Poetry:

Poetry: original version

A cool sunny day,

Blue skies an fluffy clouds,
the sound of balls,
bouncing on the courts,
and the childish yelling of ballers on a blue court.
In the corner of my eye,
I see some clovers,
a big bush of clovers,
the aromatic smell of clovers,
is invigorating.
But what is it I see?
An even bigger bush,
in the middle of the clovers.
The clovers bowing down
to the even bigger bush makes me frown.
The inequality of life,
causes strife,
among humans and plants.

Poetry: revised version

Clovers
In fields of green, they stand tall and proud
Clovers dancing in the wind, whispering secrets out loud
Their leaves flap and sway, a delicate yet humorous display
A vibrant sea of green, a lovely sight to see each day

Tiny treasures hidden among the grass

Four-leafed wonders, a stroke of luck if you pass
They hold magic, a symbol of good fortune
Guiding us through life, bringing us joy

In meadows and forests,

The clover's secrets are kept,
Each leaf a wish, a dream, a prayer,
A reminder that life's not always fair.

But in the midst of turmoil and strife,

The clover offers a glimpse of life,
Of beauty, of magic, of mystery untold,
A symbol of fortune in a world so cold.

Though small in size, they stand with the rest,

With humility, they offer their best.
In every clover, a little story unfolds,
Of hope, resilience, and dreams still waiting to be told.

Fiction:

Fiction: original version

I stumbled into my room, worn out from a long day of work. All I wanted was to go to sleep.
The moment I entered, I walked straight to the light switch, turned it off, and then headed for
the curtains. My legs felt heavy, and all I could think about was collapsing into bed. As I
reached out to pull the curtains closed, something outside caught my eye. In the house
opposite mine, I noticed a black cat. It was sitting on the windowsill, perfectly still, and
staring directly at me. Its eyes were wide open, and its fur was raised as if it was on high
alert. Its back was arched, and its bright green eyes were fixed on me, glowing in the dim
light of the night. The cat didn’t move or blink. It just kept staring, and its eyes seemed to
pierce through the darkness, locking onto mine. At first, I didn’t really know what to think. I
was confused. Why would a cat be staring at me like that? And why did it look so tense,
almost like it was ready to attack, even though it was on the other side of the street? The
more I looked at it, the stranger it seemed. The cat’s eyes were almost hypnotic, making me
feel uneasy, though I couldn’t figure out why. But as strange as it was, I was just too tired to
give it much thought. My body felt like it was about to give out, and I could barely keep my
eyes open. I had been working all day, and I knew I needed to sleep. The cat, no matter how
strange, was not important enough to keep me awake. So, even though the sight of the cat
was weird, I shrugged it off. I pulled the curtains closed, blocking the view of the cat, and
headed to my bed. My feet dragged across the floor as I moved, and the moment I lay down,
I felt myself drifting off. Whatever was going on with that cat would have to wait for another
time. Right now, all I wanted was to sleep.

Fiction: revised version

As the rain lashed against the windowpane, Alvin sat on the worn armchair in his Brooklyn
apartment, staring out into the night. The city was its usual chaotic symphony of car horns,
distant voices, the hum of life, but he had learned to tune it all out. His focus was fixed on the
window, or rather, what sat just beyond it. A black cat, perched perfectly still on the fire
escape.
It had been there for the past three nights. No matter the weather or the hour, the sleek
feline appeared without fail, its yellow eyes glowing like embers in the dark. Alvin couldn’t
shake the feeling that the cat wasn’t just a stray. Its presence unnerved him, like it was
waiting for something or even someone. He stood up and moved closer to the window, the
wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. From this distance, he could make out the cat’s
every detail: its fur gleaming wet from the rain, its body so still that it almost seemed like a
statue. Yet its eyes tracked him, following his every movement, as though it were studying
him. He hesitated before unlocking the window.

