Grade 9 Example of Description and Story for Question 5 Mr Salles 

My fear is that I use all these techniques such as repetition and have the examiner be like "wHy DiD hE rEpEaT tHe WoRd TwIcE??"

i just searched up the meaning of mizuko and it means water child, i think the student was smart at using that

Dear Year 10, Just pay attention in class

THIS WAS THE BIGGEST HELP I'V HAD IN AGES! God my teacher needs to see this she's such a boring teacher! People need more teachers like you, mabe we would actually pass english. Thank you.

She could've woken up in a hospital room, having being saved unknowingly by someone. Amazing story though, he's definitely talented.

hahaha he took 'dropped like a luxery' from the power and conflict anthology bayonet charge

17:41 that was very unexpected, GRADE 9 due to the contrast in tones

thanks a lot for this , just started year 11

Now i know why the exam board gives us so many pages to write the question on

I want to transition from doing descriptions every time in Q5 to doing the narrative because I think it'll benefit me for the exam next year. I'm not sure how to go about it though because I have never done any narrative stories since the early days of primary school. I have recently put an order in for your book though, that should help.

how could u dislike such excellence

I've been trying to practise my story writing (stuck on a level 6/7 it seems) and I'd really like to know your thoughts (although it's not really done) I closed her eyes and breathed her a gentle lullaby, laying her head down on the pillows of concrete that circled her. Her knuckles were bruised with the stain of my lips, not too dissimilar to how her skull had sewn a bloody patchwork into my own. Fallen from grace, you could call me as I slumped into the leather train seat, the rosy flush upon my neck that sprung half-way up to my cheeks. It was a dead-giveaway. These people on the train glanced in their supposed knowing. How delightful it was to me that they hadn’t a clue. The dawning spears of sunlight pierced me and that moment I was crucified. I was crucified, like the strange man in the crucifix I had choked around my neck. Their eyes stabbed holes in my humanity and their whispers stitched a crown onto my head. Martyrdom was far from the bitter reality. Perhaps tomorrow she’ll be on the news: Lauren Turgend found dead on Seven Albert Lane, second account of double-stabbings reported the week of the seventh of the ninth. To them she is merely a number. To me she was hardly a game. Tomorrow’s serial killers are to be shaped by my own blissfully wretched generation, soaked in the sins of their predecessors. My parents ripped holes in my empathy and my teachers caused loathing to ooze from my brain. Is it by chance that I am this way? Would you tell me that if you looked me in the face? The problem here lies within our perception of life: ever since school we are taught to draw halos around what is right and strike down what is wrong. We cast out irregularity from our lives. It is burnt, it is no more. I do not say this out of scorn, I say this out of experience. Parents cast a girl out of the warmth of her home several years ago and threw her onto the street with little more than a piece of toast and a bag which fell at her feet. That girl became a monster and drove herself insane. That girl, her and I share a name, but her brain has been so twisted that I can no longer call it my own. The problem here lies within perception: the world perceived my lover as alive. I perceived her dead.

How do I prevent myself from getting a mental block in the exam? I have a good pool of vocabulary and I tend to overthink extended writing like descriptions so would spending a little extra time on a plan be good enough to prevent this?

how do you know that the examination will understand all the hints

Mr Salles states it's pretty harsh that Beau got marked down for one error and the first mark includes the comment "accuracy with spellings throughout" but I counted 11 mistakes. You can't fault this guy's talent but the marker should have gone to Spec Savers. Mr S, btw, you are awesome. Very, very helpful videos.

29:29 a DAD JOKE AHAHAHHAHAHHAA

this helped an awful lot, THANK YOU!!!

