AQA GCSE English Language 8700/1 - Explorations in creative ...

Mark Scheme

Introduction

The information provided for each question is intended to be a guide to the kind of answers anticipated and is neither exhaustive nor prescriptive. All appropriate responses should be given credit.

Level of response marking instructions

Level of response mark schemes are broken down into four levels (where appropriate). Read through the student's answer and annotate it (as instructed) to show the qualities that are being looked for. You can then award a mark.

You should refer to the standardising material throughout your marking. The Indicative Standard is not intended to be a model answer nor a complete response, and it does not exemplify required content. It is an indication of the quality of response that is typical for each level and shows progression from Level 1 to 4.

Step 1 Determine a level

Start at the lowest level of the mark scheme and use it as a ladder to see whether the answer meets the descriptors for that level. If it meets the lowest level then go to the next one and decide if it meets this level, and so on, until you have a match between the level descriptor and the answer. With practice and familiarity you will be able to quickly skip through the lower levels for better answers. The Indicative Standard column in the mark scheme will help you determine the correct level.

Step 2 Determine a mark

Once you have assigned a level you need to decide on the mark. Balance the range of skills achieved; allow strong performance in some aspects to compensate for others only partially fulfilled. Refer to the standardising scripts to compare standards and allocate a mark accordingly. Re-read as needed to assure yourself that the level and mark are appropriate. An answer which contains nothing of relevance must be awarded no marks.

Advice for Examiners

In fairness to students, all examiners must use the same marking methods.

1. Refer constantly to the mark scheme and standardising scripts throughout the marking period.
2. Always credit accurate, relevant and appropriate responses that are not necessarily covered by the mark scheme or the standardising scripts.
3. Use the full range of marks. Do not hesitate to give full marks if the response merits it.
4. Remember the key to accurate and fair marking is consistency.
5. If you have any doubt about how to allocate marks to a response, consult your Team Leader.

SECTION A: READING - Assessment Objectives

AO1

• Identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas.
• Select and synthesise evidence from different texts.

AO2

• Explain, comment on and analyse how writers use language and structure to achieve effects and influence readers, using relevant subject terminology to support their views.

AO3

• Compare writers' ideas and perspectives, as well as how these are conveyed, across two or more texts.

AO4

• Evaluate texts critically and support this with appropriate textual references.

SECTION B: WRITING - Assessment Objectives

AO5 (Writing: Content and Organisation)

• Communicate clearly, effectively and imaginatively, selecting and adapting tone, style and register for different forms, purposes and audiences.
• Organise information and ideas, using structural and grammatical features to support coherence and cohesion of texts.

AO6

• Candidates must use a range of vocabulary and sentence structures for clarity, purpose and effect, with accurate spelling and punctuation. (This requirement must constitute 20% of the marks for each specification as a whole).

Answers

Question 1 - Mark Scheme

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 9. Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each. [4 marks]

Assessment focus (AO1): Identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas. This assesses bullet point 1 (identify and interpret explicit and implicit information and ideas).

• 1.1 According to the narrator, when does Egdon Heath seem cheerful?: Only at the height of summer – 1 mark
• 1.2 According to the narrator, who would feel a natural right to wander on Egdon Heath?: A strict ascetic – 1 mark
• 1.3 What are stated as the birthright of all?: Colours and beauties so far subdued – 1 mark
• 1.4 In summer days of highest feather, what did Egdon’s mood touch?: the level of gaiety – 1 mark

Question 2 - Mark Scheme

Look in detail at this extract, from lines 6 to 10 of the source:

6 reached by way of the solemn than by way of the brilliant, and such a sort of intensity was often arrived at during winter darkness, tempests, and mists. Then Egdon was aroused to reciprocity; for the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend. Then it became the home of strange phantoms; and it was found to be the hitherto unrecognized original of those wild regions of obscurity

How does the writer use language here to present Egdon in wild weather? You could include the writer's choice of:

• words and phrases
• language features and techniques
• sentence forms.

[8 marks]

Question 2 (AO2) – Language Analysis (8 marks)

Explain, comment on and analyse how writers use language and structure to achieve effects and influence readers, using relevant subject terminology to support their views. This question assesses language (words, phrases, features, techniques, sentence forms).

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed analysis) – 7–8 marks Shows perceptive and detailed understanding of language: analyses effects of choices; selects judicious detail; sophisticated and accurate terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 4 response would analyse Hardy’s personification, patterning, and lexis to show Egdon most alive in storms: elevated contrasts like 'solemn' rather than 'brilliant', the Gothic field 'winter darkness, tempests, and mists' and 'strange phantoms', and anaphora in 'Then... Then' build intensity. The anthropomorphic metaphors 'aroused to reciprocity', 'the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend', and the archetypal assertion that it is the 'hitherto unrecognized original' of 'wild regions of obscurity' present the heath as animate, primal, and empowered by wild weather.

The writer personifies Egdon to animate it in wild weather. The sensual, dynamic verb in “Egdon was aroused to reciprocity” suggests the heath wakes and answers back when the elements strike it, the abstract noun “reciprocity” implying a mutual, almost conscious exchange. This anthropomorphic metaphor extends as “the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend”: the relational nouns “lover” and “friend” carry intimate, affectionate connotations, so the reader feels the storm does not brutalise the heath but completes it, revealing a fierce companionship at the heart of the landscape.

Furthermore, the lexical choices build a sombre atmosphere through a semantic field of gloom. The tricolon “winter darkness, tempests, and mists” layers visual and elemental threat, the weighty, Latinate “tempests” intensifying scale and grandeur. The antithesis between “the solemn” and “the brilliant” indicates that Egdon’s “intensity” is “reached… by way of the solemn,” so wild weather unlocks its true character. Gothic lexis deepens this: it “became the home of strange phantoms,” a noun phrase that conjures uncanny presences, before the elevated register of “the hitherto unrecognized original of those wild regions of obscurity” casts Egdon as the archetype of bleak, untamed landscapes, not a derivative copy.

Additionally, sentence form and structure reinforce transformation. The anaphora “Then Egdon… Then it…” and the fronted temporal adverbial “Then” create a rhythmic surge, mirroring a storm’s onset. Predominant passives—“was aroused,” “was found”—and the explanatory semicolon in “reciprocity; for the storm…” lend inevitability and authority, as if this revelation is discovered rather than invented. Altogether, Hardy’s language presents Egdon as most fully itself in wild weather: awakened, intimate with the elements, and awe-inspiringly primeval.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant explanation) – 5–6 marks Shows clear understanding; explains effects; relevant detail; clear and accurate terminology. Indicative Standard: At Level 3, a response would clearly explain that personification and metaphor present Egdon as alive and aligned with storms—e.g., the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend—and that eerie imagery like home of strange phantoms makes it feel supernatural; it would also note the list of three winter darkness, tempests, and mists and the repeated Then to build intensity, culminating in the abstract wild regions of obscurity to emphasise mystery and danger.

