils to find five quotes from the story which describe the place or time and write them down in their jotters.

- Task 4: Noughts and crosses. Pupils to use their quotes in a game of noughts and crosses on poster paper. Teams of 2’s have their own colour pen, and the class is split into 4’s. Example played on the board to ensure it is modelled clearly. Winners play against one another the next lesson until a winner is found and a prize is given!

- Plenary: Ask the pupils to raise their hands if they felt like they had a good idea of what would make an appropriate setting for a scary story. Share answers, and question further.

Lesson 5: Slides 28- 30

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Let the pupils know that across the year any teacher they have will be testing their

RUAE skills and working towards a final test. Ask the pupils why they think RUAE is important in English. Thinking time stated, pupils write answers down. Discuss as a class, listen to complaints about it in a fair and open environment also.

- Tell them that one advantage to RUAE is being able to fully understand pieces of writing in a better way. Hand out Appendix 3 (RUAE 1)

- Task 1: Pupils to finish the first RUAE paper in their jotters for the period, encourage them to raise their hand if they need a little guidance.

- Extension task: Pupils to read their book or pick an extension task from the lollipop holder. (Tasks such as riddle making etc.)

- Plenary: Pupils to write in their jotters discretely what they find most challenging about RUAE. This allows the teacher and I to help support each individually in future.

Lesson 6: Slides 30 – 35

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Think, pair and share on what we may think a protagonist is. Ask pupils who know to

think of some examples as an extension task.- Task 1: Police Statement. In pairs pupils will place a police officer, and the main

protagonist Connie. The police need to interview Connie to ensure they have the right details of what happened that night. Questions are displayed on the board to help prompt the “interview.” Pupils to write their favour two questions and the answer in their jotters.

- Task 2: Ask which one of the Connie’s volunteer and get the class to lead the lesson by asking Connie some of the questions they have written down. At the end get answers from pupils on why we think this task was useful.

- Task 3: Answer questions on why Connie as a protagonist is so important. (This is displayed on the board, Slide 34)

- Extension task: Think of what makes other protagonists so important, like Harry Potter and Gregg Heffley.

Lesson 7: Slides 36 – 41

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Think, pair and share on what they may think an antagonist is in a story. Get a few to

recap the previous lesson on protagonist. - Get pupils to write down definition in their jotters.- Task 1: In tables or pairs pupils are to write down as many antagonists as they can in

their jotters. The winner is the one with the most! If a character is from literature (book, play or poem) then they are worth double! Timer is displayed on the board for 9 minutes.

- Task 2: Winners read out some controversial candidates for their antagonists (Severus Snape or Batman) And pupils lead the lesson in trying to debate why they shouldn’t be worth the point. Ensure ground rules of debate such as not speaking over each other and taking in turns is set before they begin. Only intercede if pupils forget these ground rules.

- Task 3: Pupils discuss in groups why the antagonist in ‘Uneasy Homecoming’ is so scary to Connie. Think, pair and share with class. Those who do not have answers write down ones from discussions.

- Plenary: What you have learned today and why this may be important.

Lesson 8: Slides 42- 53

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Ask pupils to discuss what we were learning yesterday, and through basketball

questioning, discuss as a class about antagonists and protagonist. As they do this hand out whiteboards and sponges only (no pens yet or they will be too distracted.)

- Tell pupils to wipe their whiteboards clean. As you do this hand out pens and explain the ground rules for the boards (no drawing unless told to, if they do they won’t be taking part in the task.)

- Task 1: Get pupils to write A or B on their boards. 321, show me process. Positive praise and then ask certain pupils why they think A is First-Person Narrative. Ask them to raise their hand if they know what a pronoun is. Explain the distinction between third- and first-person narration through different pronouns. Ask them to show boards again, use this as informative assessment on their listening.

- Task 2: Praise pupils for appropriate use of boards, and ask them to read examples given, and write FIRST or THIRD to let me know what type of narration is being presented. Towards the end of the slides, ask pupils to write their own exemplar sentences of each.

- Task 3: Ask pupils about the pros and cons of each type of narration. Encourage deeper thinking through questioning. Get pupils to write one quote from the story in front of them (Appendix 2) and share as a class.

- Task 4: Pupils answer question presented on (Slide 53).- Plenary: Blink murder!

