Luckley Literary Review - Summer 2024

Through the Gap in the Curtains…P2 The Haunted House...……………..P4 School Poems……………...……....P6

Left Behind……………………...…P8 Key Stage 3 Poetry……………..…P9 ISA Competition Entries….……...P10 House Book Reviews…………….P17 Extinction………………………....P22 Year 8 Creative Writing……..…...P26 Year 10 Exam Practice.…………..P28

October 21st 2017: Dear diary, I’m Jack. I’m 24 and I have agoraphobia and anxiety, which has led to depression, I’ve been told to start a diary to help put my worries aside and distract my mind. I personally don’t like this idea and don’t think I can be helped, but it can’t hurt to give it a try. They told me to “use nature to inspire me” even though I can’t go outside, so I’m going to use the gap in my curtains.

January 17th 2018: Dear diary, The street is spotted with fluffy white snow, on the road, on the trees and rooftops. It’s been snowing consistently for the past month or two, pairing with the occasional gust of wind. Nothing interesting happens down our road, probably why the Andersons moved out. Now there is a purple sign saying “House for sale” in big letters outside their door.

On New Year’s, which was done via zoom, I was told to make a resolution, which reminded me how often I’m told to do things by other people, so my New Year’s resolution will be to be more independent.

April 9th 2018: Dear diary, The snow is all gone now, new flowers are beginning to bloom and the trees are looking green again. It looks like the old lady across the road has taken up gardening as a hobby, she’s out there every day, enjoying the time she’s got left I suppose. I’ve been going nowhere in terms of progress with my anxiety, I could be stuck with it forever, according to Dr Phillips. He’s a pain anyway, all he does is demands money and says I’m not getting better in fact that I’m getting worse and can’t be helped, useless.

August 8th 2018: Dear diary, This has been the hottest summer we’ve ever had, so hot my window frame hurts to touch. I can hear the neighbour kids splashing in their pool, lucky devils. Someone has finally bought the Andersons’ old place, another family it looks like, mum, dad, and one boy, maybe four-years-old. They have put up scaffolding over the back of their house, could be a new conservatory. It took some courage but I sacked Dr Phillips for a new therapist Mrs Alphs. I know, “Mrs” sounds like I’m in Year 7, she has helped me considerably more than Dr Phillips ever did. with him, I was hardly holding on to sanity and, more than once, I wanted to hurt myself. With Dr Alphs, I even sat in my back garden for half a session before having a “minor” breakdown and being taken back to the office.

She thinks I will be able to go out in my back garden alone by the end of the year.

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November 14th 2018: Dear diary, We are back in autumn again; the street looks like someone threw a giant orange peel over us coating the roofs, trees and pavement. I think it’s one of the best times of year with the falling leaves and the brisk air, of course I only partly know the real autumn but it looks good from my window. Mrs Alphs has been seeing me weekly but progress has begun to slip. The only reason I’m doing this is to stop myself curling into a ball and dying inside.

February 5th 2019: Dear diary, Although it’s still technically winter there is no snow or dead bushes left, it’s practically spring now. The old lady is still alive and out there again, pruning her roses. The extension opposite is done they’ve added a small conservatory to the back of their little bungalow, it looks like where the nice old lady lives in a cartoon show. Mrs Alphs has helped me to realise the progress I’ve made and how it’s only going to get better. She advised me to get a dog, seems like a lot of work but they are said to be the best cure to depression and to be honest I’ve got nothing to lose.

May 2nd 2019 Dear diary, It’s taken me two years to notice how much everything around me changes but I, I stay the same. It’s almost summer now, I decided it was a good idea to get a dog, so I did. He was a pain to begin with but I realise he was all I needed, he motivated me, amused me and most of all gave me responsibility. I started all this in 2017, ancient history now, just to make a therapist happy, then it became habit, then I looked forward to writing in my book.

Now look at me… reviewing my entries! Anyway, it’s been a long journey and I have to say I would not be here in this open forest, with my dog, if it wasn’t for the gap in the curtains.

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Black bats soared above the rotten rooftops.

The tottering towers sighed and shrieked behind the glinting moon.

Creak.

My paws thudded across the worn wooden floor and the planks sighed in anguish.

The clock slowly ticked backwards with its weak and weary voice.

Tick, Tock Roaming rodents skittered across the stone steps.

My sleek silver coat shimmered in the menace filled moonlight.

Click The deep darkness was filled with terrifying tension.

As the weary wanderers stumbled, I backed into the dreary dark.

Shriek Groaning, I followed the mourning wanderers.

Unknown doors had been pulled off hinges as I followed the winding, weaving stairs down into darkness.

Crash Outside was an inky photograph where demonic bodies rambled into pitch black.

Weathered windowpanes left shattered glass into murky mud.

Roar Mouth curdling screams bellowed.

Ghosts lurked in the shadows, cracks and in the darkest, deepest dungeons.

A cry A gust of wind flies into the dirty, deserted room The painful pattering of rain thunders on the broken-down mansion Thud Lightning strikes and everything stands silently like a statue.

Rodents scuttle in fearful fright Eek The remaining, remorseful chandeliers crashed on the rubble.

My home was one big tip site, with no way out.

Bang I curled up into a ball and snuggled up beneath my fluffy, furry, winter coat.

My eyes fluttered sleepily, everything turned dim, and I drifted off dreamily into light sleep.

Ping A bat, burning crimson eyes glared in the moonlight.

But my turquoise, emerald eyes shone like a crack of gold.

Slam Misguided monsters muttered murderous murmurs.

The house of haunted spirits has only been seen by me: the eyes of a cat 4

The tall, terrifying tottering towers stood tall in the shapeless shadows as you were wondering who left this house in the middle of nowhere.

Having rotten rooftops, the hidden house heard the withering wind whistle.

Expensive objects were destroyed during this dreadful death of the mansion.

Haunted footsteps following you around the grim gargoyle statues as you arrived inside.

A SHREEK! SQUEEL! STOMP! Came from upstairs and you ask yourself what it could be???

Underneath you look down and see roaming rodents and black bats crawling and flying around on stepping stones.

Nothing is left in the mansion except for a sea of ashes and forbidden floorboards that have only a single step left on them.

The ghastly ghosts were GROANING and MOANING everywhere they went.

Each and every sorrow souls were sighing thinking about their past lives.

DRIP DROP! Went the leak in the rotten roof. The black beetle bugs crawled around the silent surroundings.

Hurry up! The haunted house went CREEK! When you opened the crusty rusty door in hope you would find something new.

Outside the mistic and misty moonlight shone onto the home of dead ancestors.

Underneath you there are rotten roots and mouldy soil growing around them.

