Front Cover: Hugh Pa13
Back Cover: Louis Pa10
Sometimes a place, sometimes a person, sometimes a feeling. Refuge takes many forms in our lives and often provides us with some much needed support. In the same way that refuge offers clarity and comfort, we have embraced simplicity in our design to reflect this theme. Carving away the distractions, we let the words speak for themselves - offering readers a space to pause, reflect, and find shelter in the rhythm of language. The white space, the clean lines, the gentle flow of text; together they provide a reading experience that offers as much solace as the pieces within.
We would like to offer our gratitude to all those who have contributed to this magazine, and especially to Ms Chalk and the house writing team whose hard work and support have been invaluable in the editing process.
I must also thank you, the reader, as it is in your mind that we instil our vision of shelter, sanctuary and refuge.
Through poetry, fiction, memoirs and more, our magazine invites you to seek, question, and explore what refuge means to you. Because sometimes, the simplest spaces - on the page, in our hearts, and in our minds - are where we find our most profound sense of refuge.
Nathaniel Thomey, Matt Holcroft, Hugh Podmore
Head Boys of Paterson House 2025
Name: Harnam
Form: Pa7
Title: A Small Boat
A small boat rocked gently in the moonlit sea, carrying six people who had fled their war-torn homes Among them, Amira, a young woman, stared into the distance, haunted by memories of the violence she had left behind Beside her, an elderly man whispered prayers, while a boy gripped his sister’s hand, his eyes wide with fear. The boat drifted in silence, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them. After a long while, the old man spoke quietly, “We are not lost. We are just waiting.”
As dawn broke, a ship appeared on the horizon, its shape growing larger with each passing moment. Hope stirred in their hearts, fragile but real They realized that the refuge they sought wasn’t just a place it was the quiet strength they found in each other as they endured together through the night
Name: Neel
Form: Pa11
Title: How to Seek Mental Refuge
This guide will enable you to overcome your feelings of anger, pain, stress or any type of suffering you are experiencing
Before creating your recipe, you must ensure that:
You acknowledge your emotions without actively judging them and allow yourself some rest. 1.
You have access to a safe space This could be somewhere like your bedroom or your garden 2
You take a break from any forms of overstimulation This includes social media/phones, video games and maybe even school or work related activities. 3
You begin to engage in relaxing activities such as reading or meditating 4
To make the recipe:
1) Add 500 ml of self awareness
2) Thoroughly mix in 35g of acceptance. This is the utmost central part of your drink. It will enrich the flavours, ensuring your taste buds are filled with absolute satisfaction
3) Afterwards, mix in 4 tablespoons of happiness.
4) Slowly start pouring in 50 ml of tranquility
5) Leave to rest for 5 minutes.
6) Finally, ENJOY!
This drink will guarantee that you find that sense of peace you have always dreamed of. However, be sure to not rely solely on the drink After all, true comfort can only come from within!
Name: Emerson
Form: Pa8
Title: Not Everyone Has a Home…
I saw on the road, an old shabby man, pleading for money as I strolled by, He was bearing just an old tin can, and I loomed there a while, wondering why,
Whatever had happened, why happen to him, he was someone’s baby ages ago. What was it that made his life so grim? There were lots of things I needed to know.
Nobody gets to choose where they are born. Nobody gets to choose how clever they’ll be, Therefore nobody has the right give scorn, A human’s deal from destiny.
Why does life have to be so unfair? Why can’t we form it for everyone, So that homeless beings, everywhere, Are able to have one place to call their own?
It’s strange how many things depend on luck And overwhelming if you think it through: What would it mean if we became unstuck? Just imagine if it happened to me, or to you?
Name: Alex
Form: Pa9
Title: Protection From The Storm
Name: Matt
Form: Pa13
Title: The Search for Refuge
In a place where shadows creep, Search for a light out in the deep, Why fight the weight of broken peace? Rather look for a place where echoes cease, Day-to-day we live in constant strife, Fighting ghosts, searching life, But the answers for this, May be lurking far out in the abyss.
The places we find tranquility, May be cloaked by our largest vulnerability, In silence we reprieve, But our hearts often deceive, Our refuge may be beyond sight, Hidden from day by the cruel of night, The calm we desire, we seldom find, Concealed away from our powerful mind,
The refuge we need may not appear, Not until we let go of our fear, For peace is not a thing to chase, But a virtue that we must embrace, When we learn to let go we can find grace, And refuge will be waiting for us in a quiet place
The man trudged through the knee-deep snow of the harsh wilderness. With only a bulky rucksack on his back and waterlogged boots on his feet, he brushed pine branches from his face in an attempt to eventually exit this dense forest His training had prepared him for worst case scenarios such as this but he had never dreamed that he might ever find himself in one, what had he been told in the army? Signal for help and stay warm until it gets there, but with no radio his only choice was a fire, almost impossible to start with no dry sticks or leaves. For now he made a shelter, a nearby rock with an overhanging section jutting out from the rest of the rock seemed the best place so he swung his rucksack off his shoulders and reached into it for a tarp which he would tie to the rock and peg into the ground. While searching through his rucksack he had an idea and although it was a risk, he could try to set fire to some bandages inside his first aid kit to get the fire large enough that it wouldn’t matter how wet the logs he put onto it were. As he pegged his tarp to the ground and started his fire, night approached and a storm began so he crawled under the tarp and opened a tin of beans which had been thawed by the fire As he lay under the hastily constructed shelter he savoured this brief moment of protection from the storm.
Title: The Refuge in the Woods
Jake had been going through these same woods for 2 days already He had rations for another 4 days but hopefully the trek would end in 3 He glanced at his compass and map Next was South-West He began to move in the direction South-West with the compass Wait.
He referenced his map against his compass and the tall mountain in the East He realised that he had been wandering the wrong direction for as much as the last hour or two He tried not to feel set back - the idea of finishing the journey in less than 4 days seemed to taunt his mind as it became less plausible Next was South-East.
He began walking South-East as his new referencing advised He began to trod slowly through the ankle deep mud
Left foot, right foot.
Left foot, right foot.
Left foot, right foo-
He slipped and planted into the mud, feeling like the floor had been swept before his feet He barely caught himself before his face kissed the mud Before he used the fading energy in his arms and knees to push himself up he caught just a moment to stare at the mud It was wet and cold, just like him
There was nobody to help him up
He continued moving as he gazed at the setting sun, turning the sky a deep red, then purple, then a lonely blue Before all light abandoned him, he checked that he was going the right direction before setting up his tent for the night He held up his compass and map in his muddy hands He referenced the towering mountain in the West?
Had he been going in the wrong way for this long?
He felt his breath become heavy and his throat constrict and the back of his mouth go cold with fear of what he had done wrong
He felt so, so lost.
A strong wind challenged his now shaking legs and then with a crack from the sky, it began to rain a pounding rain on him. He couldn’t see clearly enough in the mud to set up his tent properly.
