Ecrits stagiaires
Textes produits en stage linguistique Ecriture créative et anglais – été 2024
Juil
🖌 Dune, 15 ans
Letter to a Girl with Red Shoes
I never liked writing, I always thought it gave a reality to things, like for the first time, they exist. I don’t write to you out of my own will, it was some kind of homework she gave me. She is a bit strange, she has this thing with her hair, she can’t stop touching it and she always has lipstick on her teeth. She acts like she knows, knows me, knows you. Sometimes when I’m done talking she stares at me through her glasses, she just…stares without saying a word. I don’t like it, it makes me nauseous.
Last week, she asked me a question, “Why did you choose her?” and those words keep ringing in my head. The first time I saw you, you were wearing red shoes with flowers on them, I really liked those shoes but you never wore them again. I still dream of them sometimes. You had this perfume, the smell is still so fresh in my head that I can still smell it. Chanel, if I remember right, yes…Chanel. But you know…it’s strange, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to remember your face. Every time I close my eyes, that I try to go back as far as I can, I can’t remember your face. Why can’t I remember your face? But still, “Why did you choose her?” Why did I choose you? I’m not sure myself, really you didn’t stand out more than someone else, you just happened to pass my way. I know a lot of serial killers choose very precisely. People always try to find a meaning to irrational actions, but maybe sometimes they have no meaning? Is it so hard to admit? I guess it makes you feel worse: “I died on a game of luck.” Well, I will not bother you more, I will let you rest.
***
🖌 Emma, 14 ans
Untitled
His name was Jeremy. He didn’t have any friends, any parents, any affection. He was always alone and people said he was mad and crazy, and they were afraid of him. He was tall, imposing, and he had only one eye. The other didn’t see anything.
Jeremy got off his skateboard and walked to the basketball court. A young man was here. Jeremy hadn’t ever seen him before. He was taller than him, with dark brown hair, and he was concentrating on his gesture before shooting. Jeremy looked at him, and finally took his ball out of his bag. He dribbled and jumped to the basket. When the ball fell onto the floor, he heard the other boy’s applause:
“You’re really good! I love it! Join my team!”
Jeremy looked at him and frowned. Why did he talk to him?
“I’m Fred! And I suppose that you are…Jeremy, right?”
“How do you know my name?”
“We’re in the same class. Jeremy, Jeremy…Hum, that’s too long! So…Yes, I found it! Jerem is good. Join my team, Jerem!”
“You just removed the Y. I don’t want to join your team. Seriously…You must be desperate to ask this to me.”
“Well…actually, I’m really desperate. But you’re really good, J! And we’re only two? Please!”
“J? What the…who’s the second?”
“Steph. You don’t know him. He’s a werewolf.”
“A what? Oh, seriously, you’re totally mad…Werewolves don’t exist.”
“I think that’s true. Come with us.”
“If I play only one match, can you get off my back?”
“I’m not sure. Come, I will introduce you to Steph.”
“I didn’t say yes!”
“Whatever, come.”
Jeremy and Fred walked during long minutes and arrived finally in front of a boy who had probably the same age as them. He was also tall, with long dark brown hair, sleepy green eyes, and a tattoo on his forehead. A purple star. When he heard the two boys, he looked at them and just breathed, lying on his back.
“Steph, look, it’s the crazy basketball player, J!”
“My name is not J!”
“Pff, shut up, J is a really good name, you know? It is cool.”
Steph closed his eyes and turned his head at Jeremy. “Hi, J…Nice to meet you.”
“Jeremy. You’re a werewolf?”
Steph sighed and said, “Yes, I’m from the Zaragua’s clan. This,” (he showed his forehead), “is the symbol of the Zaraguans.”
To be continued…
***
🖌 Maïlys, 12 ans
Sarah and Raymond, Secret Agents
“Did you bring it?” Sarah asked her friend.
“Yes, I did. I still don’t understand why you wanted my father’s set of keys, or why I had to come all the way to this remote corner of the park to meet you,” he replied.
