CREATIVE WRITING & ARTWORK

Zain Akram 11f

I know all of your secrets. I know your every move. All your views are in my knowledge. I know just where you are.

Like an eagle from his vantage point, I see you and you cannot hide. Each word you enter is in my memory. Trust me.

I’ll swoop in when I’m ready, You’ll see what I want you to. And that which I deem worthless Will be invisible to all.

Everything’s in place already For you to be in my hands. In time you’ll come back to me And your future will be in my hands.

Each search you make, Each post you write, Each step you take Is in my mind.

Challenge me, I dare you! You’ll just be silenced more. I know you inside out And I can take you down.

Ben Rimmer 10b Bhavesh Raghvani 11f

I met a traveller from a decrepit land He said: A vast wreck lays by the destruction, Surrounded by grand monoliths of steel. Near them, A sunken torch lies, its blue hue glinting in the sun. The metallic flame stands shattered, impaled upon foreign vessels, A hulking arm gingerly stretches towards the crown at the centre, Whose solemn head tells of supremacy and belonging. Stamped yet scratched above ancient weaponry lay these words, ‘From her beacon-hand grows worldwide welcome, Lifting her lamp and keys beside the golden gates For she is Liberty, right of rights; Look upon her works, ye tyrannical, and despair!’ Nothing besides neglect. Round the radiance Of that sunken wreck, filled with flags streaking red The lone and huddled masses breathe for freedom.

Ewan Davies 10c

Oliver Leach 13b

All of my life I have been at the bottom of the jungle, Just dreaming for something better. The bottom of the hierarchy, This is how it forever would be.

Leaving home only in the dark, That is the only way to stay alive, Sleeping underground, To pass through the daytime.

But one fateful night, The hawk was out late searching. I was lifted from the earth And carried high up.

Flying through the air The wind blasting at my face, Looking down at where I once was And laughing at my peers.

I felt like a prince And the hawk was the king. I was grateful to him As he gave me this feeling.

But as all things are, This couldn’t last forever. My time of power must end Because the hawk needed a meal.

Ben Turner 10c

Cameron Geskell 10d

Nestled, at peace within the enshrouding arms of rolling hills, Far from the eye of confined minds and shackled senses Sits my meadow.

My lazy meadow – beckons in fresh, the weary west wind, Rustling the wild and emerald grass. A sea of gems, ripe for plunder – Ours for the taking.

And so we did, immersed in our own universe, we created our own path Through the sea of wild flowers, a gentle brush from an absent minded bee. We were giants, ploughing through this tiny reality, both benign yet ruthless. Our kingdom teetered over the edge of the abyss-future. What was to come?

Yet as the dark clouds drew ever closer we ignored them still, Now as pirates, swinging from the boughs of the resolute, old oak tree And dived in its shadowy depths.

Down the spindly stream; we embraced its sparkling sapphire visage. Castaways on a calm sea, no breath of air tainted its pure surface as we were content enough to simply breathe.

Yet, as the dark crept ever closer, we crept ourselves, Into the safety of a cramped warren. We would not give ourselves to the night. Yet, time ticks on.

Night has settled, though nothing is ever truly gone. Distant stars twinkle and a forgotten treasure is rediscovered, the image is as crisp and clear as the day of its inception. Then, and only then, Can the warmth of childhood be felt again.

Alexander McKie 10a

Bill Danson 11b

I sit watching across my great land, watching, and staring. Ready to act, always. Robbing all the citizens who dwell, To feed my ever-growing bureaucracy.

Leave your house more than once a day? Oh! The dismay; a fine if you please. My job is to disrupt, For I am always there, lingering. Like a bitter cancer that spreads, I wait. Waiting for your mistakes.

I punish who I please, for it is all mine – Mine. My manners are stripping your rights. But I insist, I am here to serve. But always ready to give you what you deserve.

The people are mine. And they always will be. It will never change or end. They might think they’re in charge; The empty promise of a democracy. But my leaders are really not on display.

I am in your home, I am in your work. I am everywhere, And I always will be. You can never defeat me, For the system always wins.

No matter what the party, no matter the politics, All I will ever seek is power. To intervene – It’s my pleasure; To corrupt the thoughts of our youth - It’s what I desire.

For I am still in control, I am still watching, For I descend from the greats of history. The sun has set on freedom – Make no mistake, I will rob you of night and day – For I am never going away.

