Showing posts with label text. Show all posts
Showing posts with label text. Show all posts

Saturday, 5 September 2015

Sparkling - flashbacks - de:de - Cinderella

Today's #afewwordsaday #KAFWAD submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.

5th September 2015
As a child I loved the rather gory version of the Cinderella story I have re-told here.

Prompts
 
FMS Photo a day
Sparkle
Text type
Flashbacks
Sentence type
De:de
Story
Cinderella

De: de adds description then detail. It is a compound sentence with 2 independent clauses separated by a colon.: I was delirious: I hadn’t slept for 3 days
Flashbacks: give insight into the underlying events of a story and breaks up a linear narrative. It is also a good opportunity to use different past tenses (perfect / continuous).




Two doves flew alongside Cinderella and the prince, rejoicing in their happiness, as the couple embarked on their new life together.

They passed the hazelnut tree which marked where her mother was buried. Every day for many years Cinderella had wept at her mother’s grave: she had felt so sad and alone. After her mother died, Cinderella lived with her father who loved her, but he had married again. Cinderella gained a stepmother who was beautiful but had a wicked heart. She also had two step-sisters who were like their mother in every way.

The prince noticed Cinderella gaze reflectively at the hazelnut tree. He often rode this way and remembered being surprised when, recently, the tree appeared overnight.
The prince knew so little about Cinderella, but was certain that she was beautiful both inside and out. In the following years as Cinderella told him more about her life, he was at shocked, and at other times amazed and proud of his wife.

Cinderella, as she gazed at the tree, remembered the day her father gave her a hazelnut branch. He had been on a long journey and this was her present. Whilst her step-sisters had asked for expensive clothes and jewellery she asked for the first branch to strike his hat on his return. She took the branch to her mother’s grave and wept bitterly. The branch took root and that night grew into a great tree, a beautiful bird came and sat in it.

Cinderella would always remember her mother dearly, but she knew she would never again weep such bitter tears under the hazelnut tree. Her life had changed: no longer would she have to work from before dawn until after dusk. She never needed to wear those horrible wooden shoes again, or the dirty rags her step-mother gave her. She would be able to wash; to have clean clothes; a bed to sleep in: she would no longer need to be called CINDER- Ella. ‘From now on, could you call me Ella?’ She asked the prince. He held gently squeezed her hand in agreement.

Cinderella’s life had become intolerable, even for someone such a sweet nature. When, just a few days ago, the King invited all the beautiful girls to the palace so that his son could choose a bride. Cinderella didn’t think she was beautiful, and had no silly dreams about being noticed by the prince:  she wanted to escape from her drudgery for just one night.

She had asked, then begged, then pleaded: her stepmother finally agreed. If Cinderella could pick out the cinders from the ashes she could come. Cinderella completed this task and another but her step-mother still refused to take her: ‘Look at yourself. You would be such an embarrassment!’

The doves now flying alongside Cinderella and the prince, had been amongst the many doves who had happily helped this kind girl to clean and sort the cinders. They had gone with her to her mother’s grave when the others had gone off to the ball at the palace.
Cinderella had cried and wished that the tree could throw gold and silver over her. 

Still sitting beside her prince on his horse, she was unable to contain another gasp of astonishment, just as she had when the beautiful bird threw down a beautiful dress covered in diamonds which sparkled like early morning frost lit up by the bright rays of sun greeting a clear, fresh new day. And the shoes - decorated with gold and fit for a princess! Her heart raced again, remembering the excitement she felt as she had quickly changed and rushed off the palace. That night had danced with the prince for the first time.

Cinderella could still not believe her stepmother and stepsisters had not recognised her: they had stared at her hard so hard she had felt it! The next two nights, under the hazelnut tree, the bird threw down dresses which were more beautiful than before. On the third night, the shoes were of pure gold!

The prince wondered what Cinderella was thinking as she wrapped her arms more tightly round him. Her day dreams had taken her back to that magical night when he danced only with her. Until that moment, she thought she would never be happy again, yet all of a sudden, she was happier than she had ever been! Cinderella could feel herself smiling all over again.

