I wanted to share with you here some fabulous writing from one of our Year 6 children. The carefully, deliberately chosen language used to describe the main character and the setting is wonderful.

This is the standard we should all aspire to achieve. Aim high!

The Day the Birds Came by Hannah L

I was a statue. A flamingo statue. Salmon pink with spindly wire legs and a vibrant orange beak. My eyes were glass with sky blue rings around a pitch black pupil. My name was ‘flamingo by the penguins’. I was all of this; a dull metal statue - before today. Today out of absolutely nowhere I was freed. My legs began to wobble and I put my second wire leg on the sandy floor after fifteen years of keeping that tiresome pose. I stretched my wings out feeling like I’d just woken up from a deep sleep. People began to point and stare.

“The flamingos, they’re coming to life!” one mother screamed. She ushered her children into the gift shop; staring intently at us, shaking her head and mumbling under her breath.

We sprinted for hours on end, only stopping for brief water breaks. We were tired and cold; unused to the drizzle of the English countryside. Though the weather stayed stormy we ran on, the leader of the flock guiding us all the way. She said she knew where we were going. She said we had a plan. I was unsure.

Despite the encouraging chatter from the rest of the group, I did not like this plan- whatever it may be- but I went along anyway. As we entered a small rural village my brain began to whirr. I remembered things, things from before, before my years of captivity. This was my home. I lived in the woodlands by the school, yes it was all coming back to me. I was a small chick scared and alone until this child found me. She told me I was safe. And I was- until she left. Poor Caroline. She was such a sweet child, but then why did she leave? I was so confused. I was a small chick, scared and alone once more.

I blinked hard, trying to erase part of my memory but she stood there firm, desperate not to be forgotten. I strode forwards, past the woodlands, then I stopped. We were here, outside Caroline’s house. Maybe she still lived here. I didn’t have the nerve to find out. I stomped forward, a plan forming in my head. We headed to Caroline’s old school, past the pond where we would feed the ducks. My eyes watered and as I tried not to cry, I felt a soft warm hand close around my neck. “Caroline?”

Caroline didn’t reply but she bent down into my feathers and I could tell she was crying. So, Caroline hopped on and again, we ran, back past the pond and into the woods. Hiding behind an ivy curtain - which I pushed back with my beak - there was our way out of here. A rusty old flying mobile big enough for 30 flamingoes.

Off we flew, higher and higher until the village was an ant-sized blur. The pilot, a flamingo named Mol, was steering us up, up and away. Suddenly, we reared to the side and we all slid down, holding on for our life. After five hours, we were all tired and feeling ever so slightly sick. I looked down and saw that we were over the ocean. The Pacific Ocean according to Mol. After several days of ocean, land, ocean, land, Mol announced that we were at our destination. I peered down to see that we were back where we had started. I was furious! Why had we gone halfway round the world when we would end up here? Mol led us round into the school and up into the attic. We began work immediately. Making beds with sheets from Caroline’s house and using cushions and books for tables and chairs. At long last, we had a place to call home. “Feathery”, Caroline asked. Feathery was her name for me. “Can I be like you?”

“What do you mean?”, I asked.

“I want to be a flamingo. A flamingo with pink feathers and a yellow beak and…”

“Ok, Ok, I get it.”

And with a click of my fingers, Caronline was no longer Caroline, she was a flamingo.

So, here we are now, living in the attic and catching fish when necessary. Caroline is happy and so are we all. This is our ending.