2019 End of Year Story Collection
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This is a book of stories written by each of the children in my creative writing classes. I hope you enjoy it.
My class topics are reflective of what is happening around us, in my life, or inspirations taken from my travels. The 400-year-old Angel Oak tree is a perfect example of this, and the stories were diverse and extremely interesting.
We also talk about political figures and their influence on our world, and often our concerns for the world we live in, this year particularly climate change and its impact on their generation.
Please bear in mind that the children arrive at class without knowing the topic, and following a 15min chat, they begin to write, usually 20-30 mins. Some days, they are inspired by my topic and beg for more time, other topics they might find lame, but when they begin to write words appear and the story develops. As we have limited time, you may find that a story ends quite abruptly. It’s difficult to know at the start of a write where one might end up!
This year, Daniel suggested we do a prequel or a sequel to a story we have written. This was a great experience and will certainly be added to the course.
I’d like to mention both Daniel, who commenced classes in Grade 4 and is now going into Year 10, and Grace who started in Grade 2 and is off to secondary school next year.
Needless to say, I have to keep coming up with new ideas to challenge them.
Our writing classes are little families and we all support and cheer each other on. This year Tash did exceptionally well in her VCE with a high achiever’s score of 92.9. Congratulations!! Tash, has also graduated from my Secondary class and is now with the Adults. Tash will be my backup teacher next year, when I take a little time off here and there.
I’ve included three of my stories this year. I hope you enjoy them and all the stories in this book. I look forward to seeing you back next year.
Happy writing,
Leeanne
The Letter - Leeanne Vernon
(The Day the World Ended)
Planet Earth November 25th, 2020
My Darling,
I’m not sure why I feel the need to write this letter; our impending demise, the need to leave something behind. Fear. Boredom.
You see, tomorrow the world is coming to an end. This planet, Earth, will explode, perhaps shrivel, or maybe a poisonous gas will kill us all. The details are vague and anyone who does know, did know, left a month ago.
I would have gone too. My name came up in the lottery, but I gave my place to you. And if I regret that tomorrow, when the sky falls in, so be it. I know you’ll be safe – somewhere – somewhere out there.
Do not weep for me, do not carry the burden of my decision for you give me great happiness, great comfort in my last hours.
Your ever-loving grandmother. xx
There was no one to read the evening bulletin on November 25tth 2020. The earth had perished and all she cared for. Man’s greed and ignorance were to blame.
On November 30th, 2012 whilst scrummaging through her suitcase on Planet D2-0-7M, Clara found something odd. Something she had rarely seen on Earth. An envelope. It was yellowed; the corners curled over as if it had bounced around in her case for the last year as their relocation vessel shot past stars and zigzagged towards their new frontier.
She pushed the letter aside with her splintered memories. On that day, November 19th, 2020, the city went crazy. People lost themselves, pushing, shoving, hurtling each other aside in their bid to enter the Vessels so neatly lined up in each and every major city. Clara was young and should have received a token – but it never came.
Invalids were not part of the new frontiers branding, was the official explanation. Clara never considered Asthma a disability.
Clara’s parents received tokens, but their Vessels left two weeks earlier after much hysteria. Tokens were not transferrable; except if you had enough money or items of value. Grandmother had both. Clara wanted to rip the letter apart, but her hands could not. Her heart could not.
Clara heard a lot of the earlier Vessels never made it out; she didn’t know if she’d ever see her family again. But this letter, this object from a land that no longer existed, made her hands tremble.
She felt eyes on her, like she did every day when she crawled out of her hiding place with other deceitfuls. When she scrounged for morsels of discarded food. When she occasionally mingled pretending to be an invitee.
Clare looked at the envelope again. It had travelled light year, hidden, concealed, just like the truth. She wanted to open it, she really did, but not today. The letter was to precious.
Name: Julia
Grade: 7
Age:12
Victorian College of the Arts
What I saw
She skips outside, the white swirling around her.
“Come on Kara!” she shouts, as I pull my windbreaker tighter around me. I stare at my sister shocked.
“How are you not cold?” She smiles innocently. Unlike Kami, I shiver, the cold biting my cheeks. I’m suddenly hit by an idea. “Kami! Let’s get our skates and head to the lake!” We quickly run home, grabbing our skates, and make sure to grab another scarf.
The weather is perfect when we get there. The lake is completely frozen over, and the howling wind has settled down. We slip into our skates, wanting to skate alone before any other people come. We skate and skate. I wander towards the lake’s edge, when I spot the sign, nailed to a tree –Thin ice, keep to edges of lake.
“Kami!” I shout. I’m too late. I hear her shriek, followed by a splash. Tiny pinpricks land on my skin. I try to run to her,
but I’m frozen in place; I can’t move. Only when she screams my name am I snapped from my trance.
“KAMI!” I scream, as I run towards the place she fell. I’m too late. The ice has already started to seal over, and the last I see of my sister is her shocked face, pressed against the ice and I sob because I know, in that moment, I know. It’s my fault my sister is dead.
Name: Lauren
Grade: 6
Age:12
St Peter’s Primary
What I Saw in the Rain
“Attention all raindrop citizens. The Queen has called an emergency town meeting. Everyone report to the hall immediately!” The announcement blared across the street as people ran towards the palace. My best friend, Alya, and I ran too, past the bakery and the local pool, until we got to the Queen’s quarters. Her speech had just started.
“And that’s why I have decided that the age limit for the Falling is going to be thirteen, not twelve.”
I gasped. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t. I had waited my whole life for this and now I had to wait another year? Why now?
“It’s not fair, is it Rosa?” said Alya, noticing my expression.
“No, it’s not.” Suddenly, I had an idea. An idea that could possibly help us participate in the Falling that day.
“What if we sneak in with the next group?” I asked.
“What? No way! Rosa, it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s our only chance. Please?”
Defeated, Alya sighed, “Fine. But don’t blame me when we get caught by the Raindrop Queen.”
The time was NOW.
“Could all raindrops in Group 3F please report to the Cloud Edge. Your Falling is about to commence.”
I grabbed Alya’s hand and dragged her over to the edge of the kingdom. The Falling Director waved his glowing hands.
Red. Orange. Green.
The siren sounded, and everyone jumped. The wind howled in my ears, like a ghost screaming, and everything around me was a cascade of raindrops. But even with all this adrenaline, I wasn’t scared. I felt alive. I was so ecstatic that I could finally do the Falling when I was meant to do it. Now.
Suddenly, Nina, the captain of Group 3F, noticed us.
“Oh no,” I thought. “She’s going to use one of her emergency raindrops and send us back up.”
“You two aren’t supposed to be here,” she yelled over the wind.
The ground was getting closer. “You aren’t old enough.”
And closer.
“I’m going to send you back!”
I could see the luscious green hills and trees now. Suddenly, I felt something wet on my shoulder.
BAM!
Alya and I were teleported back to the top of the Raindrop Kingdom.
Oh well.
I guess I need more patience.
After all, it’s only one more year to wait.
Name: Imogen (Immy)
Grade: 6
Age:12
Shelford Girls Grammar
The Unfortunate Incident
Part 1
When I strut down the hall, every other student smiles, waves, and swoons over me. It's not surprising, I'm amazing and everyone loves me. I'm not bragging, it's just a fact. After all, I'm kind, thoughtful, stylish, generous, smart, incredibly humble and beautiful! I'm the full package. I basically run this school. Following behind me are my loyal followers, up ahead are my two main henchmen, Whitney and Bridget waiting for me.
"Meet you guys in class, I need to use the lavatory." I swing open the bathroom doors and began fixing my hair in the mirrors. The lights started to flicker and shudder slightly, then shut off. Of course, I didn't mind, it was just a small outage, nothing the maintenance guy can't fix. As I collected my things ready to leave, the lights flashed back to normal.
Back out in the corridors, I passed many of my followers who didn't even make eye-contact with me as I walked by. It's nothing, they're probably just thinking about something other than me ...
When I arrived in class no one had saved a seat for me, not even Whitey who is supposed to always have my back. Normally people fight over me; everyone wants me to be their partner, seeing as I'm so smart and helpful. But today I had to sit next to Noah Gleeson, the kid who eats his own earwax. Even he didn't look pleased when I came and sat next to him. He's obviously just a bit shell-shocked that someone like me would ever come and sit with him.
“Okay, I wasn't notified about it, but it seems we have a new student joining us today," our teacher told us. Nobody looked new, perhaps someone’s just out of my eyesight.
"What's your name?" our teacher asked. Everyone looked over at me. How am I supposed to know, it's not like I'm psychic or something!
Noah nudged me, then I saw that the teacher was also staring right at me, so was the rest of the class. I stood up,
"I'm Audrey." I did a little curtsy and sat back down. "I've been attending this school for years," I added. The teacher laughed,
"A jokester, say hi to Audrey everyone."
"Hi to Audrey everyone." The class moaned. The nerve! Nobody dares talk to me like that.
The Unfortunate Incident
Part 2
It was hard to be ignored; even the people who once adored me pay absolutely no attention to me. I never really realised what it's like to have people constantly whisper behind your back. I almost feel bad about the times that I would whisper like that. Before a couple of weeks ago, everyone in this school would do anything to even catch a smile from me.
I try to remember how I got to the top in the first place, it seemed to just happen. On my way to class one morning, Bridget and Whitney walked up to me. Finally, this nightmare was over! I strolled down the hall like I used to, them following close behind, but a hot, gluggy feeling slid down my back. I saw Whitney dump an empty bowl of mashed potato into a random locker and the two of them ran off giggling and whispering.
This sick joke had gone way too far.
"JUST STOP," I screamed at the top of my lungs. Bridget and Whitney slowly turned around in shock. I tried to explain to them that I was Audrey, I ran this school, everyone loves me, but I have been 'forgotten'. But the girls just mocked me and laughed.
Did I really deserve to be forgotten? I know I've been pretty rotten in the past, but that doesn't matter now, everyone has forgotten about it. Of course, I don't deserve this! I'm Audrey, everybody loves me, because I'm kind, thoughtful, stylish, generous, smart, incredibly humble, beautiful and NOT deserving of being forgotten!
Name: Ruby
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
Bentleigh Secondary College
Time Masters – Greed
Artemis was the oldest son of the Time Master, David. Artemis was David’s favourite son although he’d never tell his other two sons. David was a strong, strong man with excellent knowledge. Although to David, a single father, he seemed to have it all; he wanted more. He wanted to show the world it was his time to shine.
Artemis and his brothers, Julien and Gianni, weren’t raised with respect, only discipline and power. The Time Master separated from his wife Kamiah because of an argument over which pizza toppings should go on a homemade Hawaiian pizza. David had planned and revenge mechanism to shock the whole world, including Kamiah. Over a two-and-a-half-month period, David had planned his expedition to take people’s time and to keep it for himself. As his sons had mentioned that he was ‘old and grumpy’ for any more missions, they were going to attempt this adventure themselves. Artemis, Julien and Gianni were going to do the dirty work for him.
It was 3:03 a.m. on May’s first Saturday and the city was filled but citizens. Artemis, Julien and Gianni were wearing all black including their Doc Martins that were gifted by their Nona. The vibration and the thump from Kitty Kats Club on Rosenwell Street caught the attention of the three brothers. Using their bare hands, they crash open the dark red door, entering the club.
Artemis got out his Nerf gun and a blue glittery mist flushed out. The music went silent and what used to be a party was now a group of people doing the Mannequin Challenge. Gianni knew he couldn’t just take time on an empty stomach, so he took one of the fresh steaming hot party pies and swallowed it whole.
Julien walked over to one of the frozen women in the club. "Aye boys! Look at this chick, she’s wearing sequin shorts!”
“Oh yeah, cool bro,” said Gianni, unsatisfied. Julien reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a sharpie. He popped open the cap and drew a symbol on the girl’s forehead, which almost looked like a pig.
The symbol started glowing a vivid light blue and it lashed out. Before this magical spark got away, Artemis pulsed out what looks like a cigarette lighter, and caught the spark.
Name: Anthony
Age: 12
Grade: 6
St Leonards College
Mental Hospital
It all started with me signing up for the night shift at the local hospital, since I was in need for a job, and I had just finished university. The job paid decently and also gave you quite a nice office to work in, which was a bonus. It had a security door, which rolled down over the normal manual door opening. I had no idea what I needed that for. I also worked quite a bit of the day shift, just to keep an eye on patients and all that other stuff. But mostly, I just lounged around in the office and watched movies on Netflix, on my phone.
Night One
I had to spend the whole day checking over Ward 17, which wasn’t a lot of fun to be honest. The ventilation systems always had malfunctions in there, and lights flickered on and off all the time making it even more creepy. I figured out that this was going to be the worst part of the hospital to watch over the night, so that was probably why they installed a security door inside my office. I was just hoping that no person came up and smashed my window open.
It was 12 a.m. All was going well, no odd noises, nothing. I was getting a bit sleepy, but I forced my eyes to be open. Because if I was found asleep on this job, I would get sacked instantly. I must have fallen asleep though, because the next thing I realized was that it was growing light behind my window.
Night Two
I took the dayshift off, so I could go back to my apartment and have some downtime and some sleep. Night shifts were really tiring. But I did go back to the hospital for the night shift.
Nothing went wrong once it first turned dark though. I had a lamp in my office, which was my only source of light. It was 11 p.m.
I read some news on paper for some time, then I thought that I heard a noise outside my door. I dropped my newspaper immediately and closely listened. It sounded like creepy moaning and soft banging on my door. ‘Crap’, I thought, ‘one of those psychos must be trying to break in!’
When I heard the door handle turn, I quickly pulled down my security door and locked it in place.
I was sweating, even though that it was well below 23 degrees today. Who was that at my door? I looked through my window, to try getting a glimpse of the figure, but it was gone. I slowly backed away from the window, when the figure popped out behind the window out of nowhere. Its body was barren. Dark pieces of skin were sagging of his body, his head held a pair of lifeless eyes. I quickly turned off my lamp, wanting to make seem that there was no one living in this office.
Sensing after a few moments that he was gone, I turned on my lamp again, and the figure was gone. Vanished into thin air.
Night Three
Nothing much to say about the dayshift. Let’s get into the night shift. The same figure showed up again, so I locked my security door in place and shut off my lamp, hoping that the monstrosity would go away. It did later, or at least I thought it did. The figure disappeared again, after a while when I turned on my lamp again. No footstep sounds to indicate movement. Nothing.
In my confusion, I dropped my phone, which it then plopped softly onto the ground. I bent down to pick it up. I suddenly stopped. I put my hand over my mouth, I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in horror. The figure! It was under my table!
It lay in a disordered position, seeming almost lifeless, but I wasn’t fooled. I backed up against the opposite wall of the office. I wanted to get away from the figure, as far as possible. But I couldn’t. My fear made my legs feel like a thousand pounds. I was too scared to run, or even walk now.
The last thing I remember was the static like sound of roaring. Then all went black.
Name: Grace
Age: 12
Grade: 6
Sandringham Primary
A Day Like No Other
Poor Lily was devastated to find out that she wasn’t accepted into the Student Representative Council (SRC). She thought it was a joke. I mean everybody loved her. Even adored her. Why else would they carry around her books all day?
She leaned to the side of her desk and passed a note. Lily smirked at the girl as she read the note, but the girl didn’t even seem interested that it was HER who gave the note. The girl waved at her to stop her peeking at what she was writing. It seemed like forever until she finally stopped writing. With no patience left, Lily grabbed it out of her hand and analysed the squiggly wiggly handwriting:
To new kid,
I don’t think you’re allowed to be passing notes around class.
anyway, KIT
“ARE YOU KIDDING?” Lily thought. You know what? I don’t even care. She can go and find someone else to give her fashion advice.
