Look at the pictures above and choose four characters.
These are the characters that often appear in stories.
· Hero (Cinderella, Harry Potter)
· Mentor (The Fairy Godmother – Dumbledore – can be something non-human in a more sophisticated story. The mentor usually disappears and leaves the hero to resolve the story on their own)
· Enemy (Stepsisters and stepmother, Voldemort, in more sophisticated stories can be a set of circumstances – e.g. poverty, illness)
· Friend (Buttons, the mice, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid – the friend offers help and comfort but has very little power)
Think about what each one is like physically, intellectually and emotionally. Personality? What is their greatest desire and fear?
Then we’re going to put the hero with one of the others and see what happens. Write a short scene in which the two meet.
Follow up work
Can you slot the scene you made up into a story?
Can you use other combinations of characters from the picture to create another set of story characters?
Have good look around the BAM site for other pictures that might promote story ideas. Once we’re out of lockdown take a trip to the art museum.
Look around other museums’ and art galleries’ web sites for ideas for stories. Or when we’re not locked down take a trip around one.
Note: if you do use sites like this to inspire your stories, give them an acknowledgement.
Student work
THE APPLE PICKER
Don’t ask why the boss wanted me picking apples when most weren’t ready.
She wanted the best apple with an unforgettable taste for a special
friend. She selected the biggest, shiniest green apple I’d found and smiled. I
know she’s going to do something with that apple.
Allison Symes - July 2020
THE POSTCARD CLOCK
She opened the parcel. Oh, she knew the handwriting. She hadn’t expected to
see that again. Not after Jen stormed off a month ago. The only reason she,
Mary, had not stormed off was the row happened in her house.
But she wasn’t going to forget what Jen said about her ill mother. If Jen
thought some cheap trinket could make Mary forget, Mary would let her know
otherwise.
Still I suppose I should see what this is, Mary thought. I need to
know what it is I’m going to moan at Jen about.
It was a postcard clock with Carte Postale at the top with the Roman numeral
for twelve. The background picture was a lily of some thought. A peace
offering, Mary wondered.
There was a note too. Jen’s script was neat so unlike Mary’s scruffy kind. All
it said was “time to make up?”
Allison Symes - July 2020
PERSONAL CHOICES
She is coming to see me. She will say she knows how I’m feeling and this is
a passing phase. How would she know? She is Mother Superior and needs Sister
Wendy to help her to come to my cell at all.
I look out of my window. There is life in those streets. And, dare I think it,
men too. What was I thinking of when I joined the convent? Why did it seem to
be the answer to all my ills?
I don’t blame the sisters. Mother Superior did tell me I had to be sure. I was
back then. But now… it is all so different. I guess they want to keep me now
I’m here. They need young blood. The sisters are mostly over 60 and many of
them can add at least a decade to that. But oh I so want to be out there once
again and to start again in a less drastic way.
To go from all to nun was drastic. I see that now. What can Mother Superior say
about that? Hmm… she’s going to tell me I must stop running away from
everything, isn’t she? That running away hasn’t solved my problems so why would
it do so now? She might be right but do I really want to stay here forever now?
I wish I knew.
‘I know who you’re looking at,” Mother Superior’s voice makes me start.
‘Do you know who he is?’ I saw no point in denying the obvious.
Mother Superior sighed. ‘Yes. He is Mark Kington, illegitimate, and renowned
for having strings of girlfriends whom he dumps when they become pregnant.’
‘How has he managed to stay in town, Mother? I would have thought he’d be
driven out.’ I pause. ‘Ah.. he must know someone then.’
Mother inclines her head slightly.
‘What about his parents, Mother? Surely they should rein him in.’
‘Mark does not know who his father is. His mother cannot remember.’
‘She sounds lovely,’ I know it’s not exactly Christian of me but I can’t resist
the sarcasm especially as I think I can see where Mother Superior is going with
this story. She wants to stop me becoming a scarlet woman. (It would be a
drastic change of habit!).
‘She was a young girl who thought she could have a good time. Nobody was going
to stop her. Nothing would happen to her. She was far too clever. Then it did
happen. Her parents were outraged. The baby adopted. The girl was put in
a convent. The parents couldn’t stand the shame. Nor did they want the girl to
ruin her younger sister’s prospects. Back then it would have done. You
yourself know what village gossip can be like. Oh yes, I know your story and
what you ran away from to come here.’
‘How do you know this Mark’s story? I am sorry, Mother, if seem rude, but I
cannot see why someone like that would talk to someone like you.’
Mother Superior gave me a tired smile but she nodded.
I looked into her eyes but she didn’t seem to be offended.
‘You may as well know. The sisters here do. The girl put in the convent? She is
me!’
Allison Symes - July 2020
The painting with the nuns and the painting with the man asleep with the animals:
213 words
Sister Winifred took the mobile phone out of the pocket of her habit and after a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Sister Brunhilda and Mother Superior weren’t watching, she sent David a text.
‘Where are you?’
There was no reply.
She stared out of the window, scouring the faces of the passers-by and muttering under her breath. If he didn’t hurry up, she’d have to spend yet another night in this godforsaken convent. The itchy habit irritated her delicate skin and she longed to rip it off. But that wouldn’t be possible until David arrived with her clothes and they could make good their escape. She suddenly had a dreadful thought. Suppose he was kept back at work and couldn’t let her know? Once, he’d dropped his mobile phone in the penguin pool when he was cleaning out their enclosure but he’d promised he’d be more careful in the future. After all, it was the only way they could communicate and plan their elopement. It was imperative. Well, it was for her. She didn’t want to be a nun. But perhaps it wasn’t quite so urgent for David who loved his job in the zoo. But he would come for her. She was sure. He wouldn’t let her down again.