Lesson 9: Slides 54-56

- Greet pupils at door and ask them to collect jotters as they take a seat.- State learning intentions for the period.- Recap what aspects of a story we have learned are very important to making our

own successful stories.- Go through success criteria on the board. - Task 1: Pupils write down answers to planning questions from Appendix 4 (Planning

worksheet.) - Extension task: If finished planning, take new sheet of paper and begin writing your

story!

Lesson 10-11: Slides 57-58

- Pupils to share ideas with one another, timer is put on the board. Once timer “explodes” pupils need to begin writing their short stories for the next few periods.

- Success Criteria displayed on the board. - Extension task: Read or annotate story with appropriate drawings relevant to plot!

Appendix 1

The Short Story!The three things a short story must have:

- Beginning – this gives background on your character and setting. This draws the reader in!

- Middle – Where the plot develops, and conflict arises.- End – Where the plot twists and where conflict may or may not be

resolved.

Rate the stories out of five and write down ONE good thing about each urban legend.

The Couple in the Car –

The Vanishing Hitchhiker –

The Baby-Sitter –

The Solid Cement Cadillac –

The Hook –

Urban Legends –

An urban legend is a story passed from person to person by

word of mouth. Over time they become adapted to the region

they are told and changed slightly each time. An urban legend

holds the quality of being true, and perhaps once upon a time a

version of the story was true.

Here are three things that you will usually find in an urban

legend:

1. Only a few characters and no more. 2. A twist at the end that usually has a supernatural, creepy

or unexplained ending.3. A few facts thrown in, such as a place or details about the

setting, which make the story convincing.

Appendix 2

Uneasy Homecoming by Will Jenkins

Connie began to have the feeling of dread and uneasiness in the taxi but told herself

it was not reasonable. She dismissed it decisively when she reached the part of town

in which all her friends lived. She could stop and spend the evening with someone

until Tom got home, but she didn't. She thrust away the feeling as the taxi rolled out

across the neck of the land beyond most of the houses. The red, dying sun cast long

shadows across the road.

So far, their house was the only one that had been built on the other side of the bay.

But she could see plenty of other houses as the taxi drew up before the door. Those

other houses were across the bay, to be sure, but there was no reason to be upset.

She was firm with herself.

The taxi stopped, and the last thin sliver of crimson sun went down below the world's

edge. Dusk was already here. But everything looked perfectly normal. The house

looked neat and hospitable, and it was good to be back. She paid the taxi driver and

he obligingly put her suitcases inside the door. The uneasy feeling intensified as he

left. But she tried not to heed it.

It continued while she heard the taxi moving away and purring down the road. But it

remained essentially the same - a formless restlessness and apprehension - until

she went into the kitchen. Then the feeling changed.

She was in the kitchen, with the close smell of a shut-up house about her, when she

noticed the change. Her suitcases still lay in the hall where the taxi-driver had piled

them. The front door was still open to let in fresh air. And quite suddenly, she had an

urgent conviction that there was something here that she should notice. Something

quite inconspicuous. But this sensation was just as absurd as the feeling she'd had

in the taxi.

There was a great silence outside the house. This was dusk, and bird and insect

noises were growing fainter. There were no neighbours near to make other sounds.

She turned on the refrigerator, and it began to make a companionable humming

sound. She turned on the water, and it gushed. But there her queer sensation took a

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new form. It seemed that every movement produced a noise which advertised her

presence, and she felt that there was some reason to be utterly still. And that really

was nonsense too.

She glanced into the dining room. She regarded her luggage still piled in the hall

near the open front door. Everything looked exactly as everything should look when

one returns from a two weeks’ holiday and one’s husband has been away on

business at the same time. Tom would get home about midnight. She had spoken

to him on the phone yesterday. He would positively get back in a few hours. So, it

would be absurd not to stay here to greet him. The feeling she had, she decided

firmly, was simply a normal dislike of being alone. And she would not be silly.

She glanced around the kitchen. Afterwards she remembered that she had looked

straight at the back door without seeing what there was to be seen. She went firmly

down the hall. Then she went out of doors to look at her flowers.