The prince was also transported back to that night. He had resented his father’s interfering ways. He knew the King was determined he should marry a rich and beautiful woman: it didn’t matter if he didn’t like her. The prince had not been impressed with the proud and haughty demeanour of the guests, this was his last chance to choose his own bride before the King found him a suitable girl. That was the last thing he wanted. The prince was recalling those increasingly desperate feelings when Cinderella’s arms had tightened around him. The warm feeling it gave him took straight back to the first ball, to the first time that night he’d smiled, to the first time his eyes caught sight of his future bride. He hoped this feeling would last for ever.

Two nights in a row this mysterious girl, who wouldn’t even tell him her name, had run off alone into the night. He thought about how determined he’d been not to let her get away on the third night, but somehow she had slipped away. It was the princes turn to gasp at a memory, this time with utter sadness. Cinderella asked what was wrong. He told her how devastated he was when she had left and he thought he might never see her again, and that his only hope was her shoe she had left behind in her haste to leave.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she replied, ‘My step-mother terrified me. I didn’t want to face her anger if she found out that I had deceived her. I will never leave you again. I know now I can trust you and I need never be scared again.’

Deception came more easily to her step-sisters: so desperate were they to marry the prince that one even cut off her toe so it would in the shoe, the other cut off her heel! In both cases, as they had passed the grave with the hazelnut tree, the beautiful bird had called out a warning: ‘There is blood in that shoe, the girl who should be your bride is still at home!’


This time as they passed, they both offered a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the bird which sat in the hazelnut tree and sang out, ‘The prince leads his true bride home!’

Friday, 4 September 2015

My passion - simile - if, if, if, then - Pinocchio

Today's #afewwordsaday #KAFWAD submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.

4th September 2015
I have just re-told a preface for the story. Perhaps you can re-tell a different part, or write a blurb including the sentence structure: If, if, if, then.

Prompts: 
FMS Photo a day: My passion...
text type:           Simile
Sentence type:   if, if, if, then
Story:                 Pinocchio

Simile: use 'like' or 'as... a...' for sentences in key parts of the story.
If, if, if, then: use this to summarise a dramatic plot at the beginning or end of a story.


Geppetto and Pinocchio both learned if your passion is money, it could make an ass out of you.




Pinocchio: a preface

Master Antonio, saw the piece of wood, he rubbed his hands in delight like a hungry man presented with a slap-up meal. Master Antonio was a talented carpenter but was known to the local children as ‘Mr Cherry’, on account of his very round and very red nose. For sixty years he had never been short of customers needing a new chest or replacement arm for a chair. Mr Antonio thought this piece of wood would make the most beautiful table leg and he set to work.
He swung his axe over his shoulder like an Olympic hammer thrower and it sliced into the wood like a hot knife through butter. ‘Don’t hit me so hard!’ cried a small, strange, ghost-like voice. He was so scared that his nose turned as blue as a blueberry and he sat right down on the floor.
At that very moment, his shop doorbell rang and his old friend and neighbour entered. ‘Why are you sitting on the floor like a fool? Up you get, I need you to sell me some wood.’ Geppetto was never one to stand on ceremony. ‘I am tired of being as poor as a church mouse; I want to make lots of money and I have a plan, it will be my passion!’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I will make a wooden puppet that can dance like Bob Fosse*, leap like an acrobat and fence like Inigo Montoya**. Crowds will swarm around me like bees round a honey pot, I will be as rich as a king!’
‘Bravo, Pudding! Best idea ever!’
‘What did you call me?’ demanded Geppetto, turning as red as a rooster's crown. His ridiculous round, wig as yellow as custard, slipped a little on his sweaty head as he turned angrily to Antonio.
‘It wasn’t me!’
‘Donkey!’
‘Pudding!’
‘Baboon!’
‘Pudding!’
‘Swine!’
‘Pudding!’
This was too much for Geppetto and the two men began to fight like cat and dog: hissing, spitting and scratching. ‘But I didn’t say anything,’ gasped an exasperated Antonio, and the same strange, small voice began to laugh. This time both men sat on the floor and stared in amazement at the block of wood.
Master Antonio and Geppetto quickly became friends again, as they had done after every fight they had had for the last seventy years. Master Antonio gladly gave the piece of wood to Geppetto who was just as happy to take it.
As you may know, it wasn’t long before Geppetto realised his mistake and found that, in Pinocchio, he had created a puppet who was naughty beyond compare. If he hadn’t been so hot headed, if he hadn’t been so greedy, if he'd been a better friend, then he wouldn’t be in such a fix now.

