hxnnxh_13.11.06
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#1
Report Thread starter 2 months ago
#1
Hiya, I'm in yr10 so have just started my GCSEs, and this is my first piece of coursework. I was wondering if you could give me any tips on how to make it more effective, and help for the future? I am writing from the perspective of a rat in the WW1 trenches, and it is an 800 word essay. TW of blood in the story. Thank you!

The dim, flickering lights of the candles on bottles illuminated the dark trench. A group of men huddled together, desperately trying to keep warm, despite only having their wet clothes for a chance of getting any heat. Pictures of women adorned the dirt walls, and coats were scattered on the floor as makeshift beds. All were shaking, having no energy to talk, and cast glances at one another through their glasses of whisky.
I, from my perch on a jagged piece of rock, eyeballed a tasty looking piece of crust lying on an upturned wooden box that was being used as a table. Without thinking, I raced down the wall and toward the crate, taking the chance to grab the leftovers. All men reacted at once. I was being swiped at, trodden on and scowled at by angry faces. I did not let this distract me from achieving my goal. Hands and feet were coming at me left right and centre and I could hear the hushed murmurs of the furious men.
‘These rats never leave us alone anymore… any man in their right mind would have shot the rodent by now… they’re thieves, the lot of them!’
As I was climbing up the slats of the crate, I felt a fist knock me out. I flew from the makeshift table and landed with a squeal onto the dusty trench floor. Admitting my defeat, I scuttled away from the scene in an attempt to find something else edible. The men were shooing me and were beginning to point pistols at me. No one here is sane anymore, I think to myself. If I, or any other rat, were to want food before now, I would undoubtedly be able to feast on some bread or soup. But now, as soon as I make an appearance, I have guns shoved in my face. What a treacherous place this world has become.
I found a dug-out hole in a wall where a candle must have once been held, and tried to rest there.
I managed about fifteen minutes of a break before the sounds of war startle everyone awake. Machinery weapons could be heard and shells whistled overhead. Noises of men waking up were mingled in with the yells of colonels directing their troops. Soon there would be shouts of ‘Gas!’ and cries for help of the injured and dying. I curled up and braced for the impact, longing for the men to leave the trenches and fight so I could try to find any scraps of food abandoned from the night before.
Thundering footsteps from above notified me that the men had left the trenches. I used their suffering to my benefit and clambered down from my hidey-hole to scrounge for whatever I could find. From various camps set up around the trenches I managed to find scraps of bread, drizzles of leftover soup and some whisky, which I left since analysing the men who had had a few glasses end up developing strange behaviours.
As I feasted on the leftovers the sounds of war filled my ears. The shouts of men, the whooshes of shells, the cracks of bombs. Glancing up I could see splatters of blood line the top of the trench, and to fulfil my curiosity I decided to see what was going on. I scampered upward toward the opening, and glanced over the top.
It was a sight I had never seen before. Men were coming at each other, stabbing each other with rifles, shooting each other, throwing each other to the ground. Shotguns were being fired in the air and every five feet there was an explosion. Colonels screamed at soldiers to fight without actually fighting themselves. Bodies were gathering on the floor. How can humans be so innocent yet so brutal? How can losing lives benefit anyone?
I dashed through the mayhem, weaving my way through the masses of bloodshed and people, when something caught my eye. From the blood-splattered body of a dying man, a piece of paper fluttered out of his pocket. I crawled over to catch a glimpse of the writing, to satisfy my wonder as to what this could be. It read:
My dear wife, and children too,
If you do not see me again,
Do not be upset, or ashamed,
Rather, be thankful for the time we had together.
I have been on this planet for twenty-eight years
And I have been with you for many of them,
I grieve that my last sight could be of the battlefield,
Alas, I will have done my country proud.
You will be around
For many moons to come,
Make new memories
And your sadness of me will succumb.
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studycafe
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#2
Report 2 months ago
#2
(Original post by hxnnxh_13.11.06)
Hiya, I'm in yr10 so have just started my GCSEs, and this is my first piece of coursework. I was wondering if you could give me any tips on how to make it more effective, and help for the future? I am writing from the perspective of a rat in the WW1 trenches, and it is an 800 word essay. TW of blood in the story. Thank you!