The garden looked only a little neglected. The west was a fading, already dim glory

of red and gold. She could not see too many details, but the garden was fragrant and

appealing in the dusk. She saw the garage - locked and empty, of course, since Tom

had the car - and felt a minor urge to go over to it. But she did not. Afterwards the

memory of that minor urge made her feel faint. But it was only an idea. She

dismissed it.

She smelled the comfortable, weary smells of the late summer evening, which would

presently give way to the sharper, fresher scents of night. There was the tiny darting

shadow of a bat overhead, black against the dark sapphire sky. It was the time

when, for a little space, peace seems to enfold all the world. But the nagging

uneasiness persisted even out here.

There was a movement by the garage, but it failed to catch her eye. If she had

looked - even if she failed to see the movement - she might still have seen the

motorcycle. It did not belong here, but it was leaning against the garage wall as if

its owner had ridden it here and leaned it confidentially where it would be hidden

from anyone looking across the bay. But Connie noticed nothing. She simply felt

uneasy.

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She found herself going nervously back towards the house. The sunset colours

faded, and presently all would be darkness outside. She heard her footsteps on the

gravelled walk. Occasional dry leaves brushed against her feet. It seemed to her

that she hurried, which was ridiculous. So, she forced herself to walk naturally and

resisted an impulse to look about.

That was why she failed to notice the pantry window.

She came to the front of the house. Her heels made clicking sounds on the steps.

She felt a need to be very quiet, to hide herself.

Yet, she had no reason for fear in anything she actually had noticed. She hadn't

seen anything odd about the back door or the pantry window, and she hadn't noticed

the motorcycle or the movement by the garage. The logical explanation for her

feeling of terror was simply that it was dark, and she was alone.

She repeated that explanation as she forced herself to enter the dark front

doorway.

She wanted to gasp with relief as she felt for the switch and the lights came on. The

dark rooms remaining were more terrifying then than the night outside. So, she went

all over the ground floor, turning on lights, and tried not to think of going upstairs.

There was no one within call and no one but the taxi driver even knew that she was

here. Anything could happen.

But she did not know of anything to cause danger either.

Connie had felt and fought occasional fear before. To bring her nameless frights into

the light for scorn, she had talked lightly in the past of the imaginary Things towards

which women feel such terror - the Things which nervous women believe are

following them; the Things imagined to be hiding in cupboards and behind dark

trees in deserted streets. But her past scorn failed to dispel her terror now. She

tried to be angry with herself because she was being as silly as the neurotic female

who cannot sleep unless she looks under her bed at night. But still, Connie could not

drive herself to go upstairs or to look under her own bed right now.

It was an unfortunate omission.

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In the lighted living room, she had the feeling of someone staring at her from the

dark outside. It was unbearable. She went to the telephone, absolutely certain that

there was nothing wrong. But if she talked to someone -

She called Mrs. Winston. It was not a perfect choice. Mrs. Winston was not nearly of

Connie's own age, but Connie felt so sorry for the older woman that when she

needed comfort she often instinctively called her. Talking to someone else who

needed comforting always seemed to make one's own trouble go away.

Mrs. Winston's voice was bright and cheery over the phone. "My dear Connie! How

nice it is that you are back with us!"

Connie felt better instantly. She felt herself relaxing, she heard her voice explaining

that she'd had a lovely holiday and that Tom was coming home tonight and –

Mrs. Winston said anxiously, "I do hope your house is all right, Connie! Is it? It's

been dreadful here! Did you hear?"

"Not a word since I left," said Connie. "What's happened?"

She expected to hear about someone having been unkind to Charlie, who was Mrs.

Winston's only son. He gave Connie the creeps, but she could feel very sorry for

his mother. He had a talent for getting into trouble. There'd been a girl when he was

only sixteen, he had been caught stealing in school when there was no excuse for it,

and he'd been expelled from college and nowadays wore an apologetic air. Mrs

Winston tried to believe that he was simply having a difficult time growing up. But

he was already twenty, and at twenty a hulking young man with an apologetic air

and a look always thinking of something else - one could sympathise with his mother

and still feel uncomfortable about him.

Mrs. Winston's voice went on explaining. And the feeling of terror came back upon

Connie like a blow.