Notes
* If you haven’t heard of Bob Fosse check him out on YouTube dancing to Billy Jean, it will blow your mind.

** If you have never heard of Inigo Montoya, go and read, or watch, ‘The Princess Bride’ immediately.

Thursday, 3 September 2015

Bedtime - never ending story - short sentences - East of the Sun and West of the Moon

Today's #afewwordsaday #KAFWAD submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.


3rd September 2015
This story was new to me, men and women are put firmly in their stereotypes in this version of the Beauty and the Beast story. 
Why not print my story out and turn it into a mobius strip. Can you re-tell a story so that it never ends? 

Prompts: 
FMS Photo a day: Bedtime
text type:            Never-ending story
Sentence type:     Short
Story:                  East of the Sun and west of the moon

Never-ending story: change the story so that the narrative is circular, then you could try turning it into a mobius strip.
Short sentences: Add drama.  1- 3 words and may have an exclamation mark.


Bedtime is a always a time rules are broken in fairy tales!




(Keep scrolling for the plain text)


The young prince, when playing in the forest, is bewitched by a troll. She is avenging the death of her evil sister. The prince is now a white bear by day. Some years later he meets a peasant who gives him his daughter in return for untold riches.
The white bear and the girl live happily in luxury in his castle. But she’s homesick. The white bear lets her visit home but she must not let her mother speak to her alone. But she does!
The mother thinks the white bear is a troll and her daughter must check at night. She took a candle and when he was asleep she sneaked a peek. He was handsome! Three drops of tallow dripped onto his shirt. He woke! He was angry!
‘It’s over!’ If only she’d waited a year to see him in human form! He returns to the troll in her castle, east of the sun and west of the moon, to be married. His castle vanishes. The girl sets off to find him.
The North Wind takes her to the castle east of the sun and west of the moon. The white bear is to be wed in the morning! He sees the girl and tells the troll his bride must be able to remove the tallow from his shirt. The troll agrees. But trolls can’t clean! Her chosen troll-bride only makes it worse. The girl, however, makes the shirt cleaner even than snow. The spell is broken!

The troll and troll-bride burst in rage. The prince and the girl escape from the castle east of the sun and west of the moon. They marry and have a son.

Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Happiness is... - mono-syllabic - 3 bad adj - question - The Happy Prince

Today's #afewwordsaday #KAFWAD submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.


2nd September 2015
I have re-told the whole story by 'hugging the text'. Why not try a summary of the story?

Prompts: 
FMS Photo a day: Happiness is...
text type:            Mono-syllabic
Sentence type:     3 bad adj - question
Story:                  The Happy Prince

Mono-syllabic: only words with one syllable are permitted!
An adjective, describes the noun (person, place or object). Use three negative adjectives followed by a dash and a question.