Tysm for everything sir I hope you saved my grades hehe

Hello sir, could you please mark my story: "Shell Shock" Blissful beams of light pierced through the blue skies, placing a spotlight upon the man as he sat down on the bench. The trees delicately shivered, outstretching their arms before him. Content in solitude, he gazed upon the kids playing hopscotch and was swept back into 1930: the year his first daughter was born. Life was perfect back then. If only he had known that in nine short years, he would be windswept into conflict. The war ended but memories never did. Sometimes they materialised into faces, sometimes they materialised in to places in time. But they were always real, just like the man who was suddenly sat next to him. The man was smart, but it was pecular: the clothes he was wearing was not a type he’d seen since his demob days working as a postman. Even so, his face seemed recognisable, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on it. It almost looked like his brother, Frank. But, of course, that was ridiculous, and he quickly shook the idea off immediately. After all, his memories were deteriorating by day. The man didn’t quite look right though: he had a visible tremor in his right leg but carried a calm and determined air. “Are you okay?” the man asked, furrowing his eyebrows “Y-yes sir!” the man responded, eyes transfixed on the tree in front of him like a rifle readying his shot. “I’m not your commanding officer, son- my name’s Carl” he chucked “And your name is?” leaning over to give him a handshake. But, the man ignored him, his eyes still trained on that infernal tree. “I’ve killed dozens of Jerries’ with my Enfield, I never forget a face and when I close my eyes all I can see are those faces” … a sheet of tears formed on his pupils. Murder swelled in his crimson bullet hole eyes: “BOOM!” the rifle guns permeated through him, and the tears became even more apparent in the autumnal orange hue. He blinked them away in an instant. Calm again. Carl raised his eyebrows. These were his memories too. Memories that were better locked away gathering dust. Little did he know; this man was still suffering deeply because of it. It had taken him years to get out of his own calamitous state which war forced him into. Some people just never get over it. And now, at the end of all this, he could finally look back on a life well liven. Carl looked up to see the trees once again: they stood lifeless and drooped. The park was washed out like an old faded photograph. He blinked. Everything came back into focus. The man was gone and was replaced by his caregiver, Emma. “Away with the fairies again, Carl?” He looked at her puzzled and bewildered. “H-he was right there, I-I was sure of it” Emma frowned: “Who? I’ve been sitting here all this time”

Here is a creative writing piece I wrote earlier. Please inform me of any improvements, things I did well and should keep the same and what you would possibly score it out of 40. Thank you! Sour smoke erupted into the atmosphere like an active volcano, strafing the air with clouds of melancholy. The ash released into the air from the prison towers engulfed all surrounding colour and choked the remaining life from the acrid land; its furious rage hunted surviving life like a wild beast turned savage. The pungent fumes drift around the playground and gather to form an ominous cloud that overlooks the innocence of the earth; it gazes blades towards the incompetent mundanes below, clueless of the whirlwind being assembled above them. The atmosphere tasted beige; all land was water ridden; all colour in the sky was extinguished by the overwhelming monster. Nothing surrounding the centre of hell was alive, except the occasional tree or bush which somehow survived the massacre. The green statues silently stood there and danced as their branches wave silently like a whisper of the wind. Perhaps it is a cry for help, waving their green flags in a sign of distress. Who knows, Who cares. Their death is inevitable; the infection will slowly contaminate them like everything else. The hot-headed rage meandered through the air seeking its next victim; no doubt it will be successful. As it slowly dashes through the air destroying all life, mundanes begin protests and riots in hope of preventing the savages venture. "But we make money" some of the owners muttered, watching the epidemic glide through the air. The uncontrollable teen grew stronger and more hungry with every hour, seeking more mayhem and causing more havoc. However, there is no escape from this plague. Every crevice and every crack in the earth is smothered in the fat black fumes. The gust carried the sinister gas across the nations, infecting neighbours and strangling the life from their property. All optimism is diminished. The scent of the dead air is now crimson; everything perished except a judgment of animosity. As the ageing trees danced for the final time, their green flags wilted in defeat. No sight to see, just the air of decease. This barren wasteland finally controlled by the savage beast.

I'm so worried. And History exam tomorrow!

this is really good, thank you!!