The writer uses personification and extended metaphor to present Egdon as most alive in wild weather. When "Egdon was aroused to reciprocity," the heath is given human emotion and the abstract noun "reciprocity" implies a mutual response. By saying the storm was its "lover" and the wind its "friend", the language of relationships suggests intimacy and belonging in tempests.

Furthermore, the tricolon "winter darkness, tempests, and mists" builds a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. The piling up of hostile nouns and the seasonal adjective "winter" emphasise bleakness, while the abstract noun "intensity" shows that Egdon’s power increases under these conditions, making the heath seem stronger and more vivid when the weather turns wild.

Moreover, Gothic imagery makes the scene uncanny: it "became the home of strange phantoms", which makes the heath feel haunted and mysterious. The phrase "hitherto unrecognized original of those wild regions of obscurity" elevates Egdon to the source of all wildness, using grand, formal diction to stress its ancient authority. Additionally, the repetition of "Then" and the linking semicolon ("; for") create a sense of transformation and explanation, highlighting how storms awaken the heath. Overall, the writer presents the heath as most itself when the weather turns violent.

Level 2 (Some understanding and comment) – 3–4 marks Attempts to comment on effects; some appropriate detail; some use of terminology. Indicative Standard: The writer uses personification like “the storm was its lover” and “the wind its friend” to make Egdon seem alive and welcoming to wild weather, while the list “winter darkness, tempests, and mists” and spooky image “strange phantoms” present it as mysterious and threatening. The repetition of “Then” and the phrase “wild regions of obscurity” suggest a sudden intensification and a dark, unknown atmosphere.

The writer uses personification to present Egdon in wild weather. He says Egdon was “aroused to reciprocity; for the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend.” This makes Egdon seem human, as if the storm loves it, so the bad weather wakes it up and suits it.

Furthermore, imagery shows an eerie mood. Calling it the “home of strange phantoms” and the “wild regions of obscurity” creates a spooky picture, suggesting Egdon belongs to darkness and mystery.

Additionally, the list of three “winter darkness, tempests, and mists” emphasises how harsh and gloomy the weather is, while the contrast between the “solemn” and the “brilliant” suggests Egdon fits the solemn weather best.

Moreover, the repetition of “Then” at the start of sentences highlights change, showing that when storms come, Egdon transforms.

Overall, the language presents Egdon as alive, powerful and at home in wild weather.

Level 1 (Simple, limited comment) – 1–2 marks Simple awareness; simple comment; simple references; simple terminology. Indicative Standard: Level 1: Identifies bad-weather words like winter darkness, tempests, and mists, simple personification the storm was its lover and the wind its friend to show Egdon is wild, notes spooky strange phantoms and wild regions of obscurity, and the repeated Then suggesting it changes in storms.

The writer uses personification to present Egdon in wild weather. For example, “the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend.” This makes the heath seem like a person and shows the weather is close to it. Furthermore, the phrase “winter darkness, tempests, and mists” uses powerful nouns to create a gloomy mood. Moreover, the writer uses imagery like “home of strange phantoms” to make it seem spooky. Additionally, the repetition of “Then” at the start of sentences shows how the place changes in storms. Also, the phrase “wild regions of obscurity” suggests mystery.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward.

AO2 content may include the effects of language features such as:

• Lexical contrast of solemn versus brilliant presents Egdon as best accessed through sombre moods, aligning wild weather with its true nature: by way of the solemn
• Tricolon builds an elemental semantic field, making the scene feel harsh and untamed: winter darkness, tempests, and mists
• Personification via abstract noun suggests mutual responsiveness; the heath actively answers the weather: aroused to reciprocity
• Relationship metaphor frames violent forces as intimate and nourishing to the landscape: the storm was its lover
• Complementary personification softens threat by casting another force as a loyal ally within wildness: the wind its friend
• Anaphora of the temporal marker signals a vivid transformation as the storm arrives: Then it became
• Gothic imagery domesticates the uncanny, making eerie presence a natural feature of Egdon in storms: the home of strange phantoms
• Elevated evaluative phrasing grants archetypal authority revealed by wild weather: hitherto unrecognized original
• Lexis of mystery crystallizes the theme of the unknown and darkness in the storm-lashed heath: wild regions of obscurity
• Cumulative syntax with semicolons links surges of description into a swelling rhythm that mirrors the gathering storm: for the storm

Question 3 - Mark Scheme

You now need to think about the structure of the source as a whole. This text is from the beginning of a novel.

How has the writer structured the text to create a sense of calm?

You could write about:

• how calm deepens by the end of the source
• how the writer uses structure to create an effect
• the writer's use of any other structural features, such as changes in mood, tone or perspective. [8 marks]

Question 3 (AO2) – Structural Analysis (8 marks)

Assesses structure (pivotal point, juxtaposition, flashback, focus shifts, mood/tone, contrast, narrative pace, etc.).

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed analysis) – 7–8 marks Analyses effects of structural choices; judicious examples; sophisticated terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 4 response would trace calm deepening across the whole extract: early anaphora evoking turbulence gives way to the pivot 'It was at present' and the balanced negatives 'neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly; neither commonplace, unmeaning, nor tame', while a historical catalogue signposted by 'Here at least were intelligible facts' and the contrast 'yet Egdon remained' establish permanence, before a narrowed viewpoint 'gave ballast to the mind' resolves in the still final image 'the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever'.

One way in which the writer has structured the text to create calm is through a gradual shift in focus from potential tumult to present poise. Early on, ominous possibilities are foregrounded (“winter darkness, tempests”), yet the narrative swiftly pivots to the present-tense assurance that Egdon is “at present… perfectly accordant.” The balanced antitheses “neither ghastly… nor ugly; neither commonplace… nor tame” create syntactic symmetry, and this equilibrium in sentence structure slows the narrative pace and settles the mood.

In addition, the mid-text historical interpolation operates as an anchoring frame. The digression to “Domesday,” charters, and “Turbaria Bruaria” introduces “intelligible facts,” a deliberate change in focus from mythic personification to documentary evidence. This accumulative cataloguing and measured exposition stabilise the atmosphere, while the sustained, impersonal omniscient perspective excludes disruptive human drama, further soothing the reader.

A further structural feature is the temporal reference that grounds the reader in a liminal, tranquil moment: “between afternoon and night, as now.” The long, periodic sentence that follows culminates in the calm, conclusive end-clause “gave ballast to the mind,” so that syntax mirrors effect—a controlled buildup resolving into weight and steadiness.