Why are you here? he wondered, his hand hovering above the latch. He knew it was absurd
to feel threatened by a cat, but there was something unnerving about how it had appeared
so suddenly in his life. He hadn’t seen it in the neighborhood before, and yet now it felt like it
had always been watching. A loud knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He
jolted, glancing at the door before returning his gaze to the window. The cat was gone.
Alvin’s heart raced. How could it vanish so quickly? He unlocked the window and pushed it
open, the cold air rushing in. The fire escape was empty. Not even a wet paw print
remained. Another knock echoed through his apartment, louder this time. He backed away
from the window, his pulse quickening as he approached the door. Peering through the
peephole, he saw nothing but the dimly lit hallway outside.

Nervously, he called out, “Who’s there?”

Silence.

The knock came again, so loud it rattled the door. Alvin's breath caught in his throat as he
reached for the doorknob, his mind racing with unease. He turned the handle slowly, the
door creaking open.

Nothing.

He looked around the hallway, his eyes scanning for any sign of life. Empty.

Just as he was about to close the door, he heard a soft thud behind him. He turned around
to find the black cat sitting on his windowsill, inside the apartment now, its glowing yellow
eyes locked onto his.

A chill ran down his spine. The cat blinked once.

Non-fiction:

Non-fiction: original version

When I couldn’t see my parents, I knew something bad was going to happen. The bright
yellow sand of Bondi Beach blinded my eyes. The waves, one after another, kept crashing
against my legs, their salty spray tickling my skin. Around me, hundreds of people lounged in
the sand, soaking in the sun or playing in the water, completely unaware of the panic starting
to rise in my chest. In the midst of one of the biggest beaches in New South Wales, I
realized I was lost. As I looked around, trying to spot a familiar face, panic began to set in.
Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead, but not just from the heat but also from pure fear.
My eyes darted left and right, scanning the crowds for any sign of my family, but all I saw
were strangers. My heart raced, and tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of my situation
hit me. I was truly alone. No family in sight. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and my mind
immediately jumped to the worst possible scenarios. I imagined my family driving home
without me, forgetting I ever existed, and continuing their lives happily while I remained
stranded on this beach. Worse yet, I envisioned myself being left there until nightfall, at
which point a shark would inevitably come and eat me whole. Before I could spiral any
further into my wild imagination, the sharp, salty spray of the ocean snapped me back to
reality. I blinked, suddenly aware of the overwhelming noise surrounding me. Children were
screaming in delight, adults were laughing and chatting, and the constant crashing of the
waves created a never-ending soundtrack of chaos. The world was moving on, but I felt
frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. In that moment, I realised that standing still
wouldn't help. I had to move.

Non-fiction: revised version

When I couldn’t see my parents, I knew something bad was going to happen. The bright
yellow sand of Bondi Beach blinded my eyes, wave after wave crashing at my legs,
hundreds of people lying in the sand around me, and I found myself lost at one of the
biggest beaches in Sydney. The sun bore down relentlessly, making everything blur together
in the bright haze. I squinted, trying to make out any familiar landmarks, but all I could see
were endless towels, umbrellas, and bodies baking in the sun.

Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead, my eyes darting left and right as I frantically
scanned for my family. Tears welled up as I saw no familiar faces. I instantly thought it was
over for me. My family would forget about me and drive back home, live their happy life while
I was stranded at the beach, likely to get eaten by a shark by nighttime. I was overthinking
too much, but the fear kept swelling inside me. The salty spray of the ocean waves snapped
me back to reality as I was overwhelmed by the loud noises coming from every direction.
Children screaming, adults chatting, and the monotonous sound of waves crashing. I tried to
calm myself, but my breathing grew faster. I had to find help.

That’s when I spotted the red-and-yellow tower not too far away, where a lifeguard sat,
keeping watch over the beach. My feet felt like they were sinking deeper into the sand with
every step, but I made my way toward the lifeguard, my heart pounding in my chest. When I
finally reached the tower, I waved my arms frantically. “Excuse me!” I called, my voice
shaking. The lifeguard, a tanned man with sunglasses perched on his head, looked down at
me with a concerned expression.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked, climbing down to meet me.