This is an example of what I mean A cry pushes past her lips. Samira is alone. Alone, with nothing but her frenzied thoughts for company. As she comes to reflect on this, she feels an ache course through her, burning a hole the size of an acre through her heart. An abyss is left in its place, a submerging pit of darkness, filled with misery and deep dark regret. Deep, dark regret. Regret for her decision. She curses herself for letting her mind allude to the idea that he'd show up, along with a soft smile worth a thousand apologies, paired with bright eyes that could encompass all thoughts and feelings. They held the power to stop her from thinking properly. That was Samira's thought process then, when she had first embarked on her journey. Her heart was as light as leaves fluttering past her. Her lips were prepared to be as docile as paper, ready to comply with all his hopes and dreams. Then, his absence was made known. It led to anarchy. Being unable to meet his needs , Samira began to neglect her own. Her own hopes and dreams hung in the air, frozen and indignant as time swept past. Like great gusts of wind, they moved locks of her hair back, tickling the sides of her cheeks. Time moves on, yet Samira remains stagnant. Halted in time. She's still by the dock of the bay, prickling with contempt, her impatience standing tall. But her surroundings do not adhere to standing stationary. They themselves transpose through time. The sun retiring to sit beside her, the skies growing darker and the clouds growing heavier. And for a moment, its still. There's no movement surrounding.. Then something suddenly snaps inside of her and chaos is instantaneously unleashed within her.To the eye, Samira looks perfectly sane, but deep down within, her mind is screaming torrents of abuse, her lungs burning in agony, her mouth brimming with sawdust. Samira pulls her legs inwards, sniffing profusely, her arms tightly wrung around her, her breathing heavy, the tears in her eyes blurring her vision. She feels like a solider who has just gone out to battle, for she is wheezing in pain as if she has been struck. It does not relent, the talons of anguish clawing into her, ripping her to shreds. Leaving nothing in it's midst, but a girl of slight frame, her piercing cries causing her whole body to fall into a convulsing rage. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Am I able to do this, moving from the present to the past? Or does it not make sense

Looks like I’m not the only one that left revision to the last minute 😁❤️

Write a story with a title discovery If I stared too long she would glance back at me but then.. everything would start to deteriorate. I felt a presence when I was with her, like my soul had left my body and it was now, one with the earth. This experience it’s been occurring for years, but even when my body was unconscious I could feel a sudden change. Her soft voice pressed against my ears as she whispered, “Eva”. My heart stopped. My eyelashes pressed against my face, for a which was just a sudden second. When I opened them... they were haunted rimmed with red shadow. My eyes showed the emotion which was inconspicuous in my appearance...it was trauma. The girl, the girl, it was... me? Like a gunshot, released from the trigger, I rose from my nightmare. My eyes traced the features of room, like I’ve never been here before. It was iridescent the colours brought a deception to my eyes. The pale pink was clashed with the blue bedsheets, the posters on the walls were dated and embarrassing. It was a representation, a representation of how things never change. I am now eighteen, yet I feel a constant desire to be reminded of my childhood. Jane noticed me . It was When she walked into the room her smile was struck suddenly by the despair within my eyes which continued to radiate even within her comfort. Jane is my mother, yet Jane is a liar. I couldn’t tell her because I don’t show emotion. Jane delicately placed herself next to me on the bed, smoothing her mid length jean skirt so it creased, then pushing her auburn her behind her ear. She was so pure and gentle, anyone who didn’t know her would think she is a saint. “ is it about yesterday” the words made me grit my teeth in disappointment. In a sudden belligerence manner I replied, “it’s ok, I don’t mind, in fact thank you for leaving it so long to tell me that I’m not your daughter”. Subliminally I felt an urge of confusion, to the point where my memories have been erased from my mind. My actions lack meaning and I am afraid. What if my name isn’t Eva? What if I shouldn’t be living like this? Or what If my dreams have meaning? There’s someone looking for me.., I maintained eye contact with Jane as my smile began to fade.

What is the point in contrast?Just create tension to grab the attention of the reader? Could also be used in structure analysis question in paper 1?

At 10:48 read the notification in the bottom right corner.

What would you recommend. Writing about the picture or writing an introduction to a story

Thank for the advice

The only way i'm gonna get grade 7 is by linking it to a novel I studied. Who's also heavily relying on this lol

this helped very much the exams start next week and my question 5 mini mock is tmrw!