SWOOSH! STOMP! SCREACH! SPLASH! SLPAT! The haunted house was crash ing down on top of you. RRRUUUUNNNN! Escaped??!!! Finally. I can now tell a spooky story.

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To you all I’ve spoken to Or waved to It’s been a Pleasure And a Privilege To know you I wish you All you’d Wish yourselves I have a tear In my heart As we may Never See or meet Ever again I hope you Have really good Tomorrows And reach Your goals Take care Love Gary

May ‘24

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What’s to say They help You grow From child To adult They expand Your Knowledge Widen Your boundaries Enhance Your confidence Guide you From child To adult They are Not Parents They’re With you For hours Each day Thank your Teachers

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I dropped everything and ran. I ran as hard as I could, not looking back to see my equipment being crushed by boulders twice the size of me or listening to the cries of people behind me.

Dust suffocated me filling my mouth, my eyes watered turning my vision into a swirl of walls and ceiling. But I believed I would get out. I truly believed that I had a chance.

I believed wrong.

Pain is all I felt as I regained consciousness. Every warning signal in my mind blurred; I was stuck. I was frozen in place. My head was a drum, pounding out a never-ending rhythm of pain. My ears were ringing so hard I thought I was surrounded by people dragging their nails down chalkboards. Wading through all that commotion, the memory of what happened was coming back to me.

Breathing was getting harder. It was as if I was climbing a mountain, each breath filled with more and more dust. My coffin of dirt was getting tighter by the minute. Every time I took a breath, the wall closed in slowly suffocating me. It was as if the devil was laughing at me, looming, watching, and waiting until I took one too many breaths and I came to him. A droplet of a tear, but a tear nonetheless, ran down my cheek, and the devil laughed as if he knew I had accepted my fate. Just as he thought I was going to give up, something came to mind.

Hope. I believed I would have a chance, that someone (I don't know who, but someone) was looking for me. My heart rate started to pick up: 80...

100...

120....

With little movement I could manage, I started to slowly work my way through the dirt that was suffocating me. Bit by bit, centimetre by centimetre, I slowly worked my way up. Towards freedom. Even though this was my only hope I was filled with fear every time I dug my nails into the dirt; the fear swelled up in me like a tsunami. The fear made me realise. I was running out of air.

I had to stop. I had made nearly no difference, and the air had become so thick that it was nearly a paste. I had truly given up. The only thing I could do was to try and stay awake. My ears had stopped ringing, and I hated it; at least with the ringing, there was something to hear, now: silence. Not an animal, not a person, not even a worm. The only thing that broke the wall of silence was my raspy breath. In an instant, all of that changed.

It started muffled a low humming that I though was my mind going crazy. but grew louder the humming turned to drumming all the way to pounding until i realised what was happening: the machinery, the people, all together making a invigorating racket. The hope that I thought was gone came back and rushed over me. And with it, I felt as if I had a bit more space, and the air was just a little easier to breathe.

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The hustle and bustle of Kings Cross is like no other It can best be described as one hundred cars starting their engines at once People huffing and puffing as they try and catch their trains Loud footsteps as people run down the platforms The low pitch puffing of a train comes in Crew shouting at the top of their lungs As the train squalls like a mouse to a stop The black smoke hurls to the top of the station canopy.

Making friends with wax figures is hard, Secrets are seldom shared with painted faces.

Little emotion is between movements of pawns, Glazed eyes form weak bonds with attempts at interaction.

They don’t know who you are, They don’t know each other, They merely make light conversation

Alessa (Year 8) Purr sweet like honey Eyes light up the night like stars Her fur soft like silk Bella (Year 8) The warm starry night Waves sound like a lullaby Cool sand on my feet Ana (Year 9) Refuge, the dance floor I think only of the moves Where my mind can rest

Rose (Year 8) Eyes bright like the moon Lighting up the dark harsh night The bright orange gems

Eleanor (Year 8) Lost in a blank space, But the dark always comes out Where fireworks are launched

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Music is a universal language that unites us all, it can spread a message through lyrics or simply just the way it sounds can provoke thoughts and feelings. A well composed song could start a spark in someone’s mind which may start a revolution. Music can change how you’re feeling or enhance and strengthen your emotions. It can soothe minds or do the exact opposite. The power of music is a very special thing.

There is not a single culture in the history of the world that hasn’t involved some aspect of music and people have found a musical instrument as old as cave paintings. The oldest musical instrument is over 60,000 years old. It is called a Neanderthal flute (it was made by the Neanderthals). It was discovered in Slovenia in Divje bay. Music was highly valued in many ancient cultures such as India, China, Greece, and Egypt.

In music there are so many different styles: Hip Hop, Rock, Pop, Classical the list goes on. Considering the fact every person is different no wonder there are so many different styles, some people may like two styles some may like five some only one it all depends on the person.

Music has many different uses. Some people use music to help them understand how they’re feeling, people use music to get them prepared and in the right mindset, other people use music to help them change how they are feeling, help them relax and help improve their mental health. Music is even used for medical purposes such as helping people to learn to speak again and helping those who have trouble moving move more freely. There are so many different uses for music and its different for everyone.

Music doesn’t just change people; it can change the world. Many songs have had a big effect on the way our world is today. “I Am Woman” by Helen Reddy was released in the early 1970’s during the start of the women’s liberation movement in America It’s all about believing in yourself and reaching your potential and it topped the charts. “Big Yellow Taxi” by Joni Mitchell is a song focusing on the environment and the relationship between earth and the modern-day civilisation and how it is affecting our planet. There are many songs like these which have had a substantial effect on our world.

It’s hard to imagine a world without music, it’s all around you every single day in almost all places: Cafes, in the car, train station, events and so many more places. Music works in the same place of your brain as positive experiences, but it makes you feel like nothing else can.

In conclusion music is important to us in so many ways and a world without music would be a nightmare. It would be a lot harder to live without music. It’s an important part of life and something you wouldn’t want to live without. The power of music is a very strong thing, and it can change the world.

Music is the beating heart of humanity resonating with people all over the planet.

Isn’t it fascinating how music has the ability to evoke emotions, transcend language barriers, and unite people from all different walks of life?

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The door creaked eerily in the harsh wind. The building reeked of death; the stench of dead fish left out for years. It was dark inside – the dead have no need for light. The furniture looked like it could have once been very comfortable and expensive, but now, an elegant sofa lay on its side, leaking feathers onto the floor. The floorboards looked like they would shatter as soon as you stepped on them, and the carpet was so dusty it seemed to be leaving a trail in the air. Pointing towards the sitting room. The mirror, right in the centre of the room. The cracked, blood-splattered mirror that had done all this to the house. The mirror that had three spine-chilling words written on its gleaming surface in scarlet blood: I am coming The house has been empty as long as I can remember. Just another strange feature to a strange town.