A small eerie ping echoed through the room. Lily swayed around her desk and announced, “Does anyone want to have permission to carry my books?” Everyone froze.
No one said anything, except for a small girl. “Sorry, but who are you again?”
“WHO AM I?” Lily screamed. “YOU’RE ALL MAD!” Lily screeched.
There were no words to describe Lily’s anger. Lily knew this was going to be a long day.
Leeanne
I wrote this story inspired by the print I purchased in Charleston, South Carolina. Untold Stories. As soon as I saw it, stories flooded my mind, and despite all the inconvenience I was determined to bring it home. I could not wait to write about it!
My story was inspired by several things. Firstly, we all agreed that the girl’s dress is very, Alice in Wonderland-ish.
I also incorporated a bit of Night at the Museum when I wrote, thinking about the events of that movie.
I think it’s important to know, that inspiration comes in all different forms. And as I always say in class, if two people have the exact same story idea, what emerges will be quite different because we each put our own take on things.
So, encourage your children to read, to watch, to investigate, to sticky beak. It’s all great fodder for we writers.
Untold Stories
Benjamin Tyme was due for long service leave, after 350 years as keeper of Untold Stories. Benjamin was tired. The Untold Stories had mounted up, nearly touching the sky. Some days it was difficult to contain them … other days impossible.
Benjamin was not involved in selecting his replacement, and that, right there, was a horrible mistake.
Alice Pikledot was a newcomer. Barely old enough to remember the last great war between humans and the others – certainly not well informed enough to prevent a break-out. And naïve enough to believe the falsehoods fed to her by the Uppers.
“It’s just for a year or so,” they told her. Benjamin knew it wasn’t true. He would not be returning. The secrets he held were too sensitive.
On her first day, Alice Pikledot strode confidently into the Untold Stories wing of the library. She was very excited. Here were stories never told. Here were adventures never realised. Here were the secrets of the universes. And Alice could not wait to begin her discoveries.
Whilst browsing through the section on Animals Far & Wide, she was distracted by a ppt-ppt-ppt- yet she saw no one. She directed her attention back to the volume in her hand – Why They Perished, when the sound became louder. PPT. PPT. PPT. Alice stopped, gazed up, around, and finally down.
There at her feet was a mouse – of sorts.
“Me?” she asked.
“Why yes, do you see anyone else silly enough to visit the library of Untold Stories on a Tuesday afternoon?” He was quite rude, huffy even.
“Why … I guess …” began Alice.
“No time for guessing. Not today.” The mouse began to run.
“What?” said Alice but a huge racket behind them made her run too. Alas, not far. She tripped in her high-heeled shoes and toppled over.
Mouse gazed over his shoulder, and Alice could see him struggle with a decision. Run or Stop.
Fortunately, he stopped.
“Girl. Girl. Roll away.”
Alice log-rolled towards the row of shelves piled high with thick heavy books. In doing so, she narrowly avoided a herd of animals that trampled towards the exit.
“Door,” yelled the mouse.
Alice was hemmed in, held down, unable to move, but she managed to kick open a door and narrowly survived the ordeal.
“What were they?” she asked the mouse.
“Surely you recognise them?” replied the mouse.
When Alice shook her head, mouse tut-tutted and then asked, “Where’s Benjamin?”
“Benjamin is on leave,” explained Alice.
The mouse groaned, fainted and disappeared.
Alice made it to lunchtime before being called downstairs by one of the Uppers.
“Can’t have that happening again,” said one.
“No. No,” said another. “Bad mistake.”
Alice looked at them.
“Here. Here,” added the other.
“The key. The key,” said the first, and a large silver key was placed in her hand.
“You must not let them out!” she was warned.
“Who? Who must I not let out?” begged Alice.
“Anyone,” said one.
“No one,” said the other.
“Ever,” added another.
“And what about the mouse?” asked Alice.
“Mouse?” said the other.
“Mouse?” quizzed another.
“No mouse,” replied the one.
When Alice arrived back at the Untold Stories section, the first thing she did was slip the key into the rusted brass keyhole. It slipped in with surprising ease.
It was then that mouse arrived.
“Don’t. Don’t go inside,” he squeaked.
“Why ever not?” asked Alice as she stepped through the gate.
Once Alice was on the other side, the key disappeared. Alice rattled the gate, but it was locked.
“Untold Stories. Untold Stories,” said the mouse and he scurried away.
Ahead, Alice saw books –
So many books it would take a lifetime to read them.
Name: Lily
Age: 11
Grade: 6
East Bentleigh Primary
The Day the World Ended
“AHHHH CHOOO!” I know it’s perfectly normal to sneeze. Everyone who has a nose can do it. Except me, because I don’t have a knows about what’s going on!
Jokes aside, it’s time to get serious now This morning was a day just like any other. I wake up, get dressed, eat, pack my bag, punch open the door and head right on over to school. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be able to go to school or do any of the other things that I do on a normal day again.
I was just walking along, minding my own business when suddenly... AHHH CHOOO!
Everything shatters. The tectonic plates that make up the earth’s crust, the mantle and core deep below the surface, the sky and clouds, the buildings along the street, everything. I even saw a fragment of the Eiffel tower. EVERYTHING!
I hear deafening cries of petrified people cut short. Debris smashes into me, knocking me off my feet onto the tiny earth platform I was standing on. I would’ve been knocked unconscious if my eyes hadn’t been glued open with pure horror. Was this a dream?
It must be, it can’t be real. I haven’t had a chance to write any books yet, or show the world how awesome I am. This isn’t how I wanted to die! And it’s all my fault. I should’ve seen my allergy doctor who is now dead due to my actions. I’M SO SILLY!
How am I still alive? I am struggling to find the strength to breathe, and everywhere from my head to my toe aches. I feel as though I am floating in outer space with no one to help me, nothing to help me and nothing that I can do to help myself stay alive.
That is until I hear something distant buzzing, and I see blinding light ...
Name: Katya
Age: 14
Grade: Year 8
Sandringham Secondary College
The Rain
What is it used to be was different? Nothing else but what you think. Dribbles of rain running and falling in any place you wouldn’t imagine it being. It was loud but it was peaceful too. That’s what I always loved about it, until the Burn came.
People were walking along the concrete footpath either with grocery or shopping bags when they noticed the rain, some people were happy that the rain was coming, others were annoyed at the fact that they left their washing outside in the rain, little did they know those pieces of clothing would’ve been burnt to the crisp, and that’s exactly what happened.
You first felt a warm tingle, on your arm or face and wouldn’t really realise it, until those drops which formed like acid spreading hotter and hotter through your flesh.
Many people of the town died and ever since that day, people were more and more terrified of being outside. Others were the opposite knowing that they could find the healing flower. The healing was a flower where in the centre of it was emerging magna, a healing substance which can treat others burns.
We all have our scars from our burns; every single person has at least one. We used to feel free in the rain, not anymore, I am scared, I miss it, I miss it so much.
Name: Daniel
Age: 15
Grade: Year 9
St Leonards College
The Angel Oak Tree
Once upon a time, long ago in a green land that went by many names, there lived a wizard. He was as kind and generous as he was brilliant, and renowned from the sprawling spires of the quartz streets of Gilead to the lapping tides of the great west sea. He had two daughters, beautiful and fair, and they were the loves of his life. One night, as the wizard watched them sleep gently, he made a promise to himself. He swore he would do anything to protect them. And that he swore on ash-wood, the most noble of the high trees. And, as the great wizard knew, an oath made upon ash-wood can never be broken.
But, one day, the girls fell sick. They were gripped in the vice of a terrible fever, and an illness that writhed and throbbed like a wild thing. The wizard tried and tried to break the fever and dispel the black mass that was eating his daughters, but he couldn’t. That drove him mad, see. The knowledge that with all of his power and proud magic, he could do nothing to save his beloved daughters. He became withdrawn, moody. One night, he said goodnight to his ill-fated daughters, and in the morning, when Old Sun rose in the blue sky, they were dead.
And, the wizard who had slew monsters and demons, who had watched villages burn like husks of dry corn, who had killed wicked men and women and sometimes children, fell to his knees and wept.
That same day’s night, he buried them. In the shallow grave he left a locket of their birth mother, and the dark branch of ash-wood that he sworn to long ago. The moon hung low in the sky casting its pallid rays upon the wizard as he did his work. Only when it seemed done, when the sodden earth covered his beautiful daughters (who were now bloated and discoloured with sickness and death) did the real work begin.
He broke things and he burnt things, and he chanted things in long dead tongues, and he called upon ancient names that were never meant to be spoken by man. He cast magic that was only found written in old, leather-bound books hidden in crypts and mausoleums, and he pleaded and bargained with dead Gods and impossible monsters.
But again, in the end, it didn’t work.
His daughters stayed dead.
That’s night, the Wizard, who awed all those he met with tricks and coloured fire and was met with adoration, hung himself from a piece of old rope.
However, as fate would have it, he was wrong.
His daughters had not come back, crawling out of the earth, but something else had. Out in the dead wizard’s yard, a small sapling stood in the moon’s glow.
Later (This was written in two parts. This was the first part Daniel wrote).
“Child,” the tree whispered. The boy looked around. Trees couldn’t whisper. That was silly stuff, kiddy nonsense. Maybe if he was 5, or even 6 instead of 7 he would’ve thought so, but he was old.
“Child,” the tree spoke again.
This time it was louder, and the boy was sure. The tree was gnarled and oaken, with sprawling branches covered with wispy lichen and moss, some as thick as a drainage pipe and others as thin as his forearm. The wood was a deep, dark brown, like it was rotted or waterlogged. The leaves were ash green.
“Yes?” The boy said.
“Come closer, child. I am an old, old tree, and I can’t quite hear you.”
The trees voice was soft and mellow, like gentle autumn wind through its leaves. It was grandfatherly. The boy took a few steps forward and blinked once, twice. How could he have thought the tree was rotten? Its bark was bright and practically glowing, and its leaves a vibrant shade of lime. It was beautiful.
The boy thought for a moment (for what does one say to an oak tree)? “How old are you?” he eventually asked.
The tree made a low, rhythmic whooshing noise, like it was chucking.
“Very, my child. As old as the sun and the moon and the stars, old as the rolling hills and crashing tides. But you are old too, are you not? 7 is a big number. A wise number, if you ask me.”
The boy flushed with pride and grinned. It did not occur to him that he had never told the tree of his age.
“That’s right!” he said, “I am old. Billy Mayers is the only one older than me in the class, but not by much. Only a week!”
The tree made the laughing noise again.
And then it spoke again, but its voice was different this time. Deep. Hypnotic.
“You’re tired, aren’t you child?”
The boy yawned. He really was.
“See?” the oak said, “You’re yawning. You know what?”
The boy didn’t.
“Why don’t you climb inside my hollow? It’s warm and cosy, and you can have a little nap.”
The boy thought it seemed like a great idea, but another thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.
“I would, Mr. tree, but my mum’s expecting me. She’ll kill me if I’m late.”
The tree spoke once more, and its voice was thick like honey.
“Well then child, it’s your lucky day! See, in my hollow, time stands still. Doesn’t move a minute. You can climb in, rest your eyes, and be out without even a second passed.”
The boy nodded. He was tired, really tired. He walked up right next to the wooden trunk. Its large, cavernous hollow opened up. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it did really look cosy, inviting and warm. So, he climbed in. It was soft and smelt of spring. His eyes closed, and he slept.
The boy didn’t awake when the opening of the hollow closed around him. He only started to stir, nestled in the hollow, when the tree began to feed.
Name: Alessia
Age:13
Grade: Year 7
Firbank Grammar
The Day the World Ended
The day the world ended was also the day the world started.
There it was, gleaming with a golden angelic light. A passage to the other side, the afterlife. An unsteady wooden bridge lay under me with the black depths of the unknown lurking under. The right angelic side brought upon a second chance, another shot for me to relive this. However, the left side, containing a hazy grey fog did not. Both doors contained a final decision, which I would hopefully not regret.
The baby blue sky above read the time. 5:45p.m. 12th of July. I coldly scowled at the big golden numbers and letters, as they reminded me of the horrifying event which had taken place on that date at that time. Still unsure of which side of the bridge I wanted to choose I closed my eyes and pictured my life before the incident. Before they came after me and swooped me up into the air. Their golden wings rapidly flapping in the wind as they heaved me up into the sky and towards the light.
If I chose the angelic side of the bridge, would I remember this moment for eternity? Would they even let me enter heaven? Taking the murkier side of the bridge would mean that I would be thrown back to earth, all my memories saved in my mind. I knew which side I wanted to walk towards, which door I wanted to enter, which path I wanted to take.
I walked towards the angelic light as it glistened on my skin. Suddenly I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let myself go through with it. I climbed up onto the barrier of the bridge and sat on the weak rope as the bridge swayed back and forth, almost causing me to lose my grip and fall. Suddenly I had an idea. The angelic side of the bridge led to heaven, the afterlife. The murky side of the bridge led back to earth. A thought lingered around in my mind. “What did under the bridge lead to?”
I didn’t even let myself think twice. Before I knew it, I had let go of the barrier and had been engulfed into the darkness of nowhere.
Name: Sophie
Age: 13
Grade: Year 8
Sandringham Secondary College
The Dot
Dots.
They’re everywhere. You may not notice it, but I sure do. They’re constantly in my vision wherever I go. Literally.
It started when I was five. It wasn’t a big dot. Just a small one in the bottom left corner. It didn’t bother me at first. I just figured I had a spec of dirt I couldn’t get out. But then it grew. It went from almost nothing to the size of a pin head. I told my parents. They shook it off and said, it was nothing. From then on, many more grew. By the age of 8, I already had ten.
They weren’t big but they sure made me clumsy. Covering up people’s faces or obstacles I had to dodge. Whilst by the way, I never did. I constantly asked my parents what was wrong with me, they never answered. I begged them to take me to the doctor but when I’d go, the doctor would say that there’s nothing abnormal with me. I mean it’s not like they did any harm, I just couldn’t see things.
I’ve gotten used to them now, all 37 of them. Though I don’t think I’ve got long to live. I can barely see anything now and basic necessities are a challenge. 16 is pretty young to die but I haven’t heard of anyone with my condition before. I might die now, like right this second if something just … the sound of the bell silenced my thoughts. It was the end of third period. I scooped up my books and attempted to follow my classmates to our next classroom.
I was just about to make it into the room when a sharp pain jabbed at my eye. Another one was forming. Whenever a new one comes, I always get some sort of hurt, but this was worse. Like already existing dots were stabbing sharp knives into my eyes. I wailed in pain, dropping my books and fell to my knees. My hands reached for my head. My whole body started to ache. No feeling, nothing. Just pain.
I could make out a small dot right in the middle of my vision. I thought it was over. But that was only for a split second. That one dot seemed to keep growing. It wouldn’t stop. My body felt like it was going to burst. The pain grew thick and the dot kept growing. Growing and growing until it covered up my whole vision. And all I could see was black.
The suddenly the pain stopped. It was over. I tried to open my eyes, excitement filling my veins. I might be able to see. I tried. They wouldn’t budge. I tried again. Nope. My eyes wouldn’t open. I tried to reach for my eyes but there was nothing there. I was only a gush of air.
Name: Emily
Age: 11
Grade: 5
St Catherine’s
Australia is on Fire
Jimmy Barnes was in New South Wales. He had magical hands and with his hands he set fire to a forest. After that, he fled to the airport, jumped on a plane and flew to the highest state in the USA.
When he arrived in America, he found the nearest area of grass and set fire to that too. Then he fled to all of the other countries and continents and set fire to them too.
When he was back in his hotel room in Florida, glad with all of his work, he was watching the news and on the news it said, “The WHOLE STATE of NSW was BURNT DOWN!”
