Blueprint #16

Issue #16 May 2019

IS THE SCHOOL HAUNTED? An interview with the teachers of AHS

What’s happening during May-June?

DIY – How to make a notebook

The Effin’ Review: Avengers Endgame

EDITORIAL Upon the commencement of Term 2, a dramatic change is present across Adelaide High. A dramatic change in attitude, work ethic, and particularly the weather. With May follows a crisp, cool change and the dark green grasses balance most beautifully with the vivid oranges, yellows and browns.

Although the overcast closes in and natural sunlight dims, we do not let it dampen our moods, and instead find contentment in hot chocolate, movies and soft socks – we begin to settle down for a heartfelt winter.

It is also however a time of stressful study sessions and butterflies as students find themselves in the commencing stages of mid-year exams. Although these times are important, and school work may seem never-ending, it is imperative that one takes time for themselves and indulges in self-care. At Blueprint, we offer an opportunity to sit back, relax and enjoy some well deserve peace and quiet.

Blueprint Issue #16 features a wide range of mysterious and brooding monologues and narratives, as well as a few tips and tricks in the new DIY column. Edgy and chic art pieces from our student gallery are proudly showcased, as well as an insight into Adelaide High School’s very own haunted history, accompanied with anecdotes from a range of staff, who have a lot to say about the strange occurrences. A little bit of mystery is a chance to venture the unknown, and similarly, at the Blueprint we long to discover, and hope you do too.

Charlotte Fleming

EDITORIAL TEAM Editor-in-Chief: Mr Scott Macleod Artistic Director: Francine Legaspi Editors: Gabriella Akele, Hamish Anderson, Shae Clutton, Madeleine Coates, Faith FittonGum, Charlotte Fleming, Arnav Kapoor, Jasmine Kaur, Dain Lee, Zoe Liang, Tiana Loechel, Jagreet Malhi, Milla Maronich, Mitchell Miller, Heeyani Mittal, Preshna Nakarmi, Riya Shiju, Fei Stokes, Janna Tapales, Grace Tyler, Lilli Vitagliano, Holly Webbe

CALL FOR CONTRIBUTORS Calling all writers, artists, and creative types! We want your talented work for our seventeenth issue of Blueprint.

We are especially keen on your best: Fiction writing including (but not limited to) short narratives and stories, recounts, poetry, film and drama short scripts (no longer than 1000 words each) Short reviews of anything linked with the creative arts. This can include films, television, shows, music albums, live concerts, theatre production and are exhibitions (no longer than 250 words each) Non-Fiction writing of anything related to the school, local community, or creative arts. This can include food and travel writing, ‘How To’ articles, or any other topic relevant to the student readership (no longer than 1,000 words each) Artwork, graphic design, or illustrations.

Please email or submit contributions to Mr. Macleod (email: scott.macleod@adelaidehs.sa.edu.au or classroom – 124).

Alternatively, if you have any ideas for writing or artwork that you would like to contribute to the magazine, please contact one of the super helpful magazine editors listed above.

what’s happening May 12 20

mother’s day

14 20

chicken dance day

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baking day

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24

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turtle day

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hamburger day

sunscreen day

June

cancer survivor day

say something nice day

best friend day

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superman day

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18

sushi day

sausage roll day

08

07

donut day

05

02

01

music day

25

the beatles day

NEWS WRITTEN BY | Milla Maronich

THE RECENT 2019 election – surprising resultsIssue of climate change put on hold.

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$780,000 raised in order to prevent animal cruelty, RSPCA million paws walk

Man dressed in Donald Trump mask was not making a Queensland shopping centre great again – Early in the morning on the 5th May, police security cameras uncovered a man wearing a Trump mask, stealing electronic items as well as number of watches from a nearby jewellery store before stashing them into several Uber eats bags.

Man arrested at Adelaide airport after attempting to smuggle “world’s most expensive fish” –

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A traveller from Malaysia was discovered by border security to have a live Arowana fish enclosed in a plastic bag and wrapped around his neck. The Arowana species are known for their beauty of their scales and are considered to bring good luck and fortune and thus can fetch more than $250,000.