It wasn’t dry enough to light a fire for him to cook any nutritional meal. He began to run quickly despite the risk of slipping through the mud. He tried to scream but it couldn’t be heard under the thunderous shower. He barely opened his eyes until he saw a dim light. It stood out in the cold black sky.
He ran to the light It was light through a window of a small lodge It meant he had somehow got closer to the town he was trekking to, but he was too far from anyone else and it was too late, so if the resident denied him entry, he might wash away with the rain
He began to whisper prayers.
He knocked The door opened after less than 3 seconds “P-please M-may I please come in? ” , he muttered hiding his shiver
There was a middle aged woman at the door She looked at his hopeless eyes and wet hair
She replied earnestly, “Come in of course, but I don’t have much food to offer ”
He was moved to tears, she surely had some gas and a stove so he could cook some of the canned food he had planned to cook with a campfire
Not everyone treks in the woods, but we all feel lost sometimes. Being a source of refuge for someone else is an amazing gift, which will always mean a lot to them, no matter how little your help is.
Name: Reuben
Form: Pa13
Title: Stormswept
Rain drove into Mack’s eyes, forcing him to squint as he forced his way through the furious onslaught of the storm Wind grappled with his clothing, ripping his cloak from his grip and flaring it behind him until he could wrestle it back under control. The rain soaked him in the instant he wasn’t protected anyway, rendering the cloak obsolete as Mack continued his way up the narrow track. Regardless, he clung to the cloak, pulling it tight around himself and praying for the storm to let up, just for a minute or two, just to let him catch his breath.
Raggedly drawing breath, Mack shambled onward, slipping and stumbling along, thrown backwards by a particularly strong gust, then falling forwards as soon as he had adjusted only for the wind lull for a moment and removing the resistance he was becoming accustomed to Eventually, Mack passed a stout tree, its limbs whipping wildly, and took a lethal looking rocky path down the hill, clinging to rain-slick boulders in a desperate attempt to keep moving
Falling more than walking, clambering more than climbing, Mack finally got low enough below the swell of the hill to gain cover and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the wind dropped Rain fell less like hail and became a simple heavy downpour as he dropped into a forest of old oaks. The rock underfoot became matted leaves, bark and sprung back when stepped on Still heavy droplets of water fell on Mack’s head but he could walk upright now, walking with a steady, if weary, pace. No longer bound to clutching his cloak about himself, Mack’s cloak billowed gently as he made his way down a trail bordered by the wild growth of the forest floor and canopied by the great oaks of the forest. In fairer weather, these oaks would create a shifting dapple of sunlight and shade, gently tinting the forest with the green of their leaves In the dingy light of the storm, the trees above served only to darken the path further.
Brushing past a fallen branch that lay across the path, Mack’s ears picked out the rushing burble of a brook, emboldened by the rain and pronouncing itself louder than ever Reaching the stream, Mack’s trail joined an established track that journeyed alongside the little river, joined by a chasm in the canopy that lit the passage of the stream as Mack joined the water’s journey.
The path winded as Mack’s footsteps began tapping the track as it transitioned from compacted woody detritus into a cobbled slate road and the trees pushed back, opening the road and allowing Mack to see a small collection of houses nestled in the clearing Beyond, open fields boarded by low slate walls could barely be seen through the heavy rain but Mack had eyes only for the thin column of smoke bleeding from the chimney of the nearest house
The promise of warmth, of drying out and of a hot meal drew him forwards as the door burst open and a child of no more than six rushed out and attached themselves to his leg, provoking a chuckle from Mack as he looked up to see his wife who stood in the doorway, a relieved smile shining on the face of his wife
“I’m home.”
Name: Ben
Form: Pa9
Title: Refuge
Refuge
For some, a shelter that is huge. For others a person
Without your refuge your troubles will worsen
Everyone has a refuge
For some, it could be playing with a ball For others, a parent who stands tall, Defending them from their trouble, Or at least stopping it from becoming double.
Your worries may make you fear, But within your refuge they will clear. Everyone’s refuge varies, but it saves them from their adversaries. Your room, your home, your class, libraries
In conclusion with no delusion, Refuge has a simple name, In peoples minds and in these rhymes, Meaning the opposite, but also the same
Refuge
Name: Seb
Form: Pa12
Title: The Depths
The light shimmered across the pond, And the golden light painted a Cerulean canvas with clouds
Amongst the sounds of the forest
The smell of pancakes with syrup
And grandma’s vintage old perfume
Filling the air and then my lungs
The sweet, safe, sensation of home.
Fishing with dad, baking with mum, My sister’s favourite music
And my best friend's old smelly dog
The sweet, safe, sensation of home
But then my best friend’s laugh quieted And flickers and echoes flooded the air And when all the flashes and noise subsided I was chained to my bed, no longer there.
The gold was gone, replaced with white, And the warmth and comfort I grasped evaded Surrounded by walls, all padded, no one in sight As the hope within me washed and faded
So I retreat into the depths of my mind
Let the walls crumble, swept away
To a place no one has been or can find
As I reach out for my refuge, leaving the grey
The light shimmered across the pond, And the golden light painted a Cerulean canvas with clouds
Amongst the sounds of the forest.
Name: Shyam
Form: Pa11
Title: What is Refuge?
How many refugees are out there? Thousands? Millions? Ten of Millions? No, sadly out there, there are nearly 48 3 million refugees keep in mind these are the reported ones Imagine how many people are out there stuck in a foreign country, unable to communicate with those around them, unable to seek help It sounds almost like a nightmare doesn’t it? What can you do to help? Lots of people think that refugees are only a caused by war but that’s not it, there are many scenarios such as natural disasters, religious conflicts and many more issues that can arise But that’s all beside the point, to help out these refugees you can make a donation (Red Cross), foster a child in need, participate in events, host a refugee for a small amount of time or engage in community sponsorship There has always been a negative stigma around refugees, they often face racism and societal rejection, barriers to accessing basic healthcare, bad working conditions and occasionally even get extorted But why? Some people believe that the introduction of refugees can bring a cultural identiy threat to the area in which they reside This isn’t true, often refugees don’t influence but rather adapt to the culture of these areas. Sadly this misconception results in the aforementioned issues, and refuge continues to seem unattainable for many people
Name: Mykolas
Form: Pa8
Title: Refuge For Me
Refuge can be seen in various ways, From the clouds to a great field of daisies, It’s there to help you in your darkest days, It can be any of your desires
God’s words can save you from your greatest pains, His guidance unlocks your big, happy face, His strength will make you break the iron chains, That hold your soul and keep it in that place
The protection from danger or distress, Religion or a god that makes you safe, Or a place where you can truly express, Who you really are and what you do best
My home is really where I want to be, Because that is what refuge is to me.
