All posts by Alex "hmom001" Joshi

WIG Captain 2017.

TitlePrompt: London Fields

The vast expanses of the fields melted into the horizon, green hills indisingushible from themselves, their shadows unseen.

London was beautiful, compared to what it had been a thousand years ago. The sky hung green in the heavens, and the ice that used to hold the area at mercy during this time of year no longer dared come this far south- or anywhere at all.

January was a merry month, but the overwhelmingly green grass hid a bitter past, an ancient civilization.

Five Card Flickr

WritingPromptFiveFlickrToday’s writing prompt was five card flickr.

Google it.

The stones crunched beneath my feet, the ocean rushing up beside me. The odd shell dotted the brown assortment of stones, and the seagulls cawed loudly. I walk up through the brush back to the town, spiky bushes which somehow have more shells in them than the beach, but the spikes still stop me from reaching out and finding out what had truly happened there.

Now I am in the town. This is not my hometown, but it almost is- nearly two full decades of beachside holidays in this idyllic place. To my left is a box full of maps, for the growing tourist population. I smile to myself, and take one.

Hilarious. The map shows only a skelton of the streets, a tourist attraction.

I feel

I feel the ice cold air on my fingers.

I feel the platform beneath me.

I feel the warmth of my coat on my back, my arms, my legs.

I feel the buzz of my phone in my pocket.

I feel the rush of wind as the train rushes behind me.

I feel my heart sink as the train app notifies me my train is delayed ten minutes.

I feel my mouth twitch as I laugh at my friend’s dog.

I feel the sun disappear behind the cloud, 

I feel the trees whilstle behind me, twigs snapping in the breeze.

I feel the boredom of having to wait for the train.

And now reversed
The train is waiting for bored me.

The breeze snaps the twigs, behind me I feel them.

The cloud covers the sun.

Ten minutes, my train delays, notified by the app.

Behind me, the train rushes, a rush of wind.

In my pocket, my phone buzzes

My legs, my arms, my back feel the warmth of my coat.

Beneath me I feel the platform. 

My fingers feel the ice cold air.

Alex Joshi
Thanks Mr Woodley for this weeks prompt(s)

Languageisavirus.com

Writing Prompt 28/04

You are on a train in a tunnel, heading towards the city to be trained as a Emergency Medical Technician (you are fairly into your training already) but you feel the train shake under your feet and everyone in the train is lurched forward as the train careers off the rails and smashing afainst the wall. You somehow survive with no injuries, but many others are injured, help will most likely arrive in a day or two. Describe what you do next.

 

The train stops and my book flew out of my hand and into the seat in front of me, my face following it promptly, my nose taking the brunt of the blow. Then it lurched out beneath me as it fell down onto the ditch next to the rails, the trees stopping the train going any further. The drinks cart flew down the hallway, bashing into the ordered seats on the side.

The train had derailed, and the screams of a hundred different passengers echoed down it’s two long, twisting hallways that formed its carriages. With a final lurch, the train fell to it’s final resting place.

I look up, I stand up, I wobble, I straighten. I look outside- the vast green landscape tilted to the left. I step the person sitting next to me, unconcious in their chair, and I know what needs to be done.

 

Alex J

 

Maths

It’s late in the holidays,

The sound of pen betrays,

The pain of the student race,

Going into year 11.

Do you want to hang out ?

I can’t because of a clout,

To my head, on the snout,

It’s called maths!

What an aberration,

I’m supposed to be on vacation,

Yet all around the nation,

We bash our head against a text.

Ah, you have so much time!

There’s no need to whine,

Just bend your spine,

And do the bloody work.

Maths is bad, I learn,

Oh mother, I yearn,

For a break from this turn,

Of horrid student fate.

Why?

Ode to an Oat Flake

The following poem is adapted from Robert Burn’s Ode to a Haggis.

 

God bless, your honeyed, sweetened flakes,

Great king of the breakfast race,

Broon is your form at your face,

Oats, Wheat, Rice and Sugar,

Forever have a place,

As food before dinner,

 

The whitend bowl that you fill,

Your flakes above milk like a great hill,

Heralding from the distant mill,

When I go to feed,

My stomach won’t sit still,

As my appetite feels the greed,

 

The spoon, silver and narrow,

Inserts itself inside the barrow,

Of golden goodness, sweet as marrow,

Lift you up and up,

From the bowl, like an arrow,

Crisp and crunchy, that’s good, yup!

 

 

I am sorry I made you read this.

Alex Joshi, 10D.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Matrix, Truth, Reality, Identity, Morpheus and me

Reagan showed us a couple of clips from the matrix. I decided to put myself in Neo’s shoes.

Morpheus stared at me. “The red pill, or the blue pill, Alex.”
I stared at Morpheus. “Is there a purple pill?”
“A purple pill?”
“Yeah, a purple pill.” I said. “I’m allergic to red dye. Or a green one, I’m not that fussy.”
“So you want the red pill?” Morpheus asked.
“I want to not have an anaphylactic shock.” I replied.
“This world isn’t real, Alex. You won’t get an anaphylactic shock.” Morpheus asked.
“The world isn’t real, Morpheus, so why don’t I shoot myself in the head?”
“It’s not the same.” Morpheus said.
“It’s exactly the same.” I said, unimpressed.
“Take the bloody pill, Alex.” Morpheus said.
“Take the bloody gun, Morpheus.”

 

By Alex Joshi 10D