Norton's Hut

Snow was as cold as the Antarctic sea,

Tall big mountains thin as a giraffe,

Blue sky clear as the sea ,

Trees still as a statue.

Nortons hut

Awoke to piece,
Slipping down Mountains,
Snow as cold as ice from Antarctica,
Still frozen trees as white as a polar bear,
The hut stood there as still as a statue.


By Madi.

Nortons hut

Slipping, Sliding down the mountain, 

Snow as white as the fluffy clouds.

Snow fights, laughing kids.

The air is as quiet as a worm.

The trees are as frozen as status. 

The smell of fresh air .

The hut sitting on the ice all by itself covered in a fresh white coat of snow and a big chimney blowing grey smoke.

By   Amelia

Norton's Hut

Pure white snow, lying lazily over branches like people on beds.

A blue sky, like beautiful shining crystals.

Freezing air, like Antarctica itself.

A bright sun, biting at our backs. Dead tree's, moaning and groaning.

A bright horizon, like a fairy realm. The damp wood of Norton' s hut, ancient and old, the mist of a legend swoops over us. A mysterious man, almost a stature and 

refusing food. With his back to us, He hogs the small, young fire. Pale, white mist, leaking out of the chimney of a snow covered hut. Mountains in the distance, smiling children playing snow fights, yelling and squealing as lumps of snow explode with power, splattering girls and boys with dry snow.

The End.