Name: Ire
Form: Pa7
Title: Homesick at War
Out I went into crossfire
The situation was described, dire The tarmac toiled at my feet
Trucking across while It rained with heat
Guns blazing my ears shattered
I felt as if nothing mattered
The blood mist of the dead
Soon i would wake in my bed
The sun would smile as i yawn
I would be able to rest by dawn
My head filled with my child’s laugh
I heard my wife cry from a mile and a half
No crash no bang no boom
No bullets would zoom
Name: Luca
Form: Pa13
Title: The Echo Refuge
Elias stood in the elevator, starting his new job at Libertas Solutions. Looking around, the office was sterile yet familiar, with the fluorescent lights humming steadily, unwavering The lifeless white walls stretched endlessly around him as his legs carried him to his desk a clean slate without a single mark, much like his own mind, wiped of any memories it may have contained
Sitting there, he tried to retrace the steps that had brought him here, however, his mind was a locked room, the key in the possession of his previous self Still, there’s a strange comfort in performing his tasks. So unfamiliar, yet coming so easily to him. Across from him, Selene watched him with quiet recognition
“It’s good to see you again”, she says It isn’t a greeting, it’s an echo
Wandering through the hallways, the deja vu deepens. A keypad code flowed from his fingers before he even realised he had made his way into the lounge A place giving the illusion of comfort, with muted paintings of the outside world on the walls suggesting an escape that wasn’t real, and a coffee machine that dispensed the same lifeless brew every time
Searching through the cabinets, he finds a faded document, titled ‘Echo Protocol’. The minds of those who once worked here imprinted onto new hires The walls were repainted regularly, however when you looked closely, old words still whispered through.
I tried to leave So did you
Name: Matthew
Form: Pa9
Title: London Bombings News Report
Reporter: Hello and welcome, we bring you sorrowing news of the London bombings, so far 1600 have died and over 20,000 are injured. Over to Carol who’s in London now…
Field reporter: It’s been a tough week for London and the UK, bombings commenced on the third of april and still, after six days, the bombers’ identities are still unknown. After the bombings commenced people sought refuge in London underground tunnels These tunnels were used in WW2 and are being used now over 100 years later. They sit around 25 meters underground and make a good refuge for citizens of London Occasionally a bomb will go off overhead and the tunnel will shake vigorously but it subsides after a few seconds. So far no London Underground tunnels have fallen in on themselves but the Elizabeth line has suffered most in these terrib-
Reporter: We’re going to have to cut you short there, thanks Carol. In other news, cats! Did you know
Name: Ayushman
Form: Pa7
Title: My Escape Blog
Date: 13/9/2021
Time: 9:01
Location: Unknown
This is a place of war. My family is in bits. Children, women and men all separated. We are being taken to ‘a safe haven’. Sure mate, 200%. It is truly terrifying, waking up to the violence of our home, gunshots in the atmosphere. Nobody knows how this all started, just political parties forcibly taking over from the king. Something to do with blocking trade, people rioting and now, this. We would be allocated times to move from bunker to bunker, less and less people every time we got across. I overheard them saying something about ‘the trapped border’. While there are multiple parties fighting for the crown, very few are protecting their own people, though I sometimes wonder where the people from the parties that do not protect their people are located. Safe? Maybe. Lying to be in the protecting parties? Possibly. Dead? Yes, that’s likely. Speaking of death, where are my parents? I am an only child and I have not seen my father in a long time. Speaking of time however, we are almost a year into war, with no foreseeable ending nearing us. Speaking of war, there have not been many bombings where we have stayed. I believe our party have moved the children ahead of bombing schedules, keeping us two steps ahead at all times. I can’t remember my mums face. One day we will return to whatever is left of my home and hail our king.
Name: Henry
Form: Pa7
Title: The Mountain Refuge
The winter wind whistled through the trees as snow fell down leaving a white blanket The cabin is warm and cosy like the sun and a perfect refuge from the harsh, mountain elements. Outside the refuge, a snowman sits, battered by the hail and sleet, no smile on his face The fire inside crackled I gradually warmed from the mountain’s wicked weather, it was much better than the cold, dark cave in which I took shelter the previous night, which had a roof littered with icicles pointing down like sharp daggers I gaze from within my mountain refuge, at the frozen lake which shimmers like a star in the night sky.
Name: Sid
Form: Pa8
Title: Flight of the Bumblebee
The Bumblebee chooses flight rather than fight, not that he could fight in any way. Callous wasps surround the hive, armed with sharp poison-tipped arrows, taunting the bees. The Bumblebee is panicking, the hive is under attack! He knows that he should fight for the Queen but is it really worth his own life? On his quick journey back to his honeycomb-home, the Bumblebee sees his fellow workers rushing into battle, their glistening, chrome wings oscillating rapidly One warrior glares at the Bumblebee, almost as if he’s judging him Finally he reaches the entrance of the hive The Bumblebee hesitates He is just one step away -or rather flight- from his happy safe-place but he looks back, a wasp falling with five stingers pierced into their thorax and five bees falling alongside them, a bee’s body carried by his two comrades, their wings brutally ripped and one small bee, who was forced into battle, trying to run away but the ravenous battle-machine quickly comes upon him but two bodies hit the ground The Bumblebee steps into the empty hive
He goes on about his normal day, sauntering into the nectar chamber which is usually filled with all of the other workers. He blocks out the sounds of war outside the hive; He isn’t there anymore. The bumblebee’s arms and legs are powdered with pollen as he stabs his proboscis into the viscous liquid, stealing some for himself, and processes it to make the honey. Walking back the Bumblebee secretes the sweetness into the honeycomb. He just hopes nothing bad will happen.
Suddenly the Bumblebee stumbles A parade of soldiers don’t parade into the hive The bees won the battle but they aren’t triumphant The sun shines through but there is no light The wasps are dead but there is still a stinging pain This was no victory The bumblebee runs towards the crowd acting like he fought in the battle, limping as though he were in agonizing pain The war was won at a huge cost The Queen is brought in a large chariot by marching soldiers in numerous ranks who also fought in such terrible quakes She shortly announces her condolences and is marched back to her chambers
The Bumblebee feels a sudden burst of guilt that penetrates his heart Maybe he shouldn’t’ve flown away back to the hive I mean if he died he would’ve had at least some dignity left There aren’t enough workers and no defense and those wasps will be back The hive is doomed Now he probably should’ve- no, certainly should’ve gone to the war. It’s not like the Queen can produce enough and even if she did the larvae couldn't be sustained. Maybe he spent so much time in the hive he depends on being there and not anywhere else. I guess the Bumblebee’s comfort zone is now the danger zone. Well that doesn’t stop the daily grind.
And so the Bumblebee ambles to the nectar chamber, the nectar level barely off the ground and a sort of red pigment diffuses across He walks back to the honeycomb His proboscis vacuuming up the nectar, the Bumblebee hears an ominous buzzing of foreign wings outside the hive but the Bumblebee remains undeterred, safe in his robust fortress He processes and completes the mission of filling his honey combs The wasps invade the territory but the bees are defenseless The Bumblebee decides to work more Again he walks to the nectar chamber, now littered with bee bodies He sucks up the remaining yellow nectar -which was more like sanguinered- and walks back A wasp swoops down and tears his chrome wings off and feeds on them but it isn’t enough to satisfy the hunger The Bumblebee drinks some honey for himself A bee tries to save the Bumblebee but gets crushed by the wasps The hive starts to rumble and the honey leaves a brackish taste in his mouth
The hive falls down and instantly collapses The Bumblebee chose flight but could not fly anymore At least he would forever be in his refuge…
Name: Arvin
Form: Pa8
Title: Deep-level Shelters in the Blitz
Shrouded in a dark lair deep underground, Seeking refuge from the dangerous skies, Vast colonies in the Tube cluster round, Whenever they hear the siren’s cry.
