Page 88 - The Bellfort - Summer 2015

English Literature GCSE English Literature sad, slow trickle of dirty could it be what we have Pupils in Year 12 English Lit- water fowing from the known to come as class? erature study ‘Blood Broth- windows. It looks like D’you ever hear the story tearstains. There are of the Johnstone twins? As countless empty Chinese like each other as two new takeaway boxes and crum- pins. How one was kept pled up McDonalds bags and one given away. How scattered all over the they were born, and they cracked stone paving in the died, on the self-same front yards creating a dis- day.” I blink for a second, gusting garden of flth and unable to take all of this in. sorrow. I’m about to say something to him, but when I open my Then I force myself look eyes again he’s gone. ers’ by Willy Russell. This is down to the ground. I see an exciting but tragic dra- my two darling boys - my AS English Literature ma about twins separated babies - lying there, com- at birth. pletely lifeless. It suddenly Pupils in Year 13 have been hits me. My boys are dead. studying ‘The Tempest’ by Year 11, 12 and 13 pupils I step back a couple of pac- Shakespeare. They have travelled to the Grand es stifing a sob and trem- been honing their essay Opera House in September bling. I can’t take my eyes writing skills by exploring 2014 to watch a production of the sight before me. My how the beliefs of the time of this musical. Everyone boys’ scarlet blood spatters enjoyed the performance the dull cracked pavement. with quite a few tears be- I hear a deafening, blood- ing shed at the fnale! curdling scream. It takes me a moment to recognise Creative Writing based on that it’s coming from my the opening of ‘Blood own mouth. “No!” I Brothers’: scream. “Tell me it’s not true!” I look up at the sky. The sun is begrudgingly setting, Suddenly I become aware turning the once happy of a tall fgure, all dressed blue sky into a deep, vi- in black. I turn to face this brant red colour. Dark mysterious visitor. He clouds ominously move stands tall, his ghostly in which the play was writ- their way in. I turn my head white pallor contrasting ten afected the way to look at the buildings sur- incredibly with his formal Shakespeare dealt with the rounding me. The dishev- black suit and tie - as dark characters and themes of elled, abandoned council as the void itself. Leaning the play. buildings have had their against one of the crum- windows smashed in by bling houses with folded Pupils have also explored rowdy teenagers. The arms and an ignorant smirk the poetry of Robert Frost brickwork has been stained he utters, “And do we and Edward Thomas. from countless rainy days blame superstition for and burst pipes creating a what came to pass? Or 88