Newsletter issue 52

Students’ interpretations of ‘The House on the Hill’
The House on the Hill by Neil Austin
Foggy, orange clouds growled overhead. Thunder rumbled, like silvery fingers lightning flashed in the sky.
Giant, big raindrops smashed on the ground. Sonic belted through the woods, looking for shelter. Presently,
an enormous shadowy silhouette formed in the rain. Before long, a strange, vast hulk appeared in the
storm. That’s when a column of moonlight illuminated the house. I followed Sonic through the open door.
We hadn’t gone far when we heard creaking noises throughout the house.
The House on the Hill by George McCarthy
The dense gunmetal-grey clouds swiftly swept overhead. The thunder destroyed the silence as the time
passed. Like sound the lightning beamed down from the sky. The enlarged, swollen, raindrops rebounded
off the ground. Reece being the dope he is, sprinted through the wild woods gazing for cover. Soon a bloblike
figure appeared out of the dusty rain. That’s when the shape of the house bloomed under the
moonlight. I followed Peter into the never ending cellar only to gape on a creaky, crooked door. We hadn’t
gone far when the tell-tail sound of uneven floorboards snapping floated toward us. Suddenly a glacial cold
climbed up my back and up my head and embraced me. A ghostly spectral face welled up and emerged
before us in the darkness.
The House on the Hill by Caitlyn Riddell
Thick indigo clouds swarmed overhead. Thunder growled like an irate hound. Like flashing strikes, lightning
scintillated in the sky. Gigantic, thumper raindrops sploshed on the ground. Mo Salah sprinted through the
woods searching for shelter. Soon a strange, vast shadowy hulk appeared in the storm. That’s when a beam
of moonlight illuminated the ground. I followed Mo Salah inside through the open door. That’s when, as if
opened by an unseen hand, the door opened only for me to stumble upon a crumbling doorstep. We hadn’t
gone far when the sound of a child weeping seeped through the walls. Then the tell-tale sound of uneven
floorboards snapping floated towards us. The temperature around us dropped like a stone. At that moment,
the air chilled our skin. A face, a translucent face, surfaced before us in the blackness.
The House on the Hill by Logan Shaw
Dark, inky clouds floated overhead. Thunder boomed like a wounded beast. Like bright razors lightning
scintillated in the sky. Swollen, gigantic raindrops crashed on the ground. Mack slushed through the
overflowing woods, peering for shelter. Sooner than he thought, smack, he ran into a quartz pillar. As he
looked up he saw the three storey house. Before long it gloomed like it has not been touched in centuries.
Mack slowly turned the rusty old door knob, he tripped over the chipped pieces of wood. I followed him
into the house. As we were walking down to the icy cold basement there was rising damp crawling through
the soft plaster. A ghostly face popped out from underneath the stairs and whispered “Help me”.