LANGUAGES

CREATIVE WRITING

January 1, 2023

As I walked into my Japanese classroom, I was immediately immersed in the culture with a plethora of posters and foreign characters covering the walls. The room was buzzing with excitement to learn a whole new

language. I sat myself with my new friends on the pristine seats when the teacher waltzed into the room, his bald head scraping the rough ceiling.

“Hello, my name is Mr Gryffindor and I am your Japanese teacher for this year, everyone take a seat, please,” said Mr Gryffindor.

 He sat down at his desk, still as tall as the heavens and a waterfall of Japanese words cascaded from his mouth.

“What I just said is, Good morning! I am your new Japanese teacher. I lived in Tokyo for 20 years. Then I moved to Australia and started to teach Japanese to students here at this school.”

Immediately we were ordered to bring out a book to write in as if we were in the army. We began learning all about Japanese holidays when Mr Gryffindor’s phone rang. His eyes expanded to the size of a galaxy.

“Uhh, excuse me class but I have to take this call right now,” Mr Gryffindor awkwardly blurted out. He flew out of the classroom faster than lightning.

We all continued with our work when a few minutes later the door reopened and in stumbled Mr Gryffindor, as pale as a corpse.

“Alright class, just continue with the work from before,” he timidly whispered.

The bell rang and we all got up to leave. On the way out we were all pushed by an ocean of gigantic year 12 students.

A week went by and nothing peculiar happened. Slowly, we begin to fall into a routine until our next Japanese class jolted us back into that now fading, unfamiliar feeling of starting high school. We entered an empty classroom only to hear an explosive noise, which seemed to be coming from a strange, towering closet at the back of the room.

“Ok but make sure that they are all taken over by the end of the month or the plan won’t work. We need the students.”

Intrigued, we all moved over to the source of the mysterious, booming voice. Suddenly, a tall, buff man shot like a bullet into the room.

“Hello boys! Please seat yourselves, filling into seats from the front. Sorry I was late I had an extremely important phone call.”

All the boys seated themselves into their groups of friends like usual. The man introduced himself as Mr Bonaparte and instructed us to take out our computers. He showed us a few different websites to assist us with studying before we got into our work. We were learning all about basic French words when an explosive bang tore through the building.

Screams of terror erupted from the school. Instantly 3a class of boys jogged from where the explosion came from and scattered through nearby, surrounding classrooms. We all turned to our teacher for help, but Mr Bonaparte just smiled. A devilish, chilling smile. Some students screamed. Others cried. Some even ran out.

“Grab the kids!” Our now terrifying teacher screamed.

 Suddenly, our English teacher burst through the door. She was wearing a full black suit and mask which did not cover her ears or eyes. But there was something wrong. Her eyes look frightened, her ears enlarged. Something was definitely wrong. But right now, I had another problem. I had to get out of this class alive.

A few of the boys in my class were grabbed by even more of my teachers. They all had the same outfit on and the same glassy look shrouded their eyes. Suddenly, I was grabbed. I tried to break myself free but the teachers had a grip of steel. I resigned myself to the futility of my efforts to escape… there was no point. I was thrown over a teacher’s shoulder.

When all the teachers had a student over their shoulder, We were carried out of the class and down the stairs, heading for the hall. While the teachers walked like soldiers towards the hall, I was carried in a different direction. As confused as I was, I stayed silent, hoping for the best. As we neared the corner, a sack was thrown over my head.

I was carried for quite some time before I was thrown onto the ground and the bag was ripped from my head. I looked around and in the dim fading light I could make out the faces of some of my friends. I looked up and saw the face of my Japanese teacher. I realised that the only way to escape and save the other students was to remind Mr. Gryffindor of his Japanese life and how good it was.

“立ち止まる, stop now!” I ordered.

Mr. Gryffindors eyes went a glassy white colour and then he stared down at me and said.

“Thank you, you have pulled me out of that evil state of mind.”

He went down onto his knees and told me words of wisdom.

“Now listen, You need to run down to the hall and disable the machine. The machine is putting every teacher into a trance that makes them take the students and turn them into soldiers. Now run. You don’t have much time.”

I got up and sprinted through the corridors and down to the hall. Inside I saw that every teacher in the school was huddled around a machine.

“EVERYBODY STOP NOW!” I yelled.

Immediately everybody got that same glassy white look in their eyes and dropped to the floor.  I ran over to the machine and pulled a big red lever. I heard a big cry of happiness as the students all ran from their imprisonment. I had saved the school from its trance.