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The Train – By Ivy Mitchell

As the train trundled along the tracks, I sat on the tartan seat, gazing out of the window into the landscape filled with lakes, coniferous trees and mountains that stretched higher than the eye could see. The scenery looks beautiful! I thought to myself. Hopefully where I’m going is as beautiful as what I’m looking at now!

I felt thirsty and hungry after five minutes of eyeing the countryside, so I lifted myself out of my seat and purchased a croissant with raspberry jam and butter and a cup of rose tea. As I bit into the croissant, the buttery, flaky pleasure overtook my mouth and the sweet and creamy taste of jam and butter danced on my tongue. Even though I was already calm, the rose tea satisfyingly calmed me down even further as the warm liquid trickled down my throat and the fragrance of the rose sang softly while mixing with my breath.

At the same time as I was about to take out my dog-eared Pride and Prejudice book, the ticket conductor came up to me and said, “Ticket, please.”

Oh!” I gasped, and proceeded to open up my flower purse and take out my train ticket. The conductor thanked me, punched a hole in my ticket and gave it back.

As night fell, I felt my eyelids getting heavy and tried to prop my head up with my jewel-encrusted hand, but my head was too heavy for the hand to hold, and it collapsed under the weight of my head. I fell into a sleep where I dreamed of myself as a young girl swinging on my garden swing while standing up, and my mum and dad sitting out on the white deckchairs, sipping cocktails and talking about little things. I couldn’t understand what they were talking about, but I enjoyed their caring voices all the same.

“Miss…Miss…Miss.” I heard someone say whilst my sleep was at its lightest.

“Huh?” I replied in a quiet, tired voice.

“You’re here”

Oh!” I cried. “Thank you!” And I leapt off the train and onto the platform surrounded by clouds and bright lights.

Excuse me, Miss!” a woman at a counter called, and I approached her.

”Name?” she asked.

“Rose Harrington.” I answered.

“Let me see”. The woman looked through some notes. The search ended with an “Aha! Rose Harrington. You’re the girl who died in the Emerald Express crash, correct?”

“Yes.” I responded.

“Welcome to heaven.” The woman whispered, and she opened a giant golden gate, and I stepped in and began my eternal peace.

Ivy is a year 11 student at New Barn School in West Sussex who has a keen interest in creative writing. New Barn School is a new special school which caters for autistic pupils from 7 – 19 years old. It was rated GOOD in all areas by OFSTED in May 2019. Since starting at our school, Ivy has honed her skills and has become a competent writer – something that she will be able to demonstrate in her upcoming GCSE English.

This story was written as a response to an mock exam-style task which asked the students to write a short story about travelling on a train. Lis Marxen, her English teacher, and all the staff at New Barn are very proud of Ivy’s work!

3 Comments
  1. Reply Mandie 25th January 2019 at 4:05 pm

    This is my clever talented Daughter her Dad and I are extremely proud of Ivy and all she has achieved.

  2. Reply Dave Warburton 10th March 2019 at 9:58 pm

    An excellent story Ivy! I loved the twist at the end.

  3. Reply Jenny Warburton 11th March 2019 at 5:55 pm

    Ivy is my Grand Daughter and a very clever girl. Brilliant story x

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