Obscured in twilight; foul and rank, Starvation is widespread; most have not ate, Fleeing jeopardy - spirits have not sank, So they bide calmly for their final fate,
Ear-splitting explosions ring in their ears, The bloodbath above churns with fallen men, But people below can only shed tears, And write accounts of the war in pen,
O, how London will never be the same, Until the German Beasts learn to be tame.
Name: Lukas
Form: Pa9
Title: What’s Your Refuge?
Name: Seb
Form: Pa12
Title: Phoenix
And then the fire writhed and slithered down below And the blotted, black hue of embers rose above the ashes, and defiantly painted an eclipsed sky Enraged, the tendrils flayed and clawed; they hungered and consumed a blazing path -akin to a feeding devilenveloping like veins that encompass the soul, melting it down to its purest form; an unnerving reflection of self
And as the fire died, so too did the self that drowned, in the harrowing depths of the frightened flame Refuge that may have once remained was now swept away, like a cruel summer’s breeze.
But from the ashes, embers, and emboldened flame rose again, a phoenix, born anew; free from the chains and refuge that had once dared to extinguish it.
Reassurance, peace and safety, this is what refuge could mean Escape or shelter, anywhere your refuge can be!
From having a moment of calm to sheltering from the rain
Under a tree or anywhere away from the pain
Greater than anything at all, is a safe place for me and for you
Each so important to us I ask you; what’s your refuge?
Name: Rishab
Form: Pa9
Title: Struggle for Survival
Years ago, creatures had come from what seemed like nowhere Vast amounts swarmed them from the sky as soon as the clock struck midnight, and didn’t leave until the sun rose the next day The creatures’ talons were like knives and teeth as sharp as razors Their wings stretched wide, drawing curtains on the midnight sky. The creature's feathers were like a starless abyss. Approximately 90% of the human population was wiped out in just one night
The remaining survivors, although shocked by the sudden event, quickly got to work on building a sanctuary It took years of hard work, with the cooperation of what was left of the human race. They built it in the day, hid underground during the night. Eventually, the shelter was completed, and humans were safe in their refuge They had built a dome encompassing enough land for many people to live within. The refuge had running water, and acres upon acres of farmland. Humans had won the battle for survival - for now.
Name: Matt
Form: Pa13
Title:
Name: Evan
Form: Pa8
Title: The Boom Bunker
Name: Arun
Form: Pa9
Title: Haven & Co - RefugeBot Units Now on Sale!
New offers are now out at Haven & Co! Our units of refuge are now buy one and get another 50% off! You could treat yourself, or give it to someone else as a present! Just pop into one of our outlets around the UK and pop out with the refuge bot!
We have three ranges - Physical - £5, Emotional - £5, and the Combined package - £10 Open up and follow the instructions in the manual. Our HaveBot 4 would boot up once instructions are followed. It will take a quick quiz and direct you to your destination. Depending on your choice of package, this may be a place, a person, or a hobby If you can’t or don’t want to follow that choice, you have two extra rerolls to find your refuge Our tour packages are well-rated amongst all customers, with a 4 8-star review average on Trustpilot Don’t believe what we say, check one yourself!
Joseph
- ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Best refuge provider in the country!
Bought the physical package. I was struggling to find a place away from work stress, but I found these guys walking back home, and they changed my life Their bot directed me to a cricket club, and ever since then, it has been my haven The community, the game, it all suits me Would recommend both the product and the game it showed me!
So, we hope you have a nice day, and remember “Everyone needs a safe Haven & Co ”
Form: Pa9
Title: Refuge Under the Oak Tree
In a tranquil forest, beneath an ancient oak tree lived a small rabbit named Lilo. She lived in a cosy burrow in the dirt with the great tree above One stormy night, as thunder rumbled and rain poured outside, Lilo trembled in her home, feeling the ground shake and thunder crack. The wind howled, and the branches creaked menacingly. Suddenly, she heard a knock at her door “Please, may I come in?” pleaded a young sparrow, his feathers soaked and dripping with rainwater. Lilo hesitated for a moment as she had always been wary around strangers, but the sight of the trembling bird tugged at her heart “Of course,” she said, allowing the bird to enter The sparrow fluffed his feathers, grateful for the warmth As the storm raged on, they shared stories of their lives, laughter mingling with the sound of rain and soon enough, the two creatures were best of friends, Lilo learned of the sparrow’s long journey of migration, seeking a warm place for the winter. When dawn broke, the storm had passed, leaving the forest glistening with fresh dew The sparrow, now dry and cheerful, thanked Lilo for her kindness. “Thank you so much, Lilo”, he said “Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home and having me with such great hospitality.” As he took off, Lilo realized that sometimes, opening one’s heart to another can create a refuge greater than any burrow. She realised that refuge is not just in a place, but in each other.
Name: Daniel Form: Pa11
Title: It’s Too Loud
“It’s too loud,” I think
A driver has just revved his car loudly down the busy road so that everyone nearby must know of his presence. “How entitled,” I think.
It’s too loud,” I think.
A mother and her two children walk towards me on the other side of the pavement Except, the children are barely walking, more so galloping and galavanting around the street, stomping and screeching like it’s their personal parlour. “How entitled,” I think.
“It’s too. Damn. Loud,” I struggle to think over the rattle and clatter of two lorries passing. With mere inches between my side and theirs, the wind feels abrasive to my skin Then another car passes by, all windows down, blasting dance music loudly from the radio. I feel the instrumental reverberating in my core. “How intrusive,” I still struggle to think.
“That’s not too loud,” I think.
I put my headphones on I’ve had enough The noise cancellation blocks out the outside world in totality. The refuge Spotify provides me is unmatched and unwavering to whatever the general public feels like hurling at me daily “How peaceful,” I think without bother
Name: Zachariah
Form: Pa10
Title: Sanctuary
A quiet shore where waves retreat, A whispering grove where hearts can beat, A house of stone, a lamp’s warm glow, A place where weary souls can go. The world may roar with cruel winds, With voices sharp and shadows thin, Yet here within these walls of peace, The storm outside will find its cease. Refuge is not just wood and stone, Nor distant lands to call our own, It’s hands that hold, a voice that stays, A love that does not turn away It’s found in books, in songs, in dreams, In laughter bright, in silent streams, It’s found in those who stand so near, Who offer light, who calm the fear. So when you find your heart in flight, Chased by echoes of the night, May you remember, soft and true, That refuge waits inside of you.
Name: Jack
Form: Pa11
Title: God Was Never on Our Side
The favoured of Athena put their faith in a wooden wall, The invaders draw near, spurned by Persian anger and greed,
All take refuge in her temple. The Gods were never on their side
Of prayers and hope, by sword and fire, they will be freed.
