Phillips House Writing Magazine 2024

TheWandering Beauty

TheNew Village Desertof Dystopia

World Rock

Editor’s Comments

Welcome to the 2024 House Writing Magazine of Phillips House!

Wow, it feels fantastic to finally be able to type out those words - after so many brilliant people have spent so many hours reading, writing, compiling, complaining, drawing, yawning, and everything else it has taken to make this magazine come to life! So, to begin with, I have some messages of my own.

Firstly, thank you so much to the rest of the core editing team, who have poured so much time and effort into the creation of this magazine. To Murtaza, Dhruv, Harishan, Kerththekan and Abijith, you have been absolutely incredible in everything you’ve done to make this magazine as amazing as it is - from carefully selecting and formatting pieces, to putting up with my aforementioned complaining. I want to particularly thank Dhruv for designing and drawing the front and back covers, as well as the multitude of fantastic sketches that serve to pull each page together - I am still in genuine awe at how quickly and seemingly effortlessly you pulled them out!

To the wider editing team, who collected and compiled entries from across the house, and helped us painstakingly select entries to be included, my thanks go out to you as well. Will C, Oliver, Andreas and Will H - you all helped to encourage submissions, select entries and boost house-wide support for this event. None of this would have been possible without you.

To all the wonderful teachers, too often left unrecognised, who form the foundation of Phillips House. To the form tutors, for giving up form times to help run activities; to Mrs Johnson, for relinquishing her classroom for a lunchtime so that we could run our writer’s workshop; and - needless to say - to Mrs Jackson, our new Head of House, for the invaluable guidance and leadership she has provided throughout this process. This has been a new experience for all of us, and we simply wouldn’t have succeeded without your unwavering support and expert counsel.

And finally, of course, to the fabulous students of Phillips House! I admit, when Dhruv and I gave that first assembly back in January, I was very, very skeptical of how successful we would be in driving engagement and cultivating your collective creativity. But I, and I have never been prouder to admit this, couldn’t have been more wrong! Through your submissions, we have been privileged with just a small glimpse into the ingenuity, passion and imagination of each and every one of you. Some of you I know personally, others only by a name, form, and a single tweet, but I nevertheless feel so incredibly grateful to be in a house surrounded by such remarkable people! I will stop nagging you at the start of house assemblies now. I promise.

Across the next twenty-three pages, we will explore how messages have changed over time, through forty phenomenal pieces of writing (as well as one written by me). I hope we have managed to preserve the creativity and passion that we were given, and offer just a brief insight into the range of original, inspiring ideas that flow through the incredible minds of Phillips House. But now, dear reader, I guess that’s left for you to decide…

Have fun!

Some cries, Some calls. Unabletomovefar, Visible from afar,

Movements of Messages

Not very long ago people sent handwritten messages. They took time to write their messages in a letter, put the letter in the envelope, and post it. People looked forward to receiving letters and cards by post, filled with love and affection, to deliver news or just to say, ‘I am thinking of you!'. The feel and the smell of the paper, the rise and fall of the letters in a word, the ink, it all made a complete experience of reading a letter. A letter written with care, or a letter written in rush, perhaps with scruffy handwriting, reflected the urgency of the writer. Back then, it felt amazing to pick up the phone and have conversations while sitting in one place, as that phone needn’t be moved.

Time has passed since the development of technology and keyboards and mobile phones, taking over ink and paper. Sending messages in the past took time and effort, something the receiver appreciated. Now, in the world of technology, messages have been reduced to a few words and symbols, and the waiting time for the receiver is next to none.

Floatedintothesky,Seenbycrowds,

Now any message,

Sentfromanywhere, Spokentoothers.

It is not that messages in current times do not convey emotions and feelings, but sometimes the sender does not think before sending a message. A message is conveyed, nevertheless, often with an assumed implication of the tone it may have been sent in.

Irrespective of the mode of communication, there is a constant technological development and the way we send messages is constantly evolving. Different types of messaging mediums are now available, especially with the popularity of social media, and these will expand further in the future. Keyaan, Phillips 7 Toanyone…

TheMessengeroftheSeas

Thebottlewasastainontheperfectsea,likeafleck ofdustuponaceaselessblueblanket.Itrodetherestless, relentlesswaves,bobbingupanddown,dutifully guardingitscontentsfromthemercilesswatersbelow.

Insiderestedaletter-oldandtarnished,yetdeterminedtobearthewords inscribeduponit.Astory,arecipe,apoem,anote-thebottlewasoblivious.It askednoquestions,madenojudgements,butmerelycarrieditspreciouscargo.If successfulwithitsvoyage,itcouldhavethepowertostrengthenbonds,tobuild friendships,tochangelives.Anignorantsoldier,thebottledidnotaskquestions, butsolelyconducteditsmission.

Fornow,itspurposewasclear.Withtheebbandflowofthetideitbobbed upanddown,crawlingeverclosertoitsfatefuldestinationwithunwavering tenacity.Peaceful,yetrelentless;worthless,yetimpactful.Themessengerofthe seas.

George,Phillips10

The Bottle’s Message

The last thing I remembered was being on a sinking cruise ship near the Caribbean. Now I’m on a small island with my face in the sand.

I think I’m stranded.

Panicking, I started looking around the island to see what was there. There were no people, and insects and coconuts for food - the probability of me surviving seemed very low. I decided to start building a shelter out of wood; it took a while but I was able to build it. In the corner of my eye I saw something shining, it was transparent. I finally realised what it was - this thing could save my life!

The bottle had paper in it - that was the thing that was peculiar and mysterious. I got the paper out of the bottle. It was blank, but there was a quill next to it. I wrote ‘Help! I’m stranded on an island in the Caribbean’ and put the paper in the bottle, letting it float into the ocean.

