YEAR 5 CREATIVEWRITING
DARK DAYS
Please sir… not the workhouse I am writing to politely beg you not to banish our family from our temporary residence in your exquisite home. Though we do not have the means to pay our rent, there are countless reasons to why we, the Jarvis family, deserve to stay in our room which I will clearly outline below. First and foremost you are putting my mother’s life in grave danger by forcing her to live on the streets, have you seen how frail and pale she is! Mr Spink you’re not only putting our mother’s life in danger but our lives in danger too. Are we really expected to live on the grim streets of London? Mr Spink, place yourself in my shoes, how would you like your family to be banished to the streets? Only a fool would say you’re doing the right thing….and I expect you are no fool! Now Mrs Spink, as a child I don’t know too much but even I know your actions are wrong. Mr Spink, as an honourable family and one that has never caused you any problems prior to this incident, I honestly believe that we could come to some sort of financial agreement. It wouldn’t be difficult for myself, Emily or Lizzie to get extra work and earn some surplus monies to help us pay our debt. Surely you would spare us a few extra days to earn money? Mr Spink, I do naturally feel that you are a nice and decent man and I feel you should consider my request for our family to not be evicted from our room.
Could life get any worse? The towering, grey walls seemed to go up forever and the cold, iron bars trapped mercilessly anyone who went into the workhouse. The massive golden bell which bonged every hour appeared to drag on endlessly. He looked upwards and saw the dull, grey sky mocking him. Every step he took would hurt his soft, small feet and he looked at the hard, rough ground in pain. Finally he realised he was wrapped in a cold, spine-chilling mist which made him shiver because of his loneliness. The horrible smell of the infirmary reminded him sadly of Ma. At the sight of the foul smelling and fly-covered trough where he saw pale-faced boys eating rotten food miserably, he felt greatly distressed. As he edged into the austere building which was as silent as a graveyard, he wished the grey and cold floor would swallow him up. Suddenly, he was brought back to his senses as he heard the lashing of a whip and it made his hair stand on end. Then, Mr Barrack dashed out of the room and snarled “who wants some more?!” Thinking fast, Jim rushed into an immense, hostile and unwelcoming room and the smell of unappealing broth wafted into his nose. Jim saw frail-bodied boys eating silently at the table and being watched over by the eagle-eyed Mr Scissons. After that, he was taken to a wooden bed which was lumpy, filthy, rough and box-sized. That was what he slept in just like the other boys did.
Yours sincerely Jim Jarvis
Benjamin Tarrant Onuorah, 5W
Scott Cheung, 5B
18
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