The painting of the blocks of flats
100 words
“Why are they demonstrating?”
“Something to do with wearing masks.”
Philip and Mary stood on their balcony watching the banner-waving people below.
“I need to get to work”
“You’ll be lucky, the streets are packed.”
“I don’t understand, what’s the problem with wearing masks?”
“Don’t ask me! I always wear one when I go out. It’s to do with civil rights or something. I s’pose they resent being told what to do.”
In one of those freak accidents, a fly flew up Philip’s nose making him sneeze. The blast ricocheted off the blocks of flats.
Dawn Knox
Student work
THE APPLE PICKER
Don’t ask why the boss wanted me picking apples when most weren’t ready.
She wanted the best apple with an unforgettable taste for a special
friend. She selected the biggest, shiniest green apple I’d found and smiled. I
know she’s going to do something with that apple.
Allison Symes - July 2020
THE POSTCARD CLOCK
She opened the parcel. Oh, she knew the handwriting. She hadn’t expected to
see that again. Not after Jen stormed off a month ago. The only reason she,
Mary, had not stormed off was the row happened in her house.
But she wasn’t going to forget what Jen said about her ill mother. If Jen
thought some cheap trinket could make Mary forget, Mary would let her know
otherwise.
Still I suppose I should see what this is, Mary thought. I need to
know what it is I’m going to moan at Jen about.
It was a postcard clock with Carte Postale at the top with the Roman numeral
for twelve. The background picture was a lily of some thought. A peace
offering, Mary wondered.
There was a note too. Jen’s script was neat so unlike Mary’s scruffy kind. All
it said was “time to make up?”
Allison Symes - July 2020
PERSONAL CHOICES
She is coming to see me. She will say she knows how I’m feeling and this is
a passing phase. How would she know? She is Mother Superior and needs Sister
Wendy to help her to come to my cell at all.
I look out of my window. There is life in those streets. And, dare I think it,
men too. What was I thinking of when I joined the convent? Why did it seem to
be the answer to all my ills?
I don’t blame the sisters. Mother Superior did tell me I had to be sure. I was
back then. But now… it is all so different. I guess they want to keep me now
I’m here. They need young blood. The sisters are mostly over 60 and many of
them can add at least a decade to that. But oh I so want to be out there once
again and to start again in a less drastic way.
To go from all to nun was drastic. I see that now. What can Mother Superior say
about that? Hmm… she’s going to tell me I must stop running away from
everything, isn’t she? That running away hasn’t solved my problems so why would
it do so now? She might be right but do I really want to stay here forever now?
I wish I knew.
‘I know who you’re looking at,” Mother Superior’s voice makes me start.
‘Do you know who he is?’ I saw no point in denying the obvious.
Mother Superior sighed. ‘Yes. He is Mark Kington, illegitimate, and renowned
for having strings of girlfriends whom he dumps when they become pregnant.’
‘How has he managed to stay in town, Mother? I would have thought he’d be
driven out.’ I pause. ‘Ah.. he must know someone then.’
Mother inclines her head slightly.
‘What about his parents, Mother? Surely they should rein him in.’
‘Mark does not know who his father is. His mother cannot remember.’
‘She sounds lovely,’ I know it’s not exactly Christian of me but I can’t resist
the sarcasm especially as I think I can see where Mother Superior is going with
this story. She wants to stop me becoming a scarlet woman. (It would be a
drastic change of habit!).
‘She was a young girl who thought she could have a good time. Nobody was going
to stop her. Nothing would happen to her. She was far too clever. Then it did
happen. Her parents were outraged. The baby adopted. The girl was put in
a convent. The parents couldn’t stand the shame. Nor did they want the girl to
ruin her younger sister’s prospects. Back then it would have done. You
yourself know what village gossip can be like. Oh yes, I know your story and
what you ran away from to come here.’
‘How do you know this Mark’s story? I am sorry, Mother, if seem rude, but I
cannot see why someone like that would talk to someone like you.’
Mother Superior gave me a tired smile but she nodded.
I looked into her eyes but she didn’t seem to be offended.
‘You may as well know. The sisters here do. The girl put in the convent? She is
me!’
Ends.
Allison Symes - July 2020
The painting with the nuns and the painting with the man asleep with the animals:
213 words
Sister Winifred took the mobile phone out of the pocket of her habit and after a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Sister Brunhilda and Mother Superior weren’t watching, she sent David a text.
‘Where are you?’
There was no reply.
She stared out of the window, scouring the faces of the passers-by and muttering under her breath. If he didn’t hurry up, she’d have to spend yet another night in this godforsaken convent. The itchy habit irritated her delicate skin and she longed to rip it off. But that wouldn’t be possible until David arrived with her clothes and they could make good their escape. She suddenly had a dreadful thought. Suppose he was kept back at work and couldn’t let her know? Once, he’d dropped his mobile phone in the penguin pool when he was cleaning out their enclosure but he’d promised he’d be more careful in the future. After all, it was the only way they could communicate and plan their elopement. It was imperative. Well, it was for her. She didn’t want to be a nun. But perhaps it wasn’t quite so urgent for David who loved his job in the zoo. But he would come for her. She was sure. He wouldn’t let her down again.
The painting of the blocks of flats
100 words
“Why are they demonstrating?”
“Something to do with wearing masks.”
Philip and Mary stood on their balcony watching the banner-waving people below.
“I need to get to work”
“You’ll be lucky, the streets are packed.”
“I don’t understand, what’s the problem with wearing masks?”
“Don’t ask me! I always wear one when I go out. It’s to do with civil rights or something. I s’pose they resent being told what to do.”
In one of those freak accidents, a fly flew up Philip’s nose making him sneeze. The blast ricocheted off the blocks of flats.
Suddenly, the streets were empty.
