A harvest of creativity at Somerset House
23rd January 2012
On the 23rd January, a passer-by in the usually noiseless galleries of Somerset House would have been distracted by the audible whirring of a hundred young minds. Creative cogs were going into overdrive as five acclaimed authors used art to ignite the imaginations of these aspiring writers.
This is the second First Story event at Somerset House. The day gathered seven London schools currently participating in the First Story Programme. Students were regrouped and paired with a writer who introduced them to a carefully selected painting which became a fertile platform for a crop of exceptional poems and stories. The variety in the offerings was as impressive as the inventiveness of language. The culmination of the day’s activities was a public reading where students volunteered to share their pieces in front of their classmates, teachers, parents, and First Story supporters.
The confidence and pride in their work exhibited by these readers was a testament to what First Story seeks to achieve: promoting not only a passion for the written word, but also the self-assurance in expression that allows these voices to be heard.
We shall be posting some of the brilliant work here very soon. Oxford students on the First Story programme will take part in a similar exercise at the Pitt Rivers Museum, while Nottingham students will shortly be picking up their pens at the Galleries of Justice.
Here are a selection of stories written on the day.
Lara Tate, QPCS
I was lying hot and feverish, paralysed in my bed, my body shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly I stopped and lost consciousness and my dream began… I was in bed, feeling serene and emotional but disturbed for I felt like I was being watched. I glanced behind me and saw people whispering about my health, but, looking twice I saw a raven black as anything his beady, hatred filled eyes gazed into mine. I felt unnerved. He was the messenger and guider of death, he sensed my time was at a horrible end and with a horrible shriek death appeared with a scythe in hand and whispered ‘join me’.
Freya Everest, Highgate Wood School
It was dark down the warped burrow, perfect for the scene to commence. Mr Barkly had already wound his way down the grand stairs to find himself wading deeper into the building’s hidden dangers. To any onlooker such a frighteningly large building would have intrigued and enticed, making most people forget the sinister possibilities hidden amongst the walls. However, occasionally you find someone who notices that there is a missing piece from the gigantic puzzle of opportunity and he or she will use that fact very much to their advantage. In this case it was Mr Barkly a man whose mind was a great fit in this quirky outcast of a building. He had never achieved much in his life, but now was his chance. Slowly, he pranced his way round the entangled corridors, hypnotised by the sincerity of the building. He finally reached his destination after a further 15 minutes of wading. Now it was just a long wait for the right moment to attack.
Camiron Gordon, Highgate Wood School
Oblivious of the silhouette darting from shadow to shadow, Sir Bellingham strolls down the cobbled poorly lit path. With each step down this maze of a walkway, the mysterious creature that is following takes two…sensing he is being followed, he tries to lose his stalker by walking through various twists and turns and the occasional servant quarter…all the time knowing this will only buy him a bit more time. The red light on his tweed suit started to beep.
“Finally”, he mutters.
Continuing up the swirling staircase he takes a moment to appreciate the architecture then turns around to look the monstrosity in the eye. Taking one step back and diving over the banister, Sir Bellingham disappears.
“Not another one”, the thing snarls.