He was so, so happy, but that didn’t last long.
All of the people that live in NSW are still alive.
He was so mad. Then he decided that….
HIS MURDERING SPREE WAS BACK ON!
What I Saw Through the Rain
Leeanne
It was not my first time –I’d been there more than once. They said it was too early, but I was stubborn, over eager. You see, I’d watched her from afar, for longer than I care to say, and her reluctance to acknowledge me hurt, although that’s the way of the world I hear.
The first time I was sent for her, I came with fanfare, a triumphant wave of my arms, a cheeky smile thinking she’d be glad to see me – thinking she’d understand our connection. I was wrong. On that occasion, she had no choice – I was simple a messenger, a guide sent to collect her.
We spent some time together while she healed. We frolicked in the gardens, attended endless meetings, talks given by some of histories’ greatest. I felt our connection strengthen, so I knew I was performing my job well. Then she was gone. A quick decision, an opening, a space that needed filling. I know I was not supposed to get attached, but it was our first time together, my first assignment – I gave it my all.
I kept busy; but I also obeyed the rules and kept a discreet distance – mostly. Once, after a tear-filled fall, I laid my hand on her shoulder, for just a spilt second – so brief in time not a living soul would have noticed. But some did and I received a warning. Nay, perhaps that is too severe. I was chastised in the nicest possible way.
I did not repeat this mistake, but I kept my eyes on her, my ears open and when the time came – too early for some, but not soon enough for me – I was there. When she saw my face, she smiled. There was no fear in her blue eyes, no tight grip to disconnect. She came willingly and we knew to make the most of our time together.
Next, she was gone for a very long time; and we all but lost contact. She never called on me for help, she seemed to have lost faith in my existence. It was hard to be so near her and not feel our link. When it was time, I held no grudges and when we met, it was like a light suddenly switched on. It was a joyous reunion, although peppered with tears and regret.
She stayed for a long while, her limbs, mind and soul repairing. No one rushed her, or me. We had space to relive our past encounters and I felt confident when she was suddenly whisked away, that we’d never, ever go through that again.
And you see here I am. I’ve been patient. Respectful. I have rarely interfered, and only in response to her asking.
It’s raining. Heavily. People have been warned to stay indoors. At home. Alas, this is not her temperament. Never has been.
I can see her now, under the awning of a shop. Her silly cardigan trying to do the job of a heavy-duty raincoat. I can see her, and I wonder if she can see a faint outline of me. I must ask her later.
The rain is pelting down. Violently pounding the ground. She should be home with her family – safe; but she made this choice. Not me. No one. Her own free will. I can hear the car behind me, thrashing up the road, water splashing over everyone – everything. Blinding all.
She checks her watch – she’s late, I know that. She steps out from the porch and steps onto the road as the car whizzes by. I see it all in slow motion through the veil of rain. The car hitting her, her body flying through the air and smashing onto the ground.
I stand over her, patiently waiting for the right time. Her eyes suddenly spring open. I offer her my hand. She gives me that beautiful smile I will never tire of and takes my hand.
“Are you ready to go home?” I ask.
“Yes, Guardian Angel. It looks that way.”
Name: Tash
Age:18
Grade: Graduated Year 12
What Came Before This
Tall trees, leaves dripping with fat drops of condensation, surrounded us on all sides. It was late afternoon and dappled light filtered through the trees to fall on our faces and illuminate our path. In the distance, the rustling sounds of life echoed towards us.
The path we took was steep, our heavy hiking packs weighed us down, but a hill approached and as we crested it, an expansive grey swath cut out of the forest was revealed. Ruins.
Beside me, Chloe gasped, “What in the world…?” Her voice was breathless, “I didn’t know there were ruined here.”
I heard rustling as she pulled out our map. I hurried to peer over her shoulder. All I could see on the map was green.
“Have we gone off the map?” I asked, thinking out loud.
“No, we’ve been going south east for twenty minutes, we should be here.” She tabbed a finger at the paper and shrugged, “Let’s check it out. We’ll be able to find out way back easily enough.”
I swallowed my hesitations and adjusted my heavy hiking pack. “Okay.”
We reached the beginning of the ruins quickly. A short wall of grey, crumbling stone blocked my path so I stepped over it. Rock crunched beneath my feet as I found myself in what would have likely been a small room. Most of the other walls were completely gone, taken away to some other place by time. A pile of something slowly decomposed in the corner, underneath a large stone brick.
The street outside the house was overgrown with grass and flowering weeds that poked through the cobblestone path. It was narrow and more collapsing buildings pressed in on us from either side.
“This is so cool,” Chloe said, eagerly walking ahead of me, “I wonder how long this has been here for.”
Wind whistled down the street, sending stone running across stone and whipping dirt up into miniature tornados. In the distance, a lyrebird imitates the scream of some unknown creature. I hurried after Chloe. My hiking companion poked her head into every building, a constant, giddy stream of commentary coming from her.
The street stopped at an open courtyard, an old stone fountain sat in the centre, its pools filled with rocks and dust. Piles of rubble dotted the area. I sat down on the edge of the fountain and let my pack fall to the ground. Chloe dumped her pack beside mine and swiftly disappeared around a corner. The lyrebird screamed again.
I tapped my feet while I waited, grateful to be able to give my legs a rest; however, there wasn’t much to look at. Grey stone. Brown dust. Green in the distance.
I let my hands fall into the pool of dirt clogging the fountain. My fingers brushed something solid. I wrapped my hand around it and tugged. It came free easily. For a moment, my eyes struggled to process what I saw. I blinked and suddenly I was holding someone’s forearm. A skeletal hand. I dropped it with disgust.
The lyrebird screamed again. It sounded like it was coming from my right. And then there was another scream. High-pitched. Panicked.
And then my name, “Sam!” shouted.
I ran.
Chloe stood in a ruined building, its walls only reaching her thighs. Something was clawing at her, reaching up to her waist. A skeleton, its bleached teeth exposed in a grin.
I lunged for her, but my foot caught on something and I fell. A hand wrapped around my ankle. A bony hand. Stone scraped and then another hand was on me, grasping at my leg. I felt more join it. Heard clattering of bones. Felt gashes being torn into my flesh. Felt pain.
Dust clogged my eyes. My mouth. My throat. My scream.
Chloe’s screaming fell silent. But in the distance, I did hear the lyrebird’s call.
Name: Molly
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
Star of the Sea
The Angel Oak tree
Throughout my life I’ve seen everything that you could possibly imagine. I’ve seen my fair share of people; most are tourists who take pictures of me and even try and climb me
But one of the worst I’ve ever seen is the hanging of children, mostly teenagers who get dared to climb up on me and reach around halfway but never seem to make it down.
It’s easy for people to try and climb on me, it’s probably because my protection isn’t that good. Apart from the deaths that happen, I bring much happiness to those who want to take pictures of me, and because of that I would consider myself one of the best places to visit in America.
But as hundreds of years have gone by, I’ve gotten really bored and lonely watching mostly the same boring thing happen every day. After staying in the same old spot, I’ve realised that I want more in life than just seeing what’s in front of me, I want to see everything the world has to offer.
I’ve been planning this day for months because if I don’t succeed, I will be cut down. The plans’ simple, all I have to do is swap places with the groundskeeper and I’ll be free.
The darkness had set and all that was left was the shadows of my huge branches. In the distance the groundkeeper’s torch flickered its way in the darkness until it stopped right in front of me.
Before the groundskeeper could move, I quickly grabbed him and swapped positions.
Name: Nicholas
Age: 12
Grade: 6
Caulfield Junior College
Untold
I had reached my final obstacle. The last one until I regained my freedom. In my land. I clutched the key in my right hand and in my left hand a lantern shone in the black light. I was surrounded by countless number of books that acted like barriers and in front of me, lay the only thing that was stopping me. The padlock. Compared to my size, it looked like a sky scrapper towering over me, looking down at me with intimidation.
With my key, I walked towards the lock, uncertain of what was behind it. Maybe it was money, or gold! It could even be more books. I definitely didn’t want that outcome. I placed the key into the slot. It fitted perfectly. I then turned it clockwise. With an instant click it unlocked and fell down.
Behind this lock, was a pile of books forming a wall in front of me and beside me. In the middle of that was a wooden door. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years and the lock looked rustier than the tin man from Wizard of Oz.
I cautiously walked to the door with only the lantern in my hand. I turned the knob with force and surprisingly, the door creaked open.
Instead of a room, there was a completely different view than the one behind me This looked unfamiliar, but I was an ambitious person anxious to get back to my world.
I stepped inside and as soon as I lay my two feet in there, the door slammed behind me with great force. I observed my surroundings. It was a lush green garden with a clear blue sky and blistering sun shining on me.
I walked around the vast garden and attempted to find an exit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one. I raced for it, stomping on innocent roses and sunflowers as I passed. As soon as I touched the gate, an ice-cold hand wrapped around my neck and the other hand covered my mouth.
Name: Steph
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
School: St Leonards College
Grandma Hood Found Dead
After I found the cult money transactions, I regretted trying to steal money from grandma. A soft clicking caused adrenalin to rush through my veins. Not now, I thought. I tumbled towards a box of files and bills and taxes and other boring old people things. The tapping of footsteps came closer, and I held my breath. I could see my shirt quivering as my chest shook.
I gasped as my leg cramped up, and a figure shot at the box I was hiding behind. Some very un-PG13 words entered my mind.
“I suppose this is it,” I whimpered, almost silently, as I emerged with raised arms.
“Don’t be an idiot, you ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Now since you know your gran’s secret though, you’ll have to join us. Welcome to the Cleaver Cult.”
“I’m sorry Ms Old Lady That Lives In A Shoe, but the what ?”
“Call me Dorothy. It’s called the Cleaver Cult. Good pay, minimal living sacrifices, and very anti-Wolfe.”
“OK, but where’s my grandma, Dorothy?”
“She shouldn’ta gone telling you about us. I took care of her.”
“Took care of?”
“I said minimal, not zero,” she growled at me. I couldn’t believe it.
“Since we’ve gone and done you a favour with the money, you’ll have to give us 50%,” Dorothy said as if talking about dividing Halloween candy. I agreed though, seeing as she had a gun, and the earlier confrontation gave me a slightly sobering fear of death.
“Doesn’t me money go to mum?” I asked.
Three Days Later
I wasn’t aware being in a cult required this much killing, but apparently, this week, two generations of Hoods will be knocked off. Killing my mum isn’t ideal, but I suppose Dorothy’s kids need to eat something for dinner.
Merry Christmas to you all!
Disclaimer: Sorry about the spelling errors! I think I got most of them, but they’re like children sent to bed, they can be lurking anywhere!
My class topics are reflective of what is happening around us, in my life, or inspirations taken from my travels. The 400-year-old Angel Oak tree is a perfect example of this, and the stories were diverse and extremely interesting.
We also talk about political figures and their influence on our world, and often our concerns for the world we live in, this year particularly climate change and its impact on their generation.
Please bear in mind that the children arrive at class without knowing the topic, and following a 15min chat, they begin to write, usually 20-30 mins. Some days, they are inspired by my topic and beg for more time, other topics they might find lame, but when they begin to write words appear and the story develops. As we have limited time, you may find that a story ends quite abruptly. It’s difficult to know at the start of a write where one might end up!
This year, Daniel suggested we do a prequel or a sequel to a story we have written. This was a great experience and will certainly be added to the course.
I’d like to mention both Daniel, who commenced classes in Grade 4 and is now going into Year 10, and Grace who started in Grade 2 and is off to secondary school next year.
Needless to say, I have to keep coming up with new ideas to challenge them.
Our writing classes are little families and we all support and cheer each other on. This year Tash did exceptionally well in her VCE with a high achiever’s score of 92.9. Congratulations!! Tash, has also graduated from my Secondary class and is now with the Adults. Tash will be my backup teacher next year, when I take a little time off here and there.
I’ve included three of my stories this year. I hope you enjoy them and all the stories in this book. I look forward to seeing you back next year.
Happy writing,
Leeanne
The Letter - Leeanne Vernon
(The Day the World Ended)
Planet Earth November 25th, 2020
My Darling,
I’m not sure why I feel the need to write this letter; our impending demise, the need to leave something behind. Fear. Boredom.
You see, tomorrow the world is coming to an end. This planet, Earth, will explode, perhaps shrivel, or maybe a poisonous gas will kill us all. The details are vague and anyone who does know, did know, left a month ago.
I would have gone too. My name came up in the lottery, but I gave my place to you. And if I regret that tomorrow, when the sky falls in, so be it. I know you’ll be safe – somewhere – somewhere out there.
Do not weep for me, do not carry the burden of my decision for you give me great happiness, great comfort in my last hours.
Your ever-loving grandmother. xx
There was no one to read the evening bulletin on November 25tth 2020. The earth had perished and all she cared for. Man’s greed and ignorance were to blame.
On November 30th, 2012 whilst scrummaging through her suitcase on Planet D2-0-7M, Clara found something odd. Something she had rarely seen on Earth. An envelope. It was yellowed; the corners curled over as if it had bounced around in her case for the last year as their relocation vessel shot past stars and zigzagged towards their new frontier.
She pushed the letter aside with her splintered memories. On that day, November 19th, 2020, the city went crazy. People lost themselves, pushing, shoving, hurtling each other aside in their bid to enter the Vessels so neatly lined up in each and every major city. Clara was young and should have received a token – but it never came.
Invalids were not part of the new frontiers branding, was the official explanation. Clara never considered Asthma a disability.
Clara’s parents received tokens, but their Vessels left two weeks earlier after much hysteria. Tokens were not transferrable; except if you had enough money or items of value. Grandmother had both. Clara wanted to rip the letter apart, but her hands could not. Her heart could not.
Clara heard a lot of the earlier Vessels never made it out; she didn’t know if she’d ever see her family again. But this letter, this object from a land that no longer existed, made her hands tremble.
She felt eyes on her, like she did every day when she crawled out of her hiding place with other deceitfuls. When she scrounged for morsels of discarded food. When she occasionally mingled pretending to be an invitee.
Clare looked at the envelope again. It had travelled light year, hidden, concealed, just like the truth. She wanted to open it, she really did, but not today. The letter was to precious.
Name: Julia
Grade: 7
Age:12
Victorian College of the Arts
What I saw
She skips outside, the white swirling around her.
“Come on Kara!” she shouts, as I pull my windbreaker tighter around me. I stare at my sister shocked.
“How are you not cold?” She smiles innocently. Unlike Kami, I shiver, the cold biting my cheeks. I’m suddenly hit by an idea. “Kami! Let’s get our skates and head to the lake!” We quickly run home, grabbing our skates, and make sure to grab another scarf.
The weather is perfect when we get there. The lake is completely frozen over, and the howling wind has settled down. We slip into our skates, wanting to skate alone before any other people come. We skate and skate. I wander towards the lake’s edge, when I spot the sign, nailed to a tree –Thin ice, keep to edges of lake.
“Kami!” I shout. I’m too late. I hear her shriek, followed by a splash. Tiny pinpricks land on my skin. I try to run to her,
but I’m frozen in place; I can’t move. Only when she screams my name am I snapped from my trance.
“KAMI!” I scream, as I run towards the place she fell. I’m too late. The ice has already started to seal over, and the last I see of my sister is her shocked face, pressed against the ice and I sob because I know, in that moment, I know. It’s my fault my sister is dead.
Name: Lauren
Grade: 6
Age:12
St Peter’s Primary
What I Saw in the Rain
“Attention all raindrop citizens. The Queen has called an emergency town meeting. Everyone report to the hall immediately!” The announcement blared across the street as people ran towards the palace. My best friend, Alya, and I ran too, past the bakery and the local pool, until we got to the Queen’s quarters. Her speech had just started.
