Some writing

Below is evidence of some the stories produced while on Erasmus+ to the Montessori School in Alpedrete. A lot more was done over the 3 weeks, but this shows the imagination of the students who helped write them. The themes they were working to were Horror and  also Detective, as well as their own character Couscous. Hope you enjoy.

Couscous, by Bea

Couscous

Bea

Once upon a time there was a lonely banana in a supermarket. His name was Couscous and he was the only banana left on the shelf because he was a little bit squished.

One day a scientist came into the shop and put an orange he had been experimenting on next to Couscous.

“Why are you here?” asked Couscous.

“I don´t know. I was under anaesthetic and have just woken up.” Said the strange orange.

“What´s your name?” asked Couscous

“I think it´s… Juice … that´s all I can remember.”

“I´m Couscous” said Couscous

“That scientist played with me!” said Juice, scratching his head and seeming quite annoyed.

“I’m also quite different. I am a bit squishy, but in a way that’s better, because I will never be turned into my worst nightmare!” exclaimed Couscous.

“And that nightmare is…” Juice said impatiently.

“Being turned into a banana split!” said Couscous, terrified. “But I know how to prevent it from happening: Turning the world and everyone in it into a giant banana! Yipee!” Said Couscous excitedly.

Then suddenly something rare, something very rare happened.

“I’m flying!” said Juice.

“Oh no! Someone is taking you to make juice!” Said Couscous worriedly.

“I know, that’s my name!” said Juice.

“God, I don’t know what I can do…except…” Couscous had an idea “unless I can escape and save my only friend!” said Couscous sentimentally.

As Couscous thought of an effective, fast but safe plan, Juice was in a cart being moved all around the supermarket and the poor thing was at the bottom of the cart with all the other food piled on top of him; it would be difficult to get him out of there.

“Couscous! You’re right, they want to make JUICE out of me! Help! I really need you Couscous!” cried Juice the Orange.

“I am going to save you from there Juice. We are friends and we always will be! I’m coming but…try keep them distracted. In the worst case scenario, break the Fruity Law” said Couscous, trying his best to save his friend.

“Okay Couscous, thanks. But…If I break the fruity law I could end up like a pet…trapped in a cage or in a museum!” said Juice, very worried.

“That is still better than being turned into juice so if you need to do it then do it. If you think about it, you could be famous. Nobody has ever seen talking fruit,” said Couscous while he jumped off the shelf onto the white, clean floor.

Couscous darted around all the people walking around in that supermarket. Sometimes he hid since part of the Fruit Law was to never be seen moving around. Occasionally he would trip and fall on the floor. Suddenly he saw Juice climbing out of the cart with about 10 people observing the sight. But that didn’t matter. Juice was safe.

Couscous, by Sylvia

Couscous

Sylvia

Once upon a time there was a lonely banana in a supermarket. His name was Couscous and he was the only banana left on the shelf because he was a little bit squished.

One day a scientist came into the shop and put an orange he had been experimenting on next to Couscous.

“Why are you here?” asked Couscous.

“I don´t know. I was under anaesthetic and have just woken up.” Said the strange orange.

“What´s your name?” asked Couscous

“I think it´s… Juice … that´s all I can remember.”

“I´m Couscous” said Couscous

“Why are you here Juice?” said Couscous.

“Well an anatomist took me…I don’t remember anything more...” said Juice.

“What is your dream?” asked Couscous.

“Well,” said Juice. “I would like to have more friends.”

Couscous told Juice that if he wanted, he would be his friend. Juice, surprised, started jumping. When Juice was finished his dance he asked Couscous what his dream was. Couscous got serious. He told Juice that he wanted to turn everyone, and the entire world, into banana’s.

Juice’s face changed. He looked mad and disappointed. He approached Couscous and said with an angry voice: “You would turn me into a banana? I thought we were friends!”

“Juice, you will always be my friend,” said Couscous.

Juice looked at him and gasped. “I cannot be your friend, you are going to turn me into a banana, and then it would be nonsense for my name to be Juice because banana’s don’t have juice!”.

Couscous started to change his opinion. He liked his dream, it made him happy. He sat on the floor and thought, reflected. Then he approached Juice told him with a very happy face that he is not going to follow his dream, but instead develop are nicer, more beautiful one. Juice was so happy. He went running to Couscous to give him a hug and – “THOMAS, STOP PLAYING WITH THAT FRUIT!” said Thomas’s mother. Thomas put the banana and the orange back on the shelf where he got them, and re-joined his mother.

