London Bridge by Sam Cowell, Year 10 I like to get here early. Sit a while,
Nine ways of looking at London by Freddie Tapp, Year 10 1. Heartless glass,
I like the empty bin bag, fluttering slightly every once in a while to the whistle of a non-existent breeze or the ripple of air from a lone car sailing past. I like the sound it makes as I drop an empty coffee cup into it, a gentle pit-pat of crackling plastic that disturbs the otherwise silent hall. I like watching the security guards arrive in, one by one, bleary-eyed but wearing brash yellow jackets that are louder than any noise amongst the white walls, white pillars, white roof. I like the sound their walking makes on the floor, a pronounced tap dance that grows quieter as they walk away like a ping-pong ball that slowly stops bouncing. And then, just like that, it stops. The gentle tannoy cuts through the stillness, announcing some train departing to some blissfully peaceful country town not too far from here, and the first traveller walks in, yawning and coughing. The M&S sign stops flashing, the gates start to close one by one, and more and more tired city workers start to emerge from trains carrying them from the broadening sunrise. I stand up, get my wallet out, and start walk- ing. Don’t want to miss it.
enjoy the speckled pattern on the pol- ished granite floor. The constant, muted flashing of the M&S sign in the corner, advertising meal deals for the budget traveller who will come in, dragging a suitcase laden with woolly jumpers and armed with a thousand train tickets, just before the morning rush hour. I like the row of open ticket barriers, each with a green tick pointing to a gravel-lined track fad- ing away into the crisp 5 o’clock sunrise. De- parting to somewhere in the London suburbs winding across an empty bridge, through an empty city to somewhere even emptier.
Humiliating the past, Reaching for the stars.
2. A cacophony, An eruption of balletic harmony, A glimmer from aged life. 3. Swarms of crimson,
History riding fast, An icon for an age, The English imprint on modern life. 4. Luscious crowds, Of forest green, Blemished by the Knowledge of its existence. 5. A high-pitched groan, Pulsating through cobbled avenues, From below, Taking you anywhere, You want to go. 6. The symphony of noise, The irregular sharpness of anger, Impatience celebrated, Via horns. 7. A mosaic of Victorian brick, A field of industrial ecosystems, Refined to within an inch of its life, Now untouchable. 8. Stand-alone, Stand tall, Universal symbol of Hope in dark, A glint in the eye on a starless, navy canvas. 9. Passion in the way we Talk, Walk, And drift through the onslaught of life, The way we angle our movements, To remind others how the weather is so inferior.
Artwork by Alexander de Almeida (Year 13)
CREATIVE WRITING
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THE ALLEYNIAN 713
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