A month went by. I started losing hope that the message would ever reach anyone. My supply of food was always limited, and now it had all run out I would starve to death by next week. Suddenly, I saw a helicopter that said ‘Rescue Team Services’. Joy quickly spread through my body - I would finally be able to get out of this island! I sighed - I knew I shouldn't have lost hope in the bottle!

The book sat in St Catherine’s monastery for just short of 900 years, hidden away to society. Who knew that it would have so much value? A book written in 6th century B.C.E by the great Moses, carrying through to around 2700 years later, and becoming the most known book in the world.

Today, over 2.5 billion people across the world learn from this book, with around 5 billion copies being produced since its creation thousands of years ago. But why is it still so popular around the world? This book, the Bible, gives a message of hope to billions of people, people who need hope desperately in this modern world. It provides a fresh light for people to guide themselves towards a better life through the teachings of a book.

If a book can go this far, how far can a few kind words go?

TotheSkies

“Dear God,

Why am I here? Who am I supposed to be?”

God: …

“I know I'm not supposed to pray for personal needs but I… I can’t help it. My life is a constant struggle, and I can’t speak out!”

God: …

“All my life I have heard nothing from you, yet still I worshipped you with all my heart, IS THIS MY REWARD? You say absolutely nothing! I’m losing my patience with you! I wish I could just be an atheist instead of the laughingstock of the whole school for ‘believing in Christ’. YOU ARE FAKE! I wish I just knew that in the first place and never even tried.

I HATE-”

God: My son, I have seen how much you have tried for me, the efforts you have made.

“I I I’m sorry, I didn’t know ”

God: ...

“Hello? Hell-”

God: Trust in me and my plans for you.

“I WILL… I will.”

God: …

Ayaan,Phillips7

Oliver, Phillips 9

The Lost Proverb Regret is envy of a choice you didn't make. God has put you on a path of glory; to be envious of what you could have chosen is a sin.

Fulfil your life as God has wanted you to, and don't worry about something you could have done. Worry about what you are going to do next.

Alistair,Phillips9

The Manuscript

Sunday 12th August 1906

Dear Olivia,

Words can’t fathom how demeaned and belittled I have felt since we last spoke. I am certain that you have leisurely observed how the tabloids have convoluted the story of us into such a wicked controversy, and how they have painted me as this exploiter and deceitful traitor. Amidst the relentless scrutiny of radios and tabloids incessantly thrashing me into pieces and inflicting fresh wounds, you haven’t spoken out in my defence. I question whether the entirety of our relationship was phoney. Countless thoughts and theories have been barraging in my mind, leaving me in an incredulous state of mind.

Did you want this relationship so desperately only for me to be your courageous, tough, manly hero? I know you really believed you could ‘fix’ me, but did you just see me as a means to fulfil your wildest dreams and ambitions? Did you truly want me or was I merely a character in your art, a muse to be discarded until you reached your success, fame and era of stardom? Can you even recall the day I fell for you; the day you cut your brother off completely soon after your devastating car accident?? Who was there for you? Amidst the beeping machines and aroma of sterilised linens, I felt a spark of joy ignite my heart lying at your bedside. That one morning, when you had stitches put on to heal your wounds, my eyes were fixated by your beauty; I truly thought I had finally fallen in love. The spark was too irresistible to ignore. Imagining a life where we would settle down together and gaze at the golden sunset, every night seemed possible. I had no doubt if the world ended, we would treasure each other and this undying love. So assured that this so called eternal love we had was so tender and supernatural, we made a vow that nothing could get in the way of it. Well, that spark soon dissipated.

You were always basking in the sunshine. Constantly being commended for how talented and gifted of an artist you were. Yet I was trapped in the shadows, defending us against these fabricated narratives. Alone. I often pondered if you had a glimpse of the world through my eyes you would acknowledge the hurdles of hardships I have traversed to stabilise this love but expressing my burdens to you was like ripping off the crusts from my wounds. This is my final goodbye to you, Olivia. I owe you gratitude for these lessons of love, pain and wisdom. You allowed me to realise my true strengths and tenacity. The scars etched on my healing heart serve as a testament to the periods of my suffering and battles that I have overcome. The purpose of this message is solely to guide my heart through the new journey of finding my eternal happiness.

All the best,

Malcolm

In years of pain and grief, The world is bleak and grey War runs rampant and the line between life, and death was one fateful day.

‘Jump now!’ hollers the Sergeant, As shells fill the air, One by one, the friends around you, Die behind a bomb’s flair.

Charging through the elements, To fight for their countries land, These valiant soldiers will not be forgotten, The way they were clawed by Death's hand.

All the while, behind the fight, Are messengers, proud and true. Messages strung back and forth, To see what is new.

One here, one there, They send more, but lies fly. Yet as they do this, they all know, Another soldier will die.

They carry on decrypting, To intercept or hear, Anything the enemies are planning, And prepare for their worst fear.

Then, at last, a message received, There was no time for fright, ‘Today, we storm Normandy, Don’t stop, despite the night!’

They had to act quickly, Or the enemy would be there first.

January 1st 1939

I was only 17 on the day my life almost ended.

Joseph, Phillips 7

The Nazi party was at the height of its power; drunken soldiers were stumbling around the streets of Nuremberg. I was approached by one, who pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the back of my head. I was young - I had no idea what to do; he stammered that he would shoot me if I didn’t join the Nazis. I told him that I was too young to be a soldier, but the drunkard didn’t listen and fired a round at me. He missed, but I narrowly escaped with my life.

I hate the Nazis with a flaming passion.