The dim, flickering lights of the candles on bottles illuminated the dark trench. A group of men huddled together, desperately trying to keep warm, despite only having their wet clothes for a chance of getting any heat. Pictures of women adorned the dirt walls, and coats were scattered on the floor as makeshift beds. All were shaking, having no energy to talk, and cast glances at one another through their glasses of whisky.
I, from my perch on a jagged piece of rock, eyeballed a tasty looking piece of crust lying on an upturned wooden box that was being used as a table. Without thinking, I raced down the wall and toward the crate, taking the chance to grab the leftovers. All men reacted at once. I was being swiped at, trodden on and scowled at by angry faces. I did not let this distract me from achieving my goal. Hands and feet were coming at me left right and centre and I could hear the hushed murmurs of the furious men.
‘These rats never leave us alone anymore… any man in their right mind would have shot the rodent by now… they’re thieves, the lot of them!’
As I was climbing up the slats of the crate, I felt a fist knock me out. I flew from the makeshift table and landed with a squeal onto the dusty trench floor. Admitting my defeat, I scuttled away from the scene in an attempt to find something else edible. The men were shooing me and were beginning to point pistols at me. No one here is sane anymore, I think to myself. If I, or any other rat, were to want food before now, I would undoubtedly be able to feast on some bread or soup. But now, as soon as I make an appearance, I have guns shoved in my face. What a treacherous place this world has become.
I found a dug-out hole in a wall where a candle must have once been held, and tried to rest there.
I managed about fifteen minutes of a break before the sounds of war startle everyone awake. Machinery weapons could be heard and shells whistled overhead. Noises of men waking up were mingled in with the yells of colonels directing their troops. Soon there would be shouts of ‘Gas!’ and cries for help of the injured and dying. I curled up and braced for the impact, longing for the men to leave the trenches and fight so I could try to find any scraps of food abandoned from the night before.
Thundering footsteps from above notified me that the men had left the trenches. I used their suffering to my benefit and clambered down from my hidey-hole to scrounge for whatever I could find. From various camps set up around the trenches I managed to find scraps of bread, drizzles of leftover soup and some whisky, which I left since analysing the men who had had a few glasses end up developing strange behaviours.
As I feasted on the leftovers the sounds of war filled my ears. The shouts of men, the whooshes of shells, the cracks of bombs. Glancing up I could see splatters of blood line the top of the trench, and to fulfil my curiosity I decided to see what was going on. I scampered upward toward the opening, and glanced over the top.
It was a sight I had never seen before. Men were coming at each other, stabbing each other with rifles, shooting each other, throwing each other to the ground. Shotguns were being fired in the air and every five feet there was an explosion. Colonels screamed at soldiers to fight without actually fighting themselves. Bodies were gathering on the floor. How can humans be so innocent yet so brutal? How can losing lives benefit anyone?
I dashed through the mayhem, weaving my way through the masses of bloodshed and people, when something caught my eye. From the blood-splattered body of a dying man, a piece of paper fluttered out of his pocket. I crawled over to catch a glimpse of the writing, to satisfy my wonder as to what this could be. It read:
My dear wife, and children too,
If you do not see me again,
Do not be upset, or ashamed,
Rather, be thankful for the time we had together.
I have been on this planet for twenty-eight years
And I have been with you for many of them,
I grieve that my last sight could be of the battlefield,
Alas, I will have done my country proud.
You will be around
For many moons to come,
Make new memories
And your sadness of me will succumb.
Heyy! I'm in year 11 and I don't think I've ever had English coursework but that is SO GOOD! Honestly, if you wrote that in an exam you'd do amazing! I wasn't much help oops- but dw that's an amazing piece of coursework and I'm sure my English teacher would love it!
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hxnnxh_13.11.06
Badges: 18
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#3
Report Thread starter 2 months ago
#3
(Original post by studycafe)
Heyy! I'm in year 11 and I don't think I've ever had English coursework but that is SO GOOD! Honestly, if you wrote that in an exam you'd do amazing! I wasn't much help oops- but dw that's an amazing piece of coursework and I'm sure my English teacher would love it!
Thank you so much
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