“And that’s why I have decided that the age limit for the Falling is going to be thirteen, not twelve.”
I gasped. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t. I had waited my whole life for this and now I had to wait another year? Why now?
“It’s not fair, is it Rosa?” said Alya, noticing my expression.
“No, it’s not.” Suddenly, I had an idea. An idea that could possibly help us participate in the Falling that day.
“What if we sneak in with the next group?” I asked.
“What? No way! Rosa, it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s our only chance. Please?”
Defeated, Alya sighed, “Fine. But don’t blame me when we get caught by the Raindrop Queen.”
The time was NOW.
“Could all raindrops in Group 3F please report to the Cloud Edge. Your Falling is about to commence.”
I grabbed Alya’s hand and dragged her over to the edge of the kingdom. The Falling Director waved his glowing hands.
Red. Orange. Green.
The siren sounded, and everyone jumped. The wind howled in my ears, like a ghost screaming, and everything around me was a cascade of raindrops. But even with all this adrenaline, I wasn’t scared. I felt alive. I was so ecstatic that I could finally do the Falling when I was meant to do it. Now.
Suddenly, Nina, the captain of Group 3F, noticed us.
“Oh no,” I thought. “She’s going to use one of her emergency raindrops and send us back up.”
“You two aren’t supposed to be here,” she yelled over the wind.
The ground was getting closer. “You aren’t old enough.”
And closer.
“I’m going to send you back!”
I could see the luscious green hills and trees now. Suddenly, I felt something wet on my shoulder.
BAM!
Alya and I were teleported back to the top of the Raindrop Kingdom.
Oh well.
I guess I need more patience.
After all, it’s only one more year to wait.
Name: Imogen (Immy)
Grade: 6
Age:12
Shelford Girls Grammar
The Unfortunate Incident
Part 1
When I strut down the hall, every other student smiles, waves, and swoons over me. It's not surprising, I'm amazing and everyone loves me. I'm not bragging, it's just a fact. After all, I'm kind, thoughtful, stylish, generous, smart, incredibly humble and beautiful! I'm the full package. I basically run this school. Following behind me are my loyal followers, up ahead are my two main henchmen, Whitney and Bridget waiting for me.
"Meet you guys in class, I need to use the lavatory." I swing open the bathroom doors and began fixing my hair in the mirrors. The lights started to flicker and shudder slightly, then shut off. Of course, I didn't mind, it was just a small outage, nothing the maintenance guy can't fix. As I collected my things ready to leave, the lights flashed back to normal.
Back out in the corridors, I passed many of my followers who didn't even make eye-contact with me as I walked by. It's nothing, they're probably just thinking about something other than me ...
When I arrived in class no one had saved a seat for me, not even Whitey who is supposed to always have my back. Normally people fight over me; everyone wants me to be their partner, seeing as I'm so smart and helpful. But today I had to sit next to Noah Gleeson, the kid who eats his own earwax. Even he didn't look pleased when I came and sat next to him. He's obviously just a bit shell-shocked that someone like me would ever come and sit with him.
“Okay, I wasn't notified about it, but it seems we have a new student joining us today," our teacher told us. Nobody looked new, perhaps someone’s just out of my eyesight.
"What's your name?" our teacher asked. Everyone looked over at me. How am I supposed to know, it's not like I'm psychic or something!
Noah nudged me, then I saw that the teacher was also staring right at me, so was the rest of the class. I stood up,
"I'm Audrey." I did a little curtsy and sat back down. "I've been attending this school for years," I added. The teacher laughed,
"A jokester, say hi to Audrey everyone."
"Hi to Audrey everyone." The class moaned. The nerve! Nobody dares talk to me like that.
The Unfortunate Incident
Part 2
It was hard to be ignored; even the people who once adored me pay absolutely no attention to me. I never really realised what it's like to have people constantly whisper behind your back. I almost feel bad about the times that I would whisper like that. Before a couple of weeks ago, everyone in this school would do anything to even catch a smile from me.
I try to remember how I got to the top in the first place, it seemed to just happen. On my way to class one morning, Bridget and Whitney walked up to me. Finally, this nightmare was over! I strolled down the hall like I used to, them following close behind, but a hot, gluggy feeling slid down my back. I saw Whitney dump an empty bowl of mashed potato into a random locker and the two of them ran off giggling and whispering.
This sick joke had gone way too far.
"JUST STOP," I screamed at the top of my lungs. Bridget and Whitney slowly turned around in shock. I tried to explain to them that I was Audrey, I ran this school, everyone loves me, but I have been 'forgotten'. But the girls just mocked me and laughed.
Did I really deserve to be forgotten? I know I've been pretty rotten in the past, but that doesn't matter now, everyone has forgotten about it. Of course, I don't deserve this! I'm Audrey, everybody loves me, because I'm kind, thoughtful, stylish, generous, smart, incredibly humble, beautiful and NOT deserving of being forgotten!
Name: Ruby
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
Bentleigh Secondary College
Time Masters – Greed
Artemis was the oldest son of the Time Master, David. Artemis was David’s favourite son although he’d never tell his other two sons. David was a strong, strong man with excellent knowledge. Although to David, a single father, he seemed to have it all; he wanted more. He wanted to show the world it was his time to shine.
Artemis and his brothers, Julien and Gianni, weren’t raised with respect, only discipline and power. The Time Master separated from his wife Kamiah because of an argument over which pizza toppings should go on a homemade Hawaiian pizza. David had planned and revenge mechanism to shock the whole world, including Kamiah. Over a two-and-a-half-month period, David had planned his expedition to take people’s time and to keep it for himself. As his sons had mentioned that he was ‘old and grumpy’ for any more missions, they were going to attempt this adventure themselves. Artemis, Julien and Gianni were going to do the dirty work for him.
It was 3:03 a.m. on May’s first Saturday and the city was filled but citizens. Artemis, Julien and Gianni were wearing all black including their Doc Martins that were gifted by their Nona. The vibration and the thump from Kitty Kats Club on Rosenwell Street caught the attention of the three brothers. Using their bare hands, they crash open the dark red door, entering the club.
Artemis got out his Nerf gun and a blue glittery mist flushed out. The music went silent and what used to be a party was now a group of people doing the Mannequin Challenge. Gianni knew he couldn’t just take time on an empty stomach, so he took one of the fresh steaming hot party pies and swallowed it whole.
Julien walked over to one of the frozen women in the club. "Aye boys! Look at this chick, she’s wearing sequin shorts!”
“Oh yeah, cool bro,” said Gianni, unsatisfied. Julien reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a sharpie. He popped open the cap and drew a symbol on the girl’s forehead, which almost looked like a pig.
The symbol started glowing a vivid light blue and it lashed out. Before this magical spark got away, Artemis pulsed out what looks like a cigarette lighter, and caught the spark.
Name: Anthony
Age: 12
Grade: 6
St Leonards College
Mental Hospital
It all started with me signing up for the night shift at the local hospital, since I was in need for a job, and I had just finished university. The job paid decently and also gave you quite a nice office to work in, which was a bonus. It had a security door, which rolled down over the normal manual door opening. I had no idea what I needed that for. I also worked quite a bit of the day shift, just to keep an eye on patients and all that other stuff. But mostly, I just lounged around in the office and watched movies on Netflix, on my phone.
Night One
I had to spend the whole day checking over Ward 17, which wasn’t a lot of fun to be honest. The ventilation systems always had malfunctions in there, and lights flickered on and off all the time making it even more creepy. I figured out that this was going to be the worst part of the hospital to watch over the night, so that was probably why they installed a security door inside my office. I was just hoping that no person came up and smashed my window open.
It was 12 a.m. All was going well, no odd noises, nothing. I was getting a bit sleepy, but I forced my eyes to be open. Because if I was found asleep on this job, I would get sacked instantly. I must have fallen asleep though, because the next thing I realized was that it was growing light behind my window.
Night Two
I took the dayshift off, so I could go back to my apartment and have some downtime and some sleep. Night shifts were really tiring. But I did go back to the hospital for the night shift.
Nothing went wrong once it first turned dark though. I had a lamp in my office, which was my only source of light. It was 11 p.m.
I read some news on paper for some time, then I thought that I heard a noise outside my door. I dropped my newspaper immediately and closely listened. It sounded like creepy moaning and soft banging on my door. ‘Crap’, I thought, ‘one of those psychos must be trying to break in!’
When I heard the door handle turn, I quickly pulled down my security door and locked it in place.
I was sweating, even though that it was well below 23 degrees today. Who was that at my door? I looked through my window, to try getting a glimpse of the figure, but it was gone. I slowly backed away from the window, when the figure popped out behind the window out of nowhere. Its body was barren. Dark pieces of skin were sagging of his body, his head held a pair of lifeless eyes. I quickly turned off my lamp, wanting to make seem that there was no one living in this office.
Sensing after a few moments that he was gone, I turned on my lamp again, and the figure was gone. Vanished into thin air.
Night Three
Nothing much to say about the dayshift. Let’s get into the night shift. The same figure showed up again, so I locked my security door in place and shut off my lamp, hoping that the monstrosity would go away. It did later, or at least I thought it did. The figure disappeared again, after a while when I turned on my lamp again. No footstep sounds to indicate movement. Nothing.
In my confusion, I dropped my phone, which it then plopped softly onto the ground. I bent down to pick it up. I suddenly stopped. I put my hand over my mouth, I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in horror. The figure! It was under my table!
It lay in a disordered position, seeming almost lifeless, but I wasn’t fooled. I backed up against the opposite wall of the office. I wanted to get away from the figure, as far as possible. But I couldn’t. My fear made my legs feel like a thousand pounds. I was too scared to run, or even walk now.
The last thing I remember was the static like sound of roaring. Then all went black.
Name: Grace
Age: 12
Grade: 6
Sandringham Primary
A Day Like No Other
Poor Lily was devastated to find out that she wasn’t accepted into the Student Representative Council (SRC). She thought it was a joke. I mean everybody loved her. Even adored her. Why else would they carry around her books all day?
She leaned to the side of her desk and passed a note. Lily smirked at the girl as she read the note, but the girl didn’t even seem interested that it was HER who gave the note. The girl waved at her to stop her peeking at what she was writing. It seemed like forever until she finally stopped writing. With no patience left, Lily grabbed it out of her hand and analysed the squiggly wiggly handwriting:
To new kid,
I don’t think you’re allowed to be passing notes around class.
anyway, KIT
“ARE YOU KIDDING?” Lily thought. You know what? I don’t even care. She can go and find someone else to give her fashion advice.
A small eerie ping echoed through the room. Lily swayed around her desk and announced, “Does anyone want to have permission to carry my books?” Everyone froze.
No one said anything, except for a small girl. “Sorry, but who are you again?”
“WHO AM I?” Lily screamed. “YOU’RE ALL MAD!” Lily screeched.
There were no words to describe Lily’s anger. Lily knew this was going to be a long day.
Leeanne
I wrote this story inspired by the print I purchased in Charleston, South Carolina. Untold Stories. As soon as I saw it, stories flooded my mind, and despite all the inconvenience I was determined to bring it home. I could not wait to write about it!
My story was inspired by several things. Firstly, we all agreed that the girl’s dress is very, Alice in Wonderland-ish.
I also incorporated a bit of Night at the Museum when I wrote, thinking about the events of that movie.
I think it’s important to know, that inspiration comes in all different forms. And as I always say in class, if two people have the exact same story idea, what emerges will be quite different because we each put our own take on things.
So, encourage your children to read, to watch, to investigate, to sticky beak. It’s all great fodder for we writers.
Untold Stories
Benjamin Tyme was due for long service leave, after 350 years as keeper of Untold Stories. Benjamin was tired. The Untold Stories had mounted up, nearly touching the sky. Some days it was difficult to contain them … other days impossible.
Benjamin was not involved in selecting his replacement, and that, right there, was a horrible mistake.
Alice Pikledot was a newcomer. Barely old enough to remember the last great war between humans and the others – certainly not well informed enough to prevent a break-out. And naïve enough to believe the falsehoods fed to her by the Uppers.
“It’s just for a year or so,” they told her. Benjamin knew it wasn’t true. He would not be returning. The secrets he held were too sensitive.
On her first day, Alice Pikledot strode confidently into the Untold Stories wing of the library. She was very excited. Here were stories never told. Here were adventures never realised. Here were the secrets of the universes. And Alice could not wait to begin her discoveries.
Whilst browsing through the section on Animals Far & Wide, she was distracted by a ppt-ppt-ppt- yet she saw no one. She directed her attention back to the volume in her hand – Why They Perished, when the sound became louder. PPT. PPT. PPT. Alice stopped, gazed up, around, and finally down.
There at her feet was a mouse – of sorts.
“Me?” she asked.
“Why yes, do you see anyone else silly enough to visit the library of Untold Stories on a Tuesday afternoon?” He was quite rude, huffy even.
“Why … I guess …” began Alice.
“No time for guessing. Not today.” The mouse began to run.
“What?” said Alice but a huge racket behind them made her run too. Alas, not far. She tripped in her high-heeled shoes and toppled over.
Mouse gazed over his shoulder, and Alice could see him struggle with a decision. Run or Stop.
Fortunately, he stopped.
“Girl. Girl. Roll away.”
Alice log-rolled towards the row of shelves piled high with thick heavy books. In doing so, she narrowly avoided a herd of animals that trampled towards the exit.
“Door,” yelled the mouse.
Alice was hemmed in, held down, unable to move, but she managed to kick open a door and narrowly survived the ordeal.
“What were they?” she asked the mouse.
“Surely you recognise them?” replied the mouse.
When Alice shook her head, mouse tut-tutted and then asked, “Where’s Benjamin?”
“Benjamin is on leave,” explained Alice.
The mouse groaned, fainted and disappeared.
Alice made it to lunchtime before being called downstairs by one of the Uppers.
“Can’t have that happening again,” said one.
“No. No,” said another. “Bad mistake.”
Alice looked at them.
“Here. Here,” added the other.
“The key. The key,” said the first, and a large silver key was placed in her hand.
“You must not let them out!” she was warned.
“Who? Who must I not let out?” begged Alice.
“Anyone,” said one.
“No one,” said the other.
“Ever,” added another.
“And what about the mouse?” asked Alice.
“Mouse?” said the other.
“Mouse?” quizzed another.
“No mouse,” replied the one.
When Alice arrived back at the Untold Stories section, the first thing she did was slip the key into the rusted brass keyhole. It slipped in with surprising ease.
It was then that mouse arrived.
“Don’t. Don’t go inside,” he squeaked.
“Why ever not?” asked Alice as she stepped through the gate.
Once Alice was on the other side, the key disappeared. Alice rattled the gate, but it was locked.
“Untold Stories. Untold Stories,” said the mouse and he scurried away.
Ahead, Alice saw books –
So many books it would take a lifetime to read them.
Name: Lily
Age: 11
Grade: 6
East Bentleigh Primary
The Day the World Ended
“AHHHH CHOOO!” I know it’s perfectly normal to sneeze. Everyone who has a nose can do it. Except me, because I don’t have a knows about what’s going on!
Jokes aside, it’s time to get serious now This morning was a day just like any other. I wake up, get dressed, eat, pack my bag, punch open the door and head right on over to school. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be able to go to school or do any of the other things that I do on a normal day again.
I was just walking along, minding my own business when suddenly... AHHH CHOOO!
Everything shatters. The tectonic plates that make up the earth’s crust, the mantle and core deep below the surface, the sky and clouds, the buildings along the street, everything. I even saw a fragment of the Eiffel tower. EVERYTHING!