The Cathars take refuge in the walls of Montségur, The gates and their faith the Catholics can’t break; Yet they are doomed God was never on their side Still the pious die willingly, burnt at the stake.
Kosovans against Kosovans, led by blind vengeance, Desecrate tombs, monasteries, churches most holy No refuge will be found. God was never on their side. His face is hidden, and all unseen, is the fate of the lowly
God was never on your side, He lets us alone decide. If He is wise, why is He still? Why is he silent, deaf and blind?
God was never on our side, yet in him we all abide By the almighty, so-called all-loving, have we been declined?
Name: Taman Form: Pa9
Title: An Empty Clearing
You're in an empty clearing in the middle of a forest, with no animals, in your sight, or so it would seem However if you look for longer you may see a small hedgehog curled up in a ball camouflaged against a log.
If you turned your head up you would see the some robins tweeting in the branches high in a tree, Maybe you’d even see the curious owl enshrouded in the fog.
Maybe you could notice the red squirrel having a rest Look closer and perhaps you would notice the fox in his foxhole, the moles, the groundhogs and the rabbits in their burrows.
Look closer still, and perhaps you would notice the ants hidden in the crevices of the ground and the wasps in their nest. Look closer still, and perhaps you would notice the hungry bear turning toward you, you should probably hide or duck down low.
Name: Louis
Form: Pa10
Title: Over the Brambled Wall
A rustling, a dashing, quick sound. An intermittent snapping of twigs and shallow breaths, indicative of somebody running Running fast, frantically, unsure of direction and without intention A frantic sprint, one of somebody stripped of pride and confidence, who had dropped his shield to harsh realities in hubris Now left without a guide and desperately searching for refuge from the consequences of their self-assurance The boy falls, the thorns of his decisions, they hold him by his wounded feet, strangling, compressing, suffocating. He claws at the brush, for he knows the clear lake of their desires is in view, a shining spectre just beyond the old cobbled wall, sat cast against the shining light of a new dawn, yet under the shadow of the bramble-thorn draped mountain. It is so close, and the boy uses his remaining might to grasp the wall, and to pull himself over the edge of the ridge, for he must join the refuge of the lake, the safety under the mountain shadow. And yet, he hesitates, and feels a warm light, shining upon his back. He looks over his shoulder, with each shaky breath softening his thorns to ribbon Shining ribbons, splayed across the forest floor, reeled in by a silhouette in the path of a different sun, a different light, one not defined by life in the shadow of past mistakes The ribbons, as if freshwater streams in a field of daisies and daffodils, lead up to the figure. Softly, she paces, with each step the ribbons twirl and flow through the newly freshened air, up to above her waist She outstretches her hand, from which more ribbons pour The boy had made his decision He sees now what he must do, he understands the gravity of this choice
He chooses to grasp the ribbons, and they embrace him, and his presence The girl smiles at him, and they both look to the growing intertwining mass of such soft ribbons, forming above the girl's waist.
And they look to the ribbons and embrace each other, for a white rose has blossomed from the ribbons. They laugh in joy and walk into the adjacent field, and momentarily, the boy looks back at the men by the lake
And he sees how every man, without fail, has a bramble tied around his ankle.
Author’s interpretation available in the appendicies.
Refuge, so many want it, but can't grasp it,
Name: Charlie
Form: Pa10
Title: Refuge
Entire nations hoping, wanting peace
Fighting, violence to get what you want; don’t quit
Uniting together, escaping the nightmare,
Gritting your teeth, staying strong in trouble
Escaping the sirens, hear there, everywhere
Joey Form: Pa7
Title: Refuge
A halcyon haven of serene tranquility, an undisturbed hideout where you can be untroubled and have no distress Whether it be in a nostalgic treehouse teeming with evocative memories or a little cabin in a dangerous, gigantic forest where the trees are towering and ancient, their leaves rustling in the cold wind Whether it be a secluded seaside with the sound of gentle waves drifting on the shore or a cozy stone cottage nestled in the hills, surrounded by fields of wildflowers that sway in the breeze
Name: Henry
Form: Pa13
Title: Economic Refuge Within Marriage
Some people find refuge in financial freedom, and others find refuge in safety Many feel safe with people they love and seek refuge via marriage. However, is marriage an economically worthwhile decision, and can it achieve financial freedom?
When proposing, an engagement ring can set you back quite a bit, and the wedding day could be very costly depending on how big of a celebration it is. However, as a married couple, you make financial decisions together, which can encourage saving and reduce the amount of needless financial decisions made. Some economists also view marriage as a market, but why?
A market is defined as where buyers and sellers meet, so it must contain supply and demand. Marriage has supply and demand, as women and men exist, and people are looking to get married, so that is the demand. After World War 2, the population of men decreased, which meant that more men were able to get with women who were out of their league due to the lower supply Economies of scale also apply to marriage, as when you’re married you can share things like cars, fridges, ovens and a house, which will be reduced in cost compared to the combined costs of both living in different houses by yourselves Married men also earn higher incomes than unmarried men, possibly because of them being more motivated to be productive or because employers find them more trustworthy However, this is the opposite with unmarried women Married couples also benefit from less tax, and wives can be used to lower the income tax their husband pays. In conclusion, marriage has some short-term costs, but in the long run marriage could be economically beneficial
Owing to these factors, financial stability (which has been so desperately sought after recently) may be found within marriage, offering a sense of economic refuge to those that decide to marry.
Name: Nathaniel Form: Pa13
Title: La Cara en el Agua
En medio de la vasta extensión del desierto, donde el tiempo bailaba con las arenas movedizas, un viajero solitario caminaba cansado. Con cada paso, los recuerdos susurraban al viento, cuentos de sueños olvidados y viajes pasados. En el abrazo de la penumbra, descubrió un oasis, sus aguas brillando como plata líquida Este podría ser su refugio, su seguridad. Se tambaleó hacia él, sus labios crujientes y marchitos rogando por el reabastecimiento Mientras bebía, le ofreció un respiro desesperado de la sed implacable que le arañaba la garganta. Mientras el agua fluía a través de él, una extraña sensación tocó los bordes de su mente. El agua parecía casi demasiado perfecta, demasiado refrescante Su pulso se aceleró Cerró los ojos con dolor, agarrando su pecho y temblando Echó otra mirada al agua solo para descubrir que el reflejo que lo miraba hacia atrás no era suyo.
Translation available in the appendices
Name: Edward
Form: Pa11
Title: Safety in the Sand
My feet were burning on the hot sand, the relentless golden orb still burning in the sky as though it would never set The sweat was barely on my skin before it subdued to the scalding sun My bottle was as dry as the desert that surrounded me, for eternity on all sides; trapping me. For days I had been trudging through the never ending sand: my eyes burning from the sun reflecting off the yellow blanket stretching across my world. My legs stuttered. I fell - my body collapsing - throwing my face into the white-hot sand. My lungs breathed in, the tiny blades slicing their way through my lungs as if they were tissue paper
And then I saw it. On the horizon, a green haven with tall, lush, green trees, shrubs, bushes, greener than anything I have seen before, and the centre of the frame; a big pool - deep blue water summoning me to drink from its crystal-clear, cool, calming depths. It called out to me, like an angel from heaven. I got back up, willing my feet to move forwards, and forwards again, my head throbbing,heart pounding, lungs burning with the sand that they sucked in, the pain spreading through my body like a wildfire through a forest in the peak of summer, and then I looked up.