Moreover, a climactic pattern of contrast deepens the calm by the end. The anaphoric listing—“The sea changed, the fields changed… and the people changed”—builds rhythmic inevitability before the pivot “yet Egdon remained.” This macro-temporal assurance is then zoomed into a precise end-focus image: despite the thickening gloom, “the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever.” The final visual anchor provides reassuring clarity, concluding the structure with composure and quiet certainty.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant explanation) – 5–6 marks Explains effects; relevant examples; clear terminology. Indicative Standard: The writer structures calm through a steady progression: from a panoramic, subdued opening ("Colours and beauties so far subdued") and balanced lists ("neither ghastly... nor tame") that stabilise tone, into a factual middle ("Here at least were intelligible facts", "Turbaria Bruaria") contrasting change elsewhere with permanence ("yet Egdon remained"), which slows the pace. Finally, the focus narrows to the present moment—offering "ballast to the mind" and ending on the constant "white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever"—so the shift from panorama to precise detail deepens the sense of calm.

One way in which the writer has structured the text to create calm is by shifting from potential turmoil to present equilibrium. He first evokes “winter darkness, tempests, and mists”, then the temporal marker “at present” refocuses us on a heath “perfectly accordant with man’s nature”. The balanced pattern “neither ghastly… nor ugly; neither commonplace… nor tame” creates symmetry that slows the pace and soothes.

In addition, a shift in focus to history provides reassurance. References to “Domesday”, charters and Leland yield “intelligible facts”, a cumulative catalogue that steadies the narrative. The claim that what Egdon “now was it always had been” emphasises continuity, calming the reader with a sense of permanence beyond human “vanity”.

A further structural feature is the movement from panorama to a final zoom-in on one steady detail. The temporal reference “between afternoon and night, as now” places us in tranquil twilight; then the repetition “The sea changed… yet Egdon remained” sets a reassuring rhythm. The extract ends with the white road that “remained almost as clear as ever”, so the calm deepens by the end.

Level 2 (Some understanding and comment) – 3–4 marks Attempts to comment; some examples; some terminology. Indicative Standard: A Level 2 response would notice the structure moves from less calm images like “winter darkness, tempests, and mists” to reassuring history and facts (“Here at least were intelligible facts”), which begins to steady the mood. It would then say calm deepens as the focus shifts to enduring stability—“ancient permanence”, “yet Egdon remained”—ending on the steady image that “the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever.”

One way the writer structures the opening to create calm is by starting wide and then narrowing to the present. At the beginning the focus includes storms and mists, but it shifts to “at present” where the heath is “neither ghastly… nor tame.” This change in focus slows the pace and sets a peaceful tone.

In addition, the writer changes time in the middle with historical facts (Domesday, charters, measurements). This use of chronology and detail feels steady. Phrases like “always had been” and “ancient permanence” make the reader feel things are lasting. This builds calm by showing the place is constant.

A further structural choice is to zoom in on the evening moment, “between afternoon and night,” and then end with a single image: “the white surface of the road remained.” The contrast “The sea changed… yet Egdon remained” and this clear final focus leave a calm ending.

Level 1 (Simple, limited comment) – 1–2 marks Simple awareness; simple references; simple terminology. Indicative Standard: The writer moves from a calm description at the start (neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly), to old factual history in the middle (Domesday), and ends with repeated stability (yet Egdon remained, the white surface of the road remained), which makes the scene feel calm and steady.

One way the writer has structured the text to create calm is by starting with a wide description that slows the pace. Long sentences and “at present” make the heath seem steady and not frightening.

In addition, in the middle the focus shifts to history and facts like Domesday and charters. This listing and simple time order feel organised and reassuring.

A further structural feature is how the ending narrows to the evening road. The final line says the white road “remained… clear,” so the focus on one constant detail deepens the calm.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward.

AO2 content may include the effect of structural features such as:

• Inclusive opening frames Egdon as a rightful, permitted refuge, easing the reader into acceptance (birthright of all)
• Early sequence contrasts potential turbulence with a present-tense pivot, steering the focus back to steadiness (It was at present)
• Measured antithesis slows the pace and reassures by excluding extremes (neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly)
• Insertion of historical records and charters provides factual anchors that settle uncertainty (intelligible facts)
• Cumulative contrast of changing elements leads to a stabilizing refrain of endurance, deepening calm (yet Egdon remained)
• Panoramic enclosure contains the world within a single vista, creating safety through boundedness (filled the whole circumference)
• The zoom to a specific vantage makes serenity explicit, stating the scene’s stabilizing effect (ballast to the mind)
• Liminal timing places the moment at a gentle transition, reinforcing a quiet interlude (between afternoon and night)
• Expansion to cosmic timescales steadies perspective, presenting permanence as soothing (as the stars overhead)
• Closing image fixes a clear, constant guide amid darkness, ending on visual calm (white surface of the road)

Question 4 - Mark Scheme

For this question focus on the second part of the source, from line 41 to the end.

In this part of the source, where the heath is described as ancient and permanent, it seems like a reliable and solid place. The writer suggests that this unchanging landscape offers comfort to people who feel overwhelmed by the modern world.

To what extent do you agree and/or disagree with this statement?

In your response, you could:

• consider your impressions of the unchanging landscape
• comment on the methods the writer uses to convey the unchanging nature of Egdon
• support your response with references to the text. [20 marks]

Question 4 (AO4) – Critical Evaluation (20 marks)

Evaluate texts critically and support with appropriate textual references.

Level 4 (Perceptive, detailed evaluation) – 16–20 marks Perceptive ideas; perceptive methods; critical detail on impact; judicious detail. Indicative Standard: A Level 4 response would largely agree, analysing how the writer frames Egdon as a consoling constant through metaphor and contrast: the elevated epithet the great inviolate place with ancient permanence, the maritime reassurance in gave ballast to the mind adrift on change, and harassed by the irrepressible New, and the cumulative antithesis ending yet Egdon remained. It would also probe nuance, noting that, even as the gloom had increased sufficiently to confuse the minor features, geological lexis like finger-touches of the last geological change and the enduring clarity of the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever reinforce the writer’s viewpoint.

I largely agree that Hardy presents the heath as reliable and consolatory for those unnerved by modern change, though the comfort it offers is stern rather than cosy. The passage opens with a panoramic, enclosing perspective: reclining “in the central valley of Egdon,” the viewer sees “nothing of the world outside,” only the “summits and shoulders of heathland.” The corporeal metaphor “shoulders,” coupled with the sibilant pairing “summits and shoulders,” suggests a protective embrace, while the circular “circumference” implies insulation from the “world outside.” Structurally, the long periodic sentence delays its main clause until “gave ballast to the mind,” so the syntax itself steadies us as the heath steadies the “mind adrift on change.” The nautical metaphor of “ballast” and the personification of the capitalised “irrepressible New” powerfully convey that Egdon’s weight counters the harrying pressures of modernity.

This stability is asserted through pointed comparison. Egdon possesses “an ancient permanence which the sea cannot claim.” The rhetorical question “Who can say of a particular sea that it is old?” undercuts the sea’s supposed timelessness. Hardy’s anaphoric list—“the sea changed, the fields changed, the rivers, the villages, and the people changed”—creates a rhythmic insistence on flux, against which the clipped declarative “yet Egdon remained” stands like a granite statement of fact. Even the cosmic simile “unaltered as the stars overhead” elevates Egdon’s constancy to a celestial register, reinforcing the reassuring sense of something beyond the “irrepressible New.”