I hear deafening cries of petrified people cut short. Debris smashes into me, knocking me off my feet onto the tiny earth platform I was standing on. I would’ve been knocked unconscious if my eyes hadn’t been glued open with pure horror. Was this a dream?
It must be, it can’t be real. I haven’t had a chance to write any books yet, or show the world how awesome I am. This isn’t how I wanted to die! And it’s all my fault. I should’ve seen my allergy doctor who is now dead due to my actions. I’M SO SILLY!
How am I still alive? I am struggling to find the strength to breathe, and everywhere from my head to my toe aches. I feel as though I am floating in outer space with no one to help me, nothing to help me and nothing that I can do to help myself stay alive.
That is until I hear something distant buzzing, and I see blinding light ...
Name: Katya
Age: 14
Grade: Year 8
Sandringham Secondary College
The Rain
What is it used to be was different? Nothing else but what you think. Dribbles of rain running and falling in any place you wouldn’t imagine it being. It was loud but it was peaceful too. That’s what I always loved about it, until the Burn came.
People were walking along the concrete footpath either with grocery or shopping bags when they noticed the rain, some people were happy that the rain was coming, others were annoyed at the fact that they left their washing outside in the rain, little did they know those pieces of clothing would’ve been burnt to the crisp, and that’s exactly what happened.
You first felt a warm tingle, on your arm or face and wouldn’t really realise it, until those drops which formed like acid spreading hotter and hotter through your flesh.
Many people of the town died and ever since that day, people were more and more terrified of being outside. Others were the opposite knowing that they could find the healing flower. The healing was a flower where in the centre of it was emerging magna, a healing substance which can treat others burns.
We all have our scars from our burns; every single person has at least one. We used to feel free in the rain, not anymore, I am scared, I miss it, I miss it so much.
Name: Daniel
Age: 15
Grade: Year 9
St Leonards College
The Angel Oak Tree
Once upon a time, long ago in a green land that went by many names, there lived a wizard. He was as kind and generous as he was brilliant, and renowned from the sprawling spires of the quartz streets of Gilead to the lapping tides of the great west sea. He had two daughters, beautiful and fair, and they were the loves of his life. One night, as the wizard watched them sleep gently, he made a promise to himself. He swore he would do anything to protect them. And that he swore on ash-wood, the most noble of the high trees. And, as the great wizard knew, an oath made upon ash-wood can never be broken.
But, one day, the girls fell sick. They were gripped in the vice of a terrible fever, and an illness that writhed and throbbed like a wild thing. The wizard tried and tried to break the fever and dispel the black mass that was eating his daughters, but he couldn’t. That drove him mad, see. The knowledge that with all of his power and proud magic, he could do nothing to save his beloved daughters. He became withdrawn, moody. One night, he said goodnight to his ill-fated daughters, and in the morning, when Old Sun rose in the blue sky, they were dead.
And, the wizard who had slew monsters and demons, who had watched villages burn like husks of dry corn, who had killed wicked men and women and sometimes children, fell to his knees and wept.
That same day’s night, he buried them. In the shallow grave he left a locket of their birth mother, and the dark branch of ash-wood that he sworn to long ago. The moon hung low in the sky casting its pallid rays upon the wizard as he did his work. Only when it seemed done, when the sodden earth covered his beautiful daughters (who were now bloated and discoloured with sickness and death) did the real work begin.
He broke things and he burnt things, and he chanted things in long dead tongues, and he called upon ancient names that were never meant to be spoken by man. He cast magic that was only found written in old, leather-bound books hidden in crypts and mausoleums, and he pleaded and bargained with dead Gods and impossible monsters.
But again, in the end, it didn’t work.
His daughters stayed dead.
That’s night, the Wizard, who awed all those he met with tricks and coloured fire and was met with adoration, hung himself from a piece of old rope.
However, as fate would have it, he was wrong.
His daughters had not come back, crawling out of the earth, but something else had. Out in the dead wizard’s yard, a small sapling stood in the moon’s glow.
Later (This was written in two parts. This was the first part Daniel wrote).
“Child,” the tree whispered. The boy looked around. Trees couldn’t whisper. That was silly stuff, kiddy nonsense. Maybe if he was 5, or even 6 instead of 7 he would’ve thought so, but he was old.
“Child,” the tree spoke again.
This time it was louder, and the boy was sure. The tree was gnarled and oaken, with sprawling branches covered with wispy lichen and moss, some as thick as a drainage pipe and others as thin as his forearm. The wood was a deep, dark brown, like it was rotted or waterlogged. The leaves were ash green.
“Yes?” The boy said.
“Come closer, child. I am an old, old tree, and I can’t quite hear you.”
The trees voice was soft and mellow, like gentle autumn wind through its leaves. It was grandfatherly. The boy took a few steps forward and blinked once, twice. How could he have thought the tree was rotten? Its bark was bright and practically glowing, and its leaves a vibrant shade of lime. It was beautiful.
The boy thought for a moment (for what does one say to an oak tree)? “How old are you?” he eventually asked.
The tree made a low, rhythmic whooshing noise, like it was chucking.
“Very, my child. As old as the sun and the moon and the stars, old as the rolling hills and crashing tides. But you are old too, are you not? 7 is a big number. A wise number, if you ask me.”
The boy flushed with pride and grinned. It did not occur to him that he had never told the tree of his age.
“That’s right!” he said, “I am old. Billy Mayers is the only one older than me in the class, but not by much. Only a week!”
The tree made the laughing noise again.
And then it spoke again, but its voice was different this time. Deep. Hypnotic.
“You’re tired, aren’t you child?”
The boy yawned. He really was.
“See?” the oak said, “You’re yawning. You know what?”
The boy didn’t.
“Why don’t you climb inside my hollow? It’s warm and cosy, and you can have a little nap.”
The boy thought it seemed like a great idea, but another thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.
“I would, Mr. tree, but my mum’s expecting me. She’ll kill me if I’m late.”
The tree spoke once more, and its voice was thick like honey.
“Well then child, it’s your lucky day! See, in my hollow, time stands still. Doesn’t move a minute. You can climb in, rest your eyes, and be out without even a second passed.”
The boy nodded. He was tired, really tired. He walked up right next to the wooden trunk. Its large, cavernous hollow opened up. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it did really look cosy, inviting and warm. So, he climbed in. It was soft and smelt of spring. His eyes closed, and he slept.
The boy didn’t awake when the opening of the hollow closed around him. He only started to stir, nestled in the hollow, when the tree began to feed.
Name: Alessia
Age:13
Grade: Year 7
Firbank Grammar
The Day the World Ended
The day the world ended was also the day the world started.
There it was, gleaming with a golden angelic light. A passage to the other side, the afterlife. An unsteady wooden bridge lay under me with the black depths of the unknown lurking under. The right angelic side brought upon a second chance, another shot for me to relive this. However, the left side, containing a hazy grey fog did not. Both doors contained a final decision, which I would hopefully not regret.
The baby blue sky above read the time. 5:45p.m. 12th of July. I coldly scowled at the big golden numbers and letters, as they reminded me of the horrifying event which had taken place on that date at that time. Still unsure of which side of the bridge I wanted to choose I closed my eyes and pictured my life before the incident. Before they came after me and swooped me up into the air. Their golden wings rapidly flapping in the wind as they heaved me up into the sky and towards the light.
If I chose the angelic side of the bridge, would I remember this moment for eternity? Would they even let me enter heaven? Taking the murkier side of the bridge would mean that I would be thrown back to earth, all my memories saved in my mind. I knew which side I wanted to walk towards, which door I wanted to enter, which path I wanted to take.
I walked towards the angelic light as it glistened on my skin. Suddenly I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let myself go through with it. I climbed up onto the barrier of the bridge and sat on the weak rope as the bridge swayed back and forth, almost causing me to lose my grip and fall. Suddenly I had an idea. The angelic side of the bridge led to heaven, the afterlife. The murky side of the bridge led back to earth. A thought lingered around in my mind. “What did under the bridge lead to?”
I didn’t even let myself think twice. Before I knew it, I had let go of the barrier and had been engulfed into the darkness of nowhere.
Name: Sophie
Age: 13
Grade: Year 8
Sandringham Secondary College
The Dot
Dots.
They’re everywhere. You may not notice it, but I sure do. They’re constantly in my vision wherever I go. Literally.
It started when I was five. It wasn’t a big dot. Just a small one in the bottom left corner. It didn’t bother me at first. I just figured I had a spec of dirt I couldn’t get out. But then it grew. It went from almost nothing to the size of a pin head. I told my parents. They shook it off and said, it was nothing. From then on, many more grew. By the age of 8, I already had ten.
They weren’t big but they sure made me clumsy. Covering up people’s faces or obstacles I had to dodge. Whilst by the way, I never did. I constantly asked my parents what was wrong with me, they never answered. I begged them to take me to the doctor but when I’d go, the doctor would say that there’s nothing abnormal with me. I mean it’s not like they did any harm, I just couldn’t see things.
I’ve gotten used to them now, all 37 of them. Though I don’t think I’ve got long to live. I can barely see anything now and basic necessities are a challenge. 16 is pretty young to die but I haven’t heard of anyone with my condition before. I might die now, like right this second if something just … the sound of the bell silenced my thoughts. It was the end of third period. I scooped up my books and attempted to follow my classmates to our next classroom.
I was just about to make it into the room when a sharp pain jabbed at my eye. Another one was forming. Whenever a new one comes, I always get some sort of hurt, but this was worse. Like already existing dots were stabbing sharp knives into my eyes. I wailed in pain, dropping my books and fell to my knees. My hands reached for my head. My whole body started to ache. No feeling, nothing. Just pain.
I could make out a small dot right in the middle of my vision. I thought it was over. But that was only for a split second. That one dot seemed to keep growing. It wouldn’t stop. My body felt like it was going to burst. The pain grew thick and the dot kept growing. Growing and growing until it covered up my whole vision. And all I could see was black.
The suddenly the pain stopped. It was over. I tried to open my eyes, excitement filling my veins. I might be able to see. I tried. They wouldn’t budge. I tried again. Nope. My eyes wouldn’t open. I tried to reach for my eyes but there was nothing there. I was only a gush of air.
Name: Emily
Age: 11
Grade: 5
St Catherine’s
Australia is on Fire
Jimmy Barnes was in New South Wales. He had magical hands and with his hands he set fire to a forest. After that, he fled to the airport, jumped on a plane and flew to the highest state in the USA.
When he arrived in America, he found the nearest area of grass and set fire to that too. Then he fled to all of the other countries and continents and set fire to them too.
When he was back in his hotel room in Florida, glad with all of his work, he was watching the news and on the news it said, “The WHOLE STATE of NSW was BURNT DOWN!”
He was so, so happy, but that didn’t last long.
All of the people that live in NSW are still alive.
He was so mad. Then he decided that….
HIS MURDERING SPREE WAS BACK ON!
What I Saw Through the Rain
Leeanne
It was not my first time –I’d been there more than once. They said it was too early, but I was stubborn, over eager. You see, I’d watched her from afar, for longer than I care to say, and her reluctance to acknowledge me hurt, although that’s the way of the world I hear.
The first time I was sent for her, I came with fanfare, a triumphant wave of my arms, a cheeky smile thinking she’d be glad to see me – thinking she’d understand our connection. I was wrong. On that occasion, she had no choice – I was simple a messenger, a guide sent to collect her.
We spent some time together while she healed. We frolicked in the gardens, attended endless meetings, talks given by some of histories’ greatest. I felt our connection strengthen, so I knew I was performing my job well. Then she was gone. A quick decision, an opening, a space that needed filling. I know I was not supposed to get attached, but it was our first time together, my first assignment – I gave it my all.
I kept busy; but I also obeyed the rules and kept a discreet distance – mostly. Once, after a tear-filled fall, I laid my hand on her shoulder, for just a spilt second – so brief in time not a living soul would have noticed. But some did and I received a warning. Nay, perhaps that is too severe. I was chastised in the nicest possible way.
I did not repeat this mistake, but I kept my eyes on her, my ears open and when the time came – too early for some, but not soon enough for me – I was there. When she saw my face, she smiled. There was no fear in her blue eyes, no tight grip to disconnect. She came willingly and we knew to make the most of our time together.
Next, she was gone for a very long time; and we all but lost contact. She never called on me for help, she seemed to have lost faith in my existence. It was hard to be so near her and not feel our link. When it was time, I held no grudges and when we met, it was like a light suddenly switched on. It was a joyous reunion, although peppered with tears and regret.
She stayed for a long while, her limbs, mind and soul repairing. No one rushed her, or me. We had space to relive our past encounters and I felt confident when she was suddenly whisked away, that we’d never, ever go through that again.
And you see here I am. I’ve been patient. Respectful. I have rarely interfered, and only in response to her asking.
It’s raining. Heavily. People have been warned to stay indoors. At home. Alas, this is not her temperament. Never has been.
I can see her now, under the awning of a shop. Her silly cardigan trying to do the job of a heavy-duty raincoat. I can see her, and I wonder if she can see a faint outline of me. I must ask her later.
The rain is pelting down. Violently pounding the ground. She should be home with her family – safe; but she made this choice. Not me. No one. Her own free will. I can hear the car behind me, thrashing up the road, water splashing over everyone – everything. Blinding all.
She checks her watch – she’s late, I know that. She steps out from the porch and steps onto the road as the car whizzes by. I see it all in slow motion through the veil of rain. The car hitting her, her body flying through the air and smashing onto the ground.
I stand over her, patiently waiting for the right time. Her eyes suddenly spring open. I offer her my hand. She gives me that beautiful smile I will never tire of and takes my hand.
“Are you ready to go home?” I ask.
“Yes, Guardian Angel. It looks that way.”
Name: Tash
Age:18
Grade: Graduated Year 12
What Came Before This
Tall trees, leaves dripping with fat drops of condensation, surrounded us on all sides. It was late afternoon and dappled light filtered through the trees to fall on our faces and illuminate our path. In the distance, the rustling sounds of life echoed towards us.
The path we took was steep, our heavy hiking packs weighed us down, but a hill approached and as we crested it, an expansive grey swath cut out of the forest was revealed. Ruins.
Beside me, Chloe gasped, “What in the world…?” Her voice was breathless, “I didn’t know there were ruined here.”
I heard rustling as she pulled out our map. I hurried to peer over her shoulder. All I could see on the map was green.
“Have we gone off the map?” I asked, thinking out loud.
“No, we’ve been going south east for twenty minutes, we should be here.” She tabbed a finger at the paper and shrugged, “Let’s check it out. We’ll be able to find out way back easily enough.”
I swallowed my hesitations and adjusted my heavy hiking pack. “Okay.”
We reached the beginning of the ruins quickly. A short wall of grey, crumbling stone blocked my path so I stepped over it. Rock crunched beneath my feet as I found myself in what would have likely been a small room. Most of the other walls were completely gone, taken away to some other place by time. A pile of something slowly decomposed in the corner, underneath a large stone brick.
The street outside the house was overgrown with grass and flowering weeds that poked through the cobblestone path. It was narrow and more collapsing buildings pressed in on us from either side.
“This is so cool,” Chloe said, eagerly walking ahead of me, “I wonder how long this has been here for.”
Wind whistled down the street, sending stone running across stone and whipping dirt up into miniature tornados. In the distance, a lyrebird imitates the scream of some unknown creature. I hurried after Chloe. My hiking companion poked her head into every building, a constant, giddy stream of commentary coming from her.
The street stopped at an open courtyard, an old stone fountain sat in the centre, its pools filled with rocks and dust. Piles of rubble dotted the area. I sat down on the edge of the fountain and let my pack fall to the ground. Chloe dumped her pack beside mine and swiftly disappeared around a corner. The lyrebird screamed again.