“I don’t want people to hear my plan. Your father is the school’s principal, and I know the math teacher kept our tests in his locker. So we are just going to sneak inside the school at night to see what my grade on the test is.”
“What? But what if we get caught?” her friend said. He had a panicked look on his face. “Can’t you wait for the teacher to give you back your test?”
He tried to take back the keys, but his friend refused.
“No, Raymond, I can’t wait,” Sarah said.
“But why?” Raymond asked.
“Because I’m sure I’m going to get a bad grade, so I’m also going to replace the bad test with this new one,” she said and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“It has all the correct answers on it,” she explained.
“But that’s cheating, Sarah!”
“So what? It’s not said anywhere that students aren’t allowed to sneak into the school at night!”
“I’m not going to help you cheat!” Raymond tried to walk away, but Sarah pulled him back.
“All right, Raymond, I won’t cheat.” She tore the fake test into pieces to prove it. “But we are still going to sneak into the school. Won’t it be fun to see the school at night? We’ll be like real secret agents!”
Raymond was still suspicious.
“How can I be sure you don’t have a second copy of your fake test?”
“Well, if you want to keep an eye on me, you might have to come too. Besides, you must have maps of the school.”
After Raymond and Sarah had found a map of their school, they started studying it.
“Why don’t we go in through the front door?” Sarah asked.
“I can’t believe it! You would make a terrible secret agent, Sarah! It’s a good thing I’m here!”
“It’s just that I don’t really want to go in by the sewers! Is there really no other way in?”
“Well, maybe through the chimney…” Raymond pointed at the chimney on the map.
“What?” Sarah said. “No way! I’m not Santa!” She looked at the map. “Wait! This little window leads into the kitchen! We can go there!”
“Fine.” Raymond sighed. But suddenly, he remembered something. “But the cook will be there!”
“Isn’t he supposed to sleep at that time?”
“We are supposed to sleep too,” Raymond said.
“Good point. Let’s find somewhere else.”
They looked at the map, but they couldn’t find anything.
“Maybe we shouldn’t sneak into the school after all,” Raymond said.
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “I guess our sneaking into the school idea just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Oh, wait!” Raymond said. “Look, there is an entrance here!” He gestured to a small opening near the classroom.
“Where is that?” Sarah asked curiously.
“It’s the caretaker’s cupboard,” Raymond explained.
“Well, at least it’s not the sewers,” his friend sighed. “Nobody is cleaning the school at midnight, right?”
“No, they go home at eight P.M.”
Later that evening, Raymond and Sarah met by the school gates.
“All right, we are all set. Wait—Sarah, why are you dressed in bright red?”
“What? Was I supposed to wear another colour?”
“No, red is perfect for camouflage,” Raymond said with sarcasm.
“Hey, I didn’t know! I have never been on a secret agent mission before, but apparently you have!”
Raymond sighed.
“All right, let’s go in,” he said.
They climbed over the fence. They were quiet at first, until Sarah fell over when she came down and shouted, “Ow!”
“Sh!” Raymond hissed.
The two of them squeezed into the small window of the caretaker’s cupboard. This time, it was Raymond who lost his balance and toppled over a broom. The broom made a loud noise as it fell on the floor.
“Raymond, be quiet!” Sarah joked.
Her friend groaned.
They approached the teachers’ room on tiptoe (no more loud incidents).
“Wait, why are we going to the teachers’ room?” Raymond whispered.
He paused.
“Is that the rustling of paper I hear? Do you have another cheating test, Sarah?”
“No, it’s a letter to the teacher. I am asking him to make me take the test again.” She took it out to show him.
“Fine.”
In the teachers’ room, they quickly found the math teacher’s locker. Sarah had guessed correctly. The tests were all there.
“You got a seventeen out of twenty, Raymond,” she said as she looked through the pile of tests. “And—so did I! I didn’t get a bad score after all!”
“So you don’t need this letter after all!”
“I guess I don’t!” Sarah said happily.
“Does this mean we came all this way for nothing?”
“No. It was still a nice adventure, right?”
“Yes, it was.”
The end