Levi Higham 10b Josh Kay 13f

Summer breeze, distracting from the swelt’ring summer heat, As clouds breeze by and blue birds tweet, And dogs bark at pigeons, and pigeons coo back, I trudge myself up the hill, dragging my scooter, But knowing what childish fun awaits, I stay on track.

Top of the hill, I can see for many metres, But to my small, infant eye, that must’ve seem’d like miles, And all was quiet, and I felt immortal, As I grabbed my scooter, And kicked the ground like there was no time to dawdle.

The speed was exhilarating, and a shock to the system, I felt as light as paper as I flew down that hill, My dad became distant as I neared the ground, Putting out a foot, I scraped to a halt, Putting shame to the weathered asphalt.

But such a moment would not stay around, It would breeze away, like the clouds on that day, But then I had an idea that seemed profound, Get my dad to film it, that’s a great idea! So I demanded, ‘Press record’, and went down without a fear.

It was as good as the last time, nay, better! The breeze hit my face even colder and stronger, Birds became blurs, and I felt light as a feather, As I put out my foot, ready to stop, But the speed was too great, and stop I could not.

First came the lift off, as my wheel hit a bump, My lack of weight no longer felt sweet, rather sickening, And my stomach dropped as my scooter went DUNK, And as my body started to grind against the gravelly ground, My heart felt like a motor as it started to pound.

It pounded harder, as it made its way to my mouth, Through the throat, feeling like a lump, My shorts didn’t cover my knees, so as things went south, Pebbles bit into them, and so they bled, And all I wanted was to go back to bed.

Charlie Silvester 10b

Will Duffy 11b

The year is 1939. A man walks into his house in the suburbs of Wigan, where his wife is waiting for him in the porch. Man: Ah darling! How are you today? Wife: (looks angrily at him) I know what you’re planning, Benjamin. Man: What do you mean? What are you talking about? Wife: Did you really think you could leave me all by myself? With no goodbye, or see you soon? Man: Margaret... it’s not what you think this ... Wife: I know exactly what this is. Man: Darling, please! What have I done wrong? Wife: Oh, for Heavens sake! Tell the truth, Benjamin! You know very well what this is. I know about your little scheme! Man: What little scheme!? Wife: You’re going off to war! And don’t even try to deny it! Man: ... Wife: The children have been crying ever since they found out! Are you really going to leave this family all alone to die in this stupid war? (The wife’s rage turns to tears. She goes to him and gives him a hug as she cries over his shoulder.) Wife: All I ever wanted was for this family to thrive. All I ever wanted was somebody to love and love me back. Man: ... (speechless) Wife: I don’t want to lose you like we lost your brother. Man: Darling, I have to go. Please. It’s what James would have wanted. I’m sorry. I need to go. Wife: (speaking softly) Alright... Just, please promise you’ll come back to us. Man: Of course, Margaret, it’s all I will be able to think about. (Man gets up and hugs his wife for a long while. He’s goes upstairs to say goodbye to his children. He picks up a bag and walks through the door.)

Oliver Icely 7b

Matthew Hope 11f

Staring up at the gleaming full moon, Julius felt the hands of fear run their claws on his spine. Trembling, he took a step towards the dark orb, it’s inside darker than the night sky. Footsteps were approaching, he had to finish this. “DON’T DO THIS!” A voice cut through the silence of the forest like a knife. Julius reached out a hand for the black stone, and grabbed it.

Sullivan had arrived too late. It hadn’t helped that he was 16, and it had taken him about an hour to find his way through the place, but that wasn’t important now. The boy had doomed the world. His eyes widened in horror as he witnessed what the orb was doing. It was creating a huge black cloud, and Julius was being sucked inside. Julius looked at Sullivan, and reached out a hand, but it was too late. The cloud had fully engulfed him. “Julius. Julius! JULIUS!” Sullivan screamed for his brother, but it was too late. Julius was gone.

“Aah. Sullivan.” A voice came from inside the cloud, but it wasn’t Julius. No, that was was ancient, and evil. “You failed. Your pathetic brother has freed me.” Sullivan fell to his knees as Julius came out of the cloud, but he looked completely different. His skin was pale, so pale, as if he had never seen the sun. His teeth as sharp as daggers, every last one of them. His eyes, even the whites of them, were now pure black. His mouth widened into a smile, no, a smirk.

“Bow to your ruler, and I may spare you.” “Why should I?” Sullivan growled. “You have taken my brother, and I would rather die than bow to you.” “Aah, courage. A useless trait.” The thing spoke calmly, but every word was spoken with an edge, an edge that could hurt someone just as badly as a knife. Sullivan got up, and said menacingly, “I will never bow to you.” “I can tell. I can also see that you want to fight me. So, how about this? Tomorrow, in this same place, we will battle. If you lose, I will take your soul and turn you into one of my Shadows. If you win, I’ll let your brother go.” Sullivan opened his mouth, and closed it. He turned around, and left.

