This picture was from the website: Photos for Class.
I wrote a story about this picture:
There was a shiver down my spine at the thought of moving to a new town. I was leaving my school, my home and my friends behind.
The car ride was bumpy which made me feel even sicker inside. Mum and Dad kept whispering to each other about the reason why we have to move. They won’t dare to tell me yet, I wonder why?
My sister was sitting in the very back, listening to music on her headphones, being very unsocial.
The view outside was a pretty sight, the sunset was towering over the tall buildings. The houses looked very posh and fancy. I hoped our house was one of these.
“Here’s the street!” Dad said, and he pulled the car into a row of houses, all neatly lined up, and they seemed to be colour coded. The road was rough, and I had that pang of sickness again. I hid under my suitcase.
“Here we are!” I heard Mum say. I pushed the suitcase out of my view. The house was not what I expected it to be like.
The roses in the garden were all evenly lined up in rows, they would have looked nice if they were alive! The roses were all brown and crumpled, most of them falling onto the dry, grey grass.
The house on the outside, well, it looked like it was about 100 years old! The windows were completely covered in dust, the top of the roof was falling off. The front of the house was painted camouflage green on a sharp, shaggy texture.
“It’s a nice house, isn’t it?” Mum said. Dad smiled along, although I could tell something was wrong. My sister had taken her headphones off and passed me the key. I unlocked the door and turned the handle. The handle immediately fell off.
“Oh no!” Dad said. “I better call the landlord!”
“This house is rented?” I asked. No one had ever told me that. No one answered either.
So I waited for half an hour in the car for the landlord to come over. The landlord told us that there was a side door to use until the door handle got fixed.
We finally went inside, but the inside was not as I expected either.
It was tiny. The walls were cracked. The glass was smashed. There was no kitchen. There was no bathroom. Everything was just empty.
Mum turned to face me. “There’s something your father and I have got to tell you.”
This is the end of my bit. I strongly encourage you to finish it off by commenting your ending below. Thanks!