20th of June 1942

Today some officials came to the house and told me I was being formally drafted into the invasion of the Soviet Union, to pack up my stuff and show up for induction in 4 hours. My mother was really worried and asked if there was any way I could get out of it, even though we both knew there wasn't. We said our farewells and I walked into the streets, wondering if I would ever see her again.

BANG. I felt a bullet lodge itself into the side of my gut, I crumpled to the ground, paralysed in shock. It’s the Nazis’ fault that I will never see my family again. As I feel blood gushing out of the wound, I know I must write a message to the Soviets on how to destroy them.

I unrolled the paper off my cigarette and dug my father's quill out of my pocket. It was the last thing he had given me before he was drafted in the First World War, the last time I saw him alive. I dipped my quill into my the stream of blood rushing out of my wound and wrote on the cigarette paper. “The Nazi Base is at 68° 59 '09.9"N 31° 11' 56.3"E”. I kept the paper clenched tightly in my palms. ‘HowdidIgethere?’I thought.

I breathed my last breath and fell into the cold claws of death. Luke&Alex,Phillips8

ASoldier’sLastGoodbye

My Dearest Love,

My heart wrenches in longing. Four months and an end seems impossible. Every minute - every moment - I have thought of you: your golden smile lit up in the summer sun; your eyes, an intricate scaffold of brown and green, shining like jewels in the winter snow; our parting moment on the platform. My lingering gaze, watching only you, as the packed train whisks me away towards a mirage of glory and patriotism.

The war is a lie. More new recruits are joining us each day, to replace those that die. We are all replaceable. There is no glory here, just imminent death.

I have survived this long because I have a reason to live: to see you again, my dear. But while my love will never falter, my strength and perseverance has. I am faced with a bleak winter: ice layering the trenches, frostbite, a constant threat, and warmth being left as only a distant memory of comfort. I am teetering on the edge of a cliff; pain and suffering have a knife to my back, and the chasm of death is ahead of me. The chasm that could end all this misery. My only reason left to live is you.

But the possibility of this bitter, icy hell getting any worse is too much. I cannot live any longer, not when seeing you again is impossible. This is my final message to you, my love. My final goodbye…

If this war ever ceases and the world is saved from ruin, live without me and live in happiness. Perhaps one day we will be reunited again in heaven but, until then, farewell.

I love you, my darling. Yours

The Enigma Code

The Enigma Code was a system, used by Nazi Germany, to send secret messages during WWII. It used an Enigma machine to scramble the 26 letters of the alphabet. This machine used 3 rotors with 26 electrical contacts, that allowed it to turn a letter into any of the other 25 letters in the alphabet.This would be done for the entire message, before emitting the message in morse code. In order to decipher the code, you needed to input the same settings (the starting position of the rotors) that the sender had, and you could enter the message into your own machine to unscramble it.The Germans would change the rotation of the rotors every day, resetting the code.

The code was first cracked by Poland in 1932, but, with the Nazi invasion of Poland in 1939, the information was turned over to the British.This allowed them to set up Operation Ultra at Bletchley Park. A British mathematical team, headed by Alan Turing, received government funding to construct the Bombe Machine.

The Bombe machine allowed the codebreakers at Bletchley park to break the code every day in under 20 minutes, compared to the weeks it would take humans to work through every possible combination.The Women’s Royal Navy Service (WRENS) worked in long sheds noting down intercepted messages sent by the Germans in morse code.These messages were sent to the codebreakers, who inputted them into the Bombe machine.The machine then unscrambled the morse into German words. By 1941 the Allies were able to track the location of all German u-boats in the Atlantic, and had prior warning of all Nazi attacks and troop movements.

The work of those at Bletchley Park helped save thousands of lives, and is believed by many historians to have shortened the war by 2-3 years.

The secret of the codebreakers achievement and the breaking of the Enigma code was kept until the 1970s, when the files on Ultra were declassified. Zachary,Phillips10

In a war divided by who is right,

Everyone has the right to fight,

Who will win, who knows,

It depends on who lands the last blow.

TheWRENSatwork

HowLettershaveShapedHumanHistory

Messagesintheformoflettershaveshapedtheworld.Fromunravelling nuclearphysicstocombatingracism,lettershavebeenusedinamultitude ofways.Afterall,withoutwrittenletters,hieroglyphswouldneverhave beentranslated,andthefirstnuclearweaponswouldn’thavebelongedto America.However,inthismodernworldwherewearesurroundedby socialmediaanddigitalmessages,wetendtoforgettherolethatwritten lettershavehadinshapinghumanhistory,andconsiderthemadying, archaictradition.Toprovethiswrong,Iwillexplorethemomentsinwhich lettershavechangedthecourseofhistory.

Arguablythemostimportantletteristhefirstletterofthemall.In500BC,QueenAtossa ofPersiawrotethefirsteverletter,accordingtotheancienthistorianHellanicus.Althoughthe contentsofthisletterhavenotbeenrecovered,thiscreatedanentirelynewmethodof communication.Withoutit,thegreatempiresformedfrompurelywritingletters,suchasancient Persia,wouldhavefunctionedinaverydifferentway.Thissimple,yeteffective,formofsending messageshadneverbeenconsideredbefore,butwithit,longdistancecommunicationwas suddenlypossible.Overall,Persiawasgreatlyimprovedbyasimpleandseeminglyunimportant thing.Theletter.