High up on a tall plinth, stood the Prince, cast in gold and gems of bright hues marked his eyes, lips and sword-hilt.
He awed the town folk with his good looks.
‘He has the charm of a wind vane, with none of its use,’ sneered the Mayor.
‘Why can’t you be like the Prince of Bliss?’ asked a wise mum when her small boy cried for the moon. ‘The Prince of Bliss does not cry for what he can’t reach.’
‘I am glad there is one man in the world with bliss,’ sighed a man who was down in the dumps, as he gazed up at the prince.
One night a small bird flew past. His friends had flown to hot climes. They had been there for six weeks: the small bird was late. He had stayed with the reed he loved so much but now had tired of her. She would not fly off with him to see new sights and find a new home in the sun.
The bird saw the prince on his plinth and thought he would stay with him. ‘What a great place! What great sights!’
The bird as he made his bed, so he could go to sleep, he felt drops of what he thought was rain – but there was no cloud in the sky, and the stars shone as bright as the street lights.  
This seemed to not be such a great place to stay! As he spread his wings to fly off, he looked up and saw the prince. He saw eyes filled with tears, and streams of tears on his gold cheeks. The bird felt sad for him.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am the Prince of Bliss.’
‘So why are you so glum?’
‘When I was a real boy, I did not know what tears were. I lived where gloom, hurt, pain and angst were banned. I did not know of a world out of my home and the tall wall which wrapped around my home. I played all day, I danced at night. I had friends. It was bliss: my aides called me the Prince of Bliss. Now I am dead, they have set me up here and all I can see is a bleak world. Cruel, bleak, doomed – why did they plague me with this?
‘Far off, I can see a poor wretch with a sick boy.  I can see her sew a gown for the Queen’s maid with her coarse, red hands. Please, my friend, take the red gem from my sword –hilt to her so she can buy him some food!’
The bird, who should have flown by now (it was too cold for him), did as he was asked. When he flew back, he thought it odd, but he felt quite warm.
‘You have done a good deed,’ said the prince.  The next day the bird was all set to fly south, when the prince asked for one more task. ‘There is a man. He needs to finish a play, but he is too cold to write. Take one of my eyes to him, He will sell it and buy food and coal.’
‘I can't do that,’ sobbed the bird.
‘Dear bird, do as I tell you!’
When he came back the prince asked him to stay for one more night. ‘It’s cold,’ said the bird. ‘I will be chilled by the snow. In the south, the sun is hot on the green palms. My friends have built nests in the temples. I must leave you. In the spring, I will come back and I will bring new gems. I will bring more gems!’
‘In the square is a young match-girl, her dad will beat her if she does not sell. See how she cries!’
‘I will stay just one more night, but I will not pluck out your eye, or you will be blind.’
‘Dear bird, do as I tell you!’
The match-girl’s heart leapt when she saw it and she skipped home full of joy.
‘Now you must fly south.’
‘You are blind now, so I will not leave you.’ He slept at feet of the prince. The next day he flew round the town and told the prince what he had seen: pain, stress, hurt.
‘Take my gold leaf and give it to the poor. Folk think gold can make them feel good.’
Leaf by leaf the bird helped the prince give his gold to those at a loss and with no hope. ‘We have bread now!’ they laughed and played. Now the prince was dull and grey, and the air was cold and grey.
Cold, numb, on his last legs – would the bird leave now?
At last he knew he would soon die. He had just the strength to fly up to where the prince could hear him. ‘Good-bye, dear prince! Will you let me kiss your hand?’
And then he fell to the ground, dead at his feet. Right then, the heart of the prince snapped in two. It was a hard frost.
At dawn, the Mayor said, ‘How grim! What tat! The gems are lost!’
His aides chimed in, ‘Where is his gold?’ ‘He is worse than a tramp!’ ‘There is a dead bird at his feet.’
The Mayor said, ‘As he now has no charm, he has no use at all. Tear him down. Cast me, and put me on the plinth in his place!’
In the forge, they found a lead heart that would not melt. They threw it on the dust heap next to the poor, dead, small bird.
God asked his saints for the two things with most value in the town. He was brought the lead heart and the dead bird. ‘You have picked well,’ he said. ‘The bird will sing and sing, and the Prince of Bliss will praise me.’



Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Gruffalo - limerick - simile

Today's #afewwordsaday submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.

I think you can do better than me today. Have a go!

1st September 2015

Prompts: 
FMS Photo a day:  In my wardrobe
text type:            Limerick
Sentence type:     Simile
Story:                  Gruffalo

limerick should have:
rhyming structure of AABBA
three 'on-beats' on first two lines, two on next two lines
last line is usually a punchline

simile compares to things using 'as' or 'like'. For example:
The rock cake really was as hard as stone.





A terrible old beast, the gruffalo,
Hated his horrible turned-out toes,
In his wardrobe: no stockings,
Like a lost sheep when out shopping,
He looked for a mouse he could follow.