Couscous, by Salma

Couscous

Salma

Once upon a time there was a lonely banana in a supermarket. His name was Couscous and he was the only banana left on the shelf because he was a little bit squished.

One day a scientist came into the shop and put an orange he had been experimenting on next to Couscous.

“Why are you here?” asked Couscous.

“I don´t know. I was under anaesthetic and have just woken up.” Said the strange orange.

“What´s your name?” asked Couscous

“I think it´s… Juice … that´s all I can remember.”

“I´m Couscous” said Couscous

“Oh hi” said Juice.

“So… let’s be friends” said Couscous.

“Yeah!” said Juice.

“What do you remember about the anaesthetic?”  said Couscous.

“I remember a person saying ‘you’ll be a banana, like everybody will’” said Juice.

“No! It’s not possible!” said Couscous.

“Why?” said Juice.

“My dream is that EVERYBODY will be turned into a banana,” said Couscous.

“Everybody?” said Juice.

“Yeah” said Couscous.

“Well, do you want to be my friend?” said Juice.                                          

“Yes! Oh my god, you are starting to get yellow skin!” said Couscous.

“Wait, what?” said Juice.

“That’s cool!” said Couscous.

“Yes, Now you think I am like you! We are friends that have something in common!” said Juice.

“Yeah,” said Couscous. “But now be careful! You might turn into a banana split!”

Group 4's horror story, Alpedrete

There was always something fishy about Wellington Manor. It lay abandoned for years on the misty moors, a place the sun never seemed to shine. Shrouded in clouds it loomed ominously on the outskirts of Alpedrete. I avoided it as best as I could. It gave me shivers.

When Caroline went missing the whole town went crazy. Every night we had a search party. My mother and father fell apart, and I spent most nights lying awake looking at her empty bed. She was my big sister, and she was everything I had ever wanted to be. Everyone in school liked her, so much so that the meaner, older students left me alone…even though they didn’t like me very much.  Caroline always said that I was too shy.

Groups 3's Story

“That’s all of them boss.”

Detective Ingnatius Alberto looked up from the files on his desk. It was late at night, and he was tired.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “Are they in the holding cell?”.
The officer, standing at the door of Alberto’s office, nodded. He threw a ring of keys to the detective. Detective Alberto stood up from his desk and made his way out into the main hallway of the Police Station, down two flights of stairs and he found himself in the holding area, where five miserable looking men stared at him through the bars of the cell. He cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “I’d like to thank you for your patience. We are just about ready to begin.”

“We’ve been here for hours!” cried one of the men. “You can’t keep us here like this! It’s not right.”

Detective Alberto zoned in on the speaker, a tanned young man by the name of Jake. “Now now,” he said. “A man has lost his life, what’s a few hours of your time in comparison?” Jake was silent. He seemed like a nice kid. The detective turned his attention to the newest addition to the holding cell, a rugged looking man, of whom Alberto was already familiar. An ex-colleague.

Group 2's Story

“Welcome to the Emerald Mansion! It is our pleasure to have you here in our spacious and rustic hotel. I will be your host for the weekend and I hope that you all have a wonderful stay.” I had been preparing those lines all morning. Four guests were booked to stay for the weekend. When the reservations were made the week previously, I found it odd. No one had come to stay here for years.

I tried to hide my surprise, but I couldn’t help but bite my nails nervously, and wonder why they chose the Emerald Mansion. Perhaps they hadn’t heard the rumours of what happened to our last guests. None of which were true, of course. Our four guests were not coming together as a group. It seemed each was staying of their own accord and for their own reasons. Coincidentally.

Luke Hunter and Nick Martin appeared to be in their late twenties to mid - thirties, while Mr. Jones felt he needed to tell me he was 52, easily capable of being the father of our youngest guest, Ted. Ted arrived with his rucksack that rattled on his back and I don’t think he ever took it off for the duration of his stay.

Group 1's Story

Trinity Library is an extraordinary place. An informative place, filled with curious people. Everything about Trinity Library calls out ‘elegant’, from its spacious, wooden interior to the rows of exhibited books and large columns. An air of mystery climbs the stairs. The floor is very shiny and the green ropes act as barriers which show that there are important books there.

This library is a mysterious place where people and come and go, each minding their own business and here, seemingly, for just one thing. To explore interesting books. While the rooms are sought after for their quiet, they carry more secrets in their silence than you could ever know.