AnotherimportantdocumentisMartinLutherKingJr’sletterfromBirminghamJail. Whileoriginallyintendedtobefor8ministerswhohaddisputedthetimingandmethodsofthe CivilRightsMovement,itisconsideredtobeoneoftheforemoststatementsinstandingupto racism.LutherKingwroteitinBirminghamjail,afterbeingarrestedforprotesting.Itwasused tojustifyhismethodsofnon-violenceanddirectaction,butalsocriticisedthosewhowere sympathetictohiscauseyetdidnothingtohelp.Theletterwasneversenttotheministers. Instead,itwasusedasamethodforansweringcriticismsofthemovementacrossthecountry, thusboostingsupportforthecivilrightsmovementenormously.Withoutit,wouldMartinLuther Kinghavesucceededingettingequalrightsforblackpeople?Withoutit,wouldracismstillbe predominanttoday?

Finally,thecorereasonforAmericanresearchintonuclearphysicsandthedevelopmentof theatomicbombwastheEinstein-Szilardletter.WhenGermanscientistsdiscoverednuclear fissioninearly1939,physicistLeoSzilardgrewafraidofthepossibleGermanthreat.Thiswas, afterall,atimewhenthegreatestthreatstocivilianswerethehundredsofbombsplummetingon cities.Theideaoftheultimatebombthatcouldannihilateacitywasterrifying.Hetherefore contactedAlbertEinstein,oneofthemostfamousphysicistsofalltime,andthey,together,wrote aletterontheconcernsofnuclearphysics.Rooseveltactedimmediately.Hesetupanadvisory UraniumCommitteeandtheManhattanProject,buildinguptheworldofnuclearstandoffaswe knowittoday.

In War’s Grasp

October 25th 2023

We have lived in a constant fear of the sound of echoing explosions raining down upon us, for a blur of almost two weeks. A constant fear of distant gunfire creeps ever closer, a constant fear of not knowing if we will see tomorrow. Innocent bodies line the streets of rubble, under white protected wrap, forever sealed - they are the lucky ones.

My Final Message

To my acquaintances, I am sorry

Because I left you all behind myself, For the hateful enemies, destroy thee, Since you surreptitious snakes are unhealth. People who wondered when, realise not, People who wondered why, know the feeling, Understand there was no reason to thought, Live for the dead or die for the living.

Emptiness of the purpose led to the, Collapse of my fragile mentality, However when I breathe last and say huh, I know my words are immortality.

In end my tears add to the morning dew, As I see the path to start again, anew.

Arjun, Phillips 10

We who survive, who endure, are the ill-fortuned. We suffer with ever-diminishing rations, we suffer the mental strain of death, we suffer as we cannot escape. We are going to die here. This is a plea, my message to you, my faithful audience: help us end this oppression.

November 24th 2023

For the first time in a month, the overwhelming ringing of warfare did not penetrate the night sky, instead the comforting echo of sirens and aid deliveries. The first night where sleep felt like a possibility, the first time in so long that we had a break. Our homeland is decimated. Mountains of concrete now rise from the earth where buildings once stood and a permanent grey hue occupies the sky. Yet it is not over.

A temporary halt, the smallest slither of hope, but in six days our livelihoods will be under siege once again. Hospitals cannot cope, children cannot cope, nobody can. We look to the divine for salvation and I look to you. Please, do all you can to stop this. Please help us.

January 3rd 2024

Make it stop! Please! Everywhere I look I see orphaned children or amputees or the deceased. The bombs keep falling, destroying everything! I don’t know how much longer we can survive. How can we go on like this? I don’t know if you will even see this message - everything has been destroyed. We are completely secluded. We are completely surrounded. The truth must be known, even if one person sees this.

I am going to die here. But you can save the rest! Make your voice heard!

Last edited: January 3rd 2024.

Leaver’sSpeech

As the seasons change, while a new year begins for all of you, with the introduction of new faces alongside old ones, I need to get a few things off my chest. On my last day at this extraordinary school I, with the rest of my class, make my first few steps into adulthood.

First and foremost, I would like to thank each and every one of you all, for making my time here the most enjoyable experience I could’ve ever hoped for! Without you, things would have never turned out the way I aspired; from finally taking first place in our year's house rugby to dominating the music scene for the 3rd time in a row, this group would have never reached anywhere close to these achievements if it weren’t for all of you taking the time to help out.

To the upcoming year 11s and 13’s, I pray that your exams go in the best possible direction. It’s okay to be stressed, to be scared; what matters is how you approach them. And know that you aren’t alone. Let go of those negative thoughts, and cling onto the ones that’ll push you to do your best.

To the new year 7s, I hope you have as much of an enjoyable time as I did through my several years at this school. There may be times where you feel distressed, annoyed, or anxious. Regardless of that, it’s better to look ahead and enjoy the good times you’re guaranteed to have in the future.

Lastly, to the numerous teachers that stand before me, I can only give my deepest gratitude for helping me, along with others, to become a better person. If it weren’t for all of you, I never would have been able to advance into these next steps of my life.

As the blazing summer simmers down in time for the blistering cold winter, I hope you all can look back on the exciting memories made when you, too, say your final goodbye. I can only look forward to the future this house has in store as I take my final leave. Not once will I forget the countless memories made at this school.

Tahseen,Phillips11

Play Hard, Work Harder

To my fellow pupils,

I would like to give you some motivation to join your house in competitions such as house basketball or house football, or even house writing.

Can you remember when you were in year 7, the amount of sports activities you wanted to be in, and never getting selected for the A-team!? I can tell you, that happened to me a lot, especially in sports I enjoyed. Rejection is tough.

But I didn't give up - I used this as motivation, pushing myself to greater heights at the sports, so that I could try again next year. If you try hard enough, you could be cracked like a nutshell, and then you would always be in the A team. Or, you would at least move up a team, like going from the C team to the B team. From there, you can push yourself even more, to get to the very best of your ability! It’s all about being a better you.