There had been a series of burglaries in the town. The Hamiltons’ house had been

ransacked while they were out for an evening’s bridge. The Blairs’ house was looted

while they were away. The Smithsons'. The Tourneys’. And Saddler's shop was

robbed, and the burglar seemed to know exactly where Mr. Saddler kept his day’s

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receipts and took them and the tray of watches and fountain pens and the cameras.

And poor Mr. Field –

Mr. Field was the ancient cashier at Saddler's. He had interrupted the burglars, and

they had been beaten him horribly, leaving him for dead. He had never regained

consciousness, and it was not believed now at the hospital that he ever would.

Connie said from a dry throat, "I wish you hadn't told me that tonight. I'm all alone.

Tom won't be back until midnight."

"But my dear," Mrs Winston exclaimed. "you mustn't. I'll locate Charlie and have him

come over for you right away! You can spend the evening here, and he can take you

back when -”

Connie shook her head at the telephone. "Oh, no! That would be silly."

She heard her voice refusing, and her mind protested the refusal. But Charlie made

her flesh crawl. She could not bear to think of him driving her through the darkness.

Baseless terror was bad enough, she thought, without actual aversion besides.

"I'm quite alright!" she insisted. "Quite! I do hope Mr. Field gets better, but I'm

alright..."

When she hung up the phone, she was aware that she was sick. But it was

startling to discover that her knees were physically weak when she started to move

from the instrument. She could telephone someone else, and they would come for

her. But Mrs. Winston would be offended if she found out and take it as an affront.

And Connie was still sure that her fear was quite meaningless. It was just a feeling.

She moved aimlessly away from the telephone, found herself at the foot of the

stairs. Then she looked up at the dark above and wanted to whimper. But a saving

fury came to her. She would not yield to groundless fear. She was in terror of - she

called it burglars now, but actually it was of Them, the unknown men women are

taught to fear as dangerous.

"Ridiculous!" Connie told herself.

She got a suitcase and started for the stairs. It was deep night now. If she looked out

- say, at the garage - she would see nothing. Somewhere there was a dismal cooing.

Doves.

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She climbed the stairs into darkness. Nothing happened. She pressed a switch and

the passage sprang into light. She breathed again. She went into Tom’s and her

bedroom. There was dust was on the dressing table. There was an ashtray. She put

down the suitcase and was conscious of bravery because she was angry.

Then she saw cigarette ends on the rug. Scorched places. Someone had sat here in

this bedroom, smoking and indifferently dropping cigarette ends on the rug and

crushing them out.

Connie stood with every muscle in her body turned to stone.

A part of her brain directed her eyes again to the bed. Someone had sat on it - only

sat - and smoked at leisure. But a corner of the bedspread was hitched aside. What

was under the bed? She found herself backing away from it, into a chair which

toppled over. The noise made her freeze.

But nothing happened. There was no change in the companionable hum of the

refrigerator downstairs. No reaction to the sound of the overturned chair - which

seemed incredible. If one of Them - the nameless Things of which she was in terror

now - was under the bed, he would come out at the noise.

Presently - her breathing loud in her own ears - Connie bent and looked under the

bed. She had to. None of Them was under it. Of course. But there was an object

there which was strange.

A very long time later, Connie dragged it out. It was a bag with bulges in it. Her

hands shook horribly, but she dumped its contents on the floor. There were

cameras. Silver. Sally Hamilton's necklace and rings. There were watches and

fountain pens. This must be what the burglars had taken from the Hamiltons’ house

and the Blairs’ and the Smithsons’ and the Tourneys’. The cameras and pens and

watches came from Saddler’s shop, where Mr. Field had come upon the burglars

and they had beaten him almost to death. The burglars had nearly killed him.

Connie went to the bedroom door. Her knees were water. Her house had been

used as the hiding place for the loot of the burglaries that had taken place in her

absence. But now - if they found out she was back -

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Without much rationalisation, she could guess why Mr. Field had been nearly killed.

He must have recognised the burglars. And now they could look across the bay

and see that Connie was home. Wouldn't they know instantly that she would soon

find their loot? And that she then would telephone for the police?

Unless they came and stopped her. Quickly.

Shivering, Connie turned out the light in her bedroom. And in the upstairs hall.

Downstairs, she turned out the light in the living room, went quickly to the front door

and bolted it. She was leaving it when she thought to fumble her way across the

room and make sure that the window was locked. It was. If the lights had been seen

across the bay... she hastened desperately to turn out the rest. The dining room.