Alan Al-Talibani 8c

Jake Hudson 11c

Bravery is hard to find, If you look deep down it will be there, Heroics from the war come to mind, All these years on do we still care?

Time has passed, heroes still in our thoughts, Proudly remembered they will be, As we try to recollect the wars they fought, Battles won and lost in air and land and sea.

Brave and afraid, doing their best to survive, Young men in their prime sent off to war, For their country they laid down their lives, Precious future freedom is what this was all for.

Their ultimate sacrifices we will remember, with poppies, prayers, thoughts and silence every November.

Lewis Bailey 9c

Jack Fisher 13d

The subtle clacking of metal clad boots worried the protesting soul of the city. Their heels against the pavement seemed to stand out amongst the frustrated screams that pleaded for change. As if it were routine, the vicious army of men with plastic shields approached; their immense padding saving them from the so-called danger lurking within. Their forceful walking seemed urgent. Such conviction and power beneath every step: revenge was on their minds. Behind them, malevolent flames climbed towards the sky, reaching out of the vehicle in which they originated and concealing the heavens. For a moment, the possessed minds of the opposite side seemed as anxious as we were.

The noise was almost deafening. An enraged pulse beat through the crowd as we shouted and swore at the pathetic mob ahead. However, the sounds which rippled through the air were deflected off their shields; our words of contempt meant nothing to them. Evil flames continued to grow. Their dirty, rust colour spreading up. Spreading out. Black clouds seemed to expand and settle like a heavy, depressing blanket on the streets around us. Sporadic flames

danced within the chaos. Feeding off the ruckus it had begun, it licked its lips with a sinister glee. Amongst the darkness, the army stood.

Our disorder was immensely unmatched, but we moved with one mind. A single belief tied us all together; a hatred for those opposing. Furious chants consumed my thoughts as sweat trickled down my displeased face. Although the impending doom of the army was closing in, we felt unstoppable. A world of freedom sat at our feet, almost within reach. Crashes of music, speakers and motivation spurred our collective anger as we mapped our way through the shroud of fog. The fire seemed a distant memory and the clacks of the metal boots had almost disappeared.

Or so I thought.

A crash, much louder than any previous, stunned my heart and held me in a tightening grip. The orange flames grew taller as they consumed the joy we were so close to grasping. The world seemed to shrink around me as screams burned in my mind. People were toppling like dominoes: their pale faces encasing the untouched hopelessness that lay beneath. Coughing and spluttering through our collective struggle, we collapsed.

Although they may have won this time, my friend, do not lose faith. We shall be victorious. Enough is enough; we must question the corrupt system the police uphold and their immunity of consequences. We must continue to say the names of those taken from us as we march through the fog.

The all-consuming clacking of the metal clad boots echoed around the street, proud to have put a stop to the once-worried soul of the city. Tom Brocklehurst 11a

Billy Burrows 10f

Mohammad Hadi 11c

The red-brick terrace is still Like the city around it. Streets desolate and bare, moonlit By a sphere of goodwill As droplets incessantly fall into distant grave pits.

The telegram appears on the table, Shoots forward to his hand – A dozen words stark and bland Each time reread, more brutal: His son’s body deep in the Afghan sand.

In the onslaught of days, the deluge was relentless: Hammers rained pain from the sky But did not redeem or rectify His son’s eternally withered grace, His eternally closed eye.

The funeral commenced at sunset; Reds and oranges shadowed by downpour. An empty coffin buried deep in the rich ore. A veil of rain set the darkness close. A fractured soul, torn by war.

Morning next, the softest grey engulfed the world And chaos unfurled.

Moinuddin Master 12a

Shuaihan Feng 11f

Screams and cries for help came from the water At the time, he was nothing but a walker. How much bravery it took to dive in and save her. Bystanders stood and said a prayer, Hoping they would come up for air. Blue lights lit up the dark sky, But sadly he would die. He was known as Jimi and his age was two zero, But he will be remembered as a hero.

He acted when nobody else would. Barely making it into adulthood. Death is always rife. Especially when caused by saving someone’s life. Another death caused by the Thames, He will be remembered by all of his friends. You are now a national hero, And now our hearts are filled with sorrow.

Myles Garth 13f

Aum Odedra 11d