I hope this gave you some motivation, Yours sincerely, Musa,Phillips8

Unsaved Number

It was on a typical British night that it happened. Rain routinely drummed and splattered, harmonising with the gloomy pillows of grey, gurgling in the sky. Keoni was vegetating on his bed as usual, mesmerised by the comforting glow of his device, mindlessly scrolling through social media like a chore, his brain rotting by the second. It was just past 2 am, well past the bedtime of the boy, but the mobile kept him awakened and isolated from his much-needed slumber.

Ping! The sound of the gadget startled Keoni, as he jolted upright. “Who could be messaging me at this time?” Keoni pondered whilst wracking his brain. Unknown ID, the message seemed to be produced by. Then another.

“I can see you K.”

Unfazed by the eerie message, Keoni hastily concluded it was just a silly old prank the tormentors of his school sent and simply decided to ‘block’ the ominous message. Ping!

“C’mon K, don’t even think about blocking me!” Keoni, suddenly slightly more startled, again went to block the user, when he was seized by another text. Ping!

“Last chance K…” Keoni had finally learnt his lesson and decided to interrogate the messenger. “Who are you?” The text was quickly replied to by another. Ping!

Another text was received by the menacing messenger “Wait, is this Kev?”, followed by another message…

“Sorry, wrong guy!”

Yes, this is my Voicemail!

“Sorry, thispersoncan’tansweratthemoment Pleaseleaveamessageafterthetone”

If it’s something not too urgent

Send me a text, don’t call my phone.

It’s not that I’m antisocial, Or that you are unknown

But I just find it awkward

To talk to you alone.

Maybe you are far away: a different time-zone, Or maybe I have foolishly left my phone at home.

Either way you’ve stayed so longGreat patience, you have shown

Anonymous, Phillips 11

So here it is, you’ve reached the end, concluded by the tone. BEEP!

WORLDCLOCK

The first two digits, commonly presenting the hour, stand for the temperature of the cities’ respective country 50 years ago. The following two digits, commonly presenting the minutes, stand for the temperature of each city’s country as of now. All countries have been completed with the units ℃.

London - 08:09

Berlin - 10:11

Paris - 13:17

Washington D.C - 14:15

Ottawa - 06:09

New York City - 13:14

Jack, Phillips 9

Heya everyone! So recently I’ve noticed a lot of misinformation and fake news being spread on here again) so I just wanted to write out a guide for y’all on how to spot the misinformation that right-wing groups spread online! Obviously this is all backed by psychological research - I’m actually doing my degree in this subject!

How to Spot Misinformation Online:

Information will be presented in several small, short chunks, making it easy to pick up and

The main so-called “facts” they want you to remember will be repeated, to ensure they stick into your mind

3. You will invariably be assured that everything said is supported by scientific evidence, but no such evidence will be provided

4. Right-wing articles will use simple, easy-to-understand, conversational language to make them seem trustworthy and relatable to the average person (that’s you!)

5. The malicious sources will deliberately take advantage of your own biases and expectations, making claims that you are predisposed to believing

6. They use powerful, evocative language that makes the them appear more educated, and so more informed, than you are

7. Often these articles will even contradict themselves - a clear sign of being disingenuous

8. The main so-called “facts” they want you to remember will be repeated, to ensure they stick into your mind

#misinformation #sharks aren’t smooth #i swear that post actually BROKE me #Nathan, Phillips 12

That Girl…

I was already in the lift when she arrived. I glanced up from my phone - the dim light of the screen shone onto my face, highlighting the awestruck expression I had assumed.

She was beautiful and majestic and fascinating.

She strolled with unfathomable elegance, an elegance which stole my gaze. Her tender, brown skin contoured her delicate countenance . She had soft, black curls which rolled from scalp to shoulder. But it was her eyes, her wide, hazel eyes that absorbed everything from around us.

Her eyes.

We made piercing eye contact; I had been staring mindlessly at her for too long. Rapidly, I looked down, my phone, my phone. I was looking at the screen but not reading the words as my face swelled with embarrassment and fear. The lift couldn’t move any slower - I was stuck.

My eyes kept darting up just to capture her allure. I noticed my breathing, my stance, my blinking. This woman had entered my mind and taken control of my body - everything I did, I was painfully aware of the message it might send to her.

It was just us.

Say something. Say something. Say something, something, something…

Nothing was said. She left, and I was just another random person she met, in a random lift , on one random day.

James, Phillips 13

Do Not Disturb

The flurry of notifications wooshed back into the confines of my phone. The silence that followed was one of biting compunction. What if Pravan or Jake or maybe even… Zoe wanted to contact me? Perhaps there would be an urgent call-in from my boss - that guy who clocks in after my shift always looked like he was going to drop dead. Why do I care? I’m merely a number to call. My boss is a nice guy though…

Cutting the roots of those thoughts, I gaze through my mind’s eye. A boy adventuring with a sword in hand, embarking on a quest to fight the Demon King. That cartoonish imagination which once sliced through the demons of my sluggish days; nonsensical as soon as I was a teenager. He instead dreamt about escaping it all, travelling the world with a guitar in hand and finding the love of his life in a quaint little village.

However here I am a middle-aged man with a small stubble of maturity. Turning on the telly, cracking a beer from the fridge whilst stumbling past a guitar of residual dreams.

A brain-rotting sitcom. Ah, exactly what I need for a long day. No need to type a message with my stubby fingers congratulating another happily married couple. No need to congratulate an acquaintance on his promotion in his already six-figure job. No swiping past the pictures of Zoe, perfectly curated portraying the crowning culmination of their image. Instead, I can scream; airing my jealousy into this raunchy room, plunging any of my freeing thoughts into chains of being not enough. Still, disturbed by a line of thinking that grapples me down.