I tapped my feet while I waited, grateful to be able to give my legs a rest; however, there wasn’t much to look at. Grey stone. Brown dust. Green in the distance.
I let my hands fall into the pool of dirt clogging the fountain. My fingers brushed something solid. I wrapped my hand around it and tugged. It came free easily. For a moment, my eyes struggled to process what I saw. I blinked and suddenly I was holding someone’s forearm. A skeletal hand. I dropped it with disgust.
The lyrebird screamed again. It sounded like it was coming from my right. And then there was another scream. High-pitched. Panicked.
And then my name, “Sam!” shouted.
I ran.
Chloe stood in a ruined building, its walls only reaching her thighs. Something was clawing at her, reaching up to her waist. A skeleton, its bleached teeth exposed in a grin.
I lunged for her, but my foot caught on something and I fell. A hand wrapped around my ankle. A bony hand. Stone scraped and then another hand was on me, grasping at my leg. I felt more join it. Heard clattering of bones. Felt gashes being torn into my flesh. Felt pain.
Dust clogged my eyes. My mouth. My throat. My scream.
Chloe’s screaming fell silent. But in the distance, I did hear the lyrebird’s call.
Name: Molly
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
Star of the Sea
The Angel Oak tree
Throughout my life I’ve seen everything that you could possibly imagine. I’ve seen my fair share of people; most are tourists who take pictures of me and even try and climb me
But one of the worst I’ve ever seen is the hanging of children, mostly teenagers who get dared to climb up on me and reach around halfway but never seem to make it down.
It’s easy for people to try and climb on me, it’s probably because my protection isn’t that good. Apart from the deaths that happen, I bring much happiness to those who want to take pictures of me, and because of that I would consider myself one of the best places to visit in America.
But as hundreds of years have gone by, I’ve gotten really bored and lonely watching mostly the same boring thing happen every day. After staying in the same old spot, I’ve realised that I want more in life than just seeing what’s in front of me, I want to see everything the world has to offer.
I’ve been planning this day for months because if I don’t succeed, I will be cut down. The plans’ simple, all I have to do is swap places with the groundskeeper and I’ll be free.
The darkness had set and all that was left was the shadows of my huge branches. In the distance the groundkeeper’s torch flickered its way in the darkness until it stopped right in front of me.
Before the groundskeeper could move, I quickly grabbed him and swapped positions.
Name: Nicholas
Age: 12
Grade: 6
Caulfield Junior College
Untold
I had reached my final obstacle. The last one until I regained my freedom. In my land. I clutched the key in my right hand and in my left hand a lantern shone in the black light. I was surrounded by countless number of books that acted like barriers and in front of me, lay the only thing that was stopping me. The padlock. Compared to my size, it looked like a sky scrapper towering over me, looking down at me with intimidation.
With my key, I walked towards the lock, uncertain of what was behind it. Maybe it was money, or gold! It could even be more books. I definitely didn’t want that outcome. I placed the key into the slot. It fitted perfectly. I then turned it clockwise. With an instant click it unlocked and fell down.
Behind this lock, was a pile of books forming a wall in front of me and beside me. In the middle of that was a wooden door. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years and the lock looked rustier than the tin man from Wizard of Oz.
I cautiously walked to the door with only the lantern in my hand. I turned the knob with force and surprisingly, the door creaked open.
Instead of a room, there was a completely different view than the one behind me This looked unfamiliar, but I was an ambitious person anxious to get back to my world.
I stepped inside and as soon as I lay my two feet in there, the door slammed behind me with great force. I observed my surroundings. It was a lush green garden with a clear blue sky and blistering sun shining on me.
I walked around the vast garden and attempted to find an exit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one. I raced for it, stomping on innocent roses and sunflowers as I passed. As soon as I touched the gate, an ice-cold hand wrapped around my neck and the other hand covered my mouth.
Name: Steph
Age: 13
Grade: Year 7
School: St Leonards College
Grandma Hood Found Dead
After I found the cult money transactions, I regretted trying to steal money from grandma. A soft clicking caused adrenalin to rush through my veins. Not now, I thought. I tumbled towards a box of files and bills and taxes and other boring old people things. The tapping of footsteps came closer, and I held my breath. I could see my shirt quivering as my chest shook.
I gasped as my leg cramped up, and a figure shot at the box I was hiding behind. Some very un-PG13 words entered my mind.
“I suppose this is it,” I whimpered, almost silently, as I emerged with raised arms.
“Don’t be an idiot, you ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Now since you know your gran’s secret though, you’ll have to join us. Welcome to the Cleaver Cult.”
“I’m sorry Ms Old Lady That Lives In A Shoe, but the what ?”
“Call me Dorothy. It’s called the Cleaver Cult. Good pay, minimal living sacrifices, and very anti-Wolfe.”
“OK, but where’s my grandma, Dorothy?”
“She shouldn’ta gone telling you about us. I took care of her.”
“Took care of?”
“I said minimal, not zero,” she growled at me. I couldn’t believe it.
“Since we’ve gone and done you a favour with the money, you’ll have to give us 50%,” Dorothy said as if talking about dividing Halloween candy. I agreed though, seeing as she had a gun, and the earlier confrontation gave me a slightly sobering fear of death.
“Doesn’t me money go to mum?” I asked.
Three Days Later
I wasn’t aware being in a cult required this much killing, but apparently, this week, two generations of Hoods will be knocked off. Killing my mum isn’t ideal, but I suppose Dorothy’s kids need to eat something for dinner.
Merry Christmas to you all!
Disclaimer: Sorry about the spelling errors! I think I got most of them, but they’re like children sent to bed, they can be lurking anywhere!
2017 End of Year Story Collection.
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This was our secondary class story of the week. Josh Burgess Year 7
There is a wall. A large stone wall. We often wonder what is behind the wall. But they never tell us. The ivy hanging down the wall is not strong enough to climb. We know. They don't often speak to us. They only watch us, observe us. They stand in the tower in the centre of our town. We sometimes see them moving inside, and we sometimes hear them talking. So when we were all called to the town centre, and saw them standing on a raised platform, we didn't know what to think. A tall man stepped forward as we all stood gazing ahead. "GX," he spoke, his voice echoing through the air. We knew he was addressing us; the only time they do speak to us, that is what they call us, GX, Gender X. "There have been 12 deaths over the course of 12 days." They were right. The population had been deceasing rapidly. The man stepped backwards and another male took his place. We are all male here in GX. We have heard stories of GY. Female. The elders tell us sometimes, they tell us stories of when they were younger. They describe to us what GY look like. What they sounded like, what they felt like. "And the population has decreased in GY," the man continued. 'And so ... " A loud crash sounded through the air. We turned our gaze towards the wall, which was nothing but a pile a rubble. We raced over to the wall, desperate to see through to the other side. What we saw was like looking through a mirror. The same buildings, the same roads and a large crowd gazing back at us. Through a cloud of dust rising from the broken wall, I saw something I'd never seen before, GY. Gender Y. Female. Charlotte Henry – Grade 4 Sandringham Primary School Age 10 Tuesday Primary Class Charlotte says she comes to my creative writing class to play tricks on Leeanne, and write awesome stories. Charlotte started writing with me during the holiday program but has been a regular this year. Charlotte is funny, creative and a lot of fun to have in class. PARADISE As crazy as I was, no one believed me. My stories were absurd. But not one person believed that I actually went to paradise. It happened on a hot summers day that happened to be my 10th birthday. I was sitting against a tree then a flying marshmallow with a UniPug on it flew from somewhere and the UniPug urged me to hop aboard. “Hello Charlotte, I am Easter, the UniPug and I am your PUP or P.U.P – it stands for Personal UniPug. However, you want to say it is fine,” said the UniPug impatiently. I blinked and pinched myself hard. Is this a dream I thought? I tried to reply but no sound came out, so I just nodded. I guess I was shocked. We zoomed off into the clouds and in the blink of an eye we were in the … paradise. But there was something very un-paradise-ish about this place. No-one was there. “The duck flies at midnight,” yelled Easter. Hmm, I wonder if that is a code word for something or someone? “Surprise,” yelled the animals. The animals had thrown me a party for my birthday. We all sat down for cake. Chocolate pizza cake that is! The chocolate pizza cake sparkled and it smelt like chocolate and marshmallows but it looked like a Malteser and Kit Kat with a bit of Crunchie!?? Time for presents. I got books, watches, tiaras and tee-shirts that said, ‘Birthday Girl’. Suddenly, it’s not my birthday anymore. Oh no, I have to run, I have to hide if I want to stay. Too late, I was whisked away home. I woke up next to the tree. I stood up and something fell off my head. It was the tiara I was given. Was it all a dream or was it real? Do UniPugs even exist, I wasn’t quite sure! Lucy Seignoir – Grade 4 St Mary’s Primary School Age 10 Thursday Primary Class Lucy likes writing classes because she has a great time and can really enjoy paying close attention to story details. Lucy is the third Seignoir family member. She is kind hearted, funny and particularly mobile. She keeps the Thursday class amused, and even fits in some good story writing! This is Lucy first term of writing. THE NATURAL DISASTER It is a beautiful day, I am walking and my footprints are following behind me. Suddenly the sound of boom, boom, crash, thunder and soon lightning starts to strike. I started to run and the closest place was my dad’s work. I went there to feel safe. I say to him, “Dad what is happening right now.” And he says, “Well let’s see.” And then he checked the weather on his phone. Suddenly a bid tsunami came crashing down the street. We all went down nine floors and two seconds later, crash – boom. I don’t think lightening and water go together. Maybe we should have gone down more floors. A short while later I was lifeless. Stephanie McTigue - Grade 5 Beaumaris North Primary Age 11 Thursday Primary Class Steph likes creative writing class because it is a good way to make friends and express herself. Stephanie was already an avid writer when she joined class earlier this year. She has a bold imagination and a powerful use of language so she writes some awesome stories. LOST Everything was dark, trapped. I felt a spark of my greatest fear emerge in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Something hit me hard on the head and the world faded to black. My eyes fluttered open, I exhaled deeply. After a heartbeat, I realised something was wrong. Very wrong. I could hear the wind whistle and I couldn’t remember anything. I looked down. I screamed. Loudly. I was lying on sand, blood-red sand. I had a large gash in my arm. I studied it and found a yellow, jagged tooth embedded in my flesh. It looked like a shark’s tooth. I rubbed my head and felt a large bump. I looked around me, disoriented. I sat up, blinking hard, and found a coconut half lying beside me. I had an idea. I scooped the remaining contents of the coconut half into my mouth and feebly half-crawled-half-dragged myself to shore. I had already figured out I was on a deserted island with the world’s best antiseptic, salt water. I scooped up some salty water in the hard shell and tipped it on my wound. I screamed and writhed in pain before promptly fainting. I almost immediately got up, my instincts kicking in. I tried my hardest to stay conscious, much easier said than done. I dragged my heavy body into the trees. Score! A sheltered cave with an overhanging palm tree. I settled down. I was absolutely petrified. The night passed and dawn came, the sky fading from purple to pink, the gently twinkling stars slowly disappeared. The ocean glittered and the sun burning on the horizon made it picture perfect. I whipped together a raft and found a freshwater stream. I bathed in it, scrubbing coconut oil in my hair and my body. It was getting dark and I was getting bored, tired and perhaps even a bit ill. I couldn’t sleep that night so I wandered outside. It was freezing. It was silent and eerie and I … There was a hot breeze on my neck. I spun around, scared to face the threat behind me. I saw a dark, hulking silhouette baring jagged, yellow teeth at me. As I ran I realised this island was fake, a set up. Parts of my memory were coming back. I saw the raft, jumped on, and paddled with my hands. The creature couldn’t swim. I smiled to myself and allowed the flashback to wash over me. I was sitting on a cruise ship, smiling. A large creature clambered on the ship, sinking it. I watched as my parents, swimming like Olympians, maybe they were, I don’t know, not now anyway. The creature attacking the ship was bigger than the one chasing me. As I remembered more, like a puzzle fitting together, I realised that the cruise-ship-attacker had a smaller creature on its back. A baby, simply scavenging for food. I escaped eventually, finding a police station in Tasmania, where I came ashore, and had my parents called. I remembered one more thing. The mother creature had died. Katya Tomov – Grade 6 Black Rock Primary School Age 12 Thursday Primary Class I like writing classes because I have made new friends and Leeanne makes it fun! I enjoy writing stories much more than I used to! Katya is the other twin, and I sometimes even get her name right! After a slow start, Katya is writing very well, coming up with interesting ideas and getting straight into her story. She simply needs to believe in herself! I know I do. ODE TO AN ATHLETE I run so fast, Then I will sprint right past. I need to know what to do, Otherwise I won't make it through. I need to try my hardest, When my heart is the largest. I'm brave and bold, So if there is a secret I know it should be told. If I'm scared, I just have to get prepared. When I'm on the field, It is like I have a shield. I have got lots of determination, So that I can inspire a nation. I walk around empty handed, But I never come back stranded. Josh Burgess – Grade 6 Sandringham Primary School Age 11 Thursday Secondary Class I like creative writing class because I love to writing and I have lots of fun with Leeanne. Josh is talented – no doubt about it. He writes particularly well in the fantasy genre, mostly because he has an acute sense of detail. He extends himself by attending other courses, which is awesome for his writing. It is a pleasure to write with him. PARADISE Screams echoed through the air, but even the loudest were drowned out by gunshot. Jack dashed through a sea of blood and bodies, gun ready at any moment to fire. His breathing increased rapidly as the sound of war grew closer. He was headed right into the heart of the battle. He continued running, despite the fear bubbling inside him and the painful stitch growing in his side. Then dark figures appeared ahead, just silhouettes through the fog. Jack watched as they began falling. Gunshot. Screams. Jack shook his head, clearing his thoughts until only one remained; why he was here; for Lucy, for James and for his country. Anger billowed inside of him, drowning out the fear. The three words began replaying inside of Jack’s mind. Blocking out the other noises. Lucy, James, Australia. Lucy, James, Australia. A man raced through the fog at Jack, his gun raised. Lucy. Aim. Jack. Fire. Australia. Dead. The figure dropped and Jack continued forward, until he was alongside with the other Australian fighters. They looked tired, weak, injured. But Jack wasn’t the only new soldier joining the Front Lines. A whole army marched behind. When the reinforcements arrive, Australia will win, or so Jack hoped. Bullet after bullet flew out of Jacks gun, and penetrated the flesh of men. Lucy, James, Australia. Jack could hear voices and footsteps behind. They were here! Lucy, James, Australia. Lucy James- Pain swarmed through Jacks body. Starting from his chest then, like water, spread through his limbs. Jack looked down, seeing blood drip from a small wound in his chest. A figure stood a few meters away, his gun ready to fire again. But there was no need. Jack dropped, his eyes clamped shut. Bright white light filled his vision... I awake to the sound of birds chirping and a light wind blowing the leaves on the trees this way and that. My eyes open. I’m lying in a patch of soft green clover. A bright blue cloudless sky stretches above me. I stumble to my feet. I scan my surroundings, miles and miles of lush green clovers. No dead bodies lay beside me. No bullets fly through the air. No blood stained grass. No screams or gunshot. No...Pain! I look at my chest, but see no sign of the bloody wound I was certain had taken my life. Where am I? I walk through the field. I spot a wooden bench, shaded beneath a willow tree. A woman sits on the bench, her back faces me. I walk towards her; maybe she would tell me where I am. I come to her and clear my throat. She turns and I gasp. Only one word forms in my mind and escapes my mouth; “Lucy...” Jack opened his eyes. Now no sky filled his vision, only white ceiling, Jack lay in a white-sheeted bed. A man came to Jack’s side. He smiled, a badge clipped to his coat read; Doctor Zacaroon “Don’t worry Mr. Smith,” he said. “You’ll be out of Saint Joshua’s hospital in no time, that bullet to your chest had you asleep for weeks!” Maja Jovetic Dixon – Grade 6 Sandringham Primary School Age 11 Thursday Secondary Class