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17 December 2025

Posted by Kym Devine

Dialogue

Our focus at last week's Junior Writers Club was on creating dialogue, with a writing prompt inspired by the spooky events of one of our group who recently discovered that her old Victorian school is haunted!

The writers first shared some tips and ideas on how to write good dialogue: from giving context to dialogue and making it funny to capture the readers attention to giving information through dialogue and using your own experience and emotions to make the dialogue believable.

They were then given 15 minutes to write a scene about anything they wanted, as long as it included dialogue and featured an old Victorian school. We had some brilliant and creative results including Shivanshi's eerie tale below:

Our school had always felt eerie, but no one could explain why. Two days ago, something strange happened in the PE changing rooms—a door appeared on the far wall. No one had seen it before. It wasn’t there during morning practice, but by lunchtime, it stood there like it had always belonged.


"Hey… was that door always there?" whispered Emily, pointing at the peeling wooden frame.


"No way," replied Ivy, frowning. "I’ve been here for a year. That wall was solid brick."


The girls gathered around, touching the cold brass handle. It didn’t budge.


"Maybe it’s locked," said Grace, tugging at it. "Or maybe it’s just… decoration?"


"In a changing room? That’s weird," muttered Emily. "I’m telling you, this wasn’t here yesterday."


 

The next day, the door was still there. No one dared open it. During PE, the girls laughed nervously about it, but the unease lingered.


As they changed, Dviti—quiet and reserved—sat down next to the door. She didn’t say a word, just stared at the handle.


"Dviti? You okay?" asked Ivy.


No response. Dviti’s eyes were fixed on the door like it was whispering to her.


Then, without warning, Dviti rose into the air.


"What the—Dviti!" screamed Emily, dropping her shoes.


Her body floated, limbs stiff, eyes wide with terror. Invisible hands seemed to grip her throat. She clawed at her neck, gasping silently.


"Help her! Someone help her!" Grace cried, pulling at Dviti’s legs, but it was like pulling against stone.


The door creaked. Slowly. Deliberately.


"It’s opening!" Ivy shrieked.


The brass handle turned on its own, and the door cracked open just enough to reveal darkness—pitch black, like a void.


"Close it! Close it!" Emily yelled, slamming her shoulder against the door. It didn’t move.


Dviti’s body convulsed, then dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. Her eyes were still open, staring at nothing.


The door shut itself.


The room was silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing.


"We… we have to tell someone," whispered Grace.


"No," Ivy said firmly, trembling. "No one will believe us. And what if it opens again?"


Emily looked at the door. The brass handle gleamed faintly, like it was smiling.


"It’s waiting," she murmured.




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