Burger King introduces new range of “Unhappy Meals”, taking a spin at McDonald’s Happy

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Meal – Burger King recently launched their new range of emotional meals, featuring their ‘Blue’, ‘Salty’ and ‘Pissed off’ meals. The meals are not only a twist on McDonald’s Happy Meals, they are also made to raise awareness of mental health issues.

Authorities were shocked to find an unusual speeding culprit – On 9th May, in Bocholt, just off the borders between Germany and the Netherlands, a pigeon was caught by road safety cameras to be speeding nearly 10km/h over the speed limit. The pigeon’s estimated fine was $28 Euros ($45AUD) however, the authorities let it slide, just this one time.

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In Search of Happiness That new job, new car, new partner isn’t the key to your happiness… It’s contentment.

Written by Janna Tapales t one point or another, it is inevitable that we have all thought to ourselves: ‘All I really want is to be happy’. Whilst it may just seem like a sweet sense of melancholic longing, it’s actually part of a disturbing epidemic that we have created in this fastpaced world. We have developed a ‘culture’ obsessed with the idea of happiness – not simply the notion of being happy, but more importantly, the secret to achieving it.

However, the concept of happiness itself has become so saturated that it exists merely to satisfy society’s desire for the archetypal sense of pursuit, consequently trivialising its true meaning: contentment.

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A quick Google search will expose you to the marketing frenzy propagating happiness in trendy diets, alternative lifestyles, and wellness retreats that always seem to be too expensive for everyone’s daily budget. But it doesn’t really matter, because when you take a step back, it is impossible not to come to the realisation that most of us are sadly going about life the completely wrong way. These marketing frenzies and other phenomenon propagating happiness are conditioning you further away from your fantasised version of happiness.

Along with this new-age fixation on ‘being happy’, we have also submitted ourselves to the principles of rampant consumerism – beckoning us to ask whether it’s not only our phones and our clothes that we so desperately want to update, but our lives as well.

In developing an infatuation with all things ‘new’, it’s important to acknowledge that we have lulled ourselves into a comatose cycle of craving something better – something we don’t have. Whether that is a new job, a better house, or even a nicer, prettier life partner, we have ultimately tricked ourselves into believing that something new and something better is the secret to our happiness.

However, the truth is much more confronting: it isn’t. In fact, more is the stark opposite – what we actually need is the feeling and confidence to acknowledge that we have everything we need, not want. What we need in life is unbridled contentment.

Imagine a rubber band, stretched to its limits, exercising all its potential yet knowing when to stop – that’s contentment. Unlike, it’s ugly step sister complacency, contentment is not about staying static where you are, but rather about accepting your potential and having goals that ‘stretch’ you to achieve optimal performance in life. People who have achieved contentment also know that this ‘stretching’ has to be done in planned stages to avoid an eventual ‘snap’.

The ability to recognise these stages is the true secret to maximising one’s satisfaction in life. This is why it’s so important for everyone to distinguish this c-word from the dreaded notion of complacency, which occurs when the rubber band thinks it has reached its full size without ever stretching at all. Complacency is the persona that shrugs its shoulders indifferently and asks: ‘why bother, when stretching itself is so uncomfortable?’

Complacency refuses to realise that if the rubber band is not aware of its potential, it will fail to experience life to the fullest.

Contentment is by no means a new age phenomenon – it just happens to be more like a secret club that only a select few know the password to. One such member is seventy-twoyear-old Othea Loggan, a man who has worked at the same diner in Chicago for fifty-four years as a busser. The Chicago Tribune reports that since leaving his roots in poverty stricken Mississippi at the tender age of eighteen, Loggan has devoted his life to cleaning tables and washing dishes – a position that only earns him $2.75 per hour more than the American minimum wage. Whilst some may be horrified at the prospect, Loggan proclaims there’s no place he’d rather be, so much so that he happily takes two trains and a bus in the morning to arrive at the diner before sunrise. The diner veteran is a quintessential living example of the inner peace and satisfaction that contentment brings.

Unlike most, Loggan realised at an early age that he didn’t need much to be happy, and he still stands by that fact, which is something that many individuals still fail to comprehend.

Loggan lives fulfilled knowing that he has been able to buy a home and feed his wife and two kids over the five decades he has worked at the cosy diner. This unassuming role-model doesn’t troll through the latest trends, nor does he fantasise about what could have been, instead choosing to enjoy his time doing his job to the best of his abilities. If Loggan is radiating from contentment – why can’t we all?

Critically acclaimed shows like Marie Kondo’s Tidying Up are now exploring the intertwined philosophies of minimalism and contentment.

The Japanese phenomenon that has amassed a cult-like following across the globe follows the bubbly Kondo as she tidies the homes of everyday Americans by implementing her systematic KonMari method. In each episode, Kondo gathers all of the participant’s belongings, one category at a time, only preserving the items that ‘spark joy’.

Though many watch due to Marie’s captivating personality and idiosyncratic tidying ‘hacks’, viewers often fail to see that, below the surface, Kondo’s method aims not only to tidy homes, but tidy lives as well. Kondo has stated that “by removing the clutter from our homes, we remove clutter from our minds and hearts as well”, and much like the very fabric of contentment, Kondo strives to help people surround themselves with only the things they truly need – after all, these are the things that will ‘spark joy’ in our lives.

Some of us may never escape the tenacious grip of this obsession with happiness, and sadly continue to live in the cycle of the ‘best’ new thing. However, by embracing contentment, which is the key to true joy and serenity, we may finally find the happiness that we have been desperately searching for.

Do It Yourself Presents

NOTEBOOKS Written by Faith Fitton-Gum

Step 3

otebooks are fun to make and easily customisable.

This little DIY is quick and easy, and makes an excellent last minute gift for anyone.

Whether you are an avid writer, illustrator, or just need something to do on a rainy day, look no further.

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Using the hot glue gun (alternatively try using a sewing machine) adhere the cardboard to the larger sheet of fabric. Make sure to place the cardboard in the centre of the fabric. Cut out squares of the fabric at the corners of the cardboard, then glue each of the flaps to the opposite side of the cardboard.

Materials

Step 5

- Variety of fabrics (any material)

Cut down your chosen papers (could be ruled, gridded, blank, or even patterned) and insert them into your book.

Use binder clips to hold the book together and trim off any excess paper. Remove clips.

- Cardboard (about the thickness of a cereal box) - Variety of Paper - Ruler

Step 4 Glue the smaller piece of fabric to the inside of the cardboard. This creates the inside of your book.

- Pencil - Scissors or a craft knife - Hot glue gun, and glue sticks (alternatively try using a sewing machine) - String, wool or twine - Binder clips

Method Step 1 Measure out the size of your book on the sheet of cardboard. Bear in mind that your fabrics and paper must at least this size. Cut out the cardboard and fold in half.

Step 6 Cut a long length of string and tie around the middle of the pages.

This is the binding of the book, so ensure it is secured properly. This binding method allows you to add in or take out pages with ease.

Step 2 Using the cardboard as a template, place on the fabric and trace. Cut out the fabric about 2cm from the outline of the template.

Use the cardboard again on another piece of fabric, I recommend felt, and cut along the lines. This will give the book a cleaner finish.

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Is

Adelaide High School

Haunted?

Everybody who’s anybody knows that Adelaide High School is ancient, and it has ‘educated’ over 300,000 students. Therefore, it’s not really surprising how many rumours have flown around about potential secrets and obscurities. The Blueprint Editorial Team consulted the staff at Adelaide High, hoping they could shine some light on the dark depths of these many mysteries.

Grace Tyler

Mr MrTyler Tyler How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

Fourteen years.

Are you aware of any secret rooms or passages?

Yes. Where are they?

There’s a tunnel that goes from... Do you know where the gate is?

Next to the stairs? Go down there, then there’s a tunnel that goes all the way to the green building in the middle of the oval. You can’t access it because it’s falling in. It’s too dangerous for anybody to go in there – it’s been blocked off completely. But it’s there.

Apparently, it was put there so that there was concealed access to the armoury, which is what that green building was. They used to have a cadet troop or whatever – and yes, they had live fire weapons and stuff, and that was where they kept their guns and the ammunition.

Have you met someone possessed, or a student that’s possessed?

I refuse to answer that question on the basis that it may get me into trouble.

Mr MrGurr Gurr How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

My first year of teaching here was 1993, and I stayed for nine years. Then I left for eight years and I’ve been back since. So, that would be approximately nineteen years I’ve been at Adelaide High School.

Are you aware of any secret rooms or passages in the school?

Yes! My first year here was with a principal called Mr Sanderson, who was originally a student here in the 1950s, and he told me a story when I arrived that he could get from one part of the school to another part without going outside. There is a system of tunnels in our school, and I know exactly where they are. Not only do they run in our school, but they can go out of our school as well.

What’s the strangest or most inexplicable event that you’ve witnessed or heard of at this school?

There’s been lots of strange things – there’s been things reportedly going missing, things that you wouldn’t have thought to be stolen.

Strange things like when Mr Macleod is clean shaven. I always try to convince him to come clean shaven and every so often he says yes – that’s strange. I’m a bit lost in terms of what strange means, like ghost stories? Supernatural? There’s been a metamorphosis where Year 8 and 9 students appear to be going in one direction and all of a sudden something happens and they change into different personalities. That’s always a very pleasant surprise.

We’ve heard a rumour that AHS is built on a graveyard

– do you know

whether that is true?

I know that there are dead bodies in the parklands. This was originally a holding settlement for people of Adelaide, so lots of people were camping here and there were animals. When they’ve done excavations, they’ve found bones, and while we believe them to be animal bones, you never know…

Mr Mr Dounas Dounas How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

About twenty years – a really long time!

Do you believe the school has experienced any supernatural events?

There was a lovely story about the lifts, where legend has it, they open and close sometimes for no reason.

Have you personally witnessed anything supernatural at the school?

Yes, occasionally I see kids pick up paper! And this one time, another student helped someone else pick up rubbish. I just couldn’t believe it. It’s like a small religious moment.

Do you think the school holds any sort of ghosts or anything?

If there are, they’re all friendly and happy ghosts, and they look after us and protect us like our school hymn.

There’s been rumours about secret passages…

You said we wouldn’t talk about the secret passages! But there are confined spaces in the school that students aren’t allowed to go in.

And when we’ve done building works we have found wells – in fact a number of years ago there was a big excavation on Oval 3 where our groundsman noticed a small hole, and despite numerous attempts, he could never fill it up with sand. We had to get the Historic Society people from the local council come down and they opened it up and said it was the Migration Well.

Man in the Moon Courtesy of Joanna Barnum

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Ms Ms Andriopoulos Andriopoulos How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

Fifteen years – I started here in 2004.

Are you aware of any secret rooms or passages in the school?

There is a room, just up here (near the House Manager’s Office) where we send naughty kids. There is a little stair case – narrow and small – it’s really cool and I wanted it as my office.

Have you ever witnessed anything supernatural or paranormal on school grounds?

I thought I did once, but it turned out to be a rat infestation in 2005 – there were rats everywhere!

Have you ever met someone you believe to be possessed, or are there any students you believe are possessed?

Haha, come to my class. One particular Biology class – I reckon they’re all possessed!

Ms Ms Axarlis Axarlis

How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

Since 2001, however many years that is… Luckily, I don’t teach Maths!

What’s the strangest or most inexplicable event that you’ve witnessed or heard of at this school?

When all my students handed up their work on time.

Would you be able to tell us where the tunnels are situated in the school, or is that confidential?

It’s confidential, but if you can keep a secret, they run between the principal’s office and – (Oh no, Ms Green, I wasn’t going to tell them, really…)

What was the tower used for?