Hardy’s lexis and balanced syntax further encode durability. The antithetical construction “neither so steep… nor so flat” locates the heath in a moderated, enduring middle ground. Geological and archaeological diction—“prehistoric,” “barrow,” “last geological change”—stretches the timescale, while the metaphor that the “aged highway” and barrow are “almost crystallized to natural products” suggests human interventions are absorbed into Egdon’s order. The delicate personification “the very finger-touches” implies traces that are gentle yet indelible. Historical allusion to the Roman “Via Iceniana” situates the scene within a continuum; the road “overlaid an old vicinal way,” signalling continuity rather than disruption. The flowing, cumulative sentences mirror time’s sweep, lending authority and calm.

Finally, as “gloom” deepens, “the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever”: a striking visual contrast that reads like guidance through uncertainty. Overall, I agree to a large extent: Egdon’s “ancient permanence” is austere—hinted by the “stump of thorn” and encroaching dusk—but it confers a clarifying, stabilising comfort, a true “ballast” for minds overwhelmed by the modern world.

Level 3 (Clear, relevant evaluation) – 11–15 marks Clear ideas; clear methods; clear evaluation of impact; relevant references. Indicative Standard: A Level 3 response would largely agree that the heath offers consoling stability, citing 'gave ballast to the mind' and the 'great inviolate place' with 'ancient permanence', contrasted with 'the sea changed ... 'the people changed', while noting a minor caveat in 'the gloom had increased'. It would identify methods such as contrast/repetition, the steadying metaphor 'ballast', and timeless imagery like 'finger-touches of the last geological change' to show how Egdon reassures those 'harassed by the irrepressible New'.

I largely agree that the writer presents the heath as ancient, reliable and consoling. From the outset, Egdon is framed as a mental anchor: to recline there and “to know that everything around and underneath had been from prehistoric times as unaltered as the stars overhead, gave ballast to the mind adrift on change.” The extended nautical metaphor “gave ballast” suggests a steadying weight for those “harassed by the irrepressible New.” Likewise, the dignified noun phrase “great inviolate place” and the claim of “ancient permanence” build an impression of safety and solidity.

This reliability is sharpened through contrast and rhetorical devices. The simile with “the stars overhead” links Egdon to cosmic constancy, while the rhetorical question “Who can say of a particular sea that it is old?” diminishes other landscapes. The listing “The sea changed... the people changed, yet Egdon remained” uses repetition to foreground endurance against modernity’s flux. Likewise, the geological lexis—“neither so steep... nor so flat,” “last geological change”—and the personification “finger-touches” show the heath shaped by deep time, not by human “pickaxe, plough, or spade,” implying a dependable constancy that could soothe an overwhelmed mind.

Even human traces are assimilated into stability. The “aged highway” and “aged barrow” are “almost crystallized to natural products,” a metaphor implying that history itself has settled and solidified here. Structurally, the passage narrows to a specific image at dusk: though “gloom had increased” enough to “confuse the minor features,” “the white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever.” This visual contrast functions like a guiding line, offering clarity within uncertainty.

However, the gloom and the impersonal grandeur (“great inviolate place”) hint that comfort here is austere rather than cosy. Overall, I agree that the writer suggests Egdon’s unchanging nature offers reassurance: its permanence gives mental ballast against the pressures of the modern world.

Level 2 (Some evaluation) – 6–10 marks Some understanding; some methods; some evaluative comments; some references. Indicative Standard: A typical Level 2 response would mostly agree that the heath feels reliable and comforting, citing simple phrases like "ancient permanence," "inviolate," "as unaltered as the stars overhead," and "gave ballast to the mind" to show stability against "the irrepressible New." It would also note the straightforward contrast (e.g., "The sea changed … yet Egdon remained") to support the writer’s viewpoint.

I mostly agree that the heath is shown as ancient and reliable, and that this steadiness comforts those overwhelmed by modern life. The writer uses a clear simile to stress its age: Egdon is “as unaltered as the stars overhead.” This, along with the phrase “the great inviolate place” and the description of “ancient permanence,” makes the heath seem solid and dependable. The metaphor “gave ballast to the mind adrift on change” suggests calm and stability, as if the heath anchors people who are “harassed by the irrepressible New.”

The writer also uses strong contrast and repetition to emphasise permanence: “The sea changed, the fields changed, the rivers, the villages, and the people changed, yet Egdon remained.” This list shows everything else is unstable, but the heath endures. Personifying the “New” as “irrepressible” makes modern life feel pushy and exhausting, so the unchanging heath feels like relief. Practical details add to the effect: its surfaces are “neither so steep” nor “so flat,” so it resists damage, while “the very finger-touches of the last geological change” suggests time itself has shaped it.

Even human marks seem absorbed: the “aged highway” and “still more aged barrow” are “crystallized to natural products,” which makes the place feel rooted and reliable. Finally, in the evening “gloom,” the “white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever,” an image that hints at guidance and comfort.

Overall, I agree to a large extent: the writer presents Egdon as a permanent, trustworthy landscape that steadies people against the pressures of the modern world, even if the “gloom” and “inviolate” tone might feel severe to some.

Level 1 (Simple, limited) – 1–5 marks Simple ideas; limited methods; simple evaluation; simple references. Indicative Standard: Typically, a Level 1 response would simply agree that the heath feels reliable and comforting, pointing to phrases like great inviolate place, ancient permanence, Egdon remained, and gave ballast to the mind adrift on change to show it doesn’t change and reassures people.

I mostly agree with the statement. In this part, the heath is shown as very old and steady, so it feels safe and reassuring for people who are tired of change in the modern world.

At the start, the writer says lying on Egdon “gave ballast to the mind adrift on change,” which suggests comfort and stability. The simile “as unaltered as the stars overhead” shows the heath does not change, like the stars. Words like “great inviolate place” and “ancient permanence” make it seem solid and reliable.

The writer also uses contrast to show this. He says, “The sea changed, the fields changed… yet Egdon remained.” The repeated “changed” against “remained” makes the heath seem unmovable. The rhetorical question, “Who can say of a particular sea that it is old?” suggests that only the heath can truly be called old, which is calming for people “harassed by the irrepressible New.”

Even human traces feel old and natural: the “aged highway” and barrow are “crystallized to natural products,” and the “white surface of the road remained almost as clear as ever” in the gloom, which also feels steady. Overall, I agree that the unchanging landscape seems reliable and gives comfort.

Level 0 – No marks: Nothing to reward. Note: Reference to methods and explicit “I agree/I disagree” may be implicit and still credited according to quality.

