Student Voice – Year 7 Descriptive Writing

Descriptive Writing – Year 7


In Year 7, students have been studying the genre horror and suspense and as a part of their studies, students have been expanding their vocabulary, comprehension and writing skills with a number of frightening, hair-raising and mysterious experiences.  After some activities demonstrating how including literary techniques can transform their writing, students received the following concise passage to then develop into a descriptive one.

‘The sky was dark and grey. The house looked abandoned because it was old and falling apart.  The man walked up to the house nervous and uncertain what to do. With the rain looming, he realised entering was the only option he had.’


Yasmina – (Year 7)


The sky was dark. No, it was more than dark. The sky was spider black, not a chink of light shining through the silver mist that twisted and turned as if in agony. The moon hung in the sky, a glistening orb of light partially obscured by clouds made of silvery strands dipped in glossy white paint. A spray of stars was scattered across the sky, like a puff of pallid glitter frosting on the sky. Drops of khaki water fell from the sky, drenching and darkening the pavement, washing away remnants of chewing gum from the street. The rain made a cacophony of noise as it smacked into corrugated steel.

Lying ahead, dominating the horizon and blocking out the weak rays escaping the moon, was a house. It was surrounded by a swamp with reeds floating to the surface and withering lilypads acting as a float for carcasses of dead fish. The house itself was almost swallowed up by the murkiness of the night, the ebony wood barely visible despite the flickering light emitted from a rare chandelier. Windows were shattered and cracked, and the wood was strangled by damp moss and vines sucking up the house as the wood crumbled and withered away. 

My heart was in my mouth as I approached the ornate doors, and I reached out, twisted the brass lock open and I entered. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Right in front of me was a pool of crimson blood soaking into the wood like a patch of water staining an ancient wall. I let out a bloodcurdling scream as I noticed flies swarming over the puddle of rapidly congealing blood. Out of nowhere, a hand clasped over my mouth, but it could not stop the scream that rattled my bones and penetrated through the walls of the house.


Amna – (Year 7)


The skies weren’t merciful. The dark sickly grey was deathly, like an orb with a ghastly prophecy. It seemed as if the sudden downpour of bullet-like rain would be eternal; it showed no sign of stopping.

Hesitant with every step, a hooded figure limped to a cottage by the shore. Its bark coloured roof shone and reflected the cunning clouds under the moonlight. After all that had happened, the figure could never see the moon in the same way. It was a ghastly galleon, with a grin set to gloat at every doubt and suffering the world below it saw.  The house stood strong, and certainly didn’t look like it would. It was as if it was held up by magic. Brick of every grotesque colour stuck out and made it look like a badly built, unfriendly, and unsafe climbing frame for kids. A small singular window gleamed at the top, now opaque through time.  The otherworldly building had a blood-curdling wainscot of faces in pain, and anyone would be appalled to see there was still space left. 

On the indestructible door, there was a hawk engraved in gold, its wings spread out to resemble protection. Its glare was menacing and forbade anyone… everyone… to come any closer.  Paralysed by the sight of the house, the hooded figure clutched the knocker and knocked over the storm’s din.  Two paper-white hands emerged from the cloak and pulled the hood down. It revealed a man with jet black hair and who was trembling ferociously.  The door opened and there was a fantastical looking snake. The man shrieked. There was a light. Slowly but surely, the man was pulled inside, while he was noticeably trying to escape the snake’s clutches.

The ghost of his last face was now etched across the wainscot, there for the world to see.



Our Student Voice series of articles at Nadeen School, are used to enable our students to express an opinion, celebrate their learning and most of all enjoy a holistic education as a part of Our Philosophy.  We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we enjoy seeing our students write these.