Your 100 Word Challenge this week is to write 100 words exactly (no more, no less) based on the prompt:
…take flight…
This is inspired by our exciting trip to RAF Hendon, seeing the incredibke Spitfires, Lancaster Bombers and other WW2 planes!
Your 100 Word Challenge this week is to write 100 words exactly (no more, no less) based on the prompt:
…take flight…
This is inspired by our exciting trip to RAF Hendon, seeing the incredibke Spitfires, Lancaster Bombers and other WW2 planes!
As the bombers took off the agile spitfires went after them it was a steady flight but as soon as they pasted the French borders the spitfires were shooting houses and pounding on the canons. The bombers had gone by a hour ago so now they were bombing the massive city it was a good mission only one plane down and the bombers had got back successfully. Although the officer in the fight had gone down. He was the best officer they had ever had and he had shoot down more planes canons then anyone and now he was dead.
I was in the Royal Air Force flying planes for Britain in The Battle Of Britain when I got called up to
fly a spitfire over Germany and bomb Berlin. This was my biggest mission yet! I only used to fly
supplies to other countries but now I was in operation siege! I was flying in a one man plane so I
had other people in my squadron. I was now in-charge of a whole squadron. As I checked my
plane for malfunctions, my friend walked up to me and said,
“Good luck buddy. And your gonna need it cause Hitler ain’t gonna turn a blind eye to this mission.
No. He’ll probably be waiting for you in a Luftwaffe on the other side.”
After my friends words of “helpfulness” I set off and once again, the planes took flight…
So you are a fighter pilot in one of today’s latest jets.
Tell me, what it is like to fly, to fight and to die in the air?
All the crushing g-forces and dizzying changes of direction happening all at once.
I bet that there’s no glory in your battles, only pain, mutilation and death.
But this is your game, an aerial ballet of chess where the victors come home and the vanquished cease to exist , a game I don’t play .
I’d like to see what you see just for a day, to experience what it is like to be a fighter pilot.
Perhaps I would change my mind about this if I could see what you have seen, but for now, I am a innocent child, and the horrors of war haunt not me, but you.
When my imagination takes flight, anything can happen from humans never going to war to yellow, laser shooting unicorns called robocorns ruling the earth. There could be vortexes to hell by mixing the substances death tears and fire claws. When my imagination is really in flight, Bunny Mcfluffels is president of the world. A massive time portal could appear and when you go through you’re on planet Kitten. Imagine sunflowers with dogs faces, countries colder than space, anything at all. Anything when your imagination takes flight. Sadly, when reality brings me back, I’m sat at a keyboard doing my homework.
At the enormous hangar of the Heathrow airport, 4 dusty planes used to stand in a very straight line. These battered planes were some of the most special, most amazing pieces of history. Spitfires of the blazing battle of Britain. That’s why they were stolen…
A group of criminals cut through the wall of the hangar with a laser cutter in the middle of the night. They removed the bricks carefully so as not to alert anyone and climbed into the cockpits. With old pilot skills, they took flight and flew over London. Lets hope these historical planes are found.
Sometimes when I’m feeling blue
My feathered wings open to you
I close my eyes and I see you there
And I know how much you care
A simple presence is all I need
For my life to change how it leads
I jump off the weathered slate
My wings are filled with nervous grace
Slowly Steadily and with growing fight
I stretch my wings and just take flight
Soaring up atop the clouds
I hear my thoughts I get it now
A thin line between wrong and right
I only have one more night
As the sun sets down below
I now know how this will go
Two paths spread out in front of me
Which life will I lead
Will I stay up in the sky
Or will the earth be where I lie
My heart beats steadily on
I listen to my life long song
I know the choice that I will make
I know the life that I must take
In the place where sun shines down
There never was a brighter crown
Watching memories disappear
I am filled up with cautious fear
Then for the second time in my life
I stretch my wings and just take flight
Sorry it’s 200 words
The day is here
Time to fly
My childhood comes to a nigh
I take my stand
I take a spring
Then try to spread out my wings
I catch the air
I hear a hush
Then I feel a sudden rush
I flap my wings
I ascend at once
Seeing the world from above
I soar awhile
A steady pace
I feel so free; there’s so much space
All alone
I look around
Then I hear a shrieking sound
A flock of birds
Just like me
I join their ranks
To find and see
What will become of me?
This is a great poem!
Every year up to one billion monarch butterflies take flight and go on the largest insect migration in the world. On this extraordinary journey they go from Eastern canada to the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere reserve, in western central Mexico, which is a amazing journey of over 2,500 miles. The enduring monarch butterflies arrive in late october to make their winter homes which are in the trees high on the mountains of the reserve. Here they cluster in there millions sometimes so thick you can not see the trees! They migrate south because it is to cold up north in Canada.
“Take flight!” shouted the young RAF soldier that reached out to grab the frightening handle that fires. Action was amongst the air fighting through the rough life or death Spitfires dog fights. Both the Germans and British troops had a good angle to fight and win. Not much time left, I felt anger in my heart but felt helpless in my guts. I couldn’t tell from their language what they were planning, their rusty Spitfires were powering down and not many Germans left. Yes, I could feel it in my heart we could win today. Even though we had less planes we were winning, I knew it that we won and I’m proud to this very day.
It was long, hot day in August when the sky suddenly turned dark … as dark as a day in December. I was standing in the street with two older kids who lived nearby. The oldest boy whispered to me, “It’ll be all right but we need to take flight soon”. “What’s going to happen?” I asked him. “I haven’t figured it out yet… I just know we’ve got to get out of here” he said forcefully. “It’s our home but, if we stay here any longer, we’re all going to die!”
I am really impressed with your writing. I am going to do this at our school, thank you for the idea.
“As I walked though the abandoned forest, the skeletal branches scarred my wrists and the fallen twigs snapped beneath me. What do you think mum? Will it be good enough for Mr. Becker?”
“He’ll love it!” replied Norah’s mother, Helga, the village baker.
Suddenly there was an explosion of bullets followed by the piercing whine of an air-raid siren.
“Ahhhh!” screamed Helga “Get to the shelter I’ll wake up your father! Go!”
“Mummy what’s happening?!”
But as Norah took flight, a bomb fell in to the road next to her and, sadly she died along with everyone on the street.
Light as a feather,
Stopping to slow never,
Adrenaline a river,
My thoughts a-quiver,
The steel bird flew,
As if brand new,
Leaving rockets a stew,
The chat-able guns gossiped,
About their new-found power,
Destroying anything from a city to a flower.
140, wait, 160, more!
This planes’ an engine that sweeps the floor!
The Lancaster’s’ don’t even make a sound,
To interrupt the streaming magnetic pulse,
Pulling them down to the grimy ground.
Maybe it was chance, maybe luck,
That the plane did that impossible duck,
Twisting elegantly through the sky,
Watching all the clouds go by,
And so, that is why,
The Spitfire can still fly!