No one goes in anymore. It’s just there. The demolition workers aren’t brave enough to knock it down, the designers aren’t brave enough to remodel it. So it just sits there. Indestructible.

Concrete.

Like it can never be removed from this odd little town.

Like… a curse.

But curses don’t exist. And neither does magic, or ghosts, or any other rumour about the house. Not unless you’re an eccentric person.

And I, for one, am not an eccentric person and do not believe in magic or ghosts or curses.

Or I didn’t.

Touching the house is the ultimate achievement among the children of my town. Touch the house, and you will be forever respected and renowned. Of course, very few people actually touch it, barely any have even managed to climb up the first step before running back down again. But I was one of the few who was brave enough to do it. I touched the house. But I did more than that. Much, much more. I entered it. And what I found inside was not a ghost or a curse or a magic spell. It was something worse. A lot worse.

As I pushed open the door on that fateful day, ignoring the shouts of other children, begging me to come back, I knew that I shouldn’t go in. I shouldn’t enter the house. But I’d had enough of this town and its superstitious rumours. Enough of being frightened of a house just because it looked scary. It was time to prove myself. Prove that I was brave enough, that I wasn’t just some scared child. Stepping into the hall, I slammed the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world, I saw the wrecked furniture, the dusty carpet. I smelt the stench of dead fish. I felt the dirt and grime upon my skin and I heard the creaky door swing shut behind me, drowning out all sound. Finally, I understood the fear of the other children. This house was meant to invoke fear into people. It was meant to scare the life out of anyone who set eyes on it. And if someone wasn’t scared. Well, then it lured them in.

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And now, I was going to pay.

I spun on the spot and pulled at the door, but it was locked. The other kids wouldn’t lock me in. They weren’t brave enough. So, how had it locked. I tried the windows, but they had all vanished, replaced with blank walls.

Screaming, crying, I ran through the house, into every room, every nook and cranny, un l the living room. And the mirror. Emblazoned with three words smeared in blood…

You have come I fell to my knees before it, begging it to let me free. But it would never let me free. The blood swirled around on the cracked glass surface and formed a hand. Reaching out for me. Reaching, reaching un l its fingers clasped my wrist and pulled me with it.

Into the mirror.

‘Assertive Women are Doomed Women’ In light of this view, explore how Shakespeare presents women in Othello.

In Shakespeare’s Aristotelian tragedy ‘Othello’ women are frequently presented as strong and quite assertive. However, as the play progresses, we see Desdemona increasingly portrayed as more of a stereotypical female of the time while Emilia continues to display assertive characteristics. Nevertheless, both eventually die at the hands of their husbands, suggesting that both women were doomed due to the assertive nature they portrayed.

At the start of the play, it is clear Desdemona is depicted as somewhat assertive towards the men in her life. This is evident when she justifies her choice of husband to her father: ‘But here’s my husband, and so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father, so much I challenge that I may profess due to the Moor my lord.’ This phrase shows Desdemona to be manipulating her father slightly using his and her mother’s relationship as leverage so he will agree to her marriage to Othello. This strongly conveys to an audience her assertive nature as she is not afraid to stand up for herself and her husband even when she could lose her reputation, which was prized in Jacobean England.

Moreover, the amount of speech she has in the play, especially when talking to Othello in the first few Acts, provides more evidence to support the idea that Shakespeare intended Desdemona to be seen – at least initially - as an assertive woman with power over the men in her life.

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This idea of Desdemona being depicted as assertive and independent is also shown in Act 3, scene 3. When Desdemona says ‘I will do all my abilities in thy behalf’ the first-person pronoun here suggests Desdemona’s confidence as she believes she will be able to restore Cassio to Othello’s favour, and the long sections of speech she has suggests she is in control of the situation. This is not typical for the time period as women did not have as much power as men had, and the fact Cassio is going to her for help conveys to the audience Desdemona’s strong-willed nature. However, some audience members may interpret what could be seen as independence and assertiveness, to in fact be Desdemona conforming to society, she wants to help Cassio as she knows this will help her husband and this would reflect how woman at the time were meant to help and support their husbands. Therefore, it could be argued we see her conform throughout the play and that she is only acting in her husband’s best interests, as befits a woman of the era.

Although Desdemona displays strong characteristics and is seen to have power over the men in her life, as the play continues to progress, she increasingly conforms to the social constructs of the time period. This is prevalent in Act 5 Scene 2 where Desdemona says, ‘Nobody; I myself’ just before her death, demonstrating her loyalty to Othello as she refuses to betray him, despite what he has done to her. Her conduct here reflects Shakespeare’s understanding of the expectations of women in this era and similar parallels can be drawn with the romantic heroine Jane Eyre and her unwillingness to compromise her integrity despite also facing pressure due to societal expectations. Despite this she challenges these expectations, by refusing to become a mistress to Rochester or succumb to the male domination and class hierarchy within the book.

Moreover, the fact that Desdemona willingly lies while on her death bed solidifies this idea of her wanting to be a faithful wife, as for a Jacobean audience she would effectively be condemning herself to hell as deceit was considered a sin.

Emilia is also presented to be a strong-willed and assertive character and this is plainly shown in Act 5 where she defies the convention of being a loyal wife by betraying Iago. She talks of how ‘He begged of [her] to steal [the handkerchief]’. The verb ‘begged’ suggests Iago’s desperation to have the handkerchief demonstrating clearly her assertive nature as she is confident in going against her husband, despite this being frowned upon by a Jacobean society and the fact that he could harm or kill her for this. Additionally, when her husband commands her to ‘charm [her] tongue’, she replies ‘I will not’. The defiant tone in this phrase effectively conveys Emilia’s refusal to obey or conform to the behaviour expected of a Jacobean woman or wife and again clarifies to the audience she is asserting herself over her husband, despite the fact that he should have control and ownership over her.

However, as a consequence of her betrayal of her husband, Emilia is stabbed in the back by Iago and dies soon after. This links back to the theory posited that ‘Assertive women are doomed women’ as it could be postulated that Emilia was doomed due to the fact she stood up for herself against her husband. She even acknowledges this herself, saying ‘Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home’. The adverb ‘perchance’ suggests she recognises she has only a little time left yet still continues to fight for Desdemona, again suggesting her assertiveness. We can draw a parallel to Catherine in ‘Wuthering Heights’ who also shows an assertive nature but similarly dies as if she were ‘doomed’ to do so.

Emilia is murdered by Iago for standing up to him and Desdemona is murdered by Othello due to jealousy that stems from her being confident and independent. Therefore, it could be claimed that Shakespeare presents women to be assertive but also shows how this dooms them. We could infer from this that Shakespeare’s tragedy served as a warning to woman of Jacobean England that to defy The Great Chain of Being, where woman occupy a position below men, would only lead to suffering and that they should instead submit to the expectations placed upon women of the time period.

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Examine the view that ‘as wives Emilia and Desdemona have much in common.’

In Shakespeare’s 1603 Aristotelian tragedy, ‘Othello’, Emilia and Desdemona are presented as the victims of Othello and Iago’s violence in their respective marriages, suggesting they have a common, tragic end, although with differing attitudes to some aspects of marriage. This could be as a result of the view at the time that women were deemed subservient to men and should be ‘help-mates’ in the household, rendering them powerless against their husbands.

Within Act 4, scene 3, it could be argued that, as wives, Emilia and Desdemona appear to have little in common. Desdemona appears to be naïve and inexperienced, demonstrated when she asks Emilia if ‘there be women do abuse their husbands in such gross kind?’, suggesting she has very little experience of the world, and of marriage. The verb ‘abuse’ indicates the seriousness with which Desdemona regards adultery whilst the adjective ‘gross’ conveys her vehement distaste towards infidelity. This could be Shakespeare’s way of demonstrating how many girls of high status within this era were kept unaware of the realities of the world, potentially using her ignorance to critique this way of raising women. In contrast, Emilia is portrayed to approach both marriage and infidelity in a more pragmatic and experienced, way, calling ‘such a deed’ a ‘small vice’, implying that, to her, adultery is not the worst sin, which directly juxtaposes Desdemona’s devout attitude to fidelity. It also suggests that, as a wife, Emilia does not feel as passionately about Iago as Desdemona does Othello. A similar portrayal of marriage can be seen in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ through the character of Charlotte Lucas, who understands her place in the world and her duty to marry, when she accepts Mr Collins’ proposal, despite not loving him. This is in contrast to Lydia, who runs away to marry Mr Wickham, and Elizabeth who falls in love with Mr Darcy, both of whom could be similar to the character of Desdemona.

This comparison further highlights Emilia and Desdemona’s differences, displaying Emilia as a more experienced, cynical wife and Desdemona as hopeful and naïve. These differences are further highlighted in this scene through the way in which Emilia dominates the conversation, highlighting her experience of marriage, compared to Desdemona’s more limited lines. This is accompanied by the use of blank verse in her long monologue, aided by Shakespeare’s use of complete syntax that establishes Emilia as an articulate speaker, in comparison to Desdemona’s frantic exclamations.

Moreover, in Act 4, scene 2 when both women are killed by their respective husbands, they are depicted as contrasting directly in their attitudes towards the perpetrators. Desdemona protects Othello when, in a final act of love as she declares, ‘No one, I myself’, when questioned by Emilia as to who was responsible for her death. This illustrates to the audience that, despite everything, Desdemona loved her husband and would do anything to help him, even condemning herself to hell, which was an act of great sacrifice in the highly Christian Jacobean society Shakespeare writes within.

On the other hand, when Emilia is faced with a chance to expose her husband, she declares that she ‘will speak as liberal as the North,’, despite knowing she ‘will ne’er go home’. This act of defiance in her last moments clearly highlights the difference between the two women.

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However, whilst it can be argued they have opposing attitudes to marriage, both female characters are presented as having the desire to care for and protect their husbands. This can be seen when Desdemona exclaims ‘No, by this heavenly light!’ when asked if she would commit adultery. The use of heavenly lexis conveys Desdemona’s view of her love with Othello as pure and holy and suggests she would not let ‘all the world’ disrupt her unwavering fidelity and loyalty. Contrastingly, Emilia says she would ‘make her husband a cuckold’ but only ‘to make him a monarch’. This could imply that Emilia is unfalteringly loyal to Iago, to the point that she will defy expectations to help him gain status, shown previously in the play when she takes Desdemona’s handkerchief to please her husband.

This is exemplified by her declaration, ‘I should venture purgatory for’t’, suggesting that she would suffer a miserable judgement in the afterlife for her husband. A similar sacrifice can be seen from Desdemona in Act 1, when she gives up her life of comfort and stability in Venice to follow Othello to Cyprus. This depicts to the audience that whilst Desdemona and Emilia have differing attitudes to marriage and how to help their husbands, they are both keen to serve their husbands, in accordance with the tradition of the wife as the ‘help-mate’ in Jacobean times. This is mirrored in Lorca’s play ‘Yerma’ through the tragic female hero as she tries repeatedly to please her husband in any way she can, becoming increasingly confused and frustrated as he fails to reciprocate, suggesting that, in literature throughout time, women are expected to help their husbands with very little reward.

Furthermore, it can be argued that Emilia and Desdemona are both objectified by men in their lives, and are eventually powerless to stop their tragic ends, similar to Ariadne and Phaedra in Jennifer Saint’s ‘Ariadne’ where both sisters meet a tragic end as a result of their husbands’ actions. Whilst Thomas would argue that ‘Emilia is a foil to Desdemona’, in Act 5, scene 2 their shared tragic deaths could illuminate the unfortunate similarity between the women, especially when considering the emotive image of them lying, side by side, on their shared death bed, as highlighted in the 2015 Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of ‘Othello’, where both women lie, dead, on the floor.

Ultimately, Desdemona and Emilia are shown to be similar as wives because they are united through their tragic fate. This could be Shakespeare’s way of critiquing how women were viewed in Jacobean England, suggesting that no matter the wife’s attitude, tragedy can still occur.

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Alexander III of Macedon, famously known as Alexander the Great, has long been celebrated for his courage and brilliance on the battlefield. While this is certainly true, we should also consider the strength of his character. What follows will focus dichotomously: first, outlining Alexander’s bravery in battle, and second, his personal values and integrity.

In 336 BCE, Alexander’s father, Phillip was murdered by Persian-paid assassins. To avenge his father and to fulfil his commitment to the Greeks, Alexander began a resolute campaign against the aggressors. In 334 BCE, at the age of 22, the Macedonian monarch set his ambitions upon conquering the Persian Empire. Alexander’s campaigns would take him from the shores of Ionia to the jungles of India; demonstrating unparalleled courage and tactical acumen, whilst testing his strength of body and mind.

Alexander’s exceptional bravery and leadership in battle exemplify his greatness. His first crucible occurred at the river Granicus in Anatolia. In contrast to his contemporaries, including Scipio and Caesar, Alexander lead from the frontline. In this epic battle, Alexander was truly one of the Macedonians’ own; entering where the fighting was thickest and winning. It is legendary feats such as this that capture Alexander’s unique heroism, winning the admiration of many.

Furthermore, a decisive confrontation against Darius III, occurred in 331 BCE, pitting the kings against one another at the plains of Gaugamela, in modern day Iraq. Assembling a force from all corners of his empire, Darius hoped to quell Alexander’s nascent invasion. Darius’ army outnumbered Alexander’s three to one. Undeterred, Alexander led his comrades into the fray. Riding his horse Bucephalus with spear in hand, Alexander dared his opponent to personally settle their feud once and for all. Terrified, Darius fled the battlefield. So sudden and desperate was his ignoble escape, that Darius abandoned his gilded chariot and even his family to the mercy of Alexander’s Macedonians.

Naturally, with the sight of their king put to flight, Darius’ subjects surrendered their arms or fled for their lives. Consequently, while Alexander’s tactics not only ensured victory, it was his heroic energy that won local engagements and imparted into his troops what Cartledge terms a “splendid and inspirational display of leadership.” For his actions, Alexander’s gallantry earned him the utmost adoration of his men and even the begrudging respect of his enemies.

Whilst it is perhaps these awe-inspiring victories that earned Alexander the epithet: Megas in Greek - or “The Great”, I would contend that Alexander’s true greatness resided not only in his bravery, but also, in his personal qualities as a leader. Beyond his valour in battle, I believe Alexander was also a man of integrity. For instance, after Gaugamela, Darius was betrayed by one of his lieutenants and murdered. Upon hearing this, Alexander was incensed, enraged by the dishonour his rival had suffered. Thus, in accordance with tradition, the Macedonian king returned Darius’ body back to Persia’s capital city, Persepolis; ordering a magnificent funeral worthy of Darius’ royal ancestor, Cyrus the Great. This can be seen as an example of Alexander’s personal values and his greatness beyond the battlefield. With Darius’ death, the vast Persian Empire was finally Alexander’s, yet even all this was insufficient for the young king.

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Alexander’s army kept marching east, reaching India, the first Greek army ever to do so. Here, at what the Greeks considered the edge of the world, Alexander encountered an enemy worthy of his own character, King Porus. On the fork of the Hydaspes River, like Alexander, Porus directed his forces personally, riding on the back of an elephant. Ultimately, following a close battle – the closest of Alexander’s life– the Macedonians prevailed and the Indian king was defeated and captured.

Alexander's magnanimity towards his adversaries was evident in his treatment of Porus. It is again here, that we catch another glimpse of the Greek king’s character, as Alexander not only spared Porus’ life; but permitted him to continue governing the area in Alexander’s name. Alexander’s act of clemency cultivated unity and respect between his troops as well as those that had been conquered.

Having discussed key anecdotes of Alexander’s battles and bravery, Alexander’s true “greatness” was also due to his avant-garde vision of humanity. Contextually, to say there was ‘bad blood’ between the Persians and Macedonians would be an understatement. Almost all ancient societies were insular and xenophobic in nature. With the trauma of their ancestors’ Persian war lingering and their own brutal experiences battling the Persians across the continent, many Macedonians viewed themselves as the superior, justified new masters of the ancient world. Alexander did not share in this prejudiced view.

He recognised that the greatest hope for his empire lay in comradeship. Alexander actively sought to reconcile Macedonians alongside their new subjects with the Greeks being co-citizens, not conquerors.

He insisted that Persian soldiers be admitted into the ranks of the army, creating, a joint GrecoPersian force. Alexander wed Darius’ daughter, Stateria, seeking to create an heir to his empire of mixed ethnic descent and encouraged his soldiers to do the same. Furthermore, Alexander moved his capital from Pella in Macedonia to Babylon, a cosmopolitan melting–pot, at the axis of different religions and cultures.

Alexander hoped to galvanize his subjects into sharing his dream for a united humanity. Unfortunately, this would never come to pass. Despite victories in over twenty battles and sieges, never once suffering defeat, Alexander finally faced an enemy even he could not overcome. Aged 32, Alexander succumbed to a fever, likely malaria. This left his generals squabbling, fighting one another to carve out slices of Alexander’s empire for their own. The dream, along with the empire was shattered.

To conclude, while ostensibly named “The Great”, Alexander deserves this title not only for his unparalleled conquests and bravery, but for his integrity and visionary dream of peace for mankind. Millennia later, whilst we may not ourselves be warriors of antiquity, we may yet emulate Alexander’s ‘greatness’ by respecting peoples of all faiths, cultures and creeds.

17

Samuel, Year 9 It's Trevor Noah: Born A Crime Born A Crime is a comical autobiography, written by the comedian Trevor Noah. It shows experiences from his childhood in South Africa under the apartheid regime. Having come from a white father and a black mother, which was illegal at the time, he didn't feel as if he could fit in amongst the racial segregation, often being viewed as 'coloured' and an outsider. He was mainly raised by his fearless and stubborn mother in various parts of South Africa. As the book develops, it summarises Noah's difficult childhood and his resilient, yet sometimes troublesome attitude, and gives an understanding of the harsh reality of what life in under apartheid system is really like.

I found this book quite captivating, as I found it interesting to learn how difficult it is to live under a strict racial classification. I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys a gripping autobiography, or anyone who wants to learn about the apartheid history of South Africa from the perspective of someone who has lived through it.

8/10

Nia B, Year 8 Arsenic for Tea by Robin Stevens Arsenic for Tea the second book in the murder most unladylike series written by Robbin Stevens.

The storyline is that Hazel and Daisy come back to Daisy's house for her birthday after solving their first murder, but once one of their guests for the party dies of illness, Hazel and Daisy knows that it was murder. It follows them trying to uncover the mystery. I really enjoyed this book however I preferred other books in the murder most unladylike series and the ending was slightly more predicable than her other murder mysteries.

Jasper D, Year 7 Where The World Ends by Geraldine McCaughrean This is an amazing story of 14-year-old Quilliam who lives on the island of Hirta where he and a group of other men and boys go on a yearly expedition to warrior stack to harvest sea birds. But when nobody comes to pick them up to take them back home, they are terrified and the leader of the hunting group believes that the world has ended and the angels forgot to come and pick them up to take them to heaven. This is a real page turner, and I could not put it down I really enjoyed this although it was really quite sad.

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Samuel, Year 7 Goldfish Boy by Lisa Thompson This novel tells the story of a boy called Mathew who is diagnosed with severe OCD, he struggles to attend school and even go outside. When a toddler called Teddy goes missing in his neighbourhood it is up to Mathew to solve the case as he had had been the last one to spot the kidnapped boy.

I found this book alluring and extremely interesting as it was narrated from the point of view of someone who has OCD. This novel made me realise how difficult it is for such a person to cope with everyday life and all the difficulties and displeasure the condition brings with it. I adored this book and would recommend it to someone looking for a different style of book.

Dylan, Year 13 Where the Crawdads sing by Delia Owens This was such a gripping and beautiful book. I finished this book while on holiday to Athens and it one of the best books I’ve read. The plot is very beautifully woven between both past and present and is enthralling thoughout. The plot never dragged and flowed beautifully constantly making me want to read on. It was full of mystery, romance, drama, and intrigue that formed to create a really amazing novel. Brilliant for any A-level English student as there is good links to Othello, the Great Gatsby, and Translations. I have nothing bad to say about this novel and I am so glad that I read it. 10/10

Evelyn B, Year 8 Midnight at Moonstone by Lara Flecker Midnight At Moonstone was an amazing book to read because it showed a lot of kindness and determination. Also, I felt like I was Kim, the main character. The book is about an eleven-year -old girl called Kim who ran away in the summer holidays to her grandfather's costume museum called Moonstone. During her stay, she quickly discovers that on the stroke of midnight, all of the costumes come to life. As she begins to make friends a developer interferes and tries to convert Moonstone into a conference centre. I really enjoyed this book as I was hooked in from start to finish from all of the cliff hangers!

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Maxwell, Year 7 Once by Morris Gleitzman This book is set in the 1940s with the holocaust this book follows a child called Felix to his escape from an orphanage to be free from the Nazi invaded Poland. Felix soon thought that his parents would come back due to there being a giant carrot in his soup that he knew only his parents knew that he liked full carrots in his soup he thought this meant they were coming back. Morris Gleitzman added some funny moments in there like “when you pray to God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary, the Pope, and Adolf Hitler?” and “Don’t you know anything” like I mean this made me laugh the first time I read it. Once also has a verry good character arch with just one book how Felix changed in just one book is just amazing and also they add in verry good characters over the way. In all Once is a funny book but with a dark setting. Overall Rating 4.4/5

Isla B, Year 9 Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi is the sequel to Children of Blood and Bone. I loved this book almost more than the first one, yet once again I discover another trilogy without the third book out yet! This annoyingly ends on a big cliff hanger which l find unbearable as the next book is not released until the 25th of June 2024 (Children of anguish and anarchy). It is a fantasy book with a hint of romance. This book starts off quite slow, I wasn't sure l wanted to stick with it but l am very glad l did. This book is mainly focused on a princess - Amari and a warrior called Zélie. They need to work together to over through the monarchy and bring equality back to the Orisha, and there are only two people standing in their way Amari's powerful mother and her lovable Brother - Inan, the boy who broke Zelie's heart. There are brutal betrayals, sad deaths and much more. l would recommend reading this, you might need a little patience but it is worth it.

Elliot V, Year 9 Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie I have no words... Hercule Poirot is called back to London to help solve a case there has been new leads in, and he takes the esteemed Orient Express. One morning he wakes up, and a body is found in a compartment locked from the inside, stabbed a dozen times. It seems impossible, but he clearly didn't kill himself... I am g o b s m a c k e d by the ending of this book. It was so unpredictable and a really good read. I haven't watched the movie yet and I am planning to when I get the chance because I think it's more famous than the book! I think that everyone should read this book because it was spectacular and extremely well written. 5/5!

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Tara, Year 12 The Collector by John Fowles The book I am recommending is called “The collector” and It is by John Fowles. It is written from the perspective of both the girl being kidnapped, and the kidnapper. I really liked how you got to see both perspectives, and I thought it was interesting that you got to hear the kidnappers perspective first. It explored some narratives that often occur when people form obsessions, and it explained the mentality switch that people undergo when they are holding someone hostage and when they themselves are the ones who are trapped. I definitely wasn’t sure how the book was going to end and I admire how bluntly the writer chose to end it. It’s a really interesting concept.

Lara B, Year 10 The Moor by LJ Ross I've got back into the flow of these books and book 12 was right up to my expectations- when a little girl turns up on Ryan's doorstep, claiming to have witnessed a murder, things take a dramatic turn in his life- although he really should be used to that by now. The circus has rolled in to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and they've brought with them a coldblooded killer.

Yet another gripping addition to the series, The Moor gave everything it could- thrill, gore, action, romance and sadness. 5/5

Phoebe B, Year 7 Demon Dentist by David Walliams I would recommend demon dentist because it’s all about a boy and his dad who is sick. and the boy Alfie who has rotten teeth needs to go to the dentist he hasn't been for 6 years. then Alfie's dad calls in a social worker to help him and Alfie. and at first Alfie hates Winnie the social worker but then he hates Winnie even more she books him for a dentist appointment and Alfie does not want to go he runs around school with Winnie chasing him on her moped! there is a new dentist in town Mrs root but she seems suspicious saying you can call her 'mummy' and her toothpaste has acid that burns through stone at the bottom. there is a little girl Gabs' who also thinks she is suspicious. can Alfie and Gabs' get to the bottom of this!!!

21

The forest exuded tranquilly, devoid of any audible disturbances, save for the faint, inconsequential chirping of nameless avian creatures, which only served to disrupt the unyielding silence. With cautious steps, I proceeded forward, oblivious to the perils lurking within the shadowy depths of the woods. An unsettling sensation of being observed by lurking creatures accompanied my every move, accompanied by eerie noises emanating from afar. Nighttime had arisen, the hour when creatures of all forms and sizes emerged from their dwellings, embarking on their hunt for prey. In this scenario, it was me who had to seek out a place to call home, a sanctuary for my own well-being.

Unaware of the pitter-patter of the raindrops, the crunch of the leaves caught my ears. Hanging at the very top of every tree was a distinct figure, a creature of some sort. Distinct chirps started to fade as the sun slid down the sky like a giant egg yolk.

Either way, watching the incredible sunset was slowing time down; no light to guide me would only make it harder to find my way back home. Step by step, I took, trembling with fear, having no idea what was to come.

In the year 2100, the Earth commemorated a momentous achievement as people rejoiced with applause and jubilant cheers. Despite the inclement weather, with rain pouring outside, the atmosphere remained filled with smiles and laughter echoing from afar. Over the course of the century, the global population surged to eleven billion from the time when my great-grandparents were alive in 2022. Presently, we possess telepathic gadgets, colossal screens, levitating vehicles, and towering skyscrapers that reach unprecedented heights. I could discern a multitude of electronic noises emanating from every direction while riding through the extensive city on a motorised levitating motorcycle. As I gazed towards the area that used to be a vast forest, I noticed it had been replaced by a myriad of houses; it was uncertain if any trees still stood. My inquiry was resolved as I surveyed the previously pristine countryside, witnessing the relentless urban sprawl that now covered every inch of land, leaving no room for a single tree.

I was taken aback by the sight before me, feeling compelled to act despite lacking any immediate solutions. The situation was perplexing—overpopulation poses a significant threat to our planet. As I pondered this, I turned my gaze to my right and was met with an endless expanse of waste amidst a sprawling landfill, each piece of rubbish mirroring the countless homes on my left. Millions of items lay scattered on the ground, with some being carried away by the wind to an unknown destination. The sight was unbearable. As I made my way back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but observe the transformation that had taken place. What was once a secluded spot now found itself encircled by an array of structures and buildings, almost as if they had appeared out of thin air. Just as I was about to step in, I noticed something far more different inside.

22

What once used to be an empty wall was a massive, framed metal door that awaited to be opened. As usual, the house looked like a mess: pizza crumbs on the floor, creaky stairs leading to a pile of dirty clothes, and an overridden closet full of unused hangers. I thought to myself with mild confusion, “How did this happen?” The abnormal door that led to an anonymous place sent a chill down my spine. There were mysterious patches of purple liquid stained randomly around the door. I decided to go through the door, trembling as fear washed over me head to toe. Suddenly, right as I was about to touch the handle, an expanse of invisible waves blew right across the room, past my ears, forming a deafening sound as I felt my body being lifted from its feet. I started to spin, faster and faster, unconscious of the effects of opening the door, as I could barely see it opening slowly, shining a blinding stream of light beyond my eyes.

Screaming, I was unsure of the appropriate cause of action, and as I was spinning ferociously midair, there was no hope turning back; only, the door slowly opened as I felt I was being sucked with such force into the blinding light.

ZAP! GASP! In an abrupt way, I woke up with a slight hesitation, ignorant as to where I was.

Wait…

Hold on…

I scanned the room, still on my bed, starting to recall the environment I was in. The place looked identical to my bedroom, only much older and more ancient. I looked to my side to see my dusty phone hovering on its charging pad. I slumped over to get my phone, only to realise that my whole room was full of dust—mountains of dust. What happened? The once yellow curtains looked grey and crusty; they must have never been opened yet moved for an unexplainable amount of time. However, when I powered my device, something even more perplexing caught my attention.

My question was answered when I took a glimpse of the year I was in. It read out: 17 April 2105.

My heart felt as if it were weighted while it thudded quicker every second. I felt a sudden pain in my heart. 5 years. I travelled five years into the future. No, this cannot be. I took a second glimpse at my phone: 17 April 2105. Then I looked all around my room. All I could see were objects coated with dust, creating a faint outline. I decided to get up, seeing the amass of clothes dumped on the floor. Digging into a dusty pile, I found my old, redressed pyjamas and slid them on, feeling a sense of misery and disbelief. Gradually, I walked out of my ancient room and steadily strolled down the creaky stairs that had always been there, leaving footprints in the thick, overwhelming dust. I had a forgiving sense of déjà vu looking at the meaningless, unoccupied wall, discerning the fact that there used to be something there. The only thing I could commemorate was the year 2100, when many people had joyous smiles and laughter. Where I was now is the opposite. It was eerie and silent. I opened the curtains, exposing the bright daylight as dirt fell hopelessly down to the wooden floor. I made my way to the kitchen to make sustenance after 5 years of not having any food. I walked into the petite kitchen to see a small refrigerator full of goods. Everything looked fresh; nevertheless, not one of the appetisers had a date label. I shrugged carelessly, thinking about the harm that expired food could do, and started to slice carrots for my breakfast salad.

23

The knife was clean, unlike everything else, and sharp. Strange. It should be blunt. Heedless of my fingers being excessively close to the knife, I serendipitously sliced one of my fingers, causing blood to splutter everywhere. Indeed, my reaction was worthless. I anticipated no pain. Although, when I looked down, I saw a deep cut through my fingers, my heart throbbing with strong force yet again, I felt no pain. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. I looked closely at the cut, but all of a sudden, it started to heal. At a moderate pace, layer by layer, the skin healed. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing. Astonished, I cut myself on purpose again, and the bleeding wound healed. I heaved in excitement. Am I immortal? Then I started to gain happiness; my heart was lifted by an invisible hand. This was amazing. I scattered the salad on the floor. I perceived I wouldn’t need to eat if I were immortal. I tried to look for other ways of trying to commit suicide, but none of the objects in my house really suited it. A pencil? I can try to push the led into my flesh, but I’m not that strong. Shard of glass? I could shatter an old figure of glass, but where would that be? I sat down on the sofa, thinking of all the possible ways I could hurt myself. But none came to a conclusion. In front of me was my old television. I don’t think it would work after 5 years of not using it.

Nonetheless, I gave it a shot, and remarkably, it turned on. I could only make out a vague image under the dust that laminated the surface. Wiping the screen clean, I slowly sat down on the dustcoated sofa, glued to the screen. The volume was low, and the news was on. I sat there, pondering how I became immortal in the first place. Eyes still glued to the television, the news was about something horrifying. Not murder. Not a prison escape. No. Something even worse. Something that could end the lives of every living soul on earth...

I looked at the terror that was to come. A giant asteroid will hit Earth in a few hours. My heart fell to its deepest point. My eyes were wide-open, bulging with dismay. I quickly turned the television off in heavy distress. Yes, I was immortal; I wouldn’t feel any pain or shock. But after the extinction of all 11 billion people on earth, excluding me, I would be alone. Eternally. In just a few hours, havoc will remain in the air. I could already hear screams in the distance. I decided to go outside. It had been 5 years since I had seen daylight. Just one step...

Wow… The air was so fresh, and the sky was so blue. I had not experienced this for a matter of years. The only thing that disturbed the beauty was a giant asteroid.

It is real...

My teeth were now shuddering, and people kept screaming at what was about to come. Death.

This flaming boulder was as big as the moon—only a weirder shape. Gravity felt a lot stronger every second passing by as the colossal dwarf planet kept coming closer and closer. Birds started to squawk in groups as people just had a moment to look outside and stare in trauma as it grew larger and larger. This was not meant for us. This was a punishment from God. But from what?

Seconds passed by...

Minutes passed by…

The atmosphere of the sky began to heat up as the tremendous asteroid grew, overshadowing 24

the whole city. The town I lived in overlooked the whole city; I could see rivers clashing against each other, demolishing bridges over them. Floods were caused, and devilish tsunamis could be seen from afar. The end of the world was near.

Hours passed by…

I thought to myself, Don’t be scared. Yet my thoughts were entirely focused on the behemoth about to crash into earth. Instantly, the whole sky was now a shade of dark grey. The sun had vanished beyond the asteroid. There was silence for a few seconds.

I could feel the ground rumbling violently as earthquakes began to form. The sound that was caused made my eardrums explode.

CRACK! Slowly, cracks from the surface of the earth began to tear rapidly deeper and deeper into the core of the earth. In just a few seconds, the whole planet would explode.

5... I had no hope but to think about my loved ones, my mother, my father, and my whole family, who are in a different country far away.

Time was ticking, and the surface was starting to set ablaze as the earthquakes rumbled brutally beneath me.

3... I may not feel pain, but I do feel the immense heat surging above me.

2... From waking up to immortality to world destruction, what will it be like after this? Will I just be on my own, floating in space forever?

I said one final goodbye to Earth before the monstrosity caved in.

CRASH! Am I still alive? I’m talking to myself in my mind. I tried to open my eyes, but they stuck closed as if they were glued closed. Is this what I will have to live with for the rest of my life? It was pitch black in my mind.

Suddenly, I could open my eyes freely. What happened? There were deep, thin cracks on the floor. I couldn’t see anyone in the distance, but a misty atmosphere blocked my view from afar.

The ground was almost sandy-like. I was truly on my own…

I ambled my way forward in search of a new home until I found something. A forest? I quickly trudged to the point where the dry land met the wet forest. I patted my pocket to find my phone. I felt something and took it out. It was my phone, only much more broken and shattered from the collision of the asteroid. My only hope was to go into the forest in search of a place for my fancy. I stepped in and knew that this was where I was meant to be. Not out there in the dry, remorseless land, but in here, in the humid, wetland. If I were alone forever, I would be here.

25

A response to Victoria Kisuule’s ‘Hollow’ by Teddy, Year 8 I stood at the base of the statue as the rope was looped around the ebony head - a noose, the plinth about to open and the statue hung. I look down the curling snake of a rope to where a young man was standing, the rope wrapped around his hand, cheering. I push past more people to get a better view and see another rope wrapped around the man’s wrist. The crowd cheers as I duck under a tall man’s arm and swerve past a young girl. Edward looms over me, staring at me with what seems to be pleading eyes. I stare back, my face expressionless.

The ropes are pulled with an almighty tug. Colston raises onto his tiptoes before falling back again.

The man bites his lip as another joins him. They pull again and there’s a loud cracking sound as Colston raises one foot. Another tug and rubble pours down onto the crowd.

One more and the statue falls.

As people scramble out of the way, the world seems to slow down – the statue falling, its face about to hit the ground. Falling, so so slowly. I watch on as he lands on the concrete with a loud bang that sends debris flying and seems to speed time back up again. The crowd cheers as they run forward again. I push past them and, looking over the head of an old woman, watch as ropes are wrapped around Colston’s wrist like he has become a prisoner of his slaves. Ironic, I think. The slaves become the masters; the master become the slave. The limp body of the once powerful man is dragged across the pavement – prey being dragged towards the feast. The crowd jogs after, waving their banners and flags, the police across the road, too late to stop the vandalism. Colston took his last breath and fell, over the edge of the harbour, turning in mid-air as he stared up at me.

In his final moment, Edward Colston lunged for life and light and power. His arm hit the stone wall, breaking off. I watch as he hits the water, his arm flying into the air.

With nothing inside.

Hollow.

A response to Victoria Kisuule’s ‘Hollow’ by Connie, Year 8 The sun hung high in the sky like a fatigued person slouching in a hammock. The cobbled stone streets glimmered and glistened in the heat while footsteps thumped down to Colston, the devil in disguise.

Crowds gathered at the scene and noisy voices seemed to fill the square, I shivered. Then it went quiet the murmurs of worry and stress went silent.

26

A big, thick rope was thrown around Colston and its arms strangled him like a trapped snake.

Pieces of cement and concrete chipped from the bottom of the plinth and I grasped the rope with my sweaty palms. Slowly Colston wobbled, then his knees buckled, and he tumbled to the ground. While feet scattered across the square to avoid the heavy statue toppling on them, his marbled face broke into millions of pieces Then, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, but his deathly presence remained. Everyone cheered and a jolt of excitement flew through me. Suddenly, salty waterfalls of tears rolled down my cheeks and clouded my view. I was so overwhelmed with emotions.

He was heaved with great strength to the edge of the wall like a pirate about to walk the plank.

Then I saw it, the real inside; he was hollow and nothing but the breeze flowed through his stone stance. It was just a piece of grey, lifeless rock made with twisted truths and unfulfilled promises.

A fire raged inside of me and with flinging arms I pushed it into the cold, mucky river. Slowly it sunk to the bottom, the empty insides filling up with seaweed and water. I screamed from the top of my lungs. It felt like the weight of his stone-cold figure was lifted from my shoulders. He deserved it.

A response to Victoria Kisuule’s ‘Hollow’ by Ava, Year 8 A herd of people came tumbling towards the statue of Colston. The ground was shaking so much that someone could have assumed that it was an earthquake.

Colston had a grin on his face, as if he had just saved the world, but everyone there knew his real reason for success and that is why they were there. Posters hung high in the air, bobbing up and down. Protesters stopped suddenly almost making people behind them trip. They surrounded Colston shouting, chanting to take him down.

Tying ropes to his ankles and wrists, gripping the ropes tightly in their grasps, they started to pull.

Colston did not move. They pulled again, still nothing. They pulled with all their might; you could see their veins bulging, ready to explode. They were slipping on the concrete, cursing as they fell.

After 20 minutes of people slipping, cursing, yelling, and pulling with all their might, Colston finally fell. When Colston crashed on the ground part of his arm came tumbling off. Sharp, jagged edges of stone replaced his arm. His arm lay feet away on the cold concrete floor.

Everything went silent, the only thing you could hear were people panting to catch their breath.

The people who fell got back up covered with scratches, bleeding. After a minute, they started to cheer, celebrate, and congratulate each other on their victory.

They picked up the frayed and dirt covered ropes and started tugging the hallow Colston to the murky and polluted river.

27

GCSE Letter to Children of the Future by Ethan, Year 10 Dear Children of the future, Firstly, I hope you have one...

As I write this, our precious planet is on the brink of environmental downfall, there are wars raging in parts of the world that show no signs of ceasing, and whilst we grapple with the advances of technology and AI, our mental health, for many, is suffering.

I have the privilege of being able to say that I am in my home, sitting on the sofa; I am warm, I am safe, I have a loving family and good friends. Which is not the case for all. Despite the societal advances that may have taken place I deeply hope that these things are still in your lives too. If they are, treasure them as they are precious and easily lost.

Don’t lose sight of the real world and remember that the natural world is full of miraculous sights, sounds and scents that machines can only hope to replicate.

However, having said this, you must let technology enhance your lives, but not take them over, it is an incredible tool with incredible potential. Let it find cures for cancer, formulae for new, never-before-seen equations, and make the working world easier.

And to my generation, I hope we have grown up and become good leaders and custodians of our planet. Let our rage against complacency drive us to these further goals with the hope that our growing acceptance of difference has truly replaced ignorance and fear.

And finally, I would like to reiterate that the most important thing we can hold on to is hope, hope that we do not collapse as a race, hope that the generations after us may thrive as we have before, and hope that you do not have to hold this hope for those after you, that it will already be ensured.

Yours sincerely, Ethan F-G