Lights out. The windows were locked. The pantry. It was dark. Whimpering, she was

afraid to enter it. She flashed on the light to make sure of the window.

The window was broken. A neat jagged section of glass was missing.

It had been cracked and removed so that someone could reach in and unlock it. It

was now impossible to lock; anyone could reach in and unfasten it again.

Connie snapped off the light and fled into the kitchen and made it dark. But as the

bulb dimmed she realised what she had seen in the very act of snapping the light

switch. The back door was not fully closed. Its key was missing. There was mud on

the floor where someone had come in - more than once. The burglars must have

made casual, constant use of the house.

She stood breathing quickly in the blackness. Somewhere outside, frogs croaked.

There was a thump, and her heart stood still until she realised that a night-flying

insect had bumped against a window.

The refrigerator cut off.

It was coincidence, of course, but it was shocking. The proper thing, the logical thing,

was to go to the telephone now. She could not see to dial, but somehow, she must.

She felt her way blindly to the instrument. Her fingers on the wall made whispering

sounds that guided her, and she became aware of the loud pounding sound her

heart made.

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Just as she reached the telephone, there was a faint noise which might have been a

footstep in the garden.

She waited, filled with such fear that her body did not seem to exist, and she had

no physical sensation at all.

But part of her brain saw with infinite despair that if the burglars had been near the

house at sunset, intending to enter it as soon as darkness fell, they would have

seen the taxi deliver her. They would have known sooner or later she would

discover proof of their presence. And what she had just done told them of her

discovery! The light in the bedroom where their loot was hidden turned out.... Every

other light turned out. They would know she had darkened the house to hide in it, to

use the telephone.

There was a soft sound at the back door. It squeaked.

Connie stood rigid. The clicking of the dial would tell everything. She could not

conceivably summon help.

There was the soft whisper of a foot on the kitchen linoleum. Connie’s hands

closed convulsively. The one thought that came to her now was that she must

breathe quietly.

There was a grey glow somewhere. The figure in the kitchen was throwing a torch

beam on the floor. Then it halted, waiting. He knew that she was hiding somewhere

in the house.

He went almost soundlessly into the living room. She saw the glow of the light there.

Back into the kitchen. She heard him moving quietly - listening - towards the door

through which she had come only a few seconds before to use the telephone.

He came through that door, within three feet of her. But when he was fully through

the doorway she was behind him. Again, he flashed the light downwards. But he

did not think to look behind him. By just so much she was saved for the moment.

In the greyish light reflected from the floor, she recognised him.

He went into the dining room. He moved very quietly, but he bumped ever so slightly

against a table. The noise made her want to shriek. He was hunting her, and he

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knew that she was in the house and he had to kill her. He had to get his loot and get

away, and she must not be able to tell anything about him.

He was back in the kitchen again. He stood there, listening, and Connie was aware

of a new and added emotion which came of her recognition of him. She felt that she

would lie down at any instant and scream - because she knew him!

He came towards the door again, but he went up the stairs. They creaked under

his weight. He must have reasoned cunningly that she would want to hide, because

she was afraid. So, he would go into the bedroom and look under the bed…

Connie slipped her feet out of her slippers. He had not reached the top of the stairs

before she stood in her stockinged feet in the blackness below.

The front door was impossible. She would have to unlock it, make a noise. But he

had not closed the back door behind him.

She crept out of it, with a passionate care that almost vanished when she was in the

blessed night. There were stars. She remembered that she must not step on the

gravel on which her feet might make a noise, so she stepped on the grass. And

she fled.

There were sounds inside the house. He was opening cupboards, deliberately

making sounds to fill her with panic as he hunted her down. He hadn't guessed yet

that she was outside.

There were shrubs by the garage, so she slowed her flight to avoid them. And then

she came upon the motorcycle. She smelled it, oil and petrol and rubber. It was

useless to her. She hadn't any idea how to operate it. But suddenly a wild escape

occurred to her - the motorcycle wasn't entirely useless.

Connie fumbled with the machine. She turned a little tap. The smell of gasoline grew

strong. There was a crash inside the house. But outside the night was full of stars,

and the air was cool and sweet - except that the smell of petrol was growing strong

in it.