AO4 content may include the evaluation of ideas and methods such as:

• Archival allusions (Domesday, charters, Leland) establish factual continuity, making Egdon feel reliable and time-tested (figures in Domesday)
• Repetition of permanence and continuity asserts unchanging nature, encouraging agreement that stability can comfort readers (Egdon remained)
• Antithesis with mutable seas, fields, and people magnifies Egdon’s fixity, reinforcing its solidity against modern flux (The sea changed)
• Clothing metaphor for the heath’s surface satirises fashion, implying solace in authenticity over novelty (antique brown dress)
• Direct claim of psychological steadiness frames Egdon as a haven for those overwhelmed by change; the comfort is explicit (gave ballast to the mind)
• Geology/topography stress resistance to erosion and flooding, concretising durability and safety for the anxious reader (neither so steep)
• Deep-time imagery makes features feel primordial and trustworthy, strengthening the sense of permanence (last geological change)
• Sacred, protective diction elevates the heath as a refuge, heightening impressions of inviolate security (great inviolate place)
• Visual persistence of the road in gloom suggests dependable orientation amid confusion, echoing comfort in uncertainty (remained almost as clear)
• However, harsher notes complicate comfort: its hostility to civilisation may feel austere or alien to some (untameable, Ishmaelitish)

Question 5 - Mark Scheme

In a quiet moment after a training session, you decide to write a creative piece about competition.

Choose one of the options below for your entry.

• Option A: Describe the moments before a race begins from your imagination. You may choose to use the picture provided for ideas:

• Option B: Write the opening of a story about a rival who helps you.

(24 marks for content and organisation, 16 marks for technical accuracy) [40 marks]

(24 marks for content and organisation • 16 marks for technical accuracy) [40 marks]

Question 5 (AO5) – Content & Organisation (24 marks)

Communicate clearly, effectively and imaginatively; organise information and ideas to support coherence and cohesion. Levels and typical features follow AQA’s SAMs grid for descriptive/narrative writing. Use the Level 4 → Level 1 descriptors for content and organisation, distinguishing Upper/Lower bands within Levels 4–3–2.

• Level 4 (19–24 marks) Upper 22–24: Convincing and compelling; assured register; extensive and ambitious vocabulary; varied and inventive structure; compelling ideas; fluent paragraphing with seamless discourse markers.

Lower 19–21: Convincing; extensive vocabulary; varied and effective structure; highly engaging with developed complex ideas; consistently coherent paragraphs.

• Level 3 (13–18 marks) Upper 16–18: Consistently clear; register matched; increasingly sophisticated vocabulary and phrasing; effective structural features; engaging, clear connected ideas; coherent paragraphs with integrated markers.

Lower 13–15: Generally clear; vocabulary chosen for effect; usually effective structure; engaging with connected ideas; usually coherent paragraphs.

• Level 2 (7–12 marks) Upper 10–12: Some sustained success; some sustained matching of register/purpose; conscious vocabulary; some devices; some structural features; increasing variety of linked ideas; some paragraphs and markers.

Lower 7–9: Some success; attempts to match register/purpose; attempts to vary vocabulary; attempts structural features; some linked ideas; attempts at paragraphing with markers.

• Level 1 (1–6 marks) Upper 4–6: Simple communication; simple awareness of register/purpose; simple vocabulary/devices; evidence of simple structural features; one or two relevant ideas; random paragraphing.

Lower 1–3: Limited communication; occasional sense of audience/purpose; limited or no structural features; one or two unlinked ideas; no paragraphs.

Level 0: Nothing to reward. NB: If a candidate does not directly address the focus of the task, cap AO5 at 12 (top of Level 2).

Question 5 (AO6) – Technical Accuracy (16 marks)

Students must use a range of vocabulary and sentence structures for clarity, purpose and effect, with accurate spelling and punctuation.

• Level 4 (13–16): Consistently secure demarcation; wide range of punctuation with high accuracy; full range of sentence forms; secure Standard English and complex grammar; high accuracy in spelling, including ambitious vocabulary; extensive and ambitious vocabulary.

• Level 3 (9–12): Mostly secure demarcation; range of punctuation mostly successful; variety of sentence forms; mostly appropriate Standard English; generally accurate spelling including complex/irregular words; increasingly sophisticated vocabulary.

• Level 2 (5–8): Mostly secure demarcation (sometimes accurate); some control of punctuation range; attempts variety of sentence forms; some use of Standard English; some accurate spelling of more complex words; varied vocabulary.

• Level 1 (1–4): Occasional demarcation; some evidence of conscious punctuation; simple sentence forms; occasional Standard English; accurate basic spelling; simple vocabulary.

• Level 0: Spelling, punctuation, etc., are sufficiently poor to prevent understanding or meaning.

Model Answers

The following model answers demonstrate both AO5 (Content & Organisation) and AO6 (Technical Accuracy) at each level. Each response shows the expected standard for both assessment objectives.

• Level 4 Upper (22-24 marks for AO5, 13-16 marks for AO6, 35-40 marks total)

Option A:

The air holds its breath over the track; heat shimmers in quivering veils, making the white lane lines ripple like threads dropped into water. Beneath the stadium’s wide bowl, colour is concentrated: lacquered red of rubber, institutional green of seats, the austere black mouth of the tunnel. Somewhere a flag licks at an invisible breeze. Somewhere a gull sketches a slow ellipse, as if drawing out the seconds.

At the start, the blocks crouch like patient beasts; scuffed footplates glint, bolts bright as knuckles. Spikes kiss the surface, then lift—once, twice—a small staccato of testing, a quick rasp, the tsk-tsk of teeth on glass. Breath is disciplined: in, in, out; in, in, out. Each runner calibrates a private machine, adjusting angles, aligning knees, rolling shoulders, the way a watchmaker touches cogs—precise, infinitesimal, assured. Sweat gathers in the hollow of a back, a saline coin, warmed by a sun that feels both kindly and cruel.

Concurrently, the crowd slow-winds into a collective hush: chatter spools down, programmes fold, a child’s squeak is swallowed by a hand that means well. Cameras blink; a thousand lenses glitter like small, attentive eyes. The tannoy coughs and surrenders. Even the shadows hold still, pooled and expectant beneath the athletes’ calves.

The starter’s voice slices the air: “On your marks.” Bodies hinge neatly at the hips. Knees notch into grooves; fingers spread on the track, each pad pressed to a thin seam of grit. A runner stares at the numeral painted at their wrist’s edge—8, or 3, or 5—as if it were a charm; everything else—names, arguments, earlier winters—is dropped somewhere beyond the home straight. Shoulders slot into a narrow slope; chins bow; spines coil with a measured, almost delicate tension.

“Set.” Silence drops; it is granular, and it has weight. Backs rise into that fragile angle between stillness and flight; calves firm; tendons describe clean lines, humming with the incipient crackle of motion. Hearts behave—just—for a moment. A bead of sweat detaches and wanders to the tip of a nose; it hangs, opaline, refusing to fall. Time swells, fat and slow. The second hand on the stadium clock hesitates; dust motes fatten in the sun; the world narrows to a V of track and the black muzzle lifted, tautly, above it.

