Wolf Writing

Here are some master peices of writing from Room 2.


I opened the tent to see a blood sucking pebble-eyed wolf. From the moment I saw him I knew I could be served on a silver platter.


His eyes looked like the moon shining down on the ground and its ears were pointed up just like shards of glass. The saliva coming out of his mouth was a waterfall. The colour of his fur was a sort of creamy white like a milk chocolate bar.

His teeth were sharp knives about to go into my flesh. To him I am the chew toy and he’s the dog. One bite from this dog could do a lot of damage. His tongue was rough and shiny just like a frog. He had as many rows of teeth as a whale and sharp teeth as sharp as a sharks.

By Damian Aitken


I open the tent flap and stumble out.




There I came face to face with a meat eating beast.


His teeth are sharp knives with bits of dead animal flesh in them.

Saliva dripped out of his watering mouth like rain falling from the sky making huge puddles right in front of my feet.

His fur is sticking up like big bits of wire getting ready to pounce.

He glares into my eyes like saying he’s starving to death.

He creeps closer and closer still.

His nose is a black night sky, smelling fear.

His ears turn back as he struggles to hear movement. His tongue is a scaly crocodile. I rush back indoors and hope it was a dream.

By Madison H

 
 
I Zipped the door of the tent and I saw a Wolf.


His beady looking eyes looked at me as if to say, “You’ll taste good on a platter.”

The wolf’s wet strong sniffer of a nose smelt me out.

The fresh saliva dripped onto his creamy soft coat of fur.

The saliva was wet and cold like ice.

His gums were red from his tasty meal. I just sat and stared. His sharp knife-like teeth chomped up and down like scissors at the hair dressers.

His long wiggly tongue licked around his hard lips and his sharp pointy ears pricked up to see if I was still there.

By Lily



I pushed my way through the trees, into the clearing and saw it. A wolf stood with fluffy brown back fur, and an evil expression on its face.


Its eyes were set back in its head, yellow like crumpled sunflowers, furious, glowing sunflowers.

Sharp teeth like daggers reflect the fear on my face.

Its ears are back against its head as if it’s straining to hear something.

Streams of saliva flowed out of his open mouth and were blown along the length of its body by the wind, finally falling to the damp ground by his bushy tail. Grey and white fur engulfs its body, and is constantly moving like a tent in the middle of a storm.

A small, black nose is constantly twitching as it sniffs out its prey - ME.

The wolf’s tongue is a snake, wriggling around in its mouth, its home.

Slowly I back into the bush and begin the long hike home. I was too scared to stay here!!!!!

By Bonte Hall


There you have it some very good peices of  brilliant writing from Room 2.