Itstartedoffasanynormalday.

Iwokeup,wenttoschool,gotbackhome,andrelaxed.Itwaslateatnight,andIwas onmyphonescrollingthroughTikTokwhensomethingnotparticularlyunusualhappened -thewificutoff.Iassumeditwasjustplayingup,andwentdownstairstomyroutertofix it,butnothingItriedworked.Idecidedtoletitbeandgotosleepfortomorrow'sdayof school.

Iwokeup,gotready,andcheckedmyphone,yettherewasstillnothingcomingup!I calledmyparentstoseewhatwashappening,butnothingtheydidworkedeither.I decidedtogotoschool-Istillassumeditwasjustmywifithatwasn’tworking.

OnceIwasinschool,everyonewastalkingaboutonething:whywasn’tthewifi working?Nooneknewwhatwashappening-eventheteachers!Whenfirstperiodstarted, however,wecouldn’tdoanything:ourteacherhadtheplansonhiscomputer,andhe couldn’taccessit.Thishappenedinallfiveofourlessons-wedidalmostnothingthatday.

Thenextdayschoolwasclosedsincewecouldnotlearn,asallofournoteswereon ourchromebooks,andwedidn’thaveanybooks.Meandmyfamilydecidedtogotothe localTescos,butwhenwegottherepeoplewererioting,rushingthroughtheaislesand scramblingoutwithbagsofsupplies.

“What'shappening?”Iaskedsomeone.

Heresponded“Theworld’sgoingtoend!”.

“What?”Ireplied,perplexed,“Isthisaboutwifibeingdown?”

“Yeah,that’sjustit;whatarewesupposedtodo?!”

Sanjay,Phillips10

TheText

Timmy feared the vibration, Like the tremor of an earthquake. He was listening to Dave, When he felt the long-awaited reply; Entered, he did, into the dreaded chat.

The lurid light rays were blinding as he processed the news, Every moment, of this potentially murky, miserable moment would be engraved. Shaky fingertips re-opened the app, as his shocked mind could not believe it: Timmy was accepted into the team!

Reach Out

Hello fellow students, I am here today to discuss the matter of teens' mental health issues.

Mental health in general is a huge issue, but even more so in teenagers. The rise in publicity on this matter has only been caused by an eruption of deaths relating to mental health.

Some of the lead contributors to poor mental health in teenagers are stress, social isolation & jealousy. All of these link together - in that having one trait could lead to obtaining some of the others. Think of it as a lego piece, brick by brick the problems are getting bigger and bigger, that one brick you had at the start is now a fully completed set. Your problems have now gone from one bad thing, to suddenly everything starting to feel bad.

To stop this, there are many charities out there such as Mind, Samaritans or Rethink. But there is also one other main thing I’d like to talk about: how much being nice to someone could mean. If you're nice to one person every day, just one single person, that could cause a colossal change to someone's mood or to someone’s mental health. You might even save a life!

Thank you all for listening.

Sir, Let’s make a Change…

Dear Prime Minister Rishi Sunak,

Frasier, Phillips 8

I am writing to you to tell you that we need to make a change from what we are doing to the planet. Destroying the trees; creating global warming; destroying natural habitats; and, of course, pollution. We need a global transformation. A transformation that can save us and the planet Earth, the economy we have created, the history we have created, and all the future plans we have made. We need to transform ourselves.

Let's stop the wars we hold between countries - we can all become a team: a team to save our existence. We need to stop working for money, and start working for a hopeful future. Let’s unite to conquer hurdles, and start looking for solutions!

Sir, we can invest in renewable energy, switch to sustainable transportation, improve farming, and encourage vegan diets. I have a multitude of concepts, but we are not using them. Why? Because we are rooted in fear, anticipating potential outcomes.

Albert Einstein once said “You can not solve a problem with the same mind that created it.” Sir, I hope you make just some of these changes, so we can have a promising tomorrow.

Sincerely,

The Capitalist Power of Advertising

There are many messages within society, some basic and some controversial, some clear and some subliminal, but they all impact society in some way. Should these adverts stay? Should they be blocked? is the media too harsh or too kind towards them?

Many underlying messages have been created across advertisements to persuade people to vote or to purchase or to believe in an idea. Subliminal messages were used by James Vicary in the late 1950’s by quickly flashing text of “drink coca-cola” and “eat popcorn” throughout preview trailers within a cinema, increasing sales of these products. In New York, on the 12th of September 1950, Vicary revealed that coca-cola sales had increased by 57.7%, and popcorn by 18.1%. Many people were concerned about this, and subliminal messages were promptly banned from the U.K, but this form of advertising is still legal and exists inside of the United States.This remained the case even after James Vicary confessed to the public in 1962 about how he regretted and feared his creation.

Misleading advertisement is also a large concern; companies will always provide advertisements which show themselves in an effective way, such as in greenwashing or pridewashing. Greenwashing is the attempt to make consumers feel that a company is more sustainable than they are, and that they care about the environment more than they actually do. For example, HSBC had to remove two posters due to misleading claims of supposedly raising $1 trillion to plant 2 million trees, however they really spent $33 billion for a new oil and gas project. Pride Washing is a term used to describe advertising that misleads people into believing that a company supports the LGBTQ+ community.This is usually shown by brands adding rainbows to products, but not helping the community in any way.While it may show representation, it often is just for sales, as many companies may have factories in countries which do not support these rights - an ethical contradiction. Neither of these psychological washing techniques to improve reputation are ever removed or banned, unless they are found to use factually incorrect statements.