Meanwhile, inside each runner, a small metronome ticks; nerves fizz, but are netted by routine. A whisper crosses the lanes—no word, only breath. Someone at the back of the stand coughs; no one forgives it. The smell is particular and clean: hot rubber, iron, cut grass, the faint scorch of liniment. If fear is here, it is folded, ironed flat, slipped into the space behind the ribs.

Waiting. The word, the state, the ache. Even the light seems to listen. The stadium leans forward together; the pistol inhales.

Option B:

Rain. The great equaliser; it slicked chalk lines, blurred finishing tapes, and leached the colour from the bravest kits. It clung to us in glassy beads, bejewelling gooseflesh; it seeped under collars with quiet, insinuating patience. Even the loud ones grew hushed in it, as if water could rinse swagger from a voice.

As the marshal lifted the whistle, I double-looped my laces and tried to steady my metronomic breathing; concurrently, to my left, Rowan bent into a stretch, all lithe economy and unshowy precision. He looked over, not a smile exactly, more an acknowledgement; that small, civil nod generals might share before the battle that neither truly wants to lose. My stomach tightened—not fear, not quite; anticipation braided with the incipient sting of rain in my eyes.

Our rivalry had been built on scrapes and seconds. Last term he edged me on the hill climb by the science block; the week after, I out-kicked him to the oak trees by half a stride. Words were traded, too—brittle banter heard in corridors and changing rooms, the kind of talk that pretends at warmth and leaves frost in its wake. Underneath it all ran an unspoken ledger: wins tallied, losses swallowed; respect, denied aloud but accruing nonetheless.

The whistle snapped the air. We surged—a particulate cloud of breath and grit—across the churned field, studs biting, calves burning, the world reduced to rhythm: inhale, exhale; drive, lift. Rain combed our hair flat and made the earth soft and treacherous. The first corner arrived, slick as silk; elbows jostled; someone fell behind with an oath swallowed by the weather. I kept Rowan in the corner of my vision, a dark, unwavering metronome I measured myself against, whether I admitted it or not.

By the second lap, mud had risen like a second skin. My thighs rasped, lungs rolling in my chest like wet drums. The bend by the goalposts came at me faster than my judgment; one foot planted, slid, skidded—then the ground snatched me. Kneecap met grit with a bright, metallic kiss; the world jolted, then tilted. A gasp flared in my throat alongside the old, childish urge to stay down, to let the cold do its cauterising work.

“Up,” said a voice, unadorned and close. Rowan’s.

His hand—mud-flecked, unequivocal—entered my vision like a command. For a heartbeat, pride wrestled with pain; refusal is its own kind of injury. What kind of rival does that? The honest kind, perhaps—the one who wants your best, not your broken. I took his hand. He hauled me into the present with a strength that was almost matter-of-fact.

We ran again, side by side, the pack already stringing away, the rain relentless. For a few strides we were not adversaries but cogs in the same machine, our footfalls finding a shared cadence. Breath returned in ragged parcels; the ache in my knee resolved from flare to throb. He glanced across once, a question without punctuation; I nodded, the answer simple.

We would resume the arithmetic of winning and losing later. In that soaked, gritty interval, there was only this: the rival who steadied me when I slipped, the hand that made refusing impossible, the sudden knowledge that competition can be a kind of care.

• Level 4 Lower (19-21 marks for AO5, 13-16 marks for AO6, 32-37 marks total)

Option A:

The track glows a sullen red, lane numbers stamped in hard white, the curves biting clean into the afternoon. Blocks squat like small blue animals, metal against rubber; their angles look absolute. It smells of warmed rubber, chalk, and liniment threading the air. The crowd's noise is not yet a roar; it frays into whispers, into coughs, into the tap of a seat, then tightens again. The starter walks the infield; his shadow touches the white line and withdraws.

“On your marks.” The phrase lands lightly, but it reorders everything. Spikes tick; bodies tilt; palms press to the gritty track. The weight settles into the blocks; calves bunch, a tremor shivering up through tendon and thigh. I adjust the blocks again (not superstition, just habit), though they were already perfect. The air tastes faintly metallic. My tongue feels too big; my mouth is dry. I look nowhere; I look exactly where I must: the straight, the tape, the blue sky beyond the far stand.

Across the lanes, a bib rustles; someone exhales too fast; a cough. Pins gleam; numbers sit squarely; we are eight almost-statues, except for the small, telling movements—shoulders shrugging once, fingers flexing twice, a jaw working a piece of gum. A camera glides on its rail like a patient heron; it sees everything and says nothing. The wind has no permission; it only nudges a flag's edge.

“Set.” The word is a hinge. Hips rise; spines draw long; the angle sharpens until the world seems to balance on it. Silence does not fall; it condenses, a pressure on the skin, in the ear. My heart is a steady, domestic sound—tap—tap—tap—quick, not panicked. Breath trims itself to a thin thread. The barrel of the pistol lifts; the hand that holds it is steady. Everything narrows to a precise list: toes curling against the rough rubber; sightline straight and level; start, start, start.

Behind me, the stadium becomes background, a blur of colour and expectancy. Ahead, nothing moves, except a piece of sun that slides along the edge of lane one like a coin. I could count the hairs on my forearm and hear my sleeve rustle; I could live here, in this held second, though I do not want to. We are commas in a sentence that does not yet conclude—a breath held, a question forming. The gun waits. The line holds. The moment stretches, thinner, thinner—and then—

Option B:

The hall smelt of wood polish and rain-damp coats; the stage lights flattened everything into a pale, attentive glow. Somewhere behind the curtain a metronome ticked—small, insistent, merciless—as if time itself were standing with a baton. I flexed my fingers, feeling the fine grit of rosin on my skin, and eased the violin from its case. Names were pinned to the noticeboard in strict columns like insects beneath glass; mine was third. Third meant barely enough time to settle, to breathe.

He stood two chairs down, polishing his bow hair with a practised swipe. Marcus: my measure, my mirror. We had traded first desk since Year Nine; iron striking iron, sparks both irritating and useful. He tuned with that maddening calm—A, then D, bell-pure—and we nodded, formal. Rivals don’t smile before a performance.

When the E string went, it was a tiny, vicious snap; a bright sting against my cheek and then a loose coil thrashing against the bridge. Sound collapsed. I scrabbled in the case—spare strings?—and found only a crumpled cloth and a fossilised lump of rosin. "Two minutes," called the usher, cheerful as a fire alarm. Third meant no time; third meant catastrophe.

Marcus saw at once. He didn’t smirk, didn’t gloat; he moved, economical and precise, as if we were already mid-duet. "Hold it steady," he said, voice low enough to shelter me. A silver loop appeared from his pocket—his spare—and his fingers threaded it through the tailpiece, coaxing it up to the peg with a deftness that steadied my breathing. Peg turn, fractional; a plucked harmonic; the pitch climbed, tightened, settled. "Breathe," he murmured. The resinous scent lifted between us, faint as pine after rain.