I wrote a short story as a monolgue .. (is it possible to grade it ??) Speak Quiver.Stop.Breath catches in throat. Stop. What do you know about speaking ? My words - correction words are not, have never been, will ever be, mine. Look closely. My thin lips tightly pressed like felt have difficulty opening - but - what would you know about that? Cover girl ! Yes that's me. Stunning, striking, seductive ... yet there is more to me than the eye can see. For years the media has been pinning, plastering , pestering the image I have crafted of myself ruthlessly making all my dedication and hardwork diminish into nothing through desperately poking around trying to uncover a myriad of untruths. Untruths : key word here un - truths. Despite this , it's funny how you've been blown away by this. News has spread : a wildfire engulfing your innocent minds scorching whatever rationality remains and leaving behind remnants of lies to settle like ashes. Shamelessly dragging me in the dirt - taking my life for a joke : pfft ! Only time will tell whose words shall be taken correctly. Now think back to last month - preferably on the 18th. Whilst you were busy comfortably relaxing in front of a screen carefree and jocund , I was choked , chided and cast away from society. For what huh ? For actions done against me? To me ! Yet I am responsible? The question commonly asked by you is " What were you wearing?" Why does that matter ? It's because the way you dress triggers them ... So now it is my fault I am in a hospital gown ? And it is my fault I am a victim. Oh I'm sorry. Speak. But nothing comes out. Who even listens?

thanks a lot, big help!

Honestly you make it look so easyyy😂

What's the difference between a fragmented sentence and a curtailed sentence? DId I make that up haha

I’m scared that i will do the photo description but make it accidentally more of a story, my teacher never said to give the person a name or go too in depth while doing a photo description but this person did and got a 9?

Thanks so much

Someone please answer if I've planned a story about nature and the picture is nothing to do with nature and its inside or nothing to do with nature can I make the characters or person go outside from the place they are in like the beginning could be introducing them and later on them stepping outside and facing the storm

I have my paper 1 exam tomorrow!!!!😱

HAHAHHAHA @29:10 LET US BEAULOW HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH MR SALLES THE COMEDIAN

Thank you thank you thank you xx

Hello sir I just wanted to ask, because we’re having and English language paper next week... so if it would be better to memorise some of these paragraphs and link this to the question?

thank you so much man!

A technique that can grab marks is contrasting the story not by waking up but by getting called inside by a relative as you are playing at a park or something

helpful video, I fear of using simple words in the exams, and the meaning of all the words he used, if I used them will not make sense because I don't know how to.

In my mock I wrote my whole story in second person and was well proud of my self

i always struggle with teh ending because i will have an idea which would just be a few words like ( adventure, office job, games, accident, maze runner) but wont know how to tie everything together can you please help me?

The Question: Write the opening part of a story about a place that is severely affected by the weather. My answer: The ground shook along with every inch of my body, as the adrenaline rushed through my veins like poison. Nothing was left untouched. "Mum!" My voice reverberated through the darkness, swallowing the room whole. The Earthquake had caused all power we previously had to shut off, leaving us without a glimmer of light or a glimpse of hope. No reply came to answer my desperate plea for help. Where was my mum? This regretfully happened every time disaster struck my small town. I was left helpless and alone, tears leaving my cheeks damp, and a salty aftertaste staining my chapped lips. Breathe. Pounding heart. Wild eyes. Screaming. Ducking quickly, I shuffled beneath the dining room table, clinging onto the wooden leg tightly. So tight that my fingers began to ache and my knuckles turned white. The fear coiling at the pit of my stomach started to spiral out of control, being home to the realisation of what was coming. Tsunami. Water. Lot's of it. Snatching lives in cold, cruel and merciless waves. It was a warm country, and me and my mum occupied a house close to the sea. A recipe for disaster. Breathe, Nadia. I kept having to remind myself. Fumbling in the darkness, I decided that I had to find my mum before it was too late. Reaching out, I made my way carefully (but treacherously) to the front door. What only took me minutes to accomplish felt like hours. Every now and then I would be thrown forwards from the shaking ground. I grazed my knee. And my elbow. Almost knocked my head on the ground but lifted it back up just in time. This chain of events happened once, twice, maybe three times... The door handle was cold to touch, and as I pulled it open I wished I had pulled it back shut in time to block out what I was about to see. Squinting from the harsh, striking light of the sun, I stumbled. Every step I took closer, the ear piercing, fear evoking screams grew louder. There I saw rubble. Rubble everywhere, piles and piles of rubble. And beneath the rubble I recognised a much too familiar yellow blouse with delicate white flowers decorating it. Heartbeat. Dust clogged up my lungs, choking me. Screaming, more screaming. Someone else's or mine? I didn't care, I didn't know. It didn't make the slightest difference. There was the salty aftertaste spilling over my lips. BREATHE NADIA. But I couldn't. "Mum!" I cried out. But it was too late. Don't fall. But I fell. Do you think that deserves a grade 8 or not?

