Diagnostic Creative Assessment

Nala Cyriac

Mr. Cohen

ENL1W

8th of September

Descriptive Writing

Mathilde peeked her little head from behind the trees to see her beautiful small town elegantly decorated in blue and silver. It was never decorated this way but then she remembered: The king and queen are coming! Banners swung from every roof and cerulean flags hung from every pole, accented with the sigil of a silver dove. The dove held a rose in its beak, its sharp thorns were barely visible despite the glimmer of the sun hitting them and illuminating their sharp edges. They were as sharp as knives. She learned the hard way as she tried to pick them up when she was younger and she cut herself on the thorns. The memory made her flinch.

She saw her father loading a cart filled with wine and ale. Gifts of gold, silver, and bronze lined inside of the cart. She saw the most extravagant dresses and coats made from fine silks from the east market, she recognized these as she had seen some of the high lords of the council wearing similar garments.

She ran to her father and tugged at his coat, “Father, when will we see the king and queen?” She asked, her high pitched voice squeaked. Her father turned his head and smiled, “It may be late into the night when they arrive, but you will see them tomorrow morning, when they break fast in the great hall.” She sighed and nodded, waving goodbye as her taupe skirt swayed along with her bouncy gait. I’m going to see them tonight, she thought, smirking.

On her way to her home she ran into the baker, a recently widowed elderly woman named Shirley. She greeted Mathilde sweetly and offered her one of her pastries. Mathilde’s eyes lit up as Shirley brought out one of her little lumpy lemon cakes and said, “Better eat it quick, it’s better when it's warm you know.” Mathilde thanked her and continued on her way.

She was nearly home when one of her brother’s friends stopped her, he was the meanest, most plump boy with a very red face and short curly brown hair. She hated him.

“What do you want?” She asked. He ignored her.

“You know, those lemon cakes aren’t good for you,” he said, looking at the half eaten cake in her hands.

“You should eat less of them.”

Mathilde scoffed. She wanted to tell him how he was one to talk or that she thought he should take his own advice but she knew that she would get in a lot of trouble if she did so. She could already picture it, her mother looking at her disappointedly and her father scolding her on how she needed to be a nice lady. She opted to say nothing and walk away but he stopped her.

Fear filled her as she looked up at his face, he was much taller and older than her and it would be easy for him to hurt her if he wanted too. She ran, she didn’t know where, she just ran. He followed her for a bit but she didn’t notice when he stopped. She passed farmers and nuns and women with children, she passed them all so fast that she did not notice their worried faces as she passed. Why would he chase me and stop? Mathilde wondered, he was usually relentless. She stopped to turn back but that was when she noticed it…