The trees, still lush and green, were no closer, the calming pool, still as unachievable, and the shrubs still as distant, but still as green, still as hopeful as when I first saw them
My legs gave way, my body fell - all hope gone, as the mirage of refuge slowly disappeared before my eyes; until all I could see all around was the hot sand that I was sure had consumed the whole world.
Name: Anishan
Form: Pa12
Title: Banned From Existence
I was never supposed to exist.
Once, I had a name A place in the system A life But names mean nothing when the government decides you are an inconvenience. When your thoughts are radical. When your voice is too loud. The day I was erased, the sky was empty just a blank stretch of surveillance drones humming softly above the city. Firstly, my ID stopped working. The gate at the subway refused to open, flashing an error code that caused a deep sense of fear to latch itself in the back of my mind:
GHOST PROTOCOL ACTIVE At work, the automatic steel doors kept me locked out My bank account had been depleted, the numbers reduced to $0.
I tried to call my brother. Disconnected. The locks for my house changed into cold unrecognisable alloy My apartment was listed under a new name The city’s cameras scanned me, but I registered as nothing A ghost in a world of steel and circuits
They came for me at dawn Not with sirens or guns those were relics of the past No, my execution was far quieter like the swift tap of a keyboard. A silent flicker of my existence vanished from every database, every registry, every record that proved I had ever lived I had heard whispers of others like me, rebels, dissidents, or simply the unlucky, but I never thought it would be me
Now, I live in the shadows, among an underground network of others who no longer exist We move through the cracks of the city, surviving on scraps and stolen supplies. The network is vast providing safe haven to an ever growing number of those who were forgotten, the deleted, the banned But we are still human, no matter what the system says.
And we will not go quietly
I am leaving this record behind despite the likelihood that it will also be erased but maybe someone will read it before it disappears. Maybe someone will remember that I was here. That we were here. That we matt3r3d Th4t w3 3x1sted
Ev3n 1n th3 ag3 0f s1lence, w3 w1ll f1nd a w4y t0 b3 h34rd...
ERROR CODE: GHOST PROTOCOL ACTIVE
Name: Luke
Form: Year 11
Title: The Ballad of ol’ Mr Bohun*
* [Imagine this being read in the voice of Joe Strummer (or Shane McGowan, hence the title) for the best result ] [any references / allusions to real life people or places are 100% on purpose ]
About 5 days ago, I was hiking up to O when I tripped badly and messed up my foot. I spent a while hobbling around, thinking I was gonna die in this awful weather until I stumbled upon a cabin It was a small, very picturesque thing (like a fairytale) with this painting of a swan on the door The kind man inside (Mr Bohun was his name, he never told me his first name) agreed to give me his house as a place of refuge while my screwed up foot healed He is truly a very kind man for all that he has done for me, but he is a bit overbearing, I’ll tell you He keeps talking about all the effort he’s putting in to healing my foot, But don’t these things heal naturally?
And all he does is give me essential oils and then show some random old graph with no source to ‘prove’ that they work He knows I won’t question it I guess He also keeps saying that I need to help run errands for him, but what am I supposed to do with a broken foot? He says if I walk around and put pressure on it it’ll help it heal. I’ll tell ya he should just leave me alone he should. It’s not like my foot will be broken that long, then I can get on with myself as an independent man. I’ll tell you he has no need to be so self important. I guess he does sort of live in a bubble. He’s like a peacock, actually no, he’s way too boring to be a peacock… he’s more like a swan; a dying swan, since he’s so old. A cold, dead swan. He’s got this long neck too, also like a swan He’s almost obsessive of me, possessive of me and a bit pessimistic Like a swan Like a lover, a toxic lover Not that I’m in love with him, that’d be weird, and he’s old as hell; I’m not sure where that simile came from
Anyway, he’s also always smiling despite the pessimism but hey, I guess that’s just ‘The English Way ’ I sound so mean well I guess I am being a bit mean, he has done good for me of course I don’t like to think I’m being ungrateful, I more think of myself as optimistic I don’t want to seem like an ungrateful, sad, old killjoy, but would it not be wrong for me to force myself to like someone I just do not like? And me and him we just don’t don’t get along, that’s all there is to it I’m happy here though Not that it matters, I can’t go anywhere else can I? Not with this foot I’ve raised hell on earth to get to O , and I’m not letting anything get in my way, and If I need his help so be it! He seems happy too, despite the aforementioned pessimism. There’s a certain charm in hearing this old geezer humming Galway Bay like it’s still the 1940s. He’s got old vinyls from the Beatles, Billy Joel, Bing Crosby, Bobby Darin, Bob Dylan and Buddy Holly; and that’s only the B’s! “I used to be young too!” He says, I almost believe him
It’s kinda nice to be trapped in refuge and not have the usual responsibilities It truly is a misanthropist’s heaven out here, and considering what Sartre said (Look it up) I really am starting to love it; and yet, at the said, isn’t being forcibly stuck in a room with someone you don’t know is just the plot of No Exit
Sorry I’m going on, I don’t mean to isolate you (the reader) with my pretentious references I don’t mean to be a poet - Not anymore at least
Sorry If I seem to change subject a lot for this next part, but I promise it’s quite the opposite See, this stumbling old man is really an example of an idea I want to give to you
See, Ol’ Bohun is living the dream. ‘The’ dream? Well ‘A’ dream at least. And I think, maybe this man is just living a much more realistic version of the American dream. While the American dream (Which is really the USA’s dream, I wouldn’t want to drag the rest of America into it, like how I am specifically not calling it the British dream) is really about an uncompromising focus on keeping the world as your own Using power to build freedom, and this sort of uncompromising, consuming, corrupting, flashy, peacock-like power This is slightly different He has nothing to command but no-one to command anything of him See, as we all know, “With great power comes great responsibility,” so what ol’ Bohun has, in this place of refuge from the horrors of other people, is the pleasure without much power or freedom or responsibility He is happy, without some snarky ‘Sword of Damocles’ or whatever to ruin it He’s happy without being free
Like a bird in a gilded cage Like a swan in a coronal collar and a gilded leash
Name: Nithik
Form: Pa8
Title: The Café
The rain was moulding the windows, it was a puissant force that would drown the earth in transparent blades. For Arin, the conjuring tempest on the other side was dust to what was inside her Her feet were aching, each breath felt like a dagger varying in size No buildings in sight, The cold would bite–until she saw a flickering neon light. It was cosy, cushioned by the silhouettes of towering buildings Golden lights seeped through the entrance. A golden contrast to the piercing cold. With dubious leaps, she pushed it open, only to be greeted with the sound of posh chimes