Sir I just had a question for Q4 Lang paper 1 - when we agree, then partially disagree (for evaluative marks), should w partially disagree after each point we make or towards the end?

Hello sir, *I have a question.* I am an IGCSE student, and I am planning to use a quotation for my descriptive writing in the introduction paragraph. I am not sure the quotes I have learnt will be similar to my exam question or not?. So, I would like to know if I could make up my own quote. And if I am allowed then should I use ( " ) or ( ' ) mark (at the beginning and ending of the statement).

Thank you so much!

my cousin wrote a full-marks story and the memorised it for the exam last year and got a 9, could i memorise the same story and just adapt it for the question or do they check for plagiarism like they do with course work?

How do I purchase your guide sir?

Hi mr salles, As we are either asked to write a description or a story, If I chose to incorporate both of these aspects would it be ideal? a story and a description in one?

Hopefully, this will help me pass.

Will you be doing top tips for paper 2?

Great story, do you think if i copy it I will get an 7 or 9? XD

this isn't linked to this question but please can you answer? can i talk about paragraphing and sentence forms for question 3 paper 2 language

What grade would you give this ? The Sky bled of colour. The moon wouldn’t rise for hours yet and the stars for mica-bright. Air was thick and bitter and smelled of soot and engine oil. Air was carrying fear and silence like there was no tomorrow. - [x] Inside this imaginary picture stood a Ragged Boy. Frozen. He stood-inert. He wore nothing but shorts. His whiter-than-white skin was stretched across his bones like a sheet wrapped tightly around a bundle of sticks. Rope like veins ran along his weak beaten system,heart squeezed his chest for no particular reason, ankles screaming of pain, but he hadn’t no memory of hurting it. He trembled, when a faint far cry arose in the still air, it soared upwards with a swift rush, where it persisted, palpitations and tenses and then slowly died away..He wanted to Cry, but his Machiavelli tears didn’t let him. Felt as though someone had gone in his mind and stapled his skull in a dozen of different places. Fear Invaded his senses. despite the pain, his mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surrounding and predicament. He endeavoured to beg for help, “Someone here”?, but each word ripped his throat raw. On every side of her body, silence was pressing upon her with a tangible presence. Her calluses so rough, you could use them for sandpaper. She frankly freaked out of her own salvageable skin, which the polluted river allowed her to see her reflection. Ahhh!. She awoke! Her pillow soaked in sweat. Head burning to compete with what has happened.. But it’s another day, in the life of Claire Claire. It will be amazing if you respond before I go to school .

Would an examiner really pick up on all that while they read throught it at 20mph

thank you so much sir

Sir, can you not just prepare a perfect answer beforehand and memorise it.

thumbnail looks like danielle brigolli

Can I move from present to past, then back to the present in this question?