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Connie had a box of matches in her pocket. Quickly she got it out, and in one motion

struck a match and dropped it and ran away into the darkness, with the strange feel

of grass under her feet.

The petrol blazed fiercely. She hid herself in the shadows and watched, sobs trying

to form in her throat. The fire would be seen across the bay. It would plainly be at

Connie's house. People would come quickly - a lot of them. And fire engines.

As the flames grew higher, she saw the figure plunge from the house, run furiously

towards the fire, trying to flail it out. But it was impossible.

And he knew it. Even his twisted mind would tell him that nothing could hide his

identity now. The motorcycle would be identification enough, and there was the loot

in the house.

Connie found herself weeping. It was partly relief. But it was also the unnerving

realisation that the fears she'd had about Them, the men who prey on others, were

not entirely groundless.

The headlights of cars began to focus towards the house, along the road from the

mainland. The bells of fire engines started tolling and grew louder. And in the leaping

flames surrounding the motorcycle, a hulking, desperate figure threw futile handfuls

of earth upon the machine. Was he, Connie wondered, trying to create the

hopeless pretence that he was the first to help?

Even so, she was quite safe now. She began to cry in reaction from her terror. But,

also, she wept heartbrokenly for poor Mrs Winston. She, Connie, could have been

murdered. She could have been the victim of one of those twisted men who prey on

their fellow beings.

She, Connie, would not now be one of the women They had killed. But Mrs.

Winston was the mother of one of Them.

260

265

270

275

280

Appendix 3Close Reading on Uneasy Homecoming Part 1.

Read lines 1-20.

1. Connie felt uneasy about spending time alone in her house. What

did she debate doing on the way home in the taxi? Answer in your own words. (2 marks)

2. Connie didn’t feel safe in her house because of where it sat in

relation to the houses near her. Where was Connie’s house

located? Quote for evidence. (1 mark)

3. In line 27 the fridge is said to have made a “companionable

humming sound.” What type of imagery has Will Jenkins used

here? (1 mark)

Read lines 21-41.

4. Why was Connie scared to be in the house alone? Answer in your own words. (1 mark)

5. Why did she not leave when her instincts kicked in? (1 mark)

Read lines 42-65.

6. What two words did the author use to describe the smell of the

summer evening, quote as evidence. (2 marks)

7. If Connie was looking, what two things did she fail to notice that

would indicate there was an intruder in her home?

(2 mark)

Read lines 66- 85.

8. In line 78 why does the author describe the “Things” that Connie is

afraid of with a capital letter? What are these “Things” that Connie

fears? (3 marks)

9. Looking at line 85, what do you think the word “omission” means?

(1 mark)

Read lines 86-120

10. Why did Connie call Mrs. Winston? (1 mark)

11. What had happened to the houses in the area whilst Connie

was away? Quote as evidence. (2 marks)

Read lines 1 - 145

12. Write down 5 words that Will Jenkins uses to describe the

house so far in the story. (5 marks)

13. Pick two words and write why these are effective uses of

word choice. (2 marks)

Appendix 4

Horror Story Plan

Answer the questions below in your jotter to aid in your planning!

1. Setting – We have studied setting in Will Jenkin’s story ‘Uneasy

Homecoming’. This includes time and place. In order to make a

convincing scary story, you need to think closely about both.

a) Where will your story take place?

b) What time of the day will it open with? Will that change over the

course of your story?

2. Plot – A plot is what happens in your story, as in the brief outline.

‘Uneasy Homecoming’ has a plot surrounding a young woman

returning home after being away.

a) What will be the plot behind your story?

3. Characters – The characters within a story are very important, you

must think about who would play the best main character, and who

will play the villain.

a) Who will be the protagonist in your story and what will their

personality be like?

b) Who will be the antagonist in the story?

4. Narrative – We have discussed the difference between first-person

and third-person narrative in ‘Uneasy Homecoming.’

a) What narrative are you going to use in your story, and why?

5. Sequence – the order of a horror/scary story is very important to

whether it creates fear or tension from a reader! Plan out what will

happen in each of the sections below:

Beginning- This is usually where the reader learns a little bit about the

characters and the setting in which the characters are in:

Middle – Where conflict arises, or tension is built.:

Ending – Where conflict may or not be resolved: