2025 The Anthology Project

Hello there!

Welcome to a collection of stories and poems, written by students in the Year 8 and 9 English classes of 2025!

As creative writing and poetry began to take shape during English this year, it was evident that many students were writing original and thoughtful pieces. For this reason, I pondered on whether there could be a wider audience for this wonderful work, rather than stories and poems gathering metaphorical dust in the gloomy archives of Student Café. And thus, the idea of creating an Anthology of Stories and Poems was born.

Congratulations, students, on this achievement. It is a great pleasure to see the result of all the hours you have spent drafting, editing and finalising your writing. Continue to write – for writing helps you form your thoughts and express your understanding. Continue to read, because, as your English teachers keep telling you: ‘reading makes you smart!’

Our thanks especially to Mrs. Melita Whittle, for her incredible work in layout, design and printing, and her patience in accepting yet another last-minute submission. Without her work, this book would still be a pipe dream.

Mrs. Oh & Mrs. Cooke

MRS JOY OH

SECONDARY ENGLISH TEACHER

MRS JACINTA COOKE

SECONDARY ENGLISH TEACHER

SERENDIPITIES BENEATH

EUCALYPTUS TREES

POEM: SAMI ANDREWS

BALLAD OF ANZAC

POEM: ANONYMOUS

TWO WORLDS

POEM: ANONYMOUS

ULURU SURPRISE

SHORT STORY: ANONYMOUS

AUSTRALIA’S WIDE EMBRACE

SHORT STORY: ANONYMOUS

WAIT, HE IS GONE

SHORT STORY: HARVEY ATKINSON

A TRUCKIE’S TALE

POEM: BENJAMIN AUSTIN

MY AUSTRALIAN GARDEN

POEM: ABIGAIL BOCK

RUN

SHORT STORY: POPPY BUCHANAN

SOUL OF A SPIRIT

POEM: JORJA COATS

NOAH AND THE JIMNY

SHORT STORY: LACHLAN COOKE

WHISPERS IN THE MOONLIGHT

SHORT STORY: JAMES CUMERFORD

AUSTRALIAN IDENTITY

POEM: REIGAN DARNELL

MABEL, THE HOPEFUL GIRL

SHORT STORY: HANNAH DE VOS

STUCK AT THE TIP

SHORT STORY: ANNABEL EDWARDS

CROWS

POEM: SAMANTHA GILL

SPY LAND

SHORT STORY: CHARLIE GOULD

MY DYING TOWN

POEM: AMAYA GLASTONBURY

THE CHOICE

SHORT STORY: SIENNA HARRIS

SHARK ATTACK

DROP BEARS

SHORT STORY: JACK MAGNER-JONES

THE OUTBACK & THE COUNTRY

POEM: LILLY LANE

TO BE AN ANZAC

POEM: AIDAN LANGRIDGE

BLISSFUL BAKERY

SHORT STORY: PAX MCALLISTER

THE GIRL AND THE DINGO

SHORT STORY: LYDIA MILNE

LOOKING BACKWARDS

POEM: LACHLAN MONK

BENEATH THE SKY

POEM: TYSON ROBINSON

MY LIFE

POEM: PIPPI SAYER

TRACTOR’S RUMBLE

POEM : RILEY SMIT

DIGGING FOR A DIFFERENT LIFE

SHORT STORY: PHILLIPPA SMITH

STRAYA

POEM: MATTHEW STILLER

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF CHARLIE MAY

SHORT STORY: LOLA SUMNER

MONSTERS

SHORT STORY: HOPE WALKER

JAMES AND THE BURGER QUEST

SHORT STORY: ETHAN WEST

THE LOVE POEM

POEM: RORY WHITEHURST

A DAY OF MINE

POEM: CHARLIE WILSON

DIRTY SECRETS

SHORT STORY: INDIANA WHITTLE

STRONG I WILL STAY

POEM: LILY WILKINSON

SERENDIPITIES BENEATH

EUCALYPTUS TREES

SAMI ANDREWS

Within the grass seeds’ gentle sway, Where kangaroos graze all through May.

I find a path so far and wide –Australia’s soul - my only guide.

The treetop views - a sacred place, Pythons hunting without a trace,

And every aspect, teeny or tall.

Feels like a home, not another wall.

The butcher’s ham, the country grins, The sweetness here – like mango skins.

No extra pennies, clothes or fame, Just good old mates and footy games.

Singing gospels all through the night,

Our loving church, our faith so bright.

We cherish youth, as children play, God always seems to know the way.

No laws divide, no lies are told,

Let’s gather round, let fate unfold.

From shore to sand, from bush to tree, This nation forms community.

Misty horizons, quiet delights,

We risk our lives to meet new heights, Nature’s beauty, raw and ripe,

The creatures here bring Aussie hype.

The coastline waves, they call my name, Through whistling winds and storms to tame.

With woven sheets of daisy white, Each dainty lace - a glimpse of light.

The outback myths, this tranquil dream, These simple memories aren’t as they seem.

Enchanting skies - humble, not bland, With every step of God’s command.

So now I’ll say, quite happily, Australia means the world to me.

Its soothing hums, its autumn fall –

Life’s pure gift, amidst it all.

Year 9 Author S.A

BALLAD OF AN ANZAC

ANONYMOUS

In a war that seems so fruitless

I have warm thoughts of home

Where the flies weren’t so ruthless

And my thoughts were free to roam

While in this trench of self-regret

I await a bullet with my name

In a country where disease and pain have met

From deserting I must refrain.

For Australia is the place for me

A place of dazzling damp rainforest

And where the fiery desert comes to meet the sea

A place where no wild animal will be honest.

Home seems like a cozy campfire

That bears an eternal heat

Life in this trench feels like it’s on hire

For if I misstep, its death who I will meet.

Over in this lonely hole do only three of us lie

Up on top of no-man’s land where we will surely die

With this Enfield in my grasp

I heard a sharp gasp

As a bullet found its mark

Right in Archie’s side.

If only I was back, to see the summer hail

To watch the rivers swell

And to hear the trees wail

As Australia is the land for me

Where a koala sways high up in a gum tree

Where kangaroos rest in the shade

And red ants fight a crusade

Australia is where my home lies

Beneath its vast blue skies.

For I am an ANZAC

Plain and simple and true

I wish I was home again

As fought this war right through.

Year 9 Author

TWO WORLDS

ANONYMOUS

The city is busy with lots of noise,

The country is quiet with show off boys.

The city is polluted with lots of fumes

While the country is diluted with lots of blooms.

In the country the morning is fresh,

In the city you’re inhaling smoke with every breath.

Two worlds apart yet both complete, One fast and chaotic, one calm and exotic.

Each tells a story, each sings a song

Neither is right, neither is wrong

Fields of green beneath the sky

River’s wander drifted by

Birdsong rises pure and free

A quiet home for you and me.

Crowds collide in endless streams

Concrete echo’s fractured dreams.

Engines roar, sirens cry

Steel towers scrape the endless sky.

Beneath the gumtree laughter rings

Kookaburras call as morning sings.

Yet far behind the forest’s sway

The city hums in restless way

Steel and glass reach for the sky

Dreams reflected in neon eyes.

Kangaroos hopping across the red dirt

Platypus gliding in the billabong;

The pigeon perches high on stone

Its coo a song the streets have known

It circles towers, skies of gray

And scatters crumbs along the way.

The rat scurries through alleys

Its whiskers twitch its eyes bright

It slips through cracks, unseen, untold

A shadow quick, a spirit bold.

Year 9 Author

ULURU SURPRISE

ANONYMOUS

One sunny afternoon, my girlfriend, Jasmine, and I were on a plane flying over Uluru. I was thinking about proposing to Jasmine, but before I could talk, the pilot informed us that Uluru is on the left. Jasmine jumped in excitement! Unfortunately, we were unable to see Uluru due to the poor weather. Suddenly, it started to rain down so hard that the engine began to fail, and the plane started to descend rapidly.

“Jas! Quickly grab the parachute, the plane is falling”, I yelled!! She was about to jump off, and I jumped with her as I held her in my arms. We were spinning uncontrollably, so I grabbed her parachute handles and took over until we landed on the hard rocky ground with a big thump. We only sustained minor cuts and injuries.

“Jas! Quick, run!”. The plane crashed into the ground and blew up in flames. Orange and yellow colours licked the ground, and the sound of the fire gave me shivers. I started to worry about the pilot after the plane blew up, but after we lay there for a

while, thinking about the pilot, my girlfriend and I heard this strange sound; it was like a thunderous waterfall. We knew that the sound was not typical for a place that is this far inland. There was no time to wait, so we tried to get as high as we could, because we didn’t know what the sound was. We ran with all our might as the noise got louder. We climbed up high onto the Uluru Rock and suddenly it went dead-quiet, like it was a ghost town, with nobody around me.

“Climb, climb as fast as you can, but don’t worry, I’m right behind you”, I encouraged!”

“Are you at the top yet?”

“Yes, I am, but there is not much room up here.”

“That’s fine, we can work with that.” But suddenly, there was a big washout of rushing water between the rock faces where we were climbing.

“Get behind me, right now! It’s not safe on the edge of the cliff.” We clung together as the debris and water rushed past, until it slowed.

“I think that the rain has stopped, and the river of water, sticks, logs, dirt has finally

Uluru Surprise cont.

stopped”.

“I think that it is safe to go down.” As we were making our way down the cliff, we tried to find the plane that crashed, but we didn’t see it from where we were standing on the side of the rock face.

Jas screamed with agony. “Are we at the bottom yet? I think I have blisters”

I spoke with a calm voice. “Jas, it’s ok, we will deal with your blisters after we reach the bottom.” Jas rolled her eyes with anger after I told her that we would be down at the bottom shortly. After we reached the bottom, we walked all around Uluru for what seemed like an hour.

“Jas, after the flood, I think that the plane got swallowed up by the force of that gushing water.”

“Elliott, the food and the med kit, it is all gone. What are we going to do? And how do we get rid of my blisters?

Also, we needed that food, WE WILL STARVE TO DEATH.”

“Jasmine, calm down, it is going to be ok, I just need to think for a bit.”

“Ok,” said Jasmine with an annoyed tone.

“Jas, I got a good idea; Let’s go hunt for food.”

“Elliott, that’s a smart idea, but what are we going to use to kill the animals, and how do we eat it without getting food poisoning?”

“Well, your boyfriend knows how to make a fire, and I’m happy to teach you how to.” Jas joyfully agreed.

“Well, I know how to cook, and I have always wanted to make a fire.”

Jas screamed, “I saw some rabbits eating, dried up, dirty grass, we could kill them for dinner.” “I need to make a spear so that I can kill them. I will be back with dinner.”

“OK, I’ll be preparing to light the fire thanks to you teaching me how to light a fire.”

“Did you hear that? I think it is a helicopter.”

“Yes, I think it is a helicopter too.”

As Jasmine and I waited patiently, we saw over 10 helicopters. But little did we know that the whole world was watching the news after our disappearance. Eventually, the outback rescue team came and saved us. We were grateful that we got saved.

I whispered to myself about proposing correctly this time, but suddenly, Jasmine popped up out of nowhere.

I knew it was time to propose, so here it goes: I asked, “Jasmine Hunter Lawson, would you be the love of my life and marry me?” Jas froze with shock: “Yes, I do, yes.”

Year 9 Author

AUSTRALIA’S WIDE EMBRACE

ANONYMOUS

Life in the city is restless,

A clock ticking second by second.

Theres no time to waste when life is ordered, Running on repeat like a record.

The skyscrapers emerge from the ground below,

A veil blocking the Australian sun. Their glassy faces cold and unwelcoming, Turning crowded streets into lonely alleyways.

Along the pathway everyone follows, Its river flowing in the same direction.

Life becomes a cycle with the people surrounding Close in the physical but in their own orbit.

In the outback the world expands, The sky feels taller and days less urgent, Less people, yet less alone. No pressure, no demand to keep pace.

Open paddocks, quiet but comforting. The never-ending sky glows above a blanket of red dirt.

Along the coast, the land meets the sea, Waves fold onto the sand and seagulls sing.

Within the quietness, I find a new version of myself

Unrushed, calm, I rediscover who I really am. I can walk slow enough to feel the wind, And the sun coming down on my skin.

The city doesn’t understand this. Sometimes I long to step out of the noise, To allow my relationships and interactions To be intentional, not accidental.

Somewhere in Australia’s wide embrace, The sky stretches further then the city allows. Connection can grow without pressure, I feel free, at peace and at home.

Year 9 Author

WAIT, HE’S GONE!

HARVEY ATKINSON

“Haaaaa what a good night’s sleep that was,” Erik said softly to himself. He got out of bed and made bacon and eggs for breakfast. After eating breakfast, Erik called his careless friend Jack, “Hey, are you free today? Do you want to go camping at the beach tonight?”

Jack replied, “Yeah, sure. I’m coming over now.” Shortly after, Jack arrived at Erik’s. They began packing their camping supplies. Jack packed the tents and Erik packed the food and water.

“Ahhhh,” Erik said, sighing in relief, “I think we are ready to go.” He checked over everything they had packed, making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. They hopped in the car and began the 45-minute drive to the beach.

The engine shut off as they looked around.

“It’s a bit foggy today,” Erik said.

“Yeah,” replied Jack. They began unpacking the tightly packed car of all their supplies. Once they had finished, they decided to go for a walk along the squeaky hot sand and explore the beach. They began walking

slowly down the beach.

“Hey, Erik, look, a trail. It must lead to somewhere cool,” Jack said excitedly.

Erik looked over curiously and said, “That’s sick, let’s go.” They began walking down the trail, surrounded by tall gumtrees as far as they could see. They continued deeper into the foggy bush. After following the trail for around 10 minutes, listening to the kookaburras singing, Jack began to feel as if something was watching them. After not saying anything, they continued into the bush where Jack disappeared with no trace.

“JACK!” yelled Erik, trying to stay loyal with a voice full of fear. No response. After yelling for a few seconds without any luck, Erik figured that Jack was just playing a prank on him. Erik began the 15-minute walk back to camp. To his surprise Jack was nowhere to be seen. Erik tried to call emergency services but got no response. Erik was shaking in his boots, not knowing what to do because nothing he had tried had worked. He decided to just go to bed and search in the morning as it was too risky at night.

The next day Erik woke up from a rough night. He packed his bags with food and water and set off on the trail, but something was not right. He had walked further than he had gone yesterday with Jack on the trail. That is because the trail had disappeared. He had no choice but to run off into the forest in hopes of finding Jack. After many hours of searching with no luck, he was left hopeless. Erik decided to go back to camp and drive to the police station and report what had happened to Jack. Erik sped to the police station. The policeman asked Erik what had happened but Jack, having not seen what had happened, did not have anything to say. After begging the police man to help, he gave in and went with Erik to the beach. Sadly, they found nothing, no trace, nothing. The police man and Erik searched everywhere. After finding nothing they were extremely discouraged.

Eight weeks later with no new leads, everyone felt hopeless. Erik returned to the beach. He went back to the spot they had gone walking but something looked different. The trail was there again.

Confused, Erik followed the trail and saw footprints leading into the bush. He followed them to find a small cave. The cave was dark and smelled like smoke from a fire.

Erik yelled “Jack are you in there?”

Shortly after Jack replied, “Erik?”

Erik replied, “Yes, yes, it’s me.” Jack came sprinting out, covered in bruises, Erik was overjoyed but something was off about Jack; his normal careless energy was not there. Erik felt a wave of concern hit him. Shortly after walking back to the car, Erik and Jack went home. On the drive home, Erik was trying to figure out where Jack could have gone. They had searched everywhere. When they arrived home, Jack was awfully quiet. Erik asked if he was ok, but Jack did not reply. Erik decided just to let Jack go to bed and try to talk the next morning. But Jack never woke up.

The end.

Year 8 Author H.A

A TRUCKIE’S TALE

BENJAMIN AUSTIN

The diesel hums beneath my feet, A song of steel, of dust, of deals,

From Darwin’s heat to Canberra’s chill, Australia’s heart beats steady still.

I’ve hauled beneath the Nullarbor star light, ive

Watched dawn paint the sky a golden light, and I’ve

Felt kangaroos throw red dents into my rig through the dark and starry night

And city lights carve out the night with a bright and neon light

Each kilometre is a thread, each town a familiar passing face, A patchwork stitched through a land so hard and old,

From howling Outback tracks to roaring coastal bends, This land’s identity transcends.

I ride Perth across to Sydney through the heat of day or the cool of night whether it be to transport southern beer to bring some downed relief or hauling the weight that builds tomorrows mine until dawn breaks over the great divide

I hear stories over the CB,

Of mateship forged in sweltering heat and swirling rain,

Of Men’s Voices rising, proud and humane.

I’m just a truckie that’s plain and true,

But every road I’m driving on,

Tells me what it means to be,

Australian and what Australia is;

A vast, diverse, and free country

That I call home.

Year 9 Author B.A

Artwork by Harmony Gray

ABIGAIL BOCK

MY AUSTRALIAN GARDEN

I look into the night

Stars of up down, left right

Until the day wakes all warm and bright

White sails on wings like the edge of a knife

A fire is lit to burn through us all the ash falls slow but the seeds will regrow.

I arrive on a ship

I arrive with two worlds

I arrive and feel like my life has been turned, upside down, a bridge between two

A line I feel anxious to cross-

But together I stand with my nations

And together we will walk

When I arrive, I am fresh, I am new

From the soil, new shoots will unfold

Beautiful alongside the old.

Long sandy plains

Stretched far and wide

To Valleys deep and true

Mountains of deep blue

Grasslands with morning dew

Great rocks of deep red hue

Those who live out in the country

A slower pace of life

Will leave you feeling at peace again

Contentment, isn’t it nice?

But the downside of this all is

Far away from everyone

leaves you feeling quite lonely but community will build again and eventually it will feel homely.

In paddocks, now the gum trees stand

The seedlings will all flourish

Cared for by a farmer’s hand

Now grows a spirit of my land.

The vibrant culture, festivals, events

A hub of laughter and quarrels

Places to be and people to see a place just full of knowledge but beneath all this and beneath all the sound and beneath all the glaring neon lights lives a different story not one of glory but one just trying to get by

the little seedling, is struggling on but we are yet to see the most beautiful flower of all.

And now my garden is mostly complete

Everything in full bloom

Each herb, each shrub

Each tree, each bush

Every vine and grass and fern

Every plant makes my garden beautiful And that’s my main concern.

RUN

POPPY BUCHANAN

I run. I run like my life depends on it, because it does. My thoughts are blurry.

The only clear thing was that if I looked back, he’d be gone, forever. Tears burn in my eyes like acid. My legs start to burn as I run down Bourke Street. I kept running because I knew what was behind me was dangerous. I run through the busy streets until I can no longer. Why was my fiancé the one to get shot? What if he is still alive? Do I go back? Why is the sniper trying to kill me now? What am I going to do now?

That last question hit me like a brick wall. I have to go to the Melbourne police station.

Just as I mutter this, I catch someone out front, looking at me. A teenager with headphones said, “Are you ok?” I could see what she was getting at. I looked ruined.

“Um, I was just about to go to the pol… um, the shops,” I answered.

“It’s a bit late for that,” she said.

“Ummm, yeah, I like to go shopping at night.”

“Do you want to come in for a bit? It looks like it’s about to rain,” she said.

“Sure,” I said.

Inside, I observed that the teenager hastily shoved a stack of paper with red ink into a drawer. “Do you want something to eat?

Vegemite on toast, lamingtons, or orange juice?”

“I’ll have some orange juice, please.”

As I sat, two adults in black walked in. They looked at me, then left to find the teenager. “How strange,” I mumbled. Then they returned —forgetting my orange juice—.

“Do you want to stay the night? It looks like it won’t stop raining until morning.”

“That would be great, thank you,” I replied. So, there I was, staring at the ceiling with no danger. Fat tears rolled down my cheek.

The sun was shining the next morning. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye.

Something shiny in the closet drawers. I removed the clothes—3 metal guns, and pictures of my fiancé.

I was winded. My knees dropped to the floor. He was being watched. All the photos were of him—some years ago, some as recent as yesterday. His face circled in red

pen. But the last one wasn’t him. It was ME.

Run, I thought. But where? There was a rattle from the doorknob. “Oh no,” I muttered.

There stood the teenager and her parents.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I said.

“Where’s the flash drive?” the man said.

“What flash drive?” I said, backing towards the window.

“Did your fiancé not tell you anything? Your ring,” he said. “We are not the only ones trying to find it. But we might be the ones who won’t harm you. So, give it!”

“Who are you? And why would I trust you?”

“Your fiancé was keeping dangerous secrets.”

I didn’t know who to trust. But something inside me pushed me. “Ok, tell me.”

“Your fiancé was working undercover,” the woman began. “He was close to exposing secrets from a company called Veltrix.”

“He never told me this,” I said.

“The reason you’re alive is because he didn’t,” the teenager replied.

“What is this ring storing?”

“The information. That’s what he said anyway.”

“When did you speak to him?” I asked, suddenly hopeful.

“Before the incident. He told us you had the flash drive in your ring.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“Are you sure you want to help? From now on, there will be no way out.”

“I want to finish what he started.”

The flash drive had information. He had hacked their systems. Then—we found a scrambled file with my name. A video:

“If you are looking at this, I’m probably dead… I did it to protect you… I love you… Goodbye.”

We stood in silence. Then the teenager gasped. “We have a location.”

“Great, let’s go,” I said a few seconds later, trying to gather my emotions.

We arrived at a tall tower with barbed wire. It was dark. We entered a back door, made our way to the control room.

Our mission: plug in a USB to crash their systems.

Just before we plugged it in, something caught my eye on the surveillance cameras. Cell 5. A familiar man. My fiancé.

“Oh my gosh, he’s alive!” I said. I ran to cell 5, opened the door.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” he said.

“I couldn’t stop running,” I said, hugging him tightly. I didn’t want to let him go, but as we finally drew back and found the others smiling. “We did it,” said the teenager.

“Wait, you’ve plugged it in?” he said in astonishment.

“Yep. But we couldn’t have done it without her,” they said, pointing to me.

“Well, we’d better go before we all end up in here,” said the man as footsteps echoed.

2 YEARS LATER

Now, we live off the grid, in the red dirt country. Names erased. Identities changed. But we are happy and alive, living our best lives together.

No more running.

The End.

“The reading of all good books is like a conversation with the finest minds of past centuries.”

– René Descartes

JORJA COATS

SOUL OF A SPIRIT

As a new day dawns on the horizon

I look out at the sun-bleached valley and wonder,

What it’s like to have a home like this,

As the sky darkens and the storms roll in with thunder.

As the rain starts to fall, And the water soaks into the ground,

I realise I don’t have to wonder,

As my home as already been found.

When the early morning mist creeps into the gullies

And covers everything in a blanket of white,

Even through the gloom,

The ever-lasting sun always brings a stream of light.

When the unexpected storms hit in early spring,

And the hail brings its harsh fist from the cloud,

Even as the solar panels are covered in dents,

The trees always stand tall and proud.

Here in Australia, Where the landscape is rugged and harsh and true, It’s the only true home I’ve found, Where the sky remains forever blue.

As the storms start to fade away,

And the green grass begins to brown,

Being in a place like this

Is like wearing an eternal crown.

As the fires rage through the bush, And winters cool has started to cease

Even through the smoke and fog, There’s always a feeling of gentle peace.

Through the droughts and flooding rains,

When the heat stabs us like a knife, In a place like this, There will always be a place for new life.

Even as the cattle skulls litter the landscape, And the herds roam through the dry plain, I can never seem to get lost, Guided by her never-ending reign

As the rains return again, The flowers start to bloom, And the call of the cattle, Can be forever heard through the gloom

When the sun starts to set once more, And I turn away from the green lands, I realise this place, Australia, is everything I could need Constantly guided by its loving hands.

NOAH AND THE JIMNY

LACHLAN COOKE

He stomps on the accelerator, but it won’t move. Then he realizes he’s stuck.

“Again!?” he says. Disgusted, he gets out his notebook and writes down “gets bogged easily - failed test.” This was the last time he drove a fettuccine Congo.

Noah is a 25-year-old mechanic and car enthusiast. He likes to drive new cars and test them. This time he will review a car called the Jimny. He has heard that it is good for 4WDing and is going to take it to a track at Fraser Island with a friend of his that will be driving another car.

Once he gets there, he meets his friend, and they set off on their journey. The first part of the track is by the beach and is quite wet, so he sets the Jimny in 4WD with a click and starts driving. “I’m excited!

I’ve heard great reviews about this car,” he says excitedly. “But I need to test it myself.”

After ten minutes of smooth driving,

they come up to their first obstacle - a big climb. He says for his friend to go up and check the track for a path they can follow. He finds a path and gets back in his car. Noah goes up first, hits a little bump, followed by a little rattle from the engine but otherwise gets up smoothly. Then he waits for his friend to follow. He goes up the same path but doesn’t give it enough speed and gets stuck, but he pulls up the handbrake and gets out. “Drat!” He mutters as he ties his winch to a nearby tree. It pulls him out safely and Noah lets out a sigh of relief.

They continue down the wet and muddy track that overlooked the ocean. They look in awe at the beautiful sight, but the silence is broken. “It’s rattling like a cutlery drawer!” Noah yells as the sound keeps coming from the engine of his car. He stops immediately and jumps out. He opens the hood and grimaces at what he

sees. “That can’t be good,” he says. “How did that happen?” Then he remembers that he hit a big rock on the uphill. It must have damaged the engine and slowly got worse as they were driving. Then he remembers that his friend has spare parts in his car so he calls him on the radio and says, “Can you come and help? I’ve blown the engine.”

Five minutes later his friend pulls up alongside him on the old and muddy track “What do you need?” Noah’s friend asks. “I need some spare parts,” he says anxiously.

“Ok let’s start working on it.” They work all day until the sun starts to set so they pull out their tents and go to sleep.

The next morning the red sunrise wakes them up from their much-needed slumber. They have a big breakfast and get to work again.

Two hours later they finish work on Noah’s car, and he anxiously starts the car, hoping it won’t blow up in their faces. Miraculously, it starts fine and they start driving again. They make it to the end of the dirty old track safely.

Five weeks later, Noah’s review is finished and he states: “This car is excellent for any task you can throw at it. I would recommend it to anyone.”

WHISPERS IN THE MOONLIGHT

JAMES CUMERFORD

Ben welcomed the new tourist group to Yulara. He was thrilled to bits about this group as they were mostly made up of young adults like him. This meant he might find a good friend. Ben hoped he would find a friend that would be happy to tell tales on the balcony, go kangaroo hunting with him, and would help protect Uluru with him. Ben desperately needed this friend, as he was growing more and more lonely, especially when he sent the tourists away. Ben liked Tom and Hunter, he had high hopes for them. They showed a particular interest in Uluru and mentioned they were both artists, but never showed their work, much to the displeasure of Ben. Ben also, when bored, often noticed them whisper to each other about something, maybe thinking about him.

The next day, Ben gave the new tourists a tour of the red hot Uluru. He told them all the most recent facts about Uluru. He also swatted away the annoying flies off his face

for almost the whole tour. (He had looked into fly masks, but soon forgets about them when he goes hunting for kangaroo, which he eats and finds delicious.) The dust and the wind were really starting to annoy the tourists; however, one couple came prepared, and put on their sunnies. He then went to chat to everybody in his tour group, but couldn’t find Tom and Hunter after he spoke to everybody else about how to protect the natural essence of Uluru.

Meanwhile, they were on the other side of Uluru, whispering. “It must happen tonight,” Tom stated. Hunter willingly agreed. Tom knew that they would not argue, they never did. That evening, Ben looked for Tom and Hunter in their room. He was determined to try to eavesdrop on them to find out what they whisper about. Much to his displeasure, he found them gone and guessed they were at one of the campfires. Lonely Ben, with nothing better to do, went to Uluru to look at the

natural, wonderful glow that happens every evening. Sometimes he did this when he was bored at night, and it always gave him the challenge of keeping the flies away.

Ben tasted the dry, dusty air as he sat in the old grey bush that he liked the most. Ben suddenly heard a faint sound, “pshhhhhh”. He went to investigate. He saw Hunter looking around alertly, scanning the desert floor like a sentinel. Ben dropped, determined not to be seen, and crawled forward. Ben saw how Tom was an ‘artist.’ With the spray paints out, Tom was vandalising the rock. Ben sprang up, feeling furious and betrayed. He walked right in front of Tom and took out all his anger on Tom’s nose.

“I am calling the police, not to mention all the other things that will happen to you,” Ben growled, shouting out all his anger. He listed off all the punishments. A fine, payment for professional cleaning to get the paint off the rock. They would also be on the headlines of the news, and more. The next day Ben was proud; he had caught

two vandalisers in action. After the cleaners left, some more tourists arrived. They were young adults, and Ben was glad for a friend.

He even invited Frank (pronounced Fraa-nk) to his old dusty house to talk about their stories. Ben spoke about hunting kangaroo, as he offered Frank some kangaroo mince (blowing flies off the food), as Frank, who was not a man of many words, briefly mentioned being an artist.

AUSTRALIAN IDENTITY

REIGAN DARNELL

Australians come in all shapes and sizes

Each more different than the other realizes

Some are big, some are small

Some are short, and some are tall

But I know, as I look over the plains,

We all have Australia running through our veins.

Farmers spend all season working with their crops,

Until the season ends, and the last leaf drops.

As the days turn into nights, and still no rain

The last tree burns, and the plains perceive the pain

But when the skies grow grey,

The farmers will say ‘There is hope for us yet’,

As they watch the red sunset.

In the outback, there are tears,

As the lost calf has been found after years.

He is rotting near a den,

Right next to the hen.

Brutal and harsh, unforgiving and dry,

Though my heart soars as high as the eagle will fly.

True Aussies love the red dirt

So much that they wear it on their shirt.

In the outback we live on farms,

And when the fire comes, we set no alarms

For there’s no way of stopping the incredible force

That destroys our homes right from the source.

Our hearts are attached to this land of gold,

And thousands of stories untold.

The pot at the end of the rainbow, Treasure within an arms throw.

The light and warmth the birds dance in, Is sometimes the sun’s biggest sin.

Where others see trash, we know the treasure

In the land where we always seem to find pleasure.

Still is the air,

Two birds flapping as a pair

Then when the wind blows, It’s louder than a murder of crows.

The wattle trees rustle in the wind

Making the leaves fly, till on the rocks they are pinned.

The tree that will not make it is the late bloomer,

For it’s drier than a dad’s humour

Heat makes us feel like we’re in an oven

I’m cooking like a muffin.

Happy, but poor

Content, but sore,

We work not because we have to,

But we love it through and through.

The cows, they moo and low

The seasons come and go

Through drought and flood, Through mud and blood,

Australia holds my heart steady, For hardship, it keeps me ready

We prepare and organize, over and over, and over once more,

Then we wait, and wait, til the rains come and pour.

It penetrates the hardened ground, and sinks in deep, deep, deep

Flowers bloom, grass shoots up, and wheat grows, ready for us to reap.

Once the rains are gone, and the ground dries up once more,

We searched the world, and we’ve found a score.

Australia, sturdy and strong

Australia, where I belong. Year 9 Author R.D

MABEL, THE HOPEFUL GIRL

HANNAH DE VOS

It was early in the morning, and Mable’s dad was sent to jail yesterday afternoon for stealing jewellery to try and pay for bills and food as they were struggling with money. Her mum was an alcoholic and died from drink driving when she was just 4 years old. Mable was now on a flight to an orphanage, runaway, and an unwanted girl’s stay. Her dad had used the rest of his money for her to go to this stay for the year. She was devastated, staring out the window with tears rolling down her face. She remembered all the fun times with her dad, such as Friday night pizza and picnics at the beach.

She took a little peek out the window, and the sun was beaming as the plane was starting to land in the busy, crowded city of Melbourne. She gradually walked off the plane with her luggage and saw Mrs Elanor holding a bright sign with Mable written on it. She dawdled over to her with her

head down and headed to the runaway, orphanage, and unwanted girls’ stay. When Mable arrived, she had butterflies in her stomach, but before she could start worrying, Mrs Eleanor gave her luggage. She guided her to her bedroom. Mable placed her luggage down, and Mrs Elanor gave her a tour of the unwanted girls’ stay. Mable was confused, she thought it was going to be horrible and that they would have to sew and learn how to do housework, but instead she saw lots of girls having fun outside, and she saw a class learning a different language.

At dinner that night, Mable was introduced to her room buddies Aliyah, Layla, and Sienna. A week had gone by, and Mable had settled in. Her room buddies were her best friends, and they went to all their learning classes together. They each take turns feeding the fish bubbles in their room. The bell had rung, “Yes!” yelled Mable. She ran down the hall into the kitchen, so excited to

eat her favourite meal of the week, a steak burger with salty chips. After dinner, Mable went and lay in her bed reading her book called The Midwatch.

Months had gone by, and it was the month before Christmas. She was in a class learning how to say “Merry Christmas” in German with her friends. Then Mrs Eleanor interrupted and said, “Mable, you have an unexpected caller.” Mable grabbed the phone, and she was confused. Who could it be, she wondered. She took a deep breath, put the phone to her ear and said, “Hello.” It was her dad. “I have something to tell you,” said her dad with fear. Her heart sank with worry. “It’s nearly the end of the year, and I could only pay for you to stay for a year.” The last day of the year. “Sadly, you will be back on a flight to your hometown, Bathurst,” said her dad with devastation. Mable stood frozen, her voice lost to the lump in her throat and the tears that welled in her eyes. She didn’t know what to say, but she said, “Thank you for using all your money to get me here. I love you lots.” After that, she hung up the phone, gave it to Mrs Eleanor. She ran to her room and curled up in a ball with her knees catching her tear drops.

A few weeks went by, and it was Christmas; they all celebrated by eating cake and playing games. This cleared her mind for the day, but at night she cried herself to sleep. The next day, she lay in her bed, bloated from all the cake she had eaten yesterday. It was now the afternoon before the day she left. She walked around moping and slowly packed her luggage. Her friends were devastated for her and tried to comfort her as much as they could. At dinner that night, she just slowly picked at her food with her fingers.

It was the morning of her leaving; she grabbed her luggage, and everyone was grieving for her and wished they could help. She said thank you and goodbye to everyone with melancholy. At the airport, she grabbed her ticket and waited to board. She had boarded the plane, and it started flying to Bathurst Airport. She had tears rolling down her face as the memories played like silent films across the glass window of the plane. When she arrived at Bathurst airport, she had nowhere to go, so she just walked down the streets of Bathurst, letting the rhythm of her footsteps

Mabel, The Hopeful Girl cont.

drown out the noise in her head, past shuttered shops and flickering streetlights, hoping the night might offer answers the day never could. It was the morning now, and she knocked on doors asking for a home. She thought she was pathetic, but the nights were cold, and she really wanted a family. Just before the sun set, she knocked on the last door, her knuckles shaking with exhaustion and hope. The door creaked open, and a red-haired woman looked down at Mable. “Can I help you?” asked the woman. “I have nowhere to go,” said Mable. The red-haired lady said “Well, come on in, it is way too cold out there.” Mable walked in, appreciative.

A few weeks had gone by, and Mable was staying with the red-haired lady, Marianne. Marianne was a lovely lady who worked at a bakery and had one child, Mayah. She brought home yummy sweets from the bakery, which made the house smell incredible, and every Friday, they would have board game night.

Mayah and Mable were like siblings; they had so much fun together and cared for each other. For the first time, Mable felt at home because she had enough love, hope, and strength to keep going. Was this the ending, or was it just the beginning?

Year 8 Author H.D

“You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say.”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald

ANNABEL EDWARDS

STUCK AT THE TIP

When your car blows up, your Crocs shine bright, and help comes from the bush... Stuck at the Tip is a heartfelt tale of breakdowns, family, and unexpected friendship in the Aussie outback.

As I stepped out of the house, I slipped on my bright pink Crocs, hopped on my motorbike and rode to see the sunrise over our creek. I sat and finally relaxed. Things had been really chaotic since Papa Sam died. He was the liveliness of our farm. Then I heard a motorbike in the distance.

I turned and saw my sister, Grace, coming to talk to me. She sat down next to me.

“Were you thinking about Papa Sam?” she asked sadly, tears in her eyes. “I know you two were close.” She got up and left a plate of breakfast beside me with a note reading: Just know I will always be here 4 u! – Grace.

I started bawling and stuffed the note in my pocket.

I walked inside and saw Dad sitting on the couch. He looked unhappy.

“Hey Alex, do you want to go 4WDing with Grace and I?” he asked, hopefully.

“Sounds good. When do we leave?” I asked,

my face lighting up.

“Let’s say, in 10?” he said, as his phone started ringing.

“Sorry son, but a herd of cows got out. Got to get them back,” he said. I knew he was disappointed.

Ten minutes later I started the car, checked the fuel gauge, and headed off.

Then I noticed a strange noise the car was making. All of a sudden, the car stopped.

“What’s happening?” Grace asked, fear in her eyes and voice shaking.

“I do not know!” I said, completely freaking out.

Then the car started smoking. We jumped out of the car, landing on dirt. After the smoke went down, I opened up the bonnet and one of the cylinders had blown up.

“Aghhhhh!” I screamed angrily, kicking the car and nearly breaking my foot.

“Calm down!” Grace yelled, shocked.

“Sorry, it’s just… this is the car Papa Sam gave to me, and I don’t want to lose it just like I lost him,” I said, tears rolling down my red cheeks.

Grace then hugged me out of nowhere— did not say anything, just hugged me. Then we heard something in the bush— sticks snapping, leaves rustling underfoot as something—or someone—moved through the bush unseen, but unmistakably close. We held our breath. Then a young lady popped out of the bush.

“I thought I heard someone yell,” she said calmly.

“Who are you and where did you come from?” Grace said, scared.

“Hi, I’m Lily, and I live about 150m that way,” she said, pointing north.

“What do you want with us, Lily?” Grace said, all defensive.

“I do not mean any trouble. I just heard someone yell at the top of their lungs, so I came to see what had happened and how I could help. But if no help is wanted, then fine—I will be on my way,” Lily said, turning around.

“Wait, Lily, we do need your help. One of the cylinders in my car has blown up and

we need it fixed. It is too hard for a tow truck or something to get in here to get us out,” I said, running out of breath with every word. “Can you help?”

Lily turned around and looked at us. She walked over to my car and looked.

“Well, it seems to be your lucky day, mates.

My dad is a mechanic, so I will get him, and he will have your car fixed up in a moment,” she said kindly, turning to get help.

An hour later, we were driving home. We walked inside and smelled something delicious.

“What took you so long? You had us worried. You could have just texted us saying you were okay,” Dad said, with a worried look.

“Sorry Dad, sorry Mum, here’s the thing…” I said apologetically.

I told them the whole story. Then they talked to Lily and her family—and now we are best friends.

CROWS

SAMANTHA GILL

You bring smiles to crows

Who lost their spirit and succumbed to those Who tore their wings and swallowed their light

The feathers that grew tainted midnight

They did no more than hide away

Their thoughts led terribly astray

To darkness and pain that they couldn’t accept

To which you found them

Brought them in

Gave them hope

Their feathers not tainted with sin any less

But now shining with sparkles and stories to bless

You were the reason they kept flying

Even with chains for wings and rotten flesh for a heart

You gave them beds of heaven

And you know what they say

Crows will always be with you on your way

For they will never forget

Your loving attempt

To set them free

For all to see

Bless you for saving their hearts and souls.

SPY LAND

It was one fateful night when a violent storm hit. It was as powerful as the tsunami in Thailand. The storm was so intense that it caused part of a cave to collapse on a group of kids who were on a scout camp at the Jenolan Caves. They were injured but alive—trapped inside with no way out, nowhere to go, stuck for what felt like an eternity, and terrified.

Little did they know that a secret agent named Alberto, a military scuba diver, had been assigned to investigate the cave-in. Everyone else believed the kids were dead, but the agent knew they were alive, and he was determined to get them out—even if it cost him his life.

During his search, Alberto discovered several bombs wedged in small cracks along the cave wall. He determined they had been there since World War II, but their fuses were long gone, meaning they could no longer explode. The government, led by Anthony Albanese, ensured they were safely defused and emptied but decided to keep them as a memorial—a reminder of the hardships of war and the lives lost.

The bombs remained there as a sign of history.

Then Alberto heard a voice calling, “Help!” from a dark, gloomy crevice in the cave wall. He moved toward the sound, hoping he could save whoever was in trouble. What Alberto didn’t know was that he was about to face danger himself. Suddenly, the cave fell silent. As he peered around a corner, he saw the man who had called for help, now dead, being pushed down a 157-metre drop into the dark abyss. Standing over him was the killer: a man known as the Bay Harbour Butcher. He was a complete nutter, mad as a cut snake.

“Moooooo! Moooooooooo!” went a cow outside Alberto’s bedroom window. He jolted awake and quickly realised that his life as a heroic secret agent and military scuba diver was gone once again. It was just another one of the recurring dreams he had on his farm. Alberto got out of bed, cooked some brekky, and shared it with his kelpie, Davo. They had a busy day ahead, and they needed to get moving because you’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.

MY DYING TOWN

AMAYA GLASTONBURY

The snakes that never scared you

Oh, they still scare me

You will never come home

This town is all you’ll ever know

You loved this old wretched town

All it’s heat and violence, Neither will burn you now

The bush is still my home

And I am still it’s daughter

The smell of smoke is in my veins, Hurricanes still keep me wary,

I grew up with fires eating the land, And floods destroying my garden

My country is dead and dying and alive all at once

I see the life in the bonfires and smalltown servos

I see the decay when I see your name in the papers

I saw the dead the first time I saw a snake after you

I was raised in the bush

All it’s dangers and all its beauty

It’s all home to me

The town that raised me is dying

It’s been rotting longer than I’ve lived

The trees have forever been brown

The heat still burns, and the ground is scorching

Nothing changes much in my dying town.

I am proud of my country and culture,

The hot sand and surfing waves,

The vast outback and fairy bread

But as I age, I resent my dying town

The memory of you tainted by loss

You are 11 as I am growing still I cannot save you now

I am angry at my home

But it still remains mine

I am bitter at my losses

But nothing changes much in my dying town.

THE CHOICE

SIENNA HARRIS

The moving van rolled down the street, leaving London with her luggage. The Gold Coast stretched out before her, charming but frightening. For the first time in weeks, she felt both uneasy and thrilled.

The following week was more challenging than she imagined. Unpacked boxes crowded her small apartment building, but it was the silence that made it truly feel empty. Her fingers danced across the screen late at night, missing her best friend’s laughter and the streets she thought she had outgrown. She reminded herself she had moved here to pursue openings, but deep down, maybe she had been pursuing something else.

Her first project was straightforward: capture the beach’s essence at sundown.

Easy enough, her boss said. London strolled along the shoreline; her camera hung around her neck. Instead of inspiration she was filled with nerves. She watched every

one surf until, suddenly.

“What are you doing?” a girl asked, her voice sharp with wonder, making London jolt.

“Geez, you frightened me!” London exclaimed, clutching her chest. Her voice sharpened into irritation. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” the girl pressed, her tone dismissive, as if London’s annoyance didn’t even register.

“Standing here, what does it look like?” London snapped back, her voice tight with growing frustration.

“It looks like you’re watching people surf,” the girl answered brightly, unfazed, a playful lilt in her voice. “I’m Marlie, by the way.” With a grin, she thrust out her hand.

“London,” she added coldly, her voice clipped, deliberately ignoring the offered hand. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging out with my friends,” Marlie replied easily, her words light and breezy. She pointed toward a group of laughing

girls dripping seawater as they walked up from the waves. “Do you want to join us? We’re going to the pizza place around the corner.”

London paused, then nodded. Something about Marlie’s effortless charm tugged her closer, like a ray of sunshine on a winter’s day.

Over the next few weeks, London and Marlie grew attached. They strolled through markets scented with salt and spice, surfed until their arms ached, and sat on balconies inhaling pizza while the night hummed around them. Marlie was everything London wasn’t, impulsive, brave, rooted in the present. Beside her, London felt alive in a way that no picture could capture.

But every message from her manager reminded her that the Gold Coast was momentary. The raise was just waiting for her in Melbourne. But every single time she thought of home she could only think of the isolated grey streets and the long hours. One afternoon, by the waves, she admitted to Marlie.

“If I go back to Melbourne, I get everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” she said softly. “But

if I stay, I can finally be free.”

Marlie’s gaze remained on the horizon, where the sky flashed orange and pink.

“Sometimes,” she muttered, “the best pictures aren’t planned. They just happen. Maybe life’s like that too.”

London glanced at her, at the waves shining like liquid glass, at the people who now felt like family. For the first time, the choice seemed obvious.

A week later, when her boss called, London’s heart hammered. But her voice was stable.

“Thank you for the offer,” she said. “But I’m staying.”

As she hung up, the ocean howled behind her, a symphony of freedom. She turned to Marlie, who smirked knowingly, and London realised she hadn’t just chosen the Gold Coast.

She had chosen herself.

We were all laughing and listening to music when suddenly every radio and navigation system shut off. The boat fell silent, confusion replacing the noise. Then I heard something rushing through the water. I turned to the back of the boat and saw a massive fin slicing through the surface, closing in fast. When I looked again, it was gone. Only the gentle splash of waves tapped against the hull. “Where did it go?” I asked, but before anyone could answer, the creature slammed into the boat like a brick wall. Everything went dark.

LEON HOLDEN

SHARK ATTACK

When I woke up, my head spun, and pain shot through my body. My friends lay scattered, bloodied, and unconscious. Smoke rose from the wreck, debris everywhere. I tried to stand, but a crushing weight pinned me to the ground. A seat had trapped my ankle between the frame and the side of the boat. Every attempt to free myself sent screaming pain through my leg. I shouted for my friends, desperate, but no one responded. Hours passed before exhaustion dragged me into sleep.

The next time I woke, the pain was worse, but one of my friends was moving. “Hey,” I croaked, “come here.” He rushed over. “Are you okay, bro?” Jeff asked, his deep voice edged with worry. “No,” I groaned, “this chair’s crushing my leg.” He tried to lift it, but I screamed in pain. “I have to get it off, or it’ll only get worse,” Jeff said firmly. “Okay… just be

careful.” He strained against the seat, lifting it just enough. I dragged myself free, gasping as blood rushed back into my leg. With his help, I managed to stand. That’s when we saw it, we had crashed into a reef bed near the coast of an island. “We need to get everyone to that island,” Jeff said, determined. “I sent a distress call to the coast guard, but we can’t stay here.” I wrapped my foot in cloth, and together we gathered supplies. When the others woke, we told them the plan. We’d head to shore in the morning, but danger still lurked—the creature was out there, and the waves around the reef could drag us under.

That night, unable to sleep, I explored the wreck. A hole in the hull revealed calm, dark waters. Traveling by night would be less risky, I realized. I woke the others and explained my idea. Soon, we had strapped LED lights to our heads and slipped into the freezing water.

As I swam ahead, a cold current pulled at me, sweeping me back toward the boat. I saw the others’ lights flickering in the distance. “Hurry!” I shouted. “We need to go before sunrise!” We pressed on, unaware of the dangers the island held. My foot brushed sand—I nearly cried in relief. One by one, we staggered ashore, exhausted but alive. When dawn came, sunlight washed over us. Then, faint at first, came the thrum of rotors. A helicopter appeared on the horizon. We leapt to our feet, shouting and waving. The chopper dipped lower, landing on the sand.

We ran to it, clambering aboard. For the first time since the crash, I let myself breathe. As we lifted off, I looked down at the island shrinking beneath us, then, just for a moment, I thought I saw a ripple, a shadow slicing through the waves.

Year 8 Author L.H

It was late evening by the time they reached the snowy alpines. Wiping the dashboard, Andrew checked the time, temperature and date; the blinking screen read -12C°, 19.7.2013 and 6:38 pm. Driving up the steep icy driveway, Andrew pulled the car through the main gate and parked up by the main building. Glancing out of the window Morgan looked at Andrew with confusion. “Hey, are you good?”

he asked. “Yeah, I’m good, just taking in the last bit of warmth we’ll get for the next few hours.” he replied sheepishly. Andrew hadn’t even stepped a foot outside and he was already frozen to the bone. Shaking his head and tutting, Morgan hopped out the car and entered the main hall.

The pair were greeted by the parks manager; an old bloke well in his 70s with a very gruff appearance and aged hunter’s jacket. “Welcome, …welcome to the icy igloo resort,” the man exclaimed, shaking the pair’s hands

JACK MAGNER- JONES

DROP BEARS

thoroughly. “Now, time to get down to business. There is a beast of the night that viciously attacks our patrons. This leaves bad reviews on our….” 20 minutes passed. “Now we’ve hunted about every predator in the whole region,” the man droned, pointing to mounted red back spiders and snakes. Andrew and Morgan exchanged glances with one another and slowly backed off to the door. Forty-six minutes had passed; the old man had finished his rant. He turned to find them nowhere.

It was now 7:56pm; the pair had set out with all their equipment. As darkness rolled in, the duo switched on their NVG’s (night vision goggles). The surrounding area lit up as if it were mid-day. Being strategic, they began to search on the edge of the forest, hoping to find tracks or anything that could lead them in the right direction. By now, Andrew was shivering

uncontrollably and even Morgan started to shake a little. Andrew looked up, meeting the gaze of a pair of yellow eyes glaring at him from the foggy distance. Calling over Morgan, the two started slowly edging closer, the eyes tracking them. As they closed in, the eyes disappeared, and an ear-piercing screech echoed like a shockwave, causing Morgan and Andrew to collapse from the audio overload.

Coming to his senses, Morgan dragged himself out of the snow and found Andrew laying motionless. Andrew’s radio crackled to life from under him. “Hello, do you copy? Are you alright?” Morgan grabbed the radio, to his despair its battery had depleted. He dragged Andrew into the shelter of a large boulder. Unpacking his bag, Morgan pulled out two MREs (meal ready to eat), a hatchet and matches. Collecting wood, Morgan began making a fire to warm his unconscious friend. He began setting up the tents and defrosting the food. Exhausted, Morgan ate his food and stuffed Andrew into his tent. Before going to bed, Morgan threw one last log onto the fire and rested the netgun besides Andrew’s tent. It was now midnight. Andrew sprung sharply awake, hitting the roof of the tent. In a daze he began unzipping the tent’s door. Pausing to a halt, he listened. Through the howling wind he heard it, pat…pat…pat sniff, sniff. The beast was outside and worse; it had its head in Morgan’s tent. Sneaking outside, Andrew picked up the net gun. Creeping up to the beast, he readied his shot and whistled. The small creature sprung backward out of the tent and swiftly turned to face the sound. It had molten fur and cryptic yellow eyes. Slamming the trigger, the gun made a click, but nothing happened. Seizing the opportunity, the drop bear pounced on his face. With a scream, Andrew was slammed into the ground. Morgan leapt out of his tent. In a raged panic, he snatched a frying pan and struck the goofy koala square on the head. The stupid creature slammed into the rock and with a thud landed face first into the ground.

With celebration the pair tied up the bear and heaved it back to the resort.

“I write to discover what I know.”

– Flannery O’Connor

THE OUTBACK AND THE COUNTRY

LILLY LANE

The outback and the country

It’s all part of me

Some people like cities and traffic

While I like peace and serene.

There’s places of horror And stress and cuisine

While I like the freedom

The dirt and big machines.

Country and city

They’re two separate things

Even their music

Splits them between.

Our styles are different more baggy and free while theirs are the opposite upright and clean.

While we have dirt and farms, they have fancy buildings and electric cars. The city is different

They’re neat and precise

They clean every day like once or twice.

We work all day and with the farm life we play we live off the land that provides every day.

While they’re all about their phones and devices cleaning away with microfibres.

The outback and the country

it’s all part of me while some say we’re boring I say we’re imaginative and free.

We’re wild and curious

Not afraid to get dirty

We’re here for the adventure

Cause the Aussie life is chirpy.

While some travel to Europe

And others Japan

They miss Australia

And its beautiful land.

The outback and the country

It’s not just a part of me

It’s a part of our country

Its earth and its cuisine.

Year 9 Author L.L

AIDAN LANGRIDGE

TO BE AN ANZAC

What does it mean to be an ANZAC, Is it fighting a war, getting your name on a plaque, Is it joining defence and doing your time, Just in search of that pretty silver dime, Is that how to be an ANZAC?

How can you be an ANZAC truly, Is being an officer, and acting cruelly, Is it dying a death that you deeply wanted, Is going to war; forever haunted, How can I be an ANZAC?

To be an ANZAC through and through, It’s more than what your brain gets to, It’s mateship with a death grip his life on your fingertip, Died in a gunship instead of jumping ship, Fell for his country, THAT’S an ANZAC.

James Riley, hit my heart with a tidal wave, When I was pegging a flag to his grave, Staring into the photo of him; Staring into his eyes - so young, KIA battle of Pozieres, aged 19, his battle forever stands unsung, This moment shot an arrow through my heart, He had being an ANZAC down to an art, I knew; he was an ANZAC.

And to the other 600 men whose graves we laid flags on, It makes me and my mates so deeply sad that you’re gone, Standing there with the flags staring at your gravesites, And the times I sit there thinking of all of you late at night, Bless you, you’re all ANZACS.

To be an ANZAC with certainty, You must represent your country fearlessly, Carrying your comrades through sun and storm, Being a good soldier with perfect form, Fighting your battles and only showing bravery, Fighting so crisp and so savory,

To show what our men did at Gallipoli and what they act on, Where our courageous Corps climbed cruel cliffs at dawn, Show honour and valour and being a donor, Serve us show purpose and service when nervous, Show sacrifice the price of War’s vice, cold as ice, Do It twice, be precise,

Be willing to pay the ultimate price.

That’s how to be an ANZAC.

The question stands- can we be an ANZAC, The answer “WE CAN”- now that is that,

So him and her and you and me, Can all be an ANZAC, so You can all be free.

So what will you do now? What will you be?

Pick it up or put it down, will you be an ANZAC for eternity?

BLISSFUL BAKERY

PAX MCALLISTER

Jack was starting to stress. The beautiful girl he’d met yesterday at the bakery could be coming back. But he couldn’t be sure. Leo, who was sitting at a table, preoccupied by his game console looked up and opened his mouth to say something probably patronising, but was interrupted by a distant mooing of cows in the picturesque fields, like a trumpeting introduction as someone entered the side door. Jack turned excitedly to see who it was. Could it be…? Yes! The girl was strolling to the counter.

“G’day! Er…I’m Jack!” said Jack.

“Yes, I know, Jack. We met yesterday. I’m Emmeline, remember? Will you eat with me?” Emmeline replied. When they were seated, Jack commented on how her eyes were like emeralds, glittering in the day, and she replied, “Thanks. Your hair, what’d you do to it?” Jack quickly told her how he had bleached it and changed the subject.

He asked her “Why are you here so early?

You don’t look a tradie, like me.”

“I’m from South Australia, but I moved to Drouin with my aunt to be closer to the Melbourne University,” she said, her beautiful voice flowing through the words like a stream down a gentle slope. “It would be good to be closer still, maybe with a roommate. Then I wouldn’t have to leave here so early! Speaking of which, I reckon we should leave so we’re not late.

I imagine you must have to go too!” She got up from their booth table and strode to the door.

Later, at the dusty construction site, Jack related his morning to his dad, Toby, while putting up roofing. “She was amazing dad.

I’m thinking of moving to Melbourne so I can be closer to her.”

“What?” bellowed Toby angrily, drawing the attention of other builders. “You’re going to leave me, right after your mother passed? I can’t afford to lose you too, from

the company or from my life!”

“Dad,” said Jack, “I know losing her was hard for you, but I gotta live my own life. A life outside of you!”

“You know what? Fine. Leave, but know what you’re leavin’ behind. A Frail Old Man with a Broken Heart!” answered Toby, defeated, with his fists clenched.

The following day, Jack walked into the bakery, as usual. As the sun rose, he saw Emmeline step through, like a lily blooming under the sun. “I need to talk to you,” Jack called to her. “I want to move to the city to be closer to you.” Emmeline smiled a smile that said, that’s cute.

Back outside, Leo sat at the table in front of the rustic bakery with his best thinking face, while Jack paced back and forth, thinking aloud. “If I go, what about my dad? And if I stay, how can I just forget her?” said Jack. “Well,” said Leo, clasping his hands, “to me it seems like both options have pros and cons, but if you ask me, just make it up with your dad!” Jack realised how ignorant he had been. Of course, he just had to talk to his dad. But he better do it soon. How could he live any longer, only meeting her briefly daily!

“Dad!” Jack called out as he approached their work site. “We need to talk. I love you!” Toby had started to walk away, but he turned back at this. “Oh son, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I was wrong.” Toby said, embracing his child.

“You should go. When I met your mum, I had to make a serious decision too, and I didn’t like my dad interfering.” After several moments, Toby continued: “I love you too. Now go! Catch her before she leaves!”

“I’m glad I made this decision.” Jack sighed as the train pulled out of the station, a dove taking flight into a new life.

My name is Audrey Jones. I am 8 years old and live on K’gari. My friends and family know me as the dingo whisperer. How did I get that name? I’ll tell you! It all started two years ago on a windy day, when my friends, Lily and Sharlotte and I were playing hide and seek…

“One… two… three…”

“Come on Audrey!” whispered Lily. “We gotta hide!”

“But where?” I replied, searching frantically for somewhere to go.

“Maybe we could climb that tree!” I said. “Hmm… no, there’s not enough time… here!” said Lily, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me to a rocky ditch. The ditch was thickly covered by some bottlebrushes, making it a great hiding place! “Quick, get in!” she said, sliding down. I soon followed, the jagged rocks scraping my arms and legs like sandpaper. We lay low and quiet as Sharlotte looked for us like a dingo searching for its prey. Sharlotte went here

THE GIRL AND THE DINGO

LYDIA MILNE

and there, trying to find us but had no luck.

We began to giggle.

“She’ll never find us,” I whispered. It went quiet.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be found,” whispered Lily.

“Boo!”

“Ahh!” Lily and I squealed.

“Found you!” said Sharlotte proudly. Next, we played tag. I ran quickly, dodging Lily as she tried to catch me. It was getting cold, but we kept playing anyway. “Got you Audrey!” exclaimed Lily, quickly running off.

“I’ll get you!” I said, running after her. ‘Whoosh!’

“Whoa! It’s cold!” I said stopping in my tracks.

“Do you think we should go home now?” said Lily, holding tightly onto her hat.

“I am. It’s getting late.” said Charlotte. “And you know what comes out at night.” said Lily. “Dingoes.”

“Are you guys coming?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Lily.

“Are you coming Audrey?” asked Sharlotte. “Uh… no thanks… My parents said they’d pick me up…”

“Oh, ok…,” said Sharlotte. Lily and Sharlotte headed back to town. Now I was alone in the cold, and my parents were late. “This couldn’t get any worse…” I sighed, trying to hold on to any warmth I had left.

‘Plink, plink, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.’

Rain… The wind howled like a dingo calling out to her pack. The rain got heavier, and thunder shook the ground angrily! I was terrified. ‘What if my parents never came!? What if they don’t know I’m here? ‘Maybe I should look for them.’ I thought. I began to wander further into the bush, becoming more lost. I slipped. The ground fell from beneath my feet and my heart jumped as I realized the mistake I made. I tumbled down a steep hill, pointy shrubs and branches trying to grab me as I went down. I went faster and faster, falling further down the hill and then in an instant everything went dark.

I woke up the following morning, cold, sore and stiff, my body painted with blood. I then felt something wet on my face, that smelt

of rotten meat. I quickly opened my eyes, only to see it was the tongue of a dingo! “Ahh! Don’t eat me! I don’t taste good!” The dingo walked away. When I looked around, I noticed that there wasn’t just one dingo, but five! But rather than attack me they just sat and watched. ‘Where am I?’ I frantically thought, looking around. The dingo that woke me was sleepily sitting on top of a rock. She looked up, got up from her spot and walked up to me. “Um, w-what do you want? I don’t have any food!” She looked at me, her russet brown eyes reading me, like a book. She then turned and wandered off, taking two other dingoes with her.

I sat still as a statue as the other three dingoes slept. I could have tried to sneak away, but I wasn’t taking my chances. A little while later she returned with the other two close behind. She was carrying something fuzzy in her mouth, but I couldn’t tell what it was. She then walked up to me again and dropped what was in her mouth. A dead possum! “Gross…” Then it clicked. I forgot to eat lunch yesterday and was starving by now. How did she know?

I was very confused. In school we were always told to never feed the dingoes but

The Girl and The Dingo cont.

now one was feeding me! She nudged the dead animal toward me, like she was asking me to take it, but there was no way I was going near it! “Um, no thanks, you can have it.” I said, reluctantly grabbing it by the tail and throwing it away. She then took it and ate it under the shade of a eucalyptus tree.

Eventually the night crept in, stealing the sun’s light and warmth. I hadn’t been found yet. Would I ever? The dingoes all slept around me. I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was cry. ‘Why didn’t I go back with Sharlotte and Lily,’ I thought. I then felt something soft touch me. It was the dingo. She lay down, resting her head on my knee. “Thanks,” I whispered to her. I then nervously stretched my arm out and gently stroked her fur.

I had always loved animals since I was little. Snakes, polar bears, lions and peacocks. You name it, and it would have been my favourite animal at some stage. But I had

always loved dingoes the most. Once the night crept away, I started to look for my parents again. The dingoes were still asleep, so I quietly crept away. I wandered the beaches searching for my family, or anyone who could help. But I soon learnt that I wasn’t alone. The dingo was following me. She walked a few metres behind me, ensuring I was safe.

Once I was found by a police officer, she vanished into the bush. I still see her every once in a while, when I’m playing with my friends, and it makes me glad to see she’s doing ok.

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”

– Anne Frank

My shadow looms menacingly

Covering up my face

It shows a faint smile

Keeping up the pace.

Everyone sees the shadow

And everyone has their own

Standing tall above us

Hiding us all alone

What happens when the shadows talk

And share the lies that they possess?

Rumours are said and hurt is spread

Leaving us all in one hot mess.

So I decide to bring my torch

To shine it on someone new

To learn who they really are

And show them my face too.

To keep it real with people

Is a talent we don’t all know

But something we should strive for

Not something we should owe.

LOOKING BACKWRDS

LACHLAN MONK

When I take a second to stop

And look back on my past

I notice faults and mistakes

That leave people with big scars.

I also see some others

Doing the same to me

And look down at my arms

At all these cuts that bleed.

They stay there as reminders

To my current self

That life just seems to happen

Don’t hide it on the shelf.

Take it for what it is

Learn from those mistakes

Don’t bother trying to heal the cuts

They show me changes to make.

Looking back isn’t a bad thing

It’s something everyone should do

All it does is teach us

How to be a better you. Year 9 Author L.M

BENEATH THE SKY

TYSON ROBINSON

Beneath the sky there is a land

That is red hot and called Australia

In the dusty parts of this place there are some hard farmers who support this country by giving us old Aussies

With our beat-up Utes that scull diesel

Just some fresh food to support our family

But in the countryside, there is always

A BBQ smoking hot and full of meat.

The fellow mates joining around the fire

And cracking a beer that is made for up here

And they watch the kids play footy with no fear.

But once the weekend has come to an end

Australia turns into a place that is full

Of hard workers that don’t mind getting down and dirty

As the soldiers, who were the same, had fought for this country

So that we can crack a beer at the end of the day in peace.

9 Author T.R

MY LIFE

PIPPI SAYER

My life

As a baby my life started

Separation occurred as a seedling

I saw the deep depths of a cargo ship

I saw the lining of a crate

I cuddled the dirt for warmth and food

As I grow to become the tallest tree

Surrounded by fellow mates

I look different from the others

My mates have bark that feels like sandpaper

Mine however has smooth, polka dots.

No one likes me.

I get left out,

I get stared out,

I get rude comments said to me I get questioned

I get ignored

For who I am.

So why do I call them my mates?

Why?

Bushfire season comes and goes, Droughts go by,

Floods go by,

But why this bushfire season?

A wildfire wide awake rained down on us, My mates struggling to survive the flames licking around them, As I lose sight of my lowest branches, I know it was my last minute alive.

As the flames reach higher and higher, I sink my roots deeper and deeper

They connect with my neighbouring tree, Who has lost all his branches, We fight together, I feed him with my food, I give him my water, I give love.

Soon with great relief rain pours from the skies

Cooling the ash ridden dirt,

And rejuvenating my skin, Fellow people survived but are deeply hurt, The droplets from my leaves, Fall upon the wounded as I Shake my branches.

My mates accept me now, I don’t get ignored, No rude comments said about me, I am included, I am praised.

I am home.

TRACTOR’S RUMBLE

RILEY SMIT

Some love the buzz and bumble but I prefer the tractor’s rumble

How they love the city’s symphony to me is an epiphany

How they love their land geographic let them have their peak hour traffic

You can keep your fancy cars cause I will have my dazzling stars

You can listen to funk hip hop, I’ll have my fruitful land and crop

I’ll keep my quiet land, on my rickety old porch I’ll stand

You can say your fancy words, I’ll gaze upon the pretty hummingbirds

I’ll gaze upon the golden fields with such glory even words don’t wield

I’ll gaze upon a land with history’s glory and tell the Anzacs’ frightful story.

The cattle’s moo, the sound of the wildlife zoo

This place so peaceful the collection of things so blissful

The song of the rushing creek forever gushing not weak

These words that tell of a land so sweet where land and sky always meet

Like old friends in a pub sometimes they share their stories with a happy chime

Of how the land is lush and the sky so plush People should live life, not rush.

Like this we could go on and on for hours comparing Meadows and flowers to concrete jungles and towers.

But I prefer the tractors rumble over the city’s buzz and bumble.

Year 9 Author R.S

FOREVER OURS

JHETT SLEEP

For this country we love, with our blazing sun above. It shines like our people, bright and strong.

We’ll be out and about, walking on our plastic thongs.

With the clasp of our tongs and the grasp of our snags, You can never go wrong with a barbeque on a sunny day.

Our coast is so vibrant, oh so blue, A place that’s perfect for a swim or a surf.

The tradies will all come in for a refresher, after work.

Though be wary of the ocean, our sharks and stingers are no lie.

Follow the rules, and things won’t seem so scary.

Australia - forever mine, forever yours.

We have forests, rainforests, tropics and vast deserts.

Inside, thousands of unique creatures reside, Wallabies, Kookaburras, Dingoes, Magpies, Koalas, Crocodiles, There’s always something new to find in our Land Down Under.

Our people are the same, Unique personalities, unique history, With the Aussie spirit, everyone matters.

People can come from opposite ends of the world, Australia will remain inclusive to all.

Forever mine, forever yours.

Our country is free; you can be yourself. Our healthcare is free, paid through our taxes. Our education is free; learning is key.

With no war and wealthy land, Australians are lucky, with that shall stand.

Our past is deep and scary, But we shall look back and learn. We shall unite with the natives, Unite with our friends.

Accept them as they were forced to accept us.

Now together, Australia is Forever mine, and forever yours.

We shouldn’t value our country on money, But culture, history and principles. We shall sustain our country but not get greedy. Staying independent

We’ll grow our own.

When attacked, we’ll fight back.

With trial and error, we’ll seal every broken crack.

Our freedom shall stay, We’ll protect our bay, Australia - The country forever ours.

DIGGING FOR A DIFFERENT LIFE

PHILLIPPA SMITH

My hands were sore; wrinkled from the constant water. Every day in the wash house felt the same. You’d think I’d be used to it. Back home in Ireland, I’d washed for twelve siblings, Mam, Dad and all my grandparents. But this – this was different.

My brother Tadhg and I had been in Gympie, Australia for 4 years, joining the fever that the gold had brought to this small town. We hope to find enough to take home and support our terribly poor family. Tadhg works in the mines and I in the wash house. But all Tadhg’s earnings go back to our family, leaving my small wages for simple necessities. Often, this leaves us poorer than when we were back home.

“Your week’s pay, Caitlin.” It was Mary, our landlord and my employer. The slip got lighter each week.

At the end of each tiresome day, I’d wander the same muddy, minerally streets through air as thick as mud. Our house (or “tin shack”) was cold and dark. I’d scramble

around until I could light the lamp. I’d make a meal of the little food we had and long for a good Irish Stew. Tadhg would come home, and we’d eat our small servings. I knew he should be eating more but he’d never take any of mine. The joy of our nights was reading the letters from home. They were the tiny rays of light in our otherwise grey lives.

“Help! Where’s the nurse?” The muffled noise broke right through the wash house walls. Mary marched towards the door, face pale, body tight. The miner burst through the door.

“Mary, the mining coordinator’s had a fall,” he said forcefully, and quite out of breath.

“Oh, well… we should…,” Mary started, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. She motioned for me to come over.

“This is Caitlin. She’ll help you, won’t you dear,” Mary said definitely. I nodded and followed behind the miner, who hurried me down the street.

The miner lay on a thin, insufficient stretcher, with cuts and bruises on his hands and knees. I didn’t hesitate. I worked in silence, and no one disturbed me.

“You’re home late,” Tadhg questioned as I walked through the door. But as I spoke, he seemed distracted.

“We got the gold!” he said finally.

“What!” I jumped around, my red plaits flapping past my ears, “You mean…?”

“We hit a load in the quarts-veins. Enough to go home.”

I was excited but somewhere there was still a slight feeling of perplexity. The same day I started enjoying work, I got the chance to move forward.

So, a few days later, it was decided. We would take a boat back to Ireland, a month from now. I was on my way to tell Mary of our news, when I was stopped.

“Caitlin. Thank you so much for your help the other day.” It was the mining coordinator, limping slightly but smiling. “Mary wants to see you,” he added.

“What do you think?” Mary questioned, with a bright twinkle in her eyes.

“Well Mary, I would happily take over the nursing department, and extra pay would

be great, but…” I started, unsure of what to say, “Tadhg made up the money, which means …” I started, seeing the twinkle fade from Mary’s eyes.

“I see dear. But nothing says you have to leave, does it?” This really made me think.

That night I lay awake, thinking. What was I going to do?

I stood on the ship and watched as Australia faded into the distance. For years I’d called it home and now it pulled at my heart strings. I’d made my choice. Whether it was right though … well, time would tell.

Year 8 Author P.S

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

– Anton Chekhov

STRAYA

MATTHEW STILLER

Summer is here

Which means Christmas is near

Time to fill the esky

With plenty of beer

Maybe some steak and deer

Time to crank the barbie

While it warms up time to clean the yard

There is always something to do

Bring out the boardies

Thongs are the only footwear

While the parents are drinking beer

The kids play footy without any fear

After lunch we go 4WDing

We go to Glasshouse Mountains

Find the rock pools and drink some more booze

Watch the kids bomb dive and do flips in the water

Yet Australia has more than a barbie with your mates

Farming is a core part of Australia

Harvesting in the summer

Farmers spending endless hours in the machines

Just to keep Australia running LOVE YA STRAYA

Year 9 Author M.S

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF CHARLIE MAY

LOLA SUMNER

“Why are there three peaks?” Lilly groaned, her head slumping against the desk. “I don’t understand the point of all this! Years of geography for what, so I can read maps!”

Mr. Raul glanced over, arching an eyebrow.

“There’s plenty of need for it, Lilly. Trust me,” he answered, walking over to the girl’s desk. “Like what?” she grumbled, unconvinced. Mr. Raul sat on the edge of the desk where Lilly was graphing out some cluster of mountains. The man thought for a few moments before beginning to share his tale.

The hot Australian summer blared down onto him; used to the hottest temperature being 20, this felt like some sick kind of torture. Leigh Creek was dry, empty, and quiet with the taste of dust on the air, the opposite of London’s bustling streets. Mr. Raul, or Nico, had arrived there with his mother, stepfather, and best friend, Harper. He’d met her three years prior in that early morning form lesson;

she’d barely understood the schedule. By first break, they were attached at the hip.

“This sucks.” Nico had complained, pulling at his shirt as it clung to his skin. “Shut up,” Harper had bitten back. “C’mon, guys,” Charlie chirped, “Sure, it’s not London, but it’s not the worst place in the world.”

Charlie Mayfield, both Nico and Harper had met her on the first day at school. The trio had quickly become friends on the first day of school. She’d seemed nice enough. A bit standoffish, Nico had thought, but who wasn’t?

The trio wandered along the road to Charlie’s house, holding the sticks of the iceblocks they’d eaten earlier like their lives depended on it. Nico despised it here. Empty, bland, and quiet. It was like they’d dropped earth and moved to another planet entirely.

When they’d gotten to Charlie’s, neither Harper nor Nico had noticed anything amiss. Looking back, Nico knew he’d just ignored it. Her nervous fidgeting, how she’d rambled on

to make the trip back last longer. There’d been a yell from inside, Charlie had jolted. He’d still brushed it off. He can still remember watching her scurry up to the house, eyes downcast.

That was the last time they’d seen her.

Nico still remembered the icy shiver that’d run down his spine when the teacher had announced it. Missing. Charlie’s brother said she’d stormed off after an argument. Now he hadn’t seen her in two days, nor had anyone else. Nico and Harper had gone out with a few other people, searching the scarce bush for any sign of their friend. But they’d come up with nothing.

“This is pointless, they’re just searching in the same places over and over!” Nico had grumbled, the knot in his stomach growing tighter. “We’ll find her, Nic,” Harper assured. “C’mon, it’s dark. Turn on the torch.”

Leigh Creek was far creepier at night. Even with the sky still painted a mixture of vibrant orange and pink, the land was nearly pitch black already. Only the scent of dust and sand alerted them to what they walked on as they approached Aroona Dam.

That was where they’d found Charlie.

“WHAT?!” Lilly screeched. The rest of the class was crowded around as Mr. Raul finished the story. His voice was slightly more muted. “They said she’d gotten lost in the dark, lost her footing and hit her head,” He muttered. “I never believed it, but that’s beside the point.” Mr. Raul stood up, glancing out the window at the bustling tuckshop. “It’s why this is important. If you know where you’re going, it’ll stop this from happening again.” The man sighed, walking back to his desk. “Back to work.”

He sat down, eyes lingering on the photo of himself and Harper, holding a rescued koala back in Leigh Creek, where she still resided. He smiled lightly before turning back to his laptop.

When I was little, I used to say, ‘Mummy, there is a monster under my bed.’

Back then, she’d laugh softly, tuck my blankets tighter around me, and promise the monsters couldn’t reach me. Now I say, ‘Mummy, there is a monster in my head.’ But this time, she doesn’t know how to chase it away. This time she says, ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ when we both know she won’t. This time she’s too busy for me.

“And what about your dad? Issy? Issy?!” I snapped out of my daydream, blinking at the last place I wanted to be. The office felt suffocating. Pastel walls, fake plants, and a chair too soft to be comforting. Claustrophobic. That’s how I always feel when we talk about my family. Dr. Jess’s eyes were kind, almost too kind. I hated that. The difference between her warmth and my cold insides made everything feel worse, like my life had a permanent shadow cast over it. “Sorry, Dr. Jess,” I mumbled. This wasn’t the first time I froze up. I hated coming here, but according to my parents, “this will help you in

MONSTERS HOPE WALKER

the long run.” As if talking to a stranger about how they tore my life in two would magically fix me. “My dad isn’t around much. I mean, he’s present, and I appreciate that, but he and his girlfriend just bought a house. I’m going to have two younger stepsiblings soon.” I paused, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Tear threating to spill. “They’re lovely, really. But it’s not my family.” My voice cracked, but I covered it quickly. “I think my mum’s outside. I should go.” I stood up, thinking about how close Dr jess was to seeing the broking part of me. “I-, ok see you next week,” Dr. Jess said gently. I glanced back once. Her blue eyes were soft, her lips crinkled up—like she was sorry for me.

“How was it?” Mum asked, sipping her coffee from the overpriced Starbucks. I was still adjusting to Brisbane—so many lights, cars, people. It was the opposite of the Sunshine Coast, where we had acreage and silence. It was like I was in the heart of crazy. Now, everything buzzed. On the upside, I could get everything

right at my doorstep, not that I want it. She always went out of her way to buys me stuff.

“Because I love you so much,” was her apparent reason, but I knew better. She was trying to win me over. “So, I have something to tell you—” I closed my eyes.

Suddenly, I was back at our old wooden dining table. Birds sang outside like they were performing opera. Mum and Dad came down the stairs, smiling—plastic smiles. Their hands stiff in each other’s. My sister and I exchanged a look, we always knew when they are pretending.

“Morning!” we said in sync. I noticed Mum’s finger twitching. She only did that when she was nervous. “We have something to tell you,” Dad said, his voice cracked with fake confidence, “We’ve decided… it’s best if we live apart,” Dad said, like he was announcing a change in plans. Mum nodded, her eyes flicking between me and my sister. “We still love you both so much. That won’t change.” Her voice cracked on the last word. I watched her fingers twitch again.

My sister’s spoon clinked against her cereal bowl. I could see her jaw tighten, like she was holding something in—tears or rage or both. She is always protecting me from the fights and the break-up that we both knew would happen

sooner or later. I stared at the birds outside. They were still singing. I wondered if they could sing loud enough to drown this out.

The colours of the memory slowly fade as I open my eyes, returning to the world. It’s like my life was really happening again but this time I knew the outcome. I look at mum, then think about my inner demons. I remember, as a child, whispering in the dark: “Mummy, there are monsters in my bed.” Later, “Mummy, there are monsters in my head.” Only now… I have control. Not because they’re gone, but because I’m no longer afraid. Now I realise that the monsters aren’t my parents but myself. My mind. I’m no longer surrendering myself to them. Next time I won’t whisper about my monsters, I’ll talk about the girl who faced them and won.

Year 8 Author H.W

ETHAN WEST

JAMES AND THE BURGER

Chapter 1- Big Man, Little Bike, Bigger Quest

James was a big guy, he didn’t like big crowds or small talk, he just liked him, himself, and his own self, except for his dog, Big Mac. Big Mac was a big Pitbull. James liked him very much. As Big Mac jumped up onto the couch, James turned the television on and switched to channel 78. There was a gym guy talking about how he can transform someone from morbidly obese to ripped in 100 days. There was a number on the video, so James called it. The guy told James to meet up in an hour, so James got up and got ready to get jacked. After putting his shoes and some clean clothes on, he rode his little pink bike that was not close to be suitable for his large frame. It was too small. James pedalled

the little pedals as fast as he could and he was moving. As he went down a hill his little bike gave out and he bounced a little and started rolling. He stopped at the bottom of the hill.

James got mad at his bike and kicked the parts around. As he was kicking his bike around, he saw another minibike, but it was electric. He jumped on it and rode off. He was riding fast. He was going to make it to the gym in no time. As he made it to the gym he parked in the mini parking zone. But he couldn’t fit, so he went to the medium zone, but he still couldn’t fit, so he used the big one. All for a little bike. As he got out, he could not see his new coach nearby. He looked around and he still couldn’t see him.

James decided to walk around a little bit to get used to this new place that he was in. He saw a piece of paper and he picked it up, it was a list of quests.

Chapter 2 - The Intrusive Thoughts

After James picked up the list, another piece of paper fell out. As he grabbed that, there was

a key, and then next to it, it said, “unlock the garage”. When James looked at the list, there was a certain quest that James didn’t want to do but he had no choice. Break into the burger museum, and steal the golden big mac trophy that’s 100% pure gold and could be sold for over 10 million. James looked towards the shed, and he made one last choice. To open the garage. As James put the key in the keyhole and turned it, the lock made a CLICK sound, symbolising that it was unlocked… James lifted the garage door, and it opened, revealing an over sized suit with tools. James had to go sideways just to fit in the doorway. He slid on the suit that was a perfect fit and put on the tools and gadgets. James got back on his minibike and rode to the local museum… as he arrived he got off his minibike and walked to the front of the museum. And he was ready.

Chapter 3 - The Robbery

James used the grappling hook that the guy game him and he started getting pulled up, but he was too heavy. So, he had to walk on the side a little bit, as he got to the top. James relocated the hook to the side. On the top, above the trophy, James started lowering himself down to the ground to grab the trophy. He had to grab

it but James knew there was a pressure plate underneath. James had to go around and look for a heavy object. He picked up a medium sized object and he got ready. He grabbed the trophy and quickly slid the heavy object onto its place. He got the trophy. As he was about to celebrate, the museum’s alarms started blaring. James quickly pulled himself back to the top and he relocated the hook to the side and went down to his bike. He got on his bike and rode away to his house.. the quest was complete, he melted the gold and got gold bars and sold them. He was a millionaire with 10 million in his bank account. That night. James and Big Mac had a feast all night.

RORY WHITEHURST

THE LOVE POEM

1 CORINTHIANS 13

You can talk so smooth, sound wise and bright, Know every fact, be clever and right.

But if your heart has lost all love, Your words are noise, not sent from above.

You can give your stuff to those in need, Do brave good deeds, take the lead.

But if there’s no love in what you do, It all means nothing, it’s just for you.

Love is patient, love is kind, It keeps no score, it speaks its mind.

It doesn’t brag or act all tough, Love’s humble heart is strong enough.

Love doesn’t snap or lose control, It doesn’t fake, it makes you whole. It cheers for truth, turns from lies, Love always hopes, and never dies.

All the smart talk fades away, The big ideas won’t always stay. Right now we see a blurry view, But one day we’ll see what’s true.

When I was young, I spoke like a kid, Did what I felt, and thought what I did. But growing up has shown me clear, Making those childish ways disappear.

Three big things will never fade:

Faith, hope, and love, the ones God made.

But out of all, the best by far, Is love, that’s who we really are.

Year 9 Author R.W

A DAY OF MINE

CHARLIE WILSON

I wake up in the morning, the sun in my face the birds singing loudly just like they do in this place

I go upstairs on my veranda the fresh air waiting for me 1 glass of juice and vegemite toast while dad makes mum a tea sad news overnight- chickens dead, a dingo or fox is to blame

Mum says in future well get chicks but we’re not going to give them a name.

Time for the beach

put the towels in the boot and don’t forget the snacks.

It’s a beautiful day, Wetty already in and Surf board on the racks.

Almost hit a roo on the wayreminds me of my trip in my mind that will always stay Of the hot red sand of Uluru, and the clear water falls from WA the Delicious food we got to eat from restaurants, roadsides, stands, it’s all on my Parents- their treat. And playing board games from here to there, and after a meal we have a Prayer.

Swimming with, turtles, seals, whale sharks and fish is way better than any school I could ever wish.

We get to the beach, the sand burns my toes, but the water is nice and cool I see Guppies down below I try to catch a wave stood up for a second.

Better than my brother who didn’t try I reckon.

After it all, we go to the pub, my mom gets wine my dad a beer and chips for all of us as we talk about our day with cheer. It’s finally time to go home the stars are out shining bright I could watch for hours and not get tired of the sight. We get out of the cara cane toad gives me a fright and with that I go to bed and tell my parents “I love you, goodnight”.

Year 9 Author C.W

DIRTY SECRETS

INDIANA WHITTLE

The rugged land stretches endlessly in every direction. Time itself ceases to matter. The sun belts the earth, splitting the ground like a wound. The outback feels hostile and antagonistic, as if it were waiting for you to make a mistake. However, the mistake was already made… coming here.

‘Why Mum?’ I complain. ‘Why do we have to be here?’ I point out of the car’s window. Her hands tighten over the steering wheel as she exhales slowly. ‘Vivienne, you know I need work. Dogspaw is offering me that. Brisbane isn’t.’ She says. ‘Brisbane is home.

I had a life there.’ I snap. ‘Enough. End of conversation.’ Mum says sternly, turning the radio up. Static. Even the radio’s given up.

‘We’re here.’ Mum sings. Up ahead, there’s a rusted metal sign reading ‘Welcome to Dogspaw, the NT’s smallest gold mining town.’ How underwhelming. Standing next to the sign is a short woman in her mid-

fifties. She waves, urging us to come closer.

Mum stops the car, and she walks towards us.

‘G’day, ya must be Doctor Madeline, I’m Maggie. Excited to be here?” The woman inquires, her Aussie drawl hard to understand.

Mum replies, ‘Yes, we-’

‘But yous’ ain’t stayin’ long?’ Maggie interrupts, eyebrow raised.

‘As long as we’re needed.’ Mum says.

‘Ah… Righto then, I’ll-I’ll see yas ‘round.’

Maggie smiles, waving goodbye.

‘She was… interesting.’ I begin. Mum gives me a side eye as she starts driving to our ‘new home’ overlooking the town.

The small Queenslander, the size of our apartment, stands tall and humble, ready for a new chapter. Wood panels hang by one nail, some nearly disintegrated by termites. Its classic cream paint fights the rusted red dirt to stand out. Two crusty chairs sit on

the veranda. It feels comforting, like home.

‘Shoot, it’s 5:30. Vegemite toast for dinner? Mum yawns.

‘Yep’ I say. Getting out of the car.

Mum makes toast and we sit outside, admiring the sunset. The sun casts its golden rays over the town, making the other white Queenslanders glow like stars in the sky. The red ground turns to purple and colourful clouds dance in the sky.

Maybe this place isn’t so bad.

The sound of glass shattering woke me. I sat up, the sheets on my bed falling to the ground. ‘Vivienne, are you alright!?’ Mum calls. ‘Yeah, what was that!’ I yell. I get up and walk out to the kitchen, where Mum is picking up shards of glass. A rock wrapped in paper is the culprit. I pick it up. Slowly unravelling the paper, messy red writing lies underneath. A message, ‘Leave now, or suffer the consequence. We’re coming for you.’ I read the note to Mum. Her face pales.

‘Do we tell the police?’ I ask.

‘It’s probably just a prank, Viv.’ Mum says trying to calm me.

‘I don’t know about that.’ I look at the window.

‘Well, it’s 6-ish, wanna look around the place?’ Mum asks.

‘Yeah, I could use the distraction.’ I smile.

The town has all the basics. We pass ‘Dogs Breath’, a lonely-looking pub. ‘Breakfast?’ Mum smiles. I nod.

Dogs Breath has a classic pub feel, with the smell of beer wafting in the air. After a matter of minutes, I have a delicious plate of chicken Parmi in front of me. Mum zones off. I sit staring out of the window. There are 5 other people here. Chattering away, filling their faces with food. Then I hear Mum’s name. She hears it too. We go silent, listening for the source.

‘She’s got an ankle biter.’ A sketchy man says, sitting with a woman.

‘They can’t stay long.’ She says.

‘These city folk are gonna be ‘round here like roaches. I need-we need, to take care of them, one way or another.’ His voice sharpens like a knife.

‘Ya reckon their gonna find out?’ The woman inquires.

Find out what? I ask myself. Mum looks at me. “We need to leave. Now!”, she whispers.

We leave Dogs Breath without finishing our food. Fog snakes its crooked fingers around the streets, making the buildings look like ghosts. I felt like something was crawling up my back. We’re being watched. We’re the prey, and the predator is about to pounce.

Mum parks at the house, leaving the car running. She starts frantically packing, leaving me with no explanation why. I stand on the veranda, looking at the town. Its peacefulness disguises its secrets and unknown dangers.

‘What are they hiding, Mum?’ I ask voice shaking. She slams my bag shut and walks past me. I don’t recognise her. My mother’s face is consumed with raw fear.

I help her load the car. We’re leaving. The radio’s static rings in my ears as we fight the fog to escape.

I glance back at the rusted Dogspaw sign, a figure lingers next to it.

Maggie stands, watching us as we flee.

STRONG I WILL STAY

LILY WILKINSON

Betrayal,

A fragile thing,

Trust, so easily broken,

A lone heart, never secure,

A fake friend

A breaking

A stone, as dead as my thoughts,

Hands tied,

Messages left unread,

Some things said, better left unspoken,

One lie could make someone die, on the inside,

Everything lost, nothing found,

Back to the start of my life somehow,

Words twisted,

People hurt - verbally, physically, and mentally,

What’s left?

Something empty, something hollow,

I may fall, I may break,

But I know what’s at stake,

My heart may break,

But strong I will stay,

Everything wrong, nothing right,

Oh how I try,

But ill never break,

Strong I will stay.