As she entered, the cold faded away, leaving behind the aroma of cinnamon and roasted coffee, wrapping her like a blanket. A pudgy man, looked her up and down, his eyes giving a look of disapproval, but words of approval uttered “Rough nigh’?” Arin liked to shake her head, but the cold was paralyzing her, then a gust of warm golden air thawed her She was able to listen to a song of vibrant conversations with clinking cups as a beat Seconds later, her time was interrupted with a steaming cup of hot cocoa
The man let out an affectionate grin and supposed an offer, “On the house?” Arin couldn’t even see man as her glasses steamed up The air, purged with chocolate ascended up her nose and she thought, It wasn’t much… a café, a cup of cocoa, the generosity of a stranger. But still, in that moment it was everything, the calm of the storm, a pause of the storm
Maybe she had found her refuge
Name: Seth
Form: Pa10
Title: The Lantern’s Glow
Rain lashed against the battered roof of the cottage as shadows danced wildly on the stone walls inside. Asha huddled close to the lantern’s warm, flickering glow, her fingers trembling as she held a crumpled photograph It was of her hometown a village now lost to the storm of war She closed her eyes, summoning memories of laughter and the scent of jasmine fields
The knock came late that night. She hesitated, her heartbeat thunderous. Slowly, she opened the door to reveal a figure soaked and shivering a young boy, no older than ten His eyes carried the weight of silence, a language she recognized all too well. Without a word, she ushered him inside. Over the weeks, they formed an unspoken pact Asha taught the boy how to tend the small garden while he patched holes in the cottage roof. They had few words, but they didn’t need many. Each shared a simple truth: their refuge was fragile, yet fiercely protected. One night, as the boy lit the lantern, Asha noticed his hands had stopped trembling He glanced at her and smiled an unpolished gem of hope amidst the rubble of their lives. For the first time in years, she felt a thread of light weave through her heart
The storm outside still raged, but inside the walls of their makeshift haven, something stronger began to grow
Name: Keane
Form: Pa13
Title: Scandinavian Delight
A travelogue extract detailing a trip to Galdhøpiggen
I like to associate a fundamental concept, theory, notion to whichever place I take fancy in viewing, is what I think to myself when coming up with these titles It is to allure you the reader to come to me, head first raging in theological warfare on whether my subtitle elucidates your taste buds But why do I come back to Scandinavian Delight of all things?
Take my breakfast every morning during my trip, a slice of Kavring with Scandinavian Delight onlooking the beautiful sights of Scandinavia The tart, slightly tangy, simple jam was a lurid afterthought at the colossus that was in front of me - climbing the great heights of Galdhøpiggen Fringed in front of me was the great behemoth of a landscape; frigid ice seemed to endlessly expand and contract in plain view forming tactile tessellates gleaming in the winter sun Above the fiendish ice were scattered layers of a coagulated mixture of powder snow and firn which wrapped up the ice To contrast the desolate hyperborean landscape at the edge of the horizon was smeared grey where staring too long would detract from the beauty of the rest of it To summarise the hike up it was a mix of the surreal yet subliminal and pure earth-shattering reality.
Hikes are no easy feat mind you, cardio can prepare you physically but waiting and waiting for that final stop when you can bask at your senses is the true challenge. Upon arriving my legs were aching almost as if icicles had encroached my thighs. It was a physical burden and a pure euphoric relief as I reached up top. I stood up top and (forgive the cliché) basked at my surroundings.
To reveal something so dismally subpar.
No, not the landscape, the sights or in fact the experience The top of Galdhøpiggen felt like a triumphant chorus of a regal trumpet show I felt like a tiny king in the land of what supposedly were giants and the fanfare had crescendoed into a supreme blast of exhilaration Yet there was something lacking, something that made this supposed goliath of a trek worth it In your mind you feel narcissistic and stuck up but ultimately it is how feelings work
Perplexed and constantly reflecting, I made my way back down However, I was still bewildered that reaching the top had no impact emotionally to me We arrived back at home camp feeling exhausted and frankly glad it was over I felt slightly peckish so decided to snack on a bit more of some leftover scandinavian delight concoction from this morning
“Come, you have to see this!”
Bread in mouth I ran outside and was truly stunned In front of me was what I could only describe as being on the boundary of paranormality The sun contorted into a dome like halo where three bright fringes appeared as fragmentations of the sun as a whole Connected were darker rays of sunlight which congealed the entire structure together This acted as a bright visage to what my body was seeking A pure spectacle It took me a while before I could register that I had to take a photo on my phone and went back to camp delighted
Later on, after a quick google search we found out we had just seen a rare natural phenomenon called a parhelia It dawned on me that despite the hilly landslide of a trek I had, the times where I could truly feel relaxed were while eating Scandinavian Delight Something so simple as an easy meal can make a journey strike home Not because of taste or texture No, simply because it allows your mind to take ease, even if just for a minute, off the stresses of the world around us
Name: Aarav
Form: Pa10
Title: Refuge
A refuge stands, strong and true, A place to start, a place to renew When roads are rough and skies turn grey, It offers light to guide the way. Its doors stay open, warm and wide, A shelter where the lost can hide. No fear can break the walls within, No storm can shake the peace it brings A refuge waits, a steady shore, A home where hope can grow once more
Name: Freddie
Form: Pa10
Title: The Day the Bombs Dropped
It was a normal day The city was covered in a thick blanket of snow aside from the tire marks that trailed in the roads, all displaying the previous paths taken by the early workers. The air was still and frosty in a cold almost dead manner I left my house the same time as I always do except today was different. I got in my car parked with a thick haircut of snow on its top, however when I started my engine a loud splutter was emitted and then complete silence I knew leaving it in the harsh cold was a bad idea I cursed then walked to the nearest bus stop I supposed this would have to do for this morning.
The bus was packed with people all rammed together, all eyes hooked on their phones. All was silent yet an atmosphere of stress and tiredness surrounded me Then I heard it A shriek of pain and despair, then another. I felt a vibration in my pocket signalling the horrible news that I would be about to hear. I look at my phone screen, a reflection of my pale face staring back at me lifelessly Then my phone suddenly gained consciousness and I saw a large notification on the bottom of my screen. ‘Find Shelter, A bomb is being dropped in your area, THIS IS NOT A TEST’. It was about this time the bus suddenly crashed and the whole sea of people flooded to the front of the bus.
I awoke with a pounding in my head, a fiery mess of bus debris surrounded me The sound of shrieking surrounded me. Then it happened. I knew what I had to do and that I had to do it now. It was life or death I shuddered to my feet and ran, following the crowd around me I saw the police, the sirens deafening, and like a beacon of hope, their lights signalled for the cover. I had made it to safety Tears streamed down my face and a slight smile was on my face I had done it!
Then the deafening sound of the explosion resonated. And I realised this was to be the end.