Some messages and advertisements, however, are removed.This could be due to the showing of gory and gruesome images to children, for the purpose of showing an impactful message. An example of this was when PETA used CGI monkeys to display violence, aiming to show an impact of climate change and the cruelty of animals. Another was when John Lewis presented a CGI penguin to present cruelty to animals.These underlying messages may seem passionate, but they can be dangerous.

So do these messages deserve censorship? Do they have the right to stay on TV screens and billboards across the country and world? It’s complicated; the law only looks at the less controversial idea of banning overt fabrications. However, there is a line for what is acceptable, and companies with large investments and money can bend and mould that line to allow what they wish to show, in order to benefit themselves. It is impossible to stop this right now, but it is not too late to take action and decide what is right and wrong, before large companies take too much power and abolish that line.

In this world, it may seem like the only message is a negative one - all that is left for me to say is, thank you for reading this, and please spread a message of positivity and hope in this world.

A Penny for Your Thoughts?

The man hurried to the city gates with a speed that only fear could inspire. They gave the appearance of a raided town, with possessions scattered around, and the occasional body lying face down in the dirt. The houses, however, were untouched, and the gate was in pristine condition. Furthermore, the city was missing the signature smell of death and smoke that lingers long after any invading army. Steeling himself, he marched further into the now dead city.

Upon reaching the heart of the city, in a square littered with dead workers, the man found three merchants with looks of greed and gluttony. They looked down on him with noticeable confusion and began interrogating him:

“To what citizenship subscription do you belong? Do you have a premium subscription?” asked one of them, while prodding the corpse of a nearby child with a polished shoe

“I neither have a citizenship subscription nor care to own one,” replied the man, curiosity and concern equally filling his voice, “Now will you please just tell me: what happened here?”

The merchants pulled back in a mix of horror and fury. “You mean to tell us that you're not even a tier one citizen!” one particularly rotund merchant cried out, stumbling backwards in fear.

“No?” the man replied, his curiosity now slain by concern

“Then how dare you breathe our air”, the merchants yelled out in fury, “breathing privileges are exclusively for tier two citizens and above!”

It was only at that moment that the man noticed a greenish slime had been oozing out of their fine clothes and had been diligently working its way towards him. He kept back a second too late. The moment the liquid reached him it raced up his legs, clambered up his chest, and flung itself at his still disbelieving face.

As the man stumbled in panic down the stairs, one of the merchants turned to his colleagues and muttered “I will never understand why the poor don't people buy the premium subscription; it only costs a few thousand gold marks.”

“Pure laziness!” another replied. William,Phillips11

SPE OFFICIAL NOTICE

It comes with great sadness from the Society of Planetary Exploration to announce the following.

We have been unfortunately forced to prohibit all trips to what was once the only planet where we all used to spend our time. Where we would do everything from prancing carelessly around lively meadows to nervously preparing for an interview.

This decision has been made as a result of the impact we have forced upon that planet through our carbon emissions. We have now taken a once beautiful world, filled with scenic views of flourishing forests, with singing birds and dancing trees, and destroyed it. What remains is a wasteland of all of our old hopes and dreams, trapped under the abysmal clouds of carbon dioxide, never again seeing the light of day.

Sammy, Phillips 7

A Lack Thereof

Every glance, a mixed, searing, gelid connection,

My pathetic attraction.

To call myself yours, As if to inflict myself upon you.

A life, or a period, discerned, vivid, embellished,

A worth-while loomed over by its inevitability.

Yet nothing present to appeal to. A chasm, figuratively actual, Holding me mute, childishly inwards.

Georgios, Phillips 13

Meaningless

A letter can travel a far distance for a small message,

Or maybe a small distance, For a message more important than anything you could imagine.

The message inside the letter might just change someone's life,

Change the fate that’s already been written.

Or the message in the letter, Could do just the opposite.

Have you ever thought about the impact of the words you write,

Sir All Friend Madam

How much it could affect someone else's life?

So next time you write a letter just stop a moment, and think:

Are they meaningless words on a sheet of paper?

Gabriel, Phillips 8

What is a Letter?

What is a letter?

It's not just a piece of paper with words written on it - it’s a story, waiting to unfold - it could be for someone nearby or very far away, shooting across the sky to arrive at its destination. Sometimes it makes it, sometimes it doesn’t. These letters could contain anything - billions of words over millions of pieces of paper, no two ever the same!

All those messages travelling round the globe, each one so insignificant, yet perhaps the most important of all to the receiver, whoever that may be. Different languages, different handwriting styles, all travelling together across the planet. The journey of a letter, from the moment it's posted to it being delivered, has been done hundreds of million times over, yet is always as different as snowflakes in the sky.

Letters are everywhere.

I’mwriting-notreally,thisisallinmyhead-outof mygrowingconcernforyou.

Whatareyoudoing?You’relost,meandering,takingfartoo manyunwarrantedbreaks,withoutadestinationtoarriveat.

Whereareyougoing?Yourapatheticeyesarewandering,your feetareslippingontheunsteadygrounduponwhichyoutrudge,your heartliesnowhere,encasedinanencompassingennui…Atthesame time,you’rerunning:runningtirelesslyfromallyourproblemsthatjust keeppilinguptoyourowndistaste,aspectatortoyourownstruggles.

Whatdoyouwant?You’veneveronceinyourlifestrived tobesomething,blessedwithenviableintelligence,yetnodesireto achieveanythingofyourownambition.

Whenareyougoingtostart?Youclaimyou’llchangefor thebetter,butIsuspectyoudon’tevenbelieveinyourself anymoreafterhearingthatlieagainandagain. Facedwithseeminglyinsurmountable challengesandcrushingexpectations, howwillYOUmanage? You’vegottodosomething,man.

FromMe.

ToMe,

To my Future Self

Will I have the rewards I work for now,

Will I be content with the life I lead?