“I can’t find my parents,” I blurted out, my words tumbling over each other. “Can you, can
you call them? Please?” I replied, eyes filled with tears.

The lifeguard nodded calmly and told me to sit on the bench beside the tower. “What’s their
phone number? We’ll call them right now,” he reassured me. I typed in my dad’s number, my
hands trembling as I tried to maintain compusre.

A few minutes later, the lifeguard gave me a thumbs up and smiled. “They’re on their way
now,” he said, offering me a small bottle of water to drink. Relief washed over me like a
wave, and I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to be abandoned, and soon enough, I’d be
back with my family. The sun didn’t feel so harsh anymore, and the wind didn’t seem as
bone chilling. I sat on the bench, watching the beach, waiting for the sight of my parents
rushing toward me.

Reflection:

I am writing to reflect on the three exercises I have completed and the progress I have made
in my writing so far. My motivation for choosing the three genres of poetry, fiction, and non-
fiction were to experiment and explore my limits and see how well I could write. For the
poetry, I was particularly inspired by a classmate who gave me the idea of writing about
nature, especially clovers which stood out to us as despite being surrounded by barren dirt, it
would still persist and continue to flourish. The fiction prompt of writing about a cat outside a
window inspired me to write about something mysterious that incorporated superstitious
elements and due to the fact that I don’t regularly write a mystery genre short story.

In the poetry exercise I aimed to create a visual and emotional experience for the reader. I
experimented with imagery and personification, especially in lines like, “Clovers dancing in
the wind, whispering secrets out loud,” to evoke a vivid and surreal image. I also used
synesthesia in “Clovers dancing in the wind, whispering secrets out loud,” and a rhythmic
structure in the revised version to maintain, as shown in the lines, “Though small in size,
they stand with the rest, With humility, they offer their best.”

For the fiction exericse, I aimed to build tension and suspense using descriptive language. In
the revised version, I worked on making the scene more atmospheric, focusing on the
unsettling presence of the cat, instead of using first person I changed to third person, and I
expanded more and used more descriptive language. The phrase, “The cat blinked once,”
was used to create an eerie effect, leaving the reader with a sense of unease. I received
feedback that I could increase the story’s tension by extending certain moments, which I
tried to by emphasising the protagonist’s build up of suspicion of the behavior of the cat.
This exercise helped me practice building up mystery and suspense in a story.

In the non-fiction exercise, I wanted to capture the panic of being lost at Bondi Beach. I
incorporated sensory details to place the reader directly in my perspective in the scene, as
seen in, “The bright yellow sand of Bondi Beach blinded my eyes, wave after wave crashing
at my legs.” My goal was to make the reader feel the overwhelming chaos I felt in that
moment. I thought that I might not have conveyed the urgency or panic effectively, but after
receiving feedback to focus on making it seem more personal to me, I revised it to highlight
the rising panic and eventual relief when I found help and by making the dialogue I have with
the lifeguards more conversational and natural.

One of my main concerns as I develop a longer piece is maintaining consistency in tone and
keeping the narrative engaging throughout. To proactively address this, I plan to outline my
work thoroughly before drafting and continue to seek feedback from peers and teachers to
ensure clarity and coherence.
One of my main concerns was maintaining consistency of description and not “glossing” over
some bits of my story where more detail could be added. Furthermore, I would find it hard to
continue my story after the 1st draft due to the lack of planning I made, causing the structure
of my pieces to be unclear.

Utlimately, revising these exercises taught me the importance of revising and refining my
work to enhance its impact and interest in the reader. I realised that writing the 1st drafts
during class under short time limits would cause me to be careless in how I write and have
not enough detail. I have also learnt that the first draft is usually never perfect and that each
time I revise it, it adds depth and improves the connection with the reader.