Why would he help me? Because he knew that winning isn’t sweeter if it’s someone else’s ruin; because what we chased wasn’t a certificate but the clean, impossible line of a phrase played without fear. Pride pricked, but gratitude ran warmer. The usher called my name. I looked at Marcus, ready to say something unwieldy, and managed only, "Thank you." He smiled, brief, almost embarrassed, and tipped me towards the light.

I stepped on, the hall lifting its quiet face to me, the new string singing, thin and bright.

• Level 3 Upper (16-18 marks for AO5, 9-12 marks for AO6, 25-30 marks total)

Option A:

The track holds its breath; so do we. Morning light bleaches the lanes into bands of sugar-white and red; numbers look like badges pinned to the ground. Beyond the fence, voices knot into a low river. Somewhere a whistle ticks, metallic and impatient. The air smells of cut grass, hot rubber and liniment. Officials step like metronomes, clipboards pressed to ribs, faces careful.

“On your marks.” Bodies tip forward, quiet as pins; we fold into ourselves. Knees find the cool track; palms plant. Blocks bite my shoes; little screws glint. My tongue dries; I swallow a coin of air. Grit presses my skin like salt. I line the tip of my finger to the white line— not over, not under. My laces are double-knotted; still I check.

Meanwhile the wind slides across the infield, flattening a flag. A camera blinks; a child coughs. I fix my eyes on the road ahead and try to empty them; coach said don’t start too hot. Butterflies should flutter, but these ones batter—heavy, noisy wings. I count: one, two, three. The gun is quiet, the silence is louder. The lanes seem to narrow, a funnel bright with heat.

“Set.” Hips rise; breath thins. The world contracts to touch and balance: metal biting my feet, granules under my fingers, calves stretched like wire. Someone shifts; a spike scrapes—a sharp, nervous whisper. Do not move. Not yet. Not yet. The starter lifts his arm, gun held like a small night sky, and the crowd, obedient, folds its noise and hides it.

Time hangs, elastic. My heartbeat knocks once, twice—then waits. Even clouds stall in the white hot air. I taste the future, a tang of iron and hope. The track holds its breath again, and I hold mine with it, ready to burst.

Option B:

Autumn. The season of trophies polished and mud; leaves falling like applause; air sharp enough to cut. The field crouched under a pewter sky as the starting pistol wavered in the official's hand. I flexed my fingers, feeling the grit in my palms, and glanced sideways at my rival.

Maya stood there, spare and focused, hair braided tight like a challenge. For two years she had been the measure I ran against—her time taped above my desk; her stride mapped in my head. We pretended not to care; yet at training our eyes snagged, our smiles thin. Respect, yes; but also a sting.

Bang. The sound cracked the air and we broke forward together, a tide of vests and breath. Mud lifted and slapped our calves. The path narrowed by the hedge; elbows jostled; someone swore. I settled, counting steps, drawing breath to match the rhythm I had drilled. Maya ghosted my shoulder, then moved ahead; then I edged past her; back and forth, like a metronome.

At the gate the ground dipped unexpectedly. My foot slid; my ankle bit with a hot, bright pain. I went down, palms in the sludge, mouth full of the bitter taste of soil. The race blurred into thuds and steam; the pack streamed around me. Pride grabbed at me—I pushed up, then sagged, nausea fizzing.

A shadow returned. Maya. She skidded, crouched, and held out a hand. "Come on," she said, not breathless, not smug. "I'm not winning like that." It should have annoyed me. Instead, something unclenched. I took her hand. Her grip was firm, practical; she hauled me upright and steadied me with an arm around my back. For a second we were a strange creature with four legs and one mind.

"Lean a bit," she muttered. "Shorten your stride." We moved, not fast, but moving; the cold had softened, somehow. Behind us, someone shouted to make way; ahead, the hill waited, brown and stubborn. I wanted to refuse her help; yet the pain pulsed and the finish line felt like another country.

We climbed together, pace matched, pride loosening. Rival, still sharp as frost, yet—unexpectedly—shelter.

• Level 3 Lower (13-15 marks for AO5, 9-12 marks for AO6, 22-27 marks total)

Option A:

The track lies like a strip of burnt orange under a pale sky. White lane numbers are crisp as chalk. The stands rise in shallow steps, murmuring. Heat lifts in thin waves; the smell of rubber and cut grass mixes with liniment. Flags hardly move, but everything else is a little restless: photographers crouch, a steward taps a clipboard, someone laughs then hushes it away. Above it all the starter stands with his arm loose by his side, as if guarding a secret.

We come forward when told. On your marks. Bodies fold into familiar shapes; hands settle behind the white line, fingertips like hooks; spikes bite. The starting blocks are cool against my shoes, certain. A bead of sweat travels, slow as a snail, down my temple. I hear three sounds: the scuff of someone resetting their foot, the dry cough of a spectator, the far-off rustle of a crisp packet. The air tastes of metal. My breath tries to rush; I rein it in.

Set. The word lifts the whole world on its toes. Hips rise, backs straighten into angles, calves tighten. The stadium pulls in a single, careful breath; even the gulls hang on strings. Time is elastic, stretching; the white line seems to crawl under my eyes. Head still, eyes forward, mind empty—or supposed to be. A stray thought jumps anyway—finish line, ribbon, the lean—then I push it out, like easing a door softly shut.

Silence grows heavy, thick enough to hold. The pistol hand edges into sight; a glint. My name echoes once. Ready. Not ready. Ready. How long can a second be? My body is a coiled spring and a quiet animal. The stadium waits with me—one heartbeat, another—and the space before the sound opens, bright and trembling, as if it might last forever.

Option B:

Morning edged the field with silver. The track was a red ribbon; lane numbers crouched like quiet judges. A whistle pierced the cold air and my breath lifted. Today was meant to be simple: run, breathe, finish.

Ethan Sharpe jogged past with that even rhythm he always had, a metronome in human form. His warm-up looked rehearsed, precise; he could measure victory with a stopwatch and a straight face. Last month he took the county title by a breath, and I told myself I didn't need him, or anyone, to change that.

The call came—two minutes to start—so I knelt to tighten my left shoe. The lace frayed and split clean through, a quiet snap that sounded loud in my head. I stared at the broken ends and my hands trembled. One problem became three; without that lace my shoe would slide, my foot would blister, and the race would be over before it began. I had one option: find a spare, fast.

I looked up to find Ethan standing there, shadow across the lane. He pulled a spare lace from his jacket—who carries that?—and put it in my hand. “Tie it double,” he said, not meeting my eyes. His voice wasn't kind exactly; it was practical, steady. I wanted to refuse, yet my fingers fed the lace through the eyelets. The whistle blew again and we stood side by side, toes on the line, hearts knocking. Rivals push you forward, I thought; sometimes they do something stranger: they hold you together so you can run.

