House 500 Word Short Story Competition

This summer pupils across the school participated in the House 500 Word Short Story Competition. Our departing Head of English, Mr G Dubay had the unenviable job of judging the competition, with winners for KS3, KS4 and Sixth Form each receiving a £10 Amazon voucher for the efforts as well as valuable House points for their respective houses . The winning entries have been published below, however a massive thank you goes out to all the pupils who submitted an entry.

Mr M.Mohsin
Assistant Headteacher (11-16)

KS3 Winner – Hrithik Bansal 8H

I gazed at the calming sunset, from my bedroom window. Grateful for the moment of peace. The golden tone submerged my room. The last few weeks had been a disaster: the summer being full of bickering and relentless teasing from siblings. It was constant; I needed a break. I wanted to explore the new town. I’d heard the hills could be serene. Perhaps this sunset could be enjoyed there.

I reached the hills. The lush grass was like a bed. The sunlight and greenery were soothing. Thankfully, I was away from that life of stress. I closed my eyes and lay down. After a moment, I stood up.

I escaped. My agony was like a wildfire burning inside me. Moments ago, I’d put a young girl to rest. I needed more to fuel my need. The prison they had kept me in was disgusting. The hell hole littered with convicts. My sanity was in shards. I could not control myself. How peculiar, a child right in front of me. Another misery on this planet. I was overwhelmed with a desire to kill. A delight in murder.

A silhouette stood distantly, in their fists a dagger. Bloody. Dripping. Terror began to take over me, my eyes widened in horror. They came closer, their slow footsteps seeming like a countdown to my impending death. Their soulless eyes gloomed into my soul. The hairs on my neck stood as they approached. My heart pounded as I searched frantically for an escape route, through the bushes. Backing up, each step was punctured with fear. I had to get away. But they were too close. I had no other choice but to confront them, no matter the cost.

I approached slowly, them stepping back. A smile enlightened my scarred face, as I watched his desperate soul crumble under pressure.

Closer and closer. The cold steel of the knife glistened in the sunlight. Quickly, a flurry of attacks was unleashed. I dodged without thought. Grabbing his wrist, I compelled him to throw the knife away. Trading blows, I delivered a punch, sending him sprawling to the ground. Yet the victor was yet to be decided. Picking up the knife, I darted away, the only thing I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears.

Imbecile. He ran off. But I am the predator, and I was not finished with that boy. Escape from me was inevitable. I chased after him. Hungry. A flame of slaughter burned in my heart.

I was too slow. He’d caught up with me. Feeling a sharp push, I fell in pain. Bruises coating my legs. The knife lay on the floor, a meter away. Crawling toward it, I felt agony as he digged his nails into my leg. Grasping the knife, I pierced his chest. Blood seeped down my fingers. Watching in fright, a tear formed in my eyes. My mouth was open in shock. Sweat tricked down the temples of my head. The murderer was dead. Or was he?

KS4 Winner – David Fadairo 11G

Sarah had always been a thrill-seeker. She loved the rush of adrenaline that came from pushing herself to the limits, whether it was skydiving, bungee jumping, or exploring abandoned buildings. But when she heard about the old mansion on the outskirts of town, she knew that this would be her biggest adventure yet.

The mansion had been completely empty for years, ever since the wealthy family that had owned it had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Rumors had swirled around town for years, with people gossiping about strange noises, eerie lights, and a feeling of dread that hung over the place like a dark cloud.

But Sarah wasn’t afraid.

She was sure that it was all just a bunch of silly superstitions, and she was determined to prove it to her friends. So, one night, they gathered at the edge of the woods, ready to make their way to the mansion and explore its untold secrets.

As they walked through the dark woods, Sarah could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was exhilarating, like being in a horror movie. But as they got closer to the mansion, she began to feel a sense of unease. There was something wrong here, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

They entered the mansion through a broken window, their flashlights illuminating the dusty old furniture and cobweb-covered chandeliers. At first, it was just like they had expected: spooky, but not too scary. But as they explored further into the mansion, things began to take a turn for the worse. Strange noises echoed through the halls, as if the house was alive with some unseen force. Shadows danced on the walls, flickering, and changing shape. And then there were the whispers, faint and indistinct, but somehow still audible. Sarah tried to brush it all off, telling herself that it was just a figment of her imagination. But then one of her friends screamed, and everything changed.

In the dim light of their flashlights, they could see that the walls were moving, pulsing as if they were alive. And then, out of the shadows, came a figure, cold, dark, and twisted, with glowing red eyes and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Sarah and her friends ran, their hearts pounding in their chests as they raced towards the window. But the house seemed to be alive, its walls shifting and changing, blocking their path and herding them towards the center of the mansion. And then… they were trapped, surrounded by darkness and the sound of whispers, with no escape in sight. As Sarah’s friends began to disappear one by one, taken by some unseen force, she realized that this was no game, no thrill-seeking adventure.

This was real, and she was trapped in a nightmare that she could never escape from. As the darkness closed in around her, she knew that she was doomed, just another victim of the mansion’s terrible, haunting power.

House of Horror – by David Fadairo 11 Galahad

KS5 Winner – Eshan Khan 12GDR

The Man in the Window

The photograph was of a temple, a shrine you could say. But what mystery did it hold within its vibrant exterior and its soaring towers, the young boy thought. He carefully placed the photograph back on the surface of the small cabinet in front of him. What the boy had failed to realize was that this photograph was the place of origin of the Evil that lurked within this town.

William stood in the blackness of Charles Marlow’s home, the new owner of the derelict house at the heart of Angel Island Park. No one had ever seen the man, Marlow, not his face anyway. On the way back from school, William would catch the silhouette of a man in the window of this very house. Just staring out through it, standing very still.

William now stood just a few feet away from that very same window. He wondered, will he be able to see what that man had been staring at if he looked out of it, will he catch a glimpse into the mind of a killer? Ever since Marlow moved in, the cases of missing people have risen to an extraordinary amount, the rumor was that Marlow was the culprit but the police investigated the property but found no evidence so Charles couldn’t be convicted.

William emerged from the shadowy depths of the bedroom, he crept closer to the window. The blazing rays of the sun attracted the young boy as he now stood in front of the drab glass. He could see the entire park from the vantage point he possessed, it was a haven he thought. William’s eyes drew to the spot beside the apple tree outside the house, the spot where he would stop and stare at the silhouette inside the house. There was no way the person in the window, whoever it was, could have missed me standing there on the walkway, he thought.

He noticed something else in the window. His reflection, his eyes started to focus.

But there was someone else.

No, something else.

In the window, he could make out the image of a large, black, waist coat but no one to fill its sleeves and body. The person appeared to be invisible. William swung his body around, the young boy’s mouth hung open, his body unmoving. He could barely breathe as the temperature of his body surged. He became fragile in the face of fear.

There was something in that coat, not a man, it couldn’t have been. William’s eyes were drawn to its human face, to its evil eyes. They were the darkest eyes.

From outside the house, the silhouette of the young boy could be made out, it was still. Then the blackness of the silhouette was painted with a splash of scarlet red. The curtain shut and what remained of the young boy was smeared across the window where the man once stood.