My writing on the image shown... (Y7) P.S - Feedback would be appreciated ~The revenant river ~ Desperate, despondent, depressed - I sit on this wooden, bleak bridge, a man with no dignity. My legs feel like noodles, whilst my hands feel as strong as ever. Clouded by the cold mist of this lagoon, my brain helplessly scrambles around my head discombobulated. My jet-black hoodie is drenched in rigid sweat, my dim-gray gloves are partially torn and my pitch-black shorts are so incredulously thin to the point where my dignity can effortlessly seep out like blood. But do I have any dignity? I can not do it anymore, I do not want to do it. Breathing, what was once the most simple task, now requires the most amount of exertion. Despair has formed a layer of anxiety encroaching on my bent back, as if it were the jaws of depression gnawing on my leftover dignity 1000 times. The sky has turned a curious shade of grey, and the clouds, which coil like a serpent, are ricocheting the remaining light away from me - leaving me only malevolence. Purple. That is all I taste. Purple. That is all I hear. Purple. That is all I smell. I am getting claustrophobic, in this colossal area of nothing but loneliness. Loneliness, despondency and fear are sucking off all my remaining dignity, as if they are vacuum cleaners in a luxurious mansion. I look down, only to find blood peculiarly gashing out of the weary wound on my right shin; slowly, it cascades down the bottom half of my leg and then into my shoe; I feel the body-heat inside my shoe getting extinguished by the glacial, cataclysmic concoction of blood and sweat - extinguishing my only light of hope in a universe full of despair. The mountains reminds me of purple; about death, darkness and despondency. It also reminds me of my past. The past that made my lose my dignity. The past I can never go back to. The past which created everlasting trauma. I can hear my past murmuring to me: "You are what you are.", "You can't change." and "There is no changing what you've done.".

Somone rate rate this out of 40 marks I feel like i need to improve this question if anyone has any suggestions or anything to suggest please rate this peice of work: should i make it longer or shorter its 3 pages(8 paragraphs) Tranquil,thrill and trust:The atmosphere aroused care to ooze and love which is omnipresent,clouds collaborate joyfully with the soothing sun’s voice,they both sing in unison as eagles elegantly applauded when the sun stretches,completing the puzzle of the enchanting and eccentric heart of the idyllic island surged with angles which sing by chirping and tweeting.Finally the sun is superior over the menacing repetitious and dishonest moon.Larger than life cliffs float and inhale in the redolence,worshipping and praying for a conspicuous,capable,creature source of luminous light observing like the telescopes which zoom in on planets.Relaxing,resilient,respectful the rainbow is the tree that branches all the emotions.This tree treasures the positive.This tree abandons the negative.Balancing our perplexing life like a seesaw which is equivalent using the emotional mass.Everywhere is humid and warm.This feels unreal... Imagine! Painfully beautiful the sub’s hands stretch out to gently entering the gates of heaven,this contemporary dimension praises this priceless prominent treasure and welcomes with a humungous hug.Coral-reefs indulge the tenderness.These invaluable gems cherish carefully,the wild forests of the sea.Stunning.Vibrant,vague fish flip and flop dancing with compassion at the disco.The whole neighbourhood is rich in prehistoric remains.What else could you ever ask for?Whales slumbering silently on the sea-bed covered in affection,fellow feeling sea weed which act as a blanket.Courageous,resilient radioactive with joyfulness as tropical turtles travel in symmetry intertwined with each-other,like decorations wrapped around a benevolence Christmas tree. Dooms day! Blown by breathtaking breezes which guides and introduces a fresh impression to the stale hope filled with nectar.Trampled.Through a horde of black buffalos.Time flies finally the moon overtakes the surrendering sun which vanishes slowly with the remorse as reluctantly as a pride of lions refusing to give up their hard-earned land(territory).Chaos,dull and impure the atmosphere has become.Hyena’s laugh as the moon stalks,ruining the once perplexing puzzle of the now ingenue and imperfect island which surged with grinning devils commanding and ordering.Sinister.This island’s hope sinks slowly like the titanic.Harmonious patterns of the leaves falling stops.Abruptly their is nothing but their soulless souls.Rain patterns dismally spitting at the ground which covers up cowardly as quick as the flash as a torch,the mean moon creates thunder and lightning,clap and crack!Thunder violently beats these innocent sheep.One survives.Rainbows retreat as the emotion tree has been altered where negative dethrones positive.Darkly the atmosphere feels cold and miserable.Cold,dark,airlessness-the moon invades evil into the prison of hell where the fish rub,whales hide and dolphins scream.There is no gem. Dooms day! Considering the fear,anxiety,and chais which has been raiding all four corners of life,mountains crumbled under pressure begging for mercy like slaves to their master to be released and free.Crash!Evil once again collided with light:the only winner was obvious...Doom is evident;doom will happen.Savage winds trample over fickle forests violating their privacy.Is this the idyllic island we desire?Greater evil dictates the innocent lives.Clouds stand tough resilient(trembling inside)as they refuse to follow orders. Imagine! One sheep stands solitary shining a glimmer of hope.Suddenly the sun replaces the moon as the morning awakens,faith has restored.Imagine everything you anticipate,everything you expect and everything you desire to finally become a reality which won’t leave.Even our imaginations cannot fathom the emotions which have been befriended over time in this island full of tranquil,thrill and trust:The atmosphere aroused care to ooze and love which is omnipresent.

okay but does this not sound like anohana to anyone- genius.