• Level 2 Upper (10-12 marks for AO5, 5-8 marks for AO6, 15-20 marks total)

Option A:

The track is a dark ribbon stretched tight under the pale morning sun. Lines of white look clean and sharp; the whole place smells of rubber and cut grass. Trainers scuff, blocks click-clack into place, an official lifts his arm like a crane. The crowd hush, a soft blanket folding over the stands. Somewhere a flag shakes. The runners stand behind the line, legs shaking, shoulders rolling, each one poised, pretending they are calm. Waiting, waiting.

At the line, fingers press the rough track. It scratches skin. Knees hover, backs tilt forward, heads steady. Heartbeats thud like a drum in a small room; breath puffing in and out—white in the cool air. Adrenaline hums at the edges of sight. The track seems to breathe too, a quiet animal under our hands. He stares at the white line, he can't look away. Sweat beads collect at his temples and slide, slow as rain down a window. Time stretches thin, like chewing gum.

Now the starter’s voice slices the quiet: On your marks. Shoelaces bite, spikes bite harder, shoulders settle. Set. The world shrinks to one lane and the space just ahead. In and out, in and out. Every sound seems larger—the tick of a camera, a cough, a gull. There is a tremor in the blocks; you can feel it in your wrists. Even the wind holds its breath. A held second becomes longer than a minute. Then nothing, just the thin silence before the crack.

Option B:

Finals. The air had that rubber smell of the track; wet grass stuck to my spikes. The flag fluttered; the wind tugged at it like an impatient coach. Next to me stood Maya. My rival. Not friend, not enemy, something in-between that sharpened the edges of every race. We never talked much, but her plait was neat, and her eyes focused. I could feel the crowd folding around us.

Before the gun, my hands shook. I told myself I had trained; I had timed the laps; I pictured the finish until it felt printed behind my eyelids. The starter raised his arm. Crack. We surged as one body, a spring released. Feet thudded; breath puffed white; the first bend approached. My legs were heavy but willing. Maya slid ahead, the red stripe of her vest a flag I chased. Then a heel caught my toe; I lurched, the painted line swam. My palm hit the gritty track—heat spiked through my knee.

The noise turned thin. Runners streamed past, a river I had fallen out of. For a moment I wanted to stay down; pride is a stubborn weight. Then a shadow stopped. Maya. She crouched and held out a hand. "Get up," she said—her voice steady, urgent. I hesitated; rival, helper, both. Her hand was warm; she hauled me upright and, slower than she needed, matched my pace. Around my throat the air scratched like paper, yet next to me her stride kept time. We moved again, not fast, but forward.

• Level 2 Lower (7-9 marks for AO5, 5-8 marks for AO6, 12-17 marks total)

Option A:

At first the track just looks flat and harmless; a red strip with white lines like chalk bones. The morning feels sharp and bright. The air smells of rubber and cut grass: sweet and strange. People shuffle in the stands, coats rustle, a whistle squeaks and stops. My number sits cold on my chest, pinned, neat, too neat. Why does the finish look far away?

On your marks. We fold down, we follow the routine. Hands spread on the rough surface, fingers tasting grit. Spikes nip at the track. I pull air in, again, again. Heart thuds; a drum in a small room. Someone coughs behind me, a camera clicks, a gull screams from the edge of the field. The sun sits above the scoreboard and makes the lanes shine. Sweat slides under my cap and tickles.

Set. Everything tightens. My back is a bow, my legs are coiled springs, ready but not yet. Time seems slower, more slow than usual. The starter’s arm hangs, and the whole world leans with it. Silence grows thicker, like fog you can bite. I think of training, of early runs, of the one coach who said, keep your head still. Ready, ready, ready—

Option B:

Everyone at school knew me and Ethan were rivals. In class, in the lunch queue. On the start line the sky was pale and cold, like it had been washed too many times. My heart thumped. The track smelt of rubber and rain; the crowd hummed. Ethan gave me this little sideways smile that was almost a smirk, like he had already crossed the finish. I stared straight ahead, tasting metal, thinking only one thought: don't fall.

Then the gun popped. We ran. My legs pumped, my lungs scratched for air. At the bend my shoe lace slipped loose like a snake. I stumbled. Hands hit the ground, grit bit my palms, and the whole pack streamed by. Shame burned in my face. I was going to quit, right there, in front of everyone.

A shadow stopped. Ethan swore, then crouched and grabbed the flapping lace. 'Hold still,' he said, quick, rough, not looking up. 'I don't want to win like that.' His fingers moved fast, a knot, a double knot. The noise of the track faded. I nodded, uselessly. He hauled me up—and then he ran. We both did. Not side by side, but close enough that our breath matched, and the word rival didn't quite fit the same.

• Level 1 Upper (4-6 marks for AO5, 1-4 marks for AO6, 5-10 marks total)

Option A:

Everyone is bent forward on the line. The track is red and rough like sandpaper. My toes press the white paint. I can feel my heart thump, like drums in a small room. A whistle somewhere. The crowd is a blur, and they whisper like a windy flag. I lick my lips. Sweat runs down my back, cold and then hot. The starter lifts his arm; we all freeze.

Ready, someone shouts, and the word is heavy.

I stare at the lane, it goes on and on. My breath is loud in my own head. Shoes scrape. Fingers tremble, they dig into the ground like claws. I dont look left, I dont dare, the world is small now, only this strip, only the air in and out. Set, the sound is thin. The sky holds its breath. Time stops or it feels like that because everything waits, even the sun, even me.

Option B:

Morning. Cold wind and a grey sky. The track was shiny with rain, it smelled like mud and metal. My shoes squeaked and my stomach jumped like a bus. It was sports day.

He was there. Liam, my rival. He always beats me and I pretend I don't care. I pull my laces tight and keep my head down.

The whistle went and we ran, feet slapping wet and breath like drums in my chest. I looked at the finish and then my foot sliped, my knee hit the ground hard, it burned. People shouted, the world went loud then far away.

Everyone kept going but he stopped, he turned back for me. Come on I got you, he said, his hand warm and strong it pulls me up. We hobble off. Why would he help me? he wants to win right. He says rivals dont mean enemies and the rain kept falling.

• Level 1 Lower (1-3 marks for AO5, 1-4 marks for AO6, 2-7 marks total)

Option A:

The line is white and chalky under my shoes. I look down my toes curl. The air feels tight. People mumble, the crowd buzz like a bad wire. My heart goes knock knock in my chest. We wait and we wait, the sun sits low like it cant move. Sweat runs on my face and it taste salty. The starter lifts the gun, I think about my laces and my mum in the stand and also my maths homework for no reason. A gull shouts. My legs are stone then rubber. Someone coughs someone laughs. Ready set, breath stuck, the world hush.

Option B:

Im late. I run and run to the gate, the wind is cold and my bag hits my side hard. My heart is like a drum, my hands shake like a leaf. I drop my folder and papers go everywhere, they fly on the ground. Leon is there, he is my rival, he always beat me. I think about Saturday game. I cant tie my shoe the lace is a knot and I feel stupid. He kneels and ties it fast, he gives me a pen too. Why is he helping me? I dont know. Then the bell goes and we go in for the test.