I like creative writing classes because you get to express yourself with your writing. Also, because you learn from other writing. I LOVE writing. Maya first attended my holiday classes; even then I knew she was a very good writer. She has great ideas and can convert those ideas into believable cohesive stories. She is a pleasure to have in class. ATLANTIS Chapter 1 I coughed loudly as I inhaled the ancient dust sitting in my attic. I hadn’t looked in it for over ten years. But for some reason today I had the urge to. Moving boxes packed with stuff I didn’t need and that nobody wanted, including me. Yet, I was drawn to one in the far corner. It took a few minutes of rummaging through the box like a wild animal to find it. A dark oak chest with creaky hinges and a rusty lock. It was coated in dust and I had to take a puff of my asthma inhaler. I returned down the ladder with the chest to fresh air and a cup of tea. The lock was rusted and cracked open easily. I opened the chest eagerly. A gasp escaped my mouth as I saw the stunning object. A chain necklace with a beautiful opal on the end. I gently placed it over my head. I went close to the box when I noticed the note lying on the bottom of it. I unfolded the note. Dear Julie, I have to trust you will believe what I tell you in this letter. Congratulations, you have found the necklace. I always knew you would. You are special, Julie. So please believe me when I say mermaids are real. You must dive into the ocean. There the necklace will guide you. Love Grandma Amy I stood staring at the note in disbelief. Grandma knew that I couldn’t swim! Why would she even suggest this to me? I slammed the box shut. My eyes widened at what I saw. Where there had just been a layer of thick dust on the chest’s lid, the words “Trust me” were now clearly engraved. It seemed my grandma really wanted me to follow her instructions. Chapter 2 The water lapped at my feet urging me to go into the depths of the ocean. Surely, I would drown. What had my Grandma been thinking? Maybe she thought I would learn to swim as I grew up but water still frightened. Yet something drew me into the icy water. What if Grandma had been crazy? What was I doing following her instructions? I slowly started to back out of the water when a powerful wave knocked me to my knees. As it receded, it dragged me further out to sea. I kicked and screamed as my head dipped in and out of the water but the beach was deserted and there was no one to help me. I found myself sinking deeper and deeper. So deep I could no longer see the sun’s glow on the surface. I was losing my breath and could barely keep my eyes open. This was the end, I was sure of it. Just as I gave up, the necklace began to glow ever so slightly. I reached for it with the last bit of energy I had. The moment my fingers touched the necklace a blinding flash burst from it, thrusting me forward. I grabbed my neck as a searing pain ripped through it. Forgetting where I was, I tried to scream but only hundreds of bubbles escaped my mouth. My head began to spin as consciousness faded. Chapter 3 My eyes slowly opened. Where was I? I saw a fish dart past me and it all came back. I spun around and around making sure it wasn’t a dream. I was breathing. Under water. And my neck was stinging. I moved my hands to the spot. I felt a lump. A scaly lump. And another on the other side of my neck. My heart beat faster. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Grandma wasn’t crazy after all. I now had gills. Charlotte Bartholomeusz – Year 8 St Leonards College Brighton Age 13 Thursday Secondary class I like creative writing because it provides me an opportunity to write freely and creatively, which I am not really provided with at school. The topics are helpful and they give me guidelines and provoke ideas but also allow independent freedom too. Charlotte is quietly spoken but she has big ideas. This year she has been working on a series of stories featuring Cuddles and her narrator a 5-6-year-old child. No matter what the theme, she adapts it to suit and we all look forward to her character’s adventures. The Never-Ending Question Who am I? That's a good question. One I haven't really put much thought into until now. It's a pretty simple question. Three small words. It's just three small words yet I feel it's asking for so much. It has the potential to expose so much, if I let it. I could give so many answers to this particular question, depending on how much of the truth I want to share. I could give the whole truth or I could just come up with a bunch of lies. I could write what I think any normal person would write. But that wouldn't be who I am. Ok. Here it goes. Who. Am. I? I look in the mirror and I see a girl. Just an average girl. But then I squint closer and I see someone completely different. Someone only I know. I see me. And only me. No artificial additives. Just me. Who am I? I am a girl. A girl with dark brown hair, freckles covering my face and a small smile. But beyond the basics, beneath the appearance, I am unsure. Unsure of who I really am. There are many people in my life with whom I share many similarities, but none of whom I am the same as. No one who can tell me who I actually am. So I am left to figure this out on my own. I guess everyone is. Discovering who you are isn't like just like getting a parcel in the mail. It doesn't just come wrapped up in a neat box, suddenly, with all the answers inside. You don't even get any fancy instructions to guide you. Discovering who you are is more like a painting. Gradual. Unique. Your brush will add colour, or maybe even paint over things, but over time, you were finally uncovering a magical creation. I may think I know who I am, but really, it's impossible to know. I haven't lived my life yet. I know who I was, I'm discovering who I am now, and I am yet to find out who I will be. I can't change the past and I don't control the future but I can control who I am now. I mean, I am definitely not the prettiest girl in the world, but to me, I am beautiful enough. I am definitely not the most intelligent girl in the world, but to me, I am smart enough. And I am so far off from being perfect that it isn't funny, but to me, I am perfect enough. I am not a celebrity, yet. I'm not famous, yet. And I'm not on the front page of your magazine, yet. I'm kidding. I'll probably never be any of those things, but that really doesn't matter to me. So who am I? I am a student. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a person. I am a human. I am just like everyone of you, but different. So different. I am me. My differences define me, some good and some bad. But those differences are mine and I am proud to own every single one of them. I mean, I don't know about anyone else, but I think it's pretty damn amazing that no one else in the entire world can be exactly like me. I can get the exact same score on a test as someone else. And I can wear the exact same thing as someone else. But no one. Not one single person, can be exactly like me. And that makes me special. A person is just like a fingerprint. Every one is different and no one can have the same one as someone else. They're unique. They're special. So really, I am a fingerprint. A unique, special fingerprint that no one can copy. And even after I am dead. Long gone. When no one even remembers me anymore, I will still be the only exact Charlotte Prada Bartholomeusz to ever exist in the world. Yes, everyone is unique and special, but we have our similarities too. I have anopheliphobia, fear of mosquitos. The creepy little blood sucking creatures, constantly lurking around, ready to pounce when you least expect it. I play tennis too, quite a lot. That one hobby that is not just a hobby, it's my passion. Something I can do to escape reality even if it's only for a few hours. I have pet peeves as well. Trust me, I do. And they infuriate me. My first pet peeve: people talking in third person. Why? You are given one life, as far as we know, so live in the moment. Don't document your life, live it! And my second major peeve: people who always think they're right. I mean, I guess that statement is a little hypercritical coming from me. See, I'm just like everyone else; I have fears, I play sport and even have pet peeves! Normal. But not really. I like to think I am pretty friendly. And sometimes I think I am pretty funny too, but others could have a different opinion on that. I am definitely someone who doesn't love doing chores or as my parents say 'I'm domestically disabled'. But really it doesn't matter who I think I am, because in the society we live in today, others seem to decide for us. People say that your eyes are the window into your soul but some of those windows are sure hard to see through. People can be so hard to read sometimes and easy to deceive. When we can't really find an answer, we tend to fill in the blanks ourselves. It's easier. So sometimes people don't know the real you, they just have a made-up picture in their mind. I am a completely different person, depending on which set of eyes you look at me through. Perspective is everything. I am the same person, just viewed in a million different ways. To be honest. I can't tell you who I am, because everyone has a different opinion. I can tell you who I think I am, but I can't tell you what your going to think. I am a friend. I am an enemy. I am a classmate. I am a student. And to some others, I am invisible. But no matter how many different things other people think I am, I can only be one thing. And that is me. Statement of intention Throughout this piece, my intention was to portray a sense of this ongoing question, ‘who am I’. I believe it's an ongoing question that can never fully be answered because one is constantly changing. I really try to use metaphors and similes to explain my thoughts in order for the reader to have a better understanding. This piece incorporates the message that one individual can be so many different things whilst also being just one. It shows that sometimes it doesn't matter who you think you are because others already have their mind made up about you. I feel I created a detailed perspective on the never-ending question, ‘who am I?’ |
Molly Hewitt - Grade 5 St Mary’s Primary School Age 11 Tuesday Primary Class Molly came to class because her mum and dad made her, but she stays because mostly she likes coming to class. Some days Molly would prefer to be on a soccer field rather than in creative writing classes, but other days, she writes amazing stories with lots of detailed descriptions, especially when it’s about sport! FEAR The night was dark and there was an eerie silence. Trembling, heart racing at 100k an hour, the hairs sticking up at the back of my neck like soldiers. Red, dark red oozing out everywhere scattered all over the ground. Then beside the blood was a body, a body with a knife stabbed deep into it and covered with blood. Creeping, tiptoeing then suddenly, I see a dark shadow lurking behind me that appeared out of nowhere. To my surprise when I turned around I saw a person dressed in all black with gloves. The person had a sharp, shining new, silver knife pointed at me. I tried to stop the door shutting but I was too late. The door slammed. The door was locked, and I was trapped in a small little room. When I thought I was all alone with no way of getting out a hand reached from behind me. The same hand as before. I was dead! Suddenly I woke up with sweet pouring down my face then I realised it was just a dream. Hana Stewart – Grade 4 Sandringham East Primary School Age 10 Tuesday Primary Class Hana came to creative writing classes because she loves to write! It took six months for me to be able to hear Hana’s soft voice, but now she has fun in class and joins in on the jokes. Hana is a naturally talented writer with a great imagination. Don’t be surprised if one day she disappears down a portal! 3 COINS ‘Hana! Open the doors! It’s the Walker family!’ cried my mum. Family friends from overseas had come to stay with us for a while. ‘Oh great, we have to share a house with these loud dogs. Oh this is so great!’ I groaned to myself. On the doormat stood Sally, a cheery looking 8-year-old girl who clutched a teddy bear. Mr Walker looking exhausted, and Mrs Walker with her thin black hair and cold smile. I forced a smile and muttering under my breath I welcomed them in. The Walkers and my parents sat in the living room. The Walkers actually seemed ok, apart for Mrs Walker. It was the way she acted. She would treat me nicely if someone else was in the room, but if we were alone, she would order me around the house. Now was the moment for a little pay back. I crept up to her wallet and was disappointed to only find three coins, each with a dragon on it. Anyway, I took them. When they had contact with my fingers blue colours streamed out of them and formed a whirling portal. Nervously I entered a new land… I opened my eyes. The sight that met my eyes was not a pretty one. The land around me was revolting. It stunk, rubbish littered the place and to make it worse the portal was slowly disappearing … ‘Say good bye now, Hana. You are going to be trapped on prison island,’ a voice cried behind me. I spun around. In the middle of the litter, greyish water lapping her feet was Mrs Walker, standing before me at the beach. ‘I should have realised! Those coins weren’t ordinary, you lured me here!’ I suddenly realised. Mrs Walker hit me and I went tumbling backwards and … ‘Woosh.’ I was home and was safe. Mrs Walker is still out there, but I’ll find her tomorrow. Grace Nankervis – Grade 4 Sandringham Primary School Age 10 Thursday Primary Class Grace like to come to creative writing class because she can write freely and meet new people. Grace came to writing class as the little sister, but over the past two years she has developed into a fabulous little writer. She has a vivid imagination and uses lots of great words. CHRISTMAS LUCK Snowflakes covered the branches of the forest trees. Yellow ducks paddled across the lake. “Millie!” mother shrieked. Birds flew away panicking. Millie rushed through the back doors and into the kitchen looking for a place to hide. Only the oven and the dusty old cupboard where a suitable size. Millie's mum's footsteps came from the garden. As they got closer, Millie started to panic. Jumping into the cupboard she noticed a giant green bushy monster. Millie tried to get a better look but as the creature turned Millie knew what it was – a living Christmas tree! Millie jumps out of the cupboard sending the doors flying and, dodging the Christmas tree, she runs out the front doors “Millie!” the Christmas tree screamed. Grabbing a broom Millie started whacking the Christmas tree until finally it was over. The tree was going back to the forest. Eva Tomov – Grade 6 Black Rock Primary School Age 12 Thursday Primary Class I like writing classes because I have made new friends and Leeanne makes it fun! I enjoy writing stories much more than I used to! Eva came to class with her twin sister, so it took time to get to know them as individuals. Eva is delightful. We have been focussing on getting a good start and having confidence in her writing, because it’s really good. THE SHADOW, THE STORM, THE STAIRS ... What is more terrifying than wandering around your neighbourhood, in the dark and not seeing anything or anyone? Nothing. I was wandering the streets near Spring Road terrified about what could happen next. The rain was pouring down, almost covering the entire road. I felt more lonely than ever. I could sense that someone was watching me, but when I turned around there was nothing there. This didn’t make sense to me at all. Or did it? When I got home, I pulled my soggy boots off of my cold shaking feet and wiped them down on the mat to go inside. When I went to check the time on my watch everything including my old watch went black. I thought it was just a power out but I had no idea ... As I went up my rusted staircase, something made me want to go back down stairs, but I just kept walking. My feet reached my bedroom floor. They touched something wet, I think it was red but I couldn’t see. Suddenly I looked up. I saw a very dark shadow circling me. He grabbed my arms and whispered softly in my ear.... “You should’ve stayed downstairs.” Tash Grant – Year 10 Sandringham Secondary College Age 16 Thursday Secondary Class I like to write because it lets me change the world! Last year Tash, Charlotte and I wrote together for an entire year. It was such a precious time for me getting to know Tash and her writing, her style, and her actual writing (no one can read it lol). This year I have watched Tash grow into a beautiful young woman who now takes creative writing classes in her lunchtime for other eager creative writing student. How proud I am. Wind whistled over the top of the mountain. ‘Are you ready?’ I stared at Jack beside me, we gripped each other’s’ hands like our lives depended on it. And it did. When I turned to him I couldn’t help but smile, only his wind scarred and ice-frozen face could make me smile like that. ‘Always’ I replied. Jack nodded fiercely and bent down to push me up into the final rocky step. I heaved myself up then turned and held out a hand for Jack. Together, we turned to face the city of giants. The buildings were carved directly out of the mountain and soured over our heads to touch the horizon. A sea of snow paved the street and the thick sheath was unbroken. Nothing moved. Wind whistled. ‘Where are they?’ I asked, looking around. ‘Probably in a hall or something – eating.’ Jack replied with confidence, but I still caught the frown that furrowed his brow. ‘Well come on then!’ I urged, ‘Let’s go find them. Our booted feet crunched on the snow. A few birds circled around lazily but that was the only thing we saw moving. The hollow homes seemed to settle down around us, growing smaller and older. But as I peered closer I noticed the cracks – the chunks of stone that had crumbled away. Was there really life here? ‘Look!’ Jack exclaimed. I whirled around in excitement but only saw Jack pointing to a large building at the end of the lane. Faded tapestries flapped slightly on either side of the door. Jack and I hurried on. My breathe puffed out in front of me and I realised it was the first time I’d noticed it. It streaked out in clouds of grey, dissipating almost instantly, it seemed to be in a hurry – like me. We reached the doors, we checked the grooves and edges, I feared it would be sealed tight. Jack and I looked at each other and smiled nervously ‘Big things’ Jack said. ‘Big things’ I agreed. We placed our gloved hands on the towering doors – the cold seeped through and chilled my fingers. We shared one more look and heaved. The doors groaned, their ancient wood scraped against the stone. We stopped and – outside – wood groaned. Eve Nankervis – Grade 6 Sandringham Primary School Age 12 Thursday Secondary class I like creative writing classes because it is fun and a great environment to write in. The topics are very inspiring and so is the atmosphere. Eve has been writing with me for a couple of years now, and has developed into a very strong writer. She always comes up with great ideas and immerses herself in the creative process. Apart from this, she is such a pleasure to have in class, plus she brought friends … huge thank you! And even proofread my new book, Netball Dreamz 4 a new beginning, which was awesome. BIG THINGS The monster can see me, but I can't see him. He can smell me, but I can't smell him. At this moment in time, I am hiding underneath my bed, hugging my legs and silently praying that it will go away. Unfortunately, the gods are ignoring my wishes. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead and on my back. I wipe my brow with my sleeve, but the sweat just collects again. I breathe as quietly as possible. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I can feel the thick dust fly into my lungs as I inhale. I listen as the creature creeps towards my bed and I can hear its joints crack as it leans down to remove a shoe box I am taking coverage behind. I grimace, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping for the best. The beast snatches a leg and pulls me out in one quick movement. I open my eyes for split second. I see slimy scales and bony fingers. I hear a tremendous hiss and a crack, and that is when everything goes black. I slip into consciousness. All that surrounds me are thick cave walls, with long crystals hanging steadily from the roof. It smells of wet cloth and dish soap. Suddenly reality slaps me in the face. I am in a cave. There was a monster. And I am still alive. I think. I wiggle my fingers, then my toes. This confirms that I am still on Earth and not in heaven. Suddenly, I hear a rustling sound. Then a bang. I sit up and look over at the monster. It's scaly body and bony physique give it an unapproachable look. The beast was munching on the bones of individuals and my mind races. I was going to be dinner if I don't escape soon. I stood and began to run as fast as my legs could carry me to the light. But the creature caught me escaping and soon my quick bolt for the light became a chase for it. The monster sprinted behind me, grabbing at my ankles. I accelerated. But, the monster just accelerated too. Soon, I reached the exit, just escaping the clutches of the monster. I jolt awake. Sweat covers my forehead and fear knots my stomach. I am very grateful that never happened. I step out of my warm bed and pace to the window and peer out. I jump back when a large rock collides with the window. I clam down in a moment and lean forward to see out of it. I am greeted by a horrible sight. Tom and his awful crew of the toughest men in town. They have come to get me. Right on time, my mother enters my room and joins me at the window. “Is Tom out to get you again?” she says. I nod. She sighs. “Why is he like this?” I know why, but I shrug instead of answering properly. “I am very proud of you, Ben.” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Because you keep from danger and escape it when you can.” “Doesn't everybody else?” I reply, brushing the compliment off. “No. You will always stay away from those bullies, because you feel it is better to just stay out of trouble in the first place.” Then, it hits me. The big creature in my dream is Tom and his gang. The person under the bed is me, continuously running from it. The dream I had last night was not a desirable dream, but I am glad I had it. The next day at school, Tom approaches me. I know what I am going to do. “Hey loser,” he says, pushing me over. I fall, catching myself, then stand again. “Hey Tom!” I say. “Sometimes you need to learn to run.' Tom pauses, before walking away. He really missed the big thing in his life. His mother. Who was always so mean to him. I think I got him in a sore spot, but at least this time, hopefully Tom will realise that he needs help and finds that his problem is never accepting that this is the way it is. And it will be better if he lives without any abuse or hurtful people in his life. Daniel Iera – Year 7 St Leonards College Brighton Age 13 Thursday Secondary Class Writing class allows me to express myself in various genres. And the biscuits! This is Daniel’s third year in writing class. He has a brilliant imagination and I find it a privilege to write stories with him. He makes me try harder! WHAT LIES BEYOND THE DARKNESS I don’t see her. But she’s there. I hear her. Smell her. Feel her. Fresh meat, entered my domain. She can’t get out. I know that. But she doesn’t. I will toy with her. I smell her emotions. Hear her thoughts. I can see her now. Inside, I can see her. She is scared. Good. She should be. Very scared. For I am perhaps fear itself. Or darkness. Or pain. But it doesn’t matter. I inflict all these things. And I take joy in it. The girl breathes heavily. Long pants. Pathetic. She is wasting her energy. I enjoy the chase. The fight. The thrill of the hunt. But alas, most, like this girl, don’t fight. They simply run. Scream. Some try to bargain with me, beg me to spare their life. That amuses me. But I can tell, this girl will not bargain. She will run and scream, like the others. I can tell everything about them from the way they walk. The way they breath. Their voice. Their taste. No secrets can be withheld from me. The girl begins to quicken, her footsteps rapidly increasing. She stops for a brief moment. Then continues. I follow on, and pass the man. I allow him to stay. He is nothing but a shell. A living corpse. He will not defy me. He looks up. His eyes slightly narrow. He shakily raises a fist. He opens his mouth to stay something, but stops, slumps down. He gives a long shake of his head. He throws his bottle across the alley with a grunt. It smashes into shards. I continue. The girl speeds up even more. Up ahead, her breath pants. Heaving sighs escape her mouth. Her breath smells faintly of cigarettes. A smoker. Smoking brings illness. Flaws. The flawed ones taste better. The sick, the old, the young. Delicious. For when they are flawed, their mental stronghold is weakened. And thats were I attack first. What I devour first. The mind. The alley is lined with posters. Posters of me. I allowed them to catch that image. I allowed them to plaster them in my home. When the prey enter, the posters help. Create fear. They taste better when they're afraid. I slowly run my tongue across my teeth. But the posters aren’t enough. Not enough fear. This girl may be stronger than I once thought. I begin to scrape my claws across the stone floor. A horrible noise. The girl begins to run. I sniff the air. The hunt is on. She begins to cry. Good. Very good. I follow. The chase goes on for what feels like mere moments, before she arrives. My trap. The wall. I prepared it freshly for her. You see, everything up to here was but for fun. I had not needed to give chase, it was all for my own enjoyment. She had no chance. Could never had survived. At the end of my lair, there is no escape. She screams into the inky darkness. This amuses me, her cries for help. She sobs uncontrollably. She screams again. “What do you want?!” I step forward, revealing myself to her. And I laugh. Leeanne Vernon – Grade, lots of uphill but some down hills with the wind in my hair. School of life. Age: Very long in the tooth. I love creative writing because without writing, I could not breathe. Thank you to everyone for your support and encouragement. It’s been a huge year with the release of Netball Dreamz 4 a new beginning, and yes indeed, it has been a new start for me. PARADISE There’s a tiny tap on my shoulder. I’m sleeping so at first, I ignore it, like brushing off an annoying fly, or the constant buzz of a mosquito. I turn over, away from the irritation. Then I hear someone calling my name, ‘Leeanne. Leeanne.’ Still I don’t respond instead trying to sink back down to slumber, before I hear, ‘Larnie. Larnie.’ Instantly, my eyes open. One person calls me this and as my eyes flutter adjusting to the dark and the brightness, I see her, my sister Faye. ‘Come on,’ she says, ‘quick we don’t have long.’ As I take her hand, I ask no questions, not of her, not of the universe. I feel myself floating up, over and through. Faye and I smile at each other, the way we always did. I raise my hand to touch her face. She laughs, ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe it.’ ‘But I do,’ I say. ‘I do’ We stay with our silence as time peels away, as space dissolves the vast distance between us, and as quickly as I left, we are lowering, coming to a halt. I laugh because I know where we are; not the location, because that could be anywhere. No – the place itself – the beach. At first I mention the sun, but Faye says, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.’ Even though it is bright, and hot, Faye is right. It doesn't burn, it washes over my skin like a warm bath gently kissing me. We smile at each other again. ‘Here’ she says, and two hammocks appear. We lie down, our faces turned to the sun, the hammocks gently swaying back and fro. I have a zillion questions to ask – where, what, how is she with me at this time – but they fall away. It’s not important. Not relevant. Instead, we let silence cocoon us, wrap us up and rock us gently back and forth in perfect harmony. I notice for the first time water gently lapping the ground beneath us. Soon it rises higher and I am able to drag my fingers through the damp velvet like water. It’s not the sea, nor is it a lake, it’s merely a refreshing wash of calmness and serenity. Then it disappears again. ‘Sing me a song,’ says Faye. She hasn’t heard me sing for over a year and I know she was excited to think I was singing again. The choice is easy, ‘So Far Away.’ Her eyes are closed, her body swaying with the motion of the hammock, and even though the words often make me cry, today I understand when I sing, ‘You’re just time away.’ I have no idea how long we have been here, if I should turn over, if I am needed elsewhere. Anything. And I feel like it does not matter. Faye says, ‘Are you hungry?’ I’m not sure – but she doesn't wait for an answer. There’s a table I have not seen before and suddenly smells waft over and seduce us. ‘I ordered all your favourites,’ she says. I laugh when I see the banquet: KFC, liquorice blocks, orange sunny boys, lamingtons and as fast as I think she has missed something, Cherry-ripes, Choc Wedges and Kit-Kats appear. I am hungry, very hungry whereas I had never noticed before. We eat and laugh at each other, but there’s not much to say. Somewhere within me, I know that our time together is coming to an end, and I’m right. Soon the gentle sounds of our beach paradise disappear, and the darn alarm is blaring. Once awake, I recall my visit and the happiness stays with me. It wasn’t a dream, this I know for sure. Faye paid me a visit and I hope she makes it annual. |
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Jeremy
I have a friend, and he’s not a friend, he’s a best friend called, Toby. We’ve always dreamed about doing fun, but it never works. My parents say adventures are like bike rides, or walks up a hill but it’s not. An adventure is getting guns and going to jump off a loooong metre cliff. I was at home playing on my computer and Bill the postman came. He gave us three bills, one party invite and a package from Toby. It was a large one with a $5000 stamp. Well, he’s a dumb butt to not see that there. I opened it up and there was another invite. It was sealed in blood, “Come here.” I ran into the living room in shock. Arrr ekkk. ‘Hi,’ he said loudly. ‘Hahaha.’ I ran away in horror. ‘Mum, Dad, there’s a monster.’ No answer. Elliot, no answer. Toby ran in. ‘What is it? What?’ Toby said. ‘That.’ Oh no, oh no. The monster had green flesh and a spiky tail. I ran to the kitchen and got a knife. I ran back and before he got Toby, I stabbed him. Toby said, ‘Well that’s done. Well at least he’s gone.’ Oh I’m going to get the blame for this, look at the floor. My best friend adventure Molly Hewitt Grade 4 Wednesday Primary class My friend is coming over today. It’s so exciting because we are waiting to hear if we can play in the Australian Soccer team. ‘Is she here yet?’ I asked. My mum said, ‘Yes. She is coming up the footpath.’ Yah. We couldn’t stop talking about the soccer game. ‘It is going to be amazing,’ we both said in the car. As we were just about to get out, we agreed that it was so awesome that we were going to be playing in the soccer game. A nerve went down my back; I felt so excited to make Australia proud. Then we started walking up to the coach. She said, ‘Hey girls. What are you doing here?’ We said, ‘We are ready to play in the game.’ She said, ‘I’m so sorry, you are not playing because we have a full team already.’ We found our seats for the game and sat down for the game to start. The siren went off and we were trying to cheer our country on but it was hard to when we were mainly sad. As the siren for the first half went off, we thought we could go home and have a great night, but then the game started again so mum wanted to stay, so we had to. We got bored to death, so we looked at the scores. We were losing by two goals. It was sad. We were going to get something when two of the players got run over by the other team. Our coach quickly said, ‘Come on, can you play for us?’ We said, ‘Sure!’ As we got ready to go on to the wet soggy field, my heart was beating so fast I wanted to run away. |
Game Hacker
Eve Sally jumped through the portal into a 2D dimension. She was a 2D person. Everything was cubic or pixels. Sally was a spy. She needed to find Zain Spink. Sally ran and jumped, then did a front flip. Then she found herself flying. She searched for Zain. After a few minutes, she found a 2D maze. Tones of Ghosts were just flying around, more and more came in. What was this? She flew on. Time was of the essence. She was eying the grounds. Then, suddenly, she saw a person with a pickaxe. She went down and said, ‘What’s your name?’ A speech bubble popped up saying: Steev ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Zombie hunt!’ Steev replied. ‘And spider, moshroom and endemen hunt, also!’ ‘Yes, but where do you come from?’ ‘Vill… secret, can’t tell.’ It was no use sucking info out of this dodgey guy, so Sally flew on. The Gun Daniel With a thunk, he placed it down. He turned around, walked out, and closed the door. I look down. It’s a bulky black pistol. A Bassy 3000. It just sits there yet I feel like it’s taunting me. Mocking me. I step forward. My arm extends and my fingers grasp the gun. My palms are sweating, making it hard to hold the pistol. Much to my discomfort, it feels natural. Like it was meant to be. The fugitive in the corner whimpers. I raise the gun and a voice plays on the overhead PA. I was dreading this moment. My heart felt like it would spontaneously combust, ‘Executioner 357, please execute the prisoner.’ My heart sinks. Sweat pours furiously down my brow, blurring my vision. The message repeats, but this time the voice sounds impatient. I look at the fugitive in the corner - convicted for murder. I think, ‘He deserves to die.’ But I cannot bring myself to do it. I can’t take the life of a fellow human being. The message repeats once more. I realise how tired the voice sounds, like it hasn’t slept in days. The gun in my hand feels incredibly heavy. ‘Convicted for murder,’ I think. I take aim. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. The PA crackles on once more. ‘Executor 357 …’ I pull the trigger. Best friends Zara Grade 5 Thursday primary class Dawn ran through the thick trees, dodging boulders and leaping across streams. She could hear the angry mob behind her but she wasn’t going to let them get to her this time. Speeding up to a sprint, Dawn ran straight into the town so she could meet Fern, the only person who understood her condition. Fern was standing outside her large farm house waiting patiently for Dawn. Dawn tripled her speed when she saw Fern there. Fern was a girl with deep blue eyes, black boots and a long cloak. She opened the door quietly and Dawn leapt through, soaring through the door. Fern wasn’t far behind. The door closed just as an angry mob rushed past brandishing their torches and pitch forks. Fern turned around as Dawn turned back at Dawn. She was really tried and huffing and puffing. ‘Fern, you know that I can’t grow out of …’ Dawn, sensing eaves-droppers, turned around and snapped the curtains shut. Fern took her hand and lead her over to her horses. Fern jumped on Paris and Dawn on Misty. The girls let the horses have their heads. To be continued … THE HILL Haidee Sharpe Year 7 There it was. The big green hill. The Rumour was that there was magic on the other side. Treasure, a kingdom, something exhilarating. I was going to find out what. I inhaled the sweet air, and exhaled. I took a few steps up the hill and my feet already burned. It was too steep, but I had to keep going. I used all my strength to push forward. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. I stopped. I took a big breath and kept moving up. My feet killed, my shoulders were locked, and I felt like every muscle was going to disappear. But I ignored the pain, hoping it would go away. It only got worse though. I was half way. I can do this, I thought, even though it seemed nearly impossible. The sun was beaming down on me, burning my eyes. I felt as if I would collapse any second now. I decided to think about what as on the other side. Maybe there was a secret fairy town that went about their lives in peace and harmony. Maybe there was a treasure that a band of pirates hid. Jewels, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, gold coins, silver necklaces, or bronze goblets. The possibilities were endless. I could see the top of the hill! I was only a few metres away. My whole body ached, but I had reached the top. I was there! Finally! I looked down to see what awaited me. But I didn’t see anything. No magic. No kingdom. No treasure. I couldn’t believe that I thought it was true. It seems so fake now. I wonder why I didn’t just go around the hill? |