Name: Tharuga
Form: Pa10
Title: Home
Our little boat drifts out into the never ending ocean, the black waters lulling gently against the hull as we continue to drift out into the ocean, looking for a place to finally call home We’ve been out here for months, waiting, going forward in search of a new home, trying to escape the past we try to forget, the reason for our journey The calm of the boat is soothing, in its own twisted way, with the silence that engulfs us relaxing our worn muscles, occasionally broken by the sound of the waves licking the hull of our little boat. Crash.
The silence is broken by the lighting, wreaking havoc on the calm facade of the deep ocean, bearing light to its hideous form, crashing monstrous waves onto our little boat as we continue to try and survive, with the lightning continuing to crash down on us The beast won’t let us live, after all we’ve been through, even the heavens themselves strike down upon us, waiting to claim our lives for its never-ending collection. Our boat continues to manage until…
Crack
The boat begins to sink, too much weight, too much acting on the boat, we have to make it, I can’t give up yet! We throw everything overboard, everything from our past is lost to the beast, we have to leave everything behind to get to this new world; we must live on! But we can’t, the boat continues to sink, even after everything is thrown overboard, but then, then I feel it. It’s laser-thin eyes piercing the back of my skull, when hands suddenly grab at my wrist I can hear its bone grinding against bone, skin ripping itself out of place, they know that they're not supposed to be like this, they don't want to be like this, but they still continue to grow, further and further from man The looming figures crowd me, engulfing me in their everdark shadows, smothering me with their presence, drowning me in their judgement. This one must go.
We must live
I can’t move, too weak from hunger, from thirst, I’m stuck, and all I can do is watch as the husk of a body is dragged overboard Plink I can hear myself drop into the black water, but I don’t move, my muscles succumbing to the numbness of death, letting go of life once and for all, I just let go Goodbye home…
Name: Felix
Form: Pa8
Title: Christmas Day, 1944
Dear Diary,
I woke up as if it was just a regular day, the wrinkled, heavy socks were wet against my skin and my boots were underneath my thin camp bed The day was usual enough to begin with - I was woken by shouting but no explosions That was when the strangeness began People were shouting “Merry Christmas!” I frantically jumped up and pulled my boots on, the same boots I had to hang up by the fire last night to keep from rotting. And then it went silent. Peeking over the wall of the trench I saw just one enemy soldier walking across no man’s land. Before I could even reach for my rifle, I saw that he was holding a football Just a football But in this case, a sign of peace One by one, every soldier decided they would join in on this one day, they would stop fighting and risking their lives and attacking and instead choose peace For the whole day we all played football and enjoyed ourselves, singing songs and telling jokes For once in these last terrible months we shared the fact we are all human and all deserve a respite, however brief, from the struggles in daily life and the horrors of war. However the war is not yet over; tomorrow I may even have to shoot some of the friends I made today, and that is the harsh truth
Name: Yehan
Form: Pa12
Title: Refuge of a Soldier
Hola soy Hector, viví en Guatemala, pero quiería mudarme a los Estados Unidos, así que pagué a un traficante de personas para que me ayudara a cruzar la frontera. ¡Estaba en la frontera y el traficante de personas me dejó! No sabía qué hacer Había un gran problema, si quería cruzar por la frontera luego necesitaría subir la valla. Pero no hice, decidí que esperaría en México para obtener un visado Así que hice
1 año después recibí una visa y fui al cruce fronterizo a los Estados Unidos. Cuando llegué me encontré el policía fronterizo, y un hombre habló conmigo
Dijo “What are you doing here?” en un tono agresivo
Dije “Estoy here para cross the border, tengo a visa” “Where are you from?”
“Soy from Guatemala”
“We don’t allow illegal aliens in our country”
“Pero, I am not illegal, I solo want buscar refuge, ese es mi goal” “NO! NO YOU AREN’T ALLOWED HERE”
Y eso fue todo, todo ese trabajo era para nada
Esto es algo común en la frontera entre los Estados Unidos y México, y hay mucha gente como Hector, que solo quiere ir a los Estados Unidos y el racismo informal es habitual, y con Trump en poder hay un problema para los refugiados que quieren huir de las guerras de los cárteles la violencia y la inestabilidad de su país
Translation available in the appendices
Page 15
Name: Louis Form: Pa10
Name: Matt Form: Pa13
Title: Synonyms of Refuge - Answers
Title: Over the Brambled Wall - Authors commentary
Explanation: This piece is a metaphor for a new father’s initial panic and attempt at escape after finding out that his partner is pregnant. He, in youthful hubris, had not been careful (dropping his shield) and then attempts to escape his responsibilities to his partner and child This responsibility is represented by the thorns and brambles, as the reach and grasp him down during his panic (hinting at his reluctance to be “tied down,” at a young age) the lake in the shadow of the “Bramble draped mountain,” represents life after “escaping,” the brambles, ie, abandoning the partner and child This life is shown to be a lie at the end, as this life, that the boy tries to escape to, is one that is, quite literally, lived in the shadow of his past mistakes/responsibilities, as shown by each man by the lake having a bramble tied around their leg, and the mountain forever looming over them and the lake The girl is, of course, the boy’s partner, the growing mass of ribbons and blossoming white rose (which represents youthful innocence) of course representing a growing baby The thorns turn to these ribbons when the man realises his mistake, and returns to his partner and child
Page 17
Name: Nathaniel Form: Pa13
Title: La Cara en el Agua - Translation
Amidst the vast expanse of the desert, where time danced with the shifting sands, a lone traveller walked wearily. With every step, memories whispered in the wind, tales of forgotten dreams and untold journeys In the embrace of twilight, he discovered an oasis, its waters shimmering like liquid silver This could be his refuge, his safety He staggered towards it, his crusty, withered lips begging for replenishment. As he drank, he was offered a desperate reprieve from the relentless thirst clawing at his throat As the water flowed through him, a strange sensation touched the edges of his mind. The water seemed almost too perfect, too refreshing His pulse quickened He closed his eyes in pain, clasping his chest and shaking. He took another look at the water only to find that the reflection staring back at him was not his own.
Page 24
Name: Thomas
Form: Pa11
Title: La Frontera de la Libertad - Translation
Hi, I’m Hector, I lived in Guatemala, but I wanted to move to the United States, so I paid a human smuggler to help me cross the border. I was at the border and the human smuggler left me! I didn’t know what to do There was a big problem, if I wanted to cross the border then I would need to climb the fence But I didn’t, I decided I would wait in Mexico to get a visa So I did
1 year later I received a visa and went to a border crossing into the United States When I arrived I met the border police, and a man spoke to me.
He said “What are you doing here?” in an aggressive tone
I said “I’m here to cross the border, I have a visa.” “Where are you from?”
“I am from Guatemala”
“We don’t allow illegal aliens in our country”
“But I am not illegal, I just want to seek refuge, that is my goal” “NO! “NO YOU AREN’T ALLOWED HERE”
And that was it, all that work was for nothing.
This is common on the border between the United States and Mexico, and there are many people like Hector, who just want to go to the United States and casual racism is common, and with Trump in power there is a problem for refugees who want to flee the cartel wars, violence and instability of their country.