Or will my life be sinking at the bow, And end with a death none want and plead?

Will I fulfil my dreams of youth?

Will I have no need for loans?

Or will I never really know the truth, And end with aching in my bones?

Will I bathe in riches of man’s dreams?

Ispentsometimeponderingyour words.Here’swhatIhavetosay:

Will I enjoy the comforts of my home?

Or will I burn in eternal screams, And suffer, trapped, suffocating alone?

William, Phillips 10

It’struethatI’mnotdoingallthatIcan.It’struethatsomemorningsIstruggletogetoutofbed,thatmostnights Istruggletosleep,perturbedbytheimpendinginevitablyofexams.Still,thenextday,it’struethatIpushtheliteral moundofaccumulatingschoolworktothesideastomakespaceformind-numbingprocrastination.Ifeelguiltforthis, it’strue,yetadistortedsenseofprideformyacknowledgementthatI’mimperfect,asifthatmakeseverythingalright.It’s truethat,whiletheysaythisisusualforapersonmyage,IfeelinadequatebecauseIdon’tknowwhatIwanttobe,or whereIwanttogo,orwhoIwanttobecome.AndIt’strue,yes,thateverything’snotalright;mynonchalanceonlyserves tomasktheuneasypalpitationsofapoundingheart.

Butamidstallthepanicanddistress,themisseddeadlinesanduninspiredresults,thereisaboy.Aboywhois tryinghisverybesttonavigatethroughthewindingandbendingandintertwiningpathsoflife,mappinghisowncourse, findingfulfilmentandavoidingantagonism,searchingforpiecesofhimself,pieceshehopeswillfitthepuzzleofsociety, hauntedbytheprospectthathemightfallshortofexpectations,driveninexhaustiblybyhisexcitementandwonderfor theworldhelivesin.

Hehasn’tgotitallfiguredout,no,andhedoesn’talwaysdowhathereallyshouldbedoing,buthe’strying.That boy…isus.Let’sbelieveinourselves,alright?

A Message To Her

Before I read that message I thought I could fix you.

Before I read that message I thought you were a lock and I was your key. When my hand touched yours it felt like you were aLL I could see,

When we were together I knew we were meant to be. But maybe if I tried harder,

Maybe if I had cared more, Maybe if I was smarter, Maybe, just maybe that message could have meant something more.

You told me that you didn’t care

You told me that our love wasn’t something to bear, You told me we had nothing to share, You told me that we were not just a pair, But I wish it wasn’t so unforeseen,

Oh, what I wish we could have been, Before fate had to intervene.

And that message hit my screen.

Andreas,Phillips12

Expressive Alacrity

Messages unheard, they all tend to fade, Ink scribed on unturned pages decays, Those whispers are lost in a raucous parade, Your lack of expression is betraying your ways.

Unspoken words, they chip at the heart, Emotions suppressed, dreams torn apart. But voicing one’s self can mend or restart, Because the power of messages is one to impart.

A glimmer of hope lies far away

By saying what you think, the The honesty of language keeps the bad things away, Spoken or not spoken, the impact is the same.

Scattered Thoughts

Pen touches paper, Ink trails of thoughts reaching out, Engraved forever.

SPEAK YOUR TRUTH

Xander, Phillips 9

Pixels on a screen, Fingers scrambling for letters, Nobody in sight.

Melodies are made, From vocals to instruments, Music sends spirit.

Birds sing in the air, Nature's way of messaging, Secrets softly shared.

Neurons transmitting, Hormones left, right and centre,

Keeping us alive.

Will,Phillips12

Thoughts Unspoken

“Assalamu alaikum granddad! It’s been a long time, I know, I know. I’ve been busy, caught up with all the changes and challenges that life has thrown at me, but I’m doing alright I think. I’m almost done with my second year of university now and I’m doing well I guess, working hard, all that. Oh, right, I finally learnt Urdu! How’d I forget, I’m literally speaking it right now! We can communicate effectively now, huh? Well, I’m still not too great at speaking it, but I hope you can understand me… ”

Laying down some flowers upon the cold, sorrowful stone, the boy pauses for a moment, quivering faintly.

“...I hope you can hear me.”

The boy slumps to the ground, wrapping his arms around his tucked knees. He exhales forcefully as his gaze wanders the melancholic graveyard. With a tightness in his throat and a glassy swirl in his eyes, he manages shaky words.

“My parents have often said I was inseparable from you when I was little. Before I could speak, before I could understand: a fondness that transcended language. It’s not that my feelings about you ever changed. I truly loved you my whole life. No, rather, it became increasingly difficult to express that sentiment when I had outgrown physical affection and words failed me. But you tried, emitting joy in the silence that encompassed my visits. Maybe I should have appreciated that more. I wanted to learn Urdu so that I could once again convey those feelings, and I promised myself that I’d learn someday. Someday.”

The boy is choking back tears now.

“Someday was too late. You were gone and there was not a word in the world I could say to make you stay. Worse yet, not a word I knew to tell you how much you meant to me, how much it hurt me to see you suffer, how much I wanted to make you proud. And I hated myself for it. So I learnt Urdu anyway, I suppose in some vain, foolish hope that you’d hear my message from beyond this world. Wracked in my grief, I spent hours trying to perfect the language so that I would never have to feel the same way again. I’m practising still, and I wish nothing more right now than for you to hear what I have to say - but you can’t. ”

Wiping tears dry, the boy stumbles to his feet, placing a solemn hand upon the stone and brushing off some of the dirt that soils the memory.

“I’m sorry. I miss you.”

The boy is gone, and beside the partially clean plaque remains a blissful bouquet of purple hyacinths.

Murtaza, Phillips 13