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mark my question 5?

write a story about a disagreement:
I felt as if I were flying as my long, stiff, leg whipped around me at lightning speed; it was an accomplishment I thought was beyond my reach. Pirouette, aerial, backflip. Pirouette, aerial…
Crack!
A sickening snap tore through the air. My breath hitched—had that sound come from me? The world tilted, and suddenly, pain slammed into me like a tidal wave. A single thought clawed its way into my mind, “Mother is going to be livid”.
Scream after scream ripped out of my throat until my voice went hoarse and raw. Sobbing, I tried to sit up but another crack forced me back to the ground, the sound ricocheted off the plain walls.

Tommy burst through the door, eyes wide with horror as he called for help, his voice shaking uncontrollably. My face was soaked with tears as violent flashes of bright blue and red appeared in the window. A young looking lady gently but hurriedly placed me on a stretcher. I couldn’t keep my eyes open much longer. Everything faded into a blur, then to black.

Sweaty. Hot. clammy.

I opened my eyes a crack and my sobbing mother appeared in front of me, her eyes shimmering before the tears crashed onto the floor like a waterfall. She gazed at me, a shaking hand clasped to her chest. Perching on the edge of the bed, she clasps my hand. I stare at it silently. Her raven black hair cascades down her back, a feature I was always jealous of. Instead, I got a head of unruly brown hair from my father which resembled a bird's nest on the best of days.
I had never wanted to dance like Mother did; she was a true star. She moved with the kind of grace that made her seem almost otherworldly, like those ballerinas whose every movement appeared flawlessly mechanical. But she’s changed. It’s as if all the light and happiness had drained out of her and now she was trying to suck it out of me like a blood-sucking leech. But I knew I had to obey so I danced until my heart thumped out of my chest, my feet were blistered, and my body was nothing more than bone and exhaustion. Every day I thought that this will be the day. The day I would admit I had other dreams, other aspirations. Yet, when I opened my mouth, my throat constricted as if punishing me for daring to defy Mother’s wishes.

“Oh honey, your legs…your legs” she murmured, a fresh set of tears brimming in her eyes.
“Mother, I can’t dance. You know that right?” I questioned, slowly slipping my hands out of her crushing grasp. I met her gaze, and it burned. Her once captivating hazel eyes, the ones I’d always admired and complimented her on, had transformed into hollow, lifeless orbs that seemed to drain the warmth from everything they touched.

“You will dance, Rachel...”.Her response was sharp. Sinister.
“You know I can’t. Dr. Singh said...”
Quicker than I could process, her hand shot up, the movement so sudden that it took a moment for me to realize what had just happened. Then, a searing heat exploded across my face.
It felt as though a swarm of wasps were relentlessly stinging my cheek, each strike sharper than the last. I raised a trembling hand to shield it, flinching at the lingering sting from the slap. The door slammed shut behind me, and I was consumed by an unsettling silence that seemed to press in from all sides.
Golden rays of sunlight burst through the windows, but I didn’t care. They greeted me as if nothing had happened, as if the world was still turning outside, but here, in this room, nothing moved.
I sat up, staring at my long limbs, now useless. The white, pristine walls that would be my new world until my legs healed. And i wondered, what had i done to deserve this?
can someone mark this or give me some feedback because im in the holidays and no teacher can mark it rn. (im so scared for gcses)

Reply 1

hp49

It seems like a great story, certainly grade 7-9. However, don't talk about negatives. anything to do with hate, sex, drugs, alcohol or violence is a very big no-no. it's an excellent story although try not to talk about things like abuse ESPECIALLY is there is no happy ending or positive message as, depending on your marker, you could get marked down a lot.

Reply 2

AishaCastelo

Original post

by hp49

WHATT. why, is it because its easy to write about. or because they'll be concerned for my wellbeing

Reply 3

hp49

Original post

by AishaCastelo

WHATT. why, is it because its easy to write about. or because they'll be concerned for my wellbeing

because they're concerned for your wellbeing. also, imagine yourself as a marker who has to mark 50 papers today and every single one is about some sort of trauma or abuse. it gets depressing pretty quickly and they start down-marking these kinds of stories.

Reply 4

hp49

Original post

by AishaCastelo

WHATT. why, is it because its easy to write about. or because they'll be concerned for my wellbeing

more out of concern for your wellbeing than anything else. also, imagine you were a marker and you had to mark 50 papers about childhood trauma in a row, it can get quite depressing and the marker holds these with less merit.