IGCSE Paper 2 Writing Practices

The Story of The Deep Blue (Narrative)

VOCABS TO BE USED: Strive, Subtle, Ingrained, Vouch, Dilapidated, Uninitiated, Crass, Banter, Guttural, Debacle, Instinctive, Barrio, Slink, Choreograph, Generic.

It was a generic morning. Where the sunlight poured its golden rays into the school's white hallway. Shards of light sliced through the calm, blueberry shadows that were cast upon the walls, as well as catching the dust dancing in its gaze. Like always, I arrived early at school where there's only silence; and a normal day will start where friends banter and students study endlessly. There was nothing different.

Until I saw that painting.

It was never there, but now resting on an art stand and blended in with the blue shadows. Like a scaredy-cat, I slink towards it carefully. It's a painting of an ocean. Blueberry-blue, green, turquoise, and cranberry-red... All mixed with each other in perfect harmony with subtle strokes; like how Mozart will choreograph every single note into one harmonious music.

I peered even closer into the deep blue; there's a teenage girl underwater. She was aggressively striving for air, her white skirt being twisted in the freezing current. Above her, dilapidated houses roared and shattered into gigantic pieces, crashing down towards her from the water surface. My heart thudded. Her guttural screams being muted cruelly in the waters echoed in my ears; was it my imagination?

Suddenly, I felt a hand rested on my shoulder. An icy itch irritated my skin. I turned instinctively, and my body shuddered when I saw who it was.

It was her. Skin as pale as a white canvas and lips trembling in a terrifying purple. Her white dress drenched in excessive water, while droplets dripped down from the tips of her coal-black hair, sending ripples in the water puddles beneath her. I stared straightly into her eyes, so dark and empty like a profound void ingrained with hopelessness.

"Who are you?" My voice trembled.

Silently, she pointed to the painting. 

"DON'T TOUCH IT!!" A voice shouted as a student girl sprinted towards me like an irritated dancing monkey. She grabbed me by my collar and threatened crassly, "you didn't touch it, didn't you?"

"No, I promise!" My heart then thumped again; she looks exactly like that ghostly little girl, but a monkey version, "you painted this?"

"Well yes, and it's not meant to be touched by you," she spoke as she carried the painting into her arms carefully and turn towards the hallway.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, "who is that little girl?"

There was a long silence. Then she let out a deep sigh.

"That's me, and everybody. Suffocating from school, people, home, works," the sun shone brighter on her, and the chatter of students came in gradually, "I believe that's you, too."

She ran off. Into the hallway that's slowly filling up with students. The sunlight caught the dancing dust in its glare, as well as her own story.

(448 words)