The title was discovery

their handwriting .... great video tho !!!

Perhaps if this would’ve been a whole extended metaphor of drowning in drink, would that have scored more highly? Despite already being such a high mark?

I got 31/40 just by reading this briefly and trying to recopy the first paragraph not even in a good way and if i did my comma splices correct and not miss them i could of gotten 35/40.

Mr Salles saves grades

SIR I WANT TO BUY YOUR E BOOK BUT I DONT HAVE KINDLE WILL IT WORK ON MY LAPTOP PLEASE RESPOND ASAP IF ANYONE KNOWS! TYSM

Hey mr salles, any comments/improvements on my story about a difficult time It was like a new age apocalypse. The piercing blue of the screen had already blinded my eyes and memories of the awful sound were screaming seruptitously in my delicate ear. It buzzes irately as I ignore it again. Buzzes again, sending tremors trickling down my spine. Then it buzzes again and I am gripped by its unfamiliar hands, in the silent solitude, alone. The next day was the aftershock of the end. Faces of acquaintances had poisoned in the bomb, they were pointing towards me as I delicately stepped around the minefields that surrounded me into isolation. Each piercing eye groped my body and mangled my mind mercilessly. The faint whispers boomed in my ears, driving me to insanity instantaneously. Escape. “Escape!” My spirit screamed. Running from the bomb I had left behind, I lurched into a small room for shelter. As I fell like a lame elephant to the ground, I was finally drowned in my thoughts. My senses were entirely numb as the pain speared my brain. I was being brutally murdered by my own mind. My limbs threw to the ground, slamming each hand harder than the last. My eyes screwed shut, inviting the darkness in to consume me, to leave this poisened place... Then the light slowly danced on my back. She entered through the door like an angel. Placing her hand on my broken back she enticed me to open my blurried eyes. As they opened, I retreated back into myself, the light she carried was amiable but blinding. Speaking to me with the alacrity of a young child on Christmas Day, I followed her into the sanitised room, where the blue electric smell buzzed in the raw air. Up. I stumbled up on to the crisp sheets. With the clear wires supporting me, I took a swift last breath before offering my self to those who shadowed me now. Not really sure about the ending, it’s about cyberbullying lol

I will vary how I start my sentances, and write in paragraphs. These seem simple but are apparently crucial to getting Grade 7 and largely help in doing so.

My exam is in an hour :/ I've been revising for it but I'm just really bad at English. In my last mock, I barely scraped 20 marks on this question :/ and with an overall grade of 3, I am dreading this exam.

Hi Mr Salles, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour if you had some time on your hands. It's my English Language Paper One exam tomorrow, and I have just written a Question Five Story (not too long). If I post it here in the comments, would you be able to give me some feedback? I really need it, as I am aiming for a grade 8. Thank you! I will post it here soon, whether or not you see it in time. I know it's super last minute.

i never get great at q5 my highest mark is 9/40

Anime

Is this for paper 1?

SIR, what if there is no image

Is this is a story or description writing ✍️

His story is good but the handwriting not so good

My teacher told me to write a story with description, dialogue and high vocabulary is that is right sir

hey mr salles, I wrote a story instead of a description will i get 0?

Should you try to use speech and dialogue.

Thanks exam in 9hrs

I thought she had been washed up on shore in irland

anyone else here for the exam tomorrow?

Anyone do WJEC/

Does anyone actually write this well?

The hand writing of this student is a mess I could not understand a word however I would like to read and get some idea from it but how, if I can't even read it?

Last minute revision 😅🤦🏾‍♂️

English Languange…. = FAIL

i can already tell you i have failed

thats rubbish