Tuesday, 17 February 2015

Writing Intention: Is to make my reader feel empathy Writing Focus: Developing a more sophisticated less conversational Tone

The sea was lapping against the sides of the ferry, white foam trailing like a path behind. Abby was on her summer break, her parents had decided that they were going abroad this year. And  that's when they discovered the islands of Lanzarote (one of the many islands off the Spanish coast).

After the long trip on the plane and the bumpy ferry ride from the coast Abby was exhausted, The sun was falling across the sky slowly drifting west-wards. Abby’s eyes were drowsy, her face pale from tiredness. After persistent nagging of her parents to go to bed, Abby's eyes finally conceded to sleep.


It was the second week on the island now, the weather had been wonderful, the sea was clear as crystal (filled with colour and wildlife). Yesterday they had traveled to the south of the island. Adventuring far into the cypress trees and olive groves, discovering secluded coves of sand and sea. Then wandering around the rock pools, finding new forms of life that they had never seen before (fish, crabs, sea-urchins etc.).

At the present time Abby was having her afternoon siesta with her parents. The whole island was quiet, not a peep of sound apart from the light breeze ushering through the window and the drifting churp of the crickets in the olive groves.

Abby woke suddenly feeling a funny wave rising up her stomach, she staggered out of bed to look out of the window. There was a deep rumble coming from within the island, vibration shook her backwards on to her bed. With the curtains drawn open she could now  see the billowing smoke coming from the volcano. She froze. The mountain had erupted. She ran to her parents room waking them up.
“MUM! DAD! WAKE UP THE VOLCANO HAS EXPLODED!” Fear now rising in her voice. Her parents awoke suddenly. As calm as possible they told Abby to go and warn the rest of the village. She ran down the gardens path, branches snagging at her clothes. Running out onto the gravel road, white dust rushing behind. Abby stopped and looked up, smoke still rising but this time she was watching it rise up at a different angle. She could now see that the smoke was coming from the neighboring island called Gran Canaria (which wasn't inhabited because of the volcano and the smallness of the island). Abby turned, walking with a quick pace back to the villa relief spreading across her body.

When she got back she explained to her parents what had happened and that she didn't need to warn the villages because the volcano wasn't going to harm them or the island. So they decided that they would go to the hill before the ash reached the island, so that Abby could get a good photograph of the island and explosion. So Abby grabbed her camera and they set off.

Once they reached the summit. They found the chief fire warden telling people that the island didn't need to evacuate and that there would be a small amount of ash falling. There was already a few locals and tourists up there as well looking out across the sky. Abby took some photos. She peered at the sky, grey ash looking like storm clouds. Ash started falling down across the island turning everything grey. Flecks drifted onto Abby's clothes and hair. Almost like snow, but more toxic. They walked back to the villa rain now washing the ash away. Colour spreading back across the island. Drops of water splashed down across Abby’s skin, draining away down to the ground.


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