A* Narrative Writing for First Language English IGCSE
Sarah O'Rourke - Dec 10, 2024
About this resource
This lesson reviews plot structure and features of narrative writing:
- Plot structure: introduction, inciting incident, rising tension, climax and resolution
- Features of narrative writing: characterisation, setting, description, dialogue, creating tension
Take your students through an A* exemplar story and unpick what makes this story so good.
This lesson is focused on the skills needed for IGCSE First Language English, but would be applicable to any English Language GCSE that features narrative writing.
Video lesson: unpicking A* narratives for IGCSE English
Download the free resources below
PowerPoint – Unpicking A* Narratives for IGCSE English
Worksheet – Unpicking A* Narratives for IGCSE English
Read the A* narrative for IGCSE English
Race to the Top
Swiping bold stripes of face paint on my cheeks, I felt the adrenaline soaring through my body. This would be the year I’d come first, get my name in the newspapers, and finally beat Benson. It was my seventh time competing… and my seventh time coming second place.
Tough Mudder was advertised as a fun event with a party held afterwards for those fit enough to complete the gruelling obstacle course, but I didn’t feel much in the party mood as I weighed up Benson, now stomping his way to the starting line. Benson’s gaze met mine, an unspoken challenge that knocked away some of my certainty. He clenched his fists, set his jaw, and smirked at me. It was a red flag to a bull. I’d spent the past year in intensive training: weightlifting, running and climbing. I would fling Benson from his throne without mercy – and claim my gold medal as I did.
Although it was the crack of dawn, the sun was already fiercely pounding down on the field below where the Tough Mudder competition would be held, sizzling my skin. I hustled through the throngs of people now jostling around for a place at the starting line, nodding hello to Marie, an athletic woman with a towering physique, who was warming up. I elbowed, pushed and kicked until I found myself shoulder-to-shoulder with Benson.
“Alright, Sammy,” he said, his voice like velvet, his eyebrow cocked. “Try not to feel too bad about another loss, eh? It’s the taking part that counts.”
I fumbled for something witty to say in response but came up short. “Shut up,” I muttered.
Benson’s face split into a wide grin and his eyes glittered with glee.
The announcer began the countdown; the crowd roared; I steeled myself.
“On your marks! Get set! GO!”
I leapt into the air, manoeuvring through the treacherous terrain and obstacles with the precision of a seasoned pro, leaving Benson far behind. Years of practice had honed my skills, transforming me into a graceful dancer amidst the chaos. I leapt past Marie, bounded through the obstacles, and soared through the mud. My steps light and nimble, I glided over the mud pits, and then pirouetted over the gorge. The next obstacle coming my way: The King of the Swingers. The ropes and nets were no match for my trained limbs; my limbs flowed from one rope to the next, swinging, swaying across with ease.
A quick glance back filled me with satisfaction as I saw Benson stumbling as he navigated through Mud Mile – a perilous maze of trenches. When he came up for air, face encrusted in mud, mouth dangling wide, I flashed him a dazzling smile. Too easy, I thought.
I sprinted to the final obstacle: a massive, muddy hill that seemed to reach the heavens. I hadn’t expected a new obstacle this year and as I scrambled up the hill, failing to find a foothold and sliding back down, before realising that someone else was overtaking me. I saw his wiry muscles and glittering eyes as he ascended the hill… and I slid back down again like a wet fish. Finally, finally, I found purchase on a series of rocks obscured by the mud. I gasped for breath as I reached the summit, my pride wounded, my victory in tatters.
From the crest of the hill, I watched Benson’s determined descent, who was running down the hill at breakneck speed. Time stopped. A protruding branch yanked at Benson’s ankle. Gravity ripped Benson down to the ground. The crowd silenced, and now the only noise that could be heard was a sickening crack of Benson’s bones upon the ground. He didn’t move again.
The air seemed thick and heavy as I jogged down the hill to Benson’s lifeless form. Body crumpled, eyes dazed, leg bent out of shape – how could I leave him like that? And yet, and yet, the finishing line glittered and gleamed in my periphery, promising that elusive gold medal if I just walked another hundred metres to cross it.
“Hey,” I said, crouching. “You okay?”
Benson stirred, scrunching up his eyes. “Go on then,” he said. “It’s your year – go get your medal and you can gloat later.”
The more I considered leaving Benson, the more I knew what I had to do… but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. Grabbing him from under his armpit, I yanked Benson to his feet, supporting his weight as I began to carry him half-limping towards the checkered finish line. Our sweaty, muddy bodies hobbled ungainly forwards, turning us into a four-legged monster. Fine, I thought, We’ll win this together.
Abruptly, rapidly, Marie streaked past us, splattering us with mud as she ploughed through the field with alarming velocity, and darted past the finishing line to rapturous applause. Benson suddenly seemed to weigh an extra fifty kilos.
“Oh well,” I said, as I continued lugging us forward. “I believe you said that it’s the taking part that counts.”