The Tower was where they sent students who didn’t hand up their English drafts on time. Seriously, you can ask Rapunzel. She might know, unless she’s too stressed about her hair to care about it.

Mr Mr Pettas Pettas

How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

I have been here for thirteen years.

Are you aware of any secret rooms or passages in the school?

There is a secret passage and I am the only one who is aware of it. I bumped into a guy one day who used to be the Head Prefect and he told me he has crawled through the secret passage, which was built when the school was first constructed. It starts at the front of the school and goes underneath the whole school and ends where the P.E. area is located.

Have you ever witnessed anything supernatural on school grounds?

Everyday! I see dead people, but they turn out to be my students. In terms of supernatural occurrences – well, there was a situation with the elevator once where it kept opening and closing itself very violently. I spoke to a cleaner and she one hundred percent guarantees me that there was a ghost sitting at a chair in one of the rooms when she went in. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT GUARANTEE! And finally, we are aware of the secret attic in the school that exists near the staff room – do you know why it was closed up?

Yes, there is a secret attic. But it was deemed unsafe to go up the stairs, although people have heard voices screaming from in there at night. So quite often, I take students there and they run down very quickly. You must always go there if you have the opportunity, it was an old classroom and they keep the old Adelaide High Boys school sign in that class room.

Built on Bones Courtesy of Joanna Barnum

Ms Ms Aldous Aldous How many years have you been working at the school?

Ah, this is number fourteen.

Fourteen? Wow. So, are you aware of any secret rooms or passages?

Yes. So, the two that I know about that not everybody does are in the hall. There is one by the front door of the hall going into the breezeway, just near the switches. Um, and it doesn’t go anywhere. But there is a tiny little door, and inside is a tiny little room and it has a light and they keep – well, actually, now, that’s where the Christmas decorations go...

And there’s another one upstairs in the hall on the northern staircase side, there’s a tiny little – well, a normal – sized door in the wall, that goes into a tiny little triangular-shaped room that’s full of ancient technology.

Nobody knows about that one. No one ever goes in there.

Do you believe in supernatural things?

Um. Yes? I believe that there are spirits in the world that are not – that don’t have human bodies.

So in the school?

Yes. The hall is an interesting one. The number of things that belong in the hall that absolutely nobody else would have a clue what it is, let alone what it does, or how to use it, that just randomly vanish and then show up months if not, years later, is truly disturbing. Like, there’s a thing called a mono-pack – it’s like a single dimmer (like for the theatre lights). One of those disappeared for months and randomly shows up one day. And I had an experience – this happened just the other week! The data projector remote in the hall has been missing for years. Like, since I came back from maternity leave, nobody had been able to find it. I walked into the hall two weeks ago and it was sitting on the lectern. Like seriously, what the?! And this happened over and over and over again and always in the hall. I have not experienced such things anywhere else in the school.

Okay! So, would you say that Adelaide High School was built on a graveyard?

That, I don’t know. I would be more inclined to think that – like the hall ghost isn’t malicious, it’s just annoying. Like, if that’s what’s going on, it will hide things long enough to drive you absolutely insane! Like, “Oh yeah, I think I’ll put this back now”. And I’m like, “Are you kidding? I’ve been looking for that forever”. But it’s never stuff that would hurt anyone. So, I don’t know that it’s lots (of ghosts). I don’t know if it’s got something to do with the history – of the place that was here before.

Ms MsGreen Green How long have you worked at Adelaide High School?

I started in July 2017 – so almost two years. However, prior to this appointment, I was here as a Middle School Methodology Leader in 2003.

Are you aware of any secret rooms or passages in the school?

I need to pin Mr Black down so I can actually find out, but apparently there are secret passes below ground level.

What’s the strangest or most inexplicable event that you’ve witnessed or heard of at this school?

It’s interesting because I’m often here, as you would imagine, late at night and sometimes early in the morning too, and people have talked about strange noises, doors closing, etc. However, I have witnessed nothing and I just think the school is the most beautiful and cosy place.

What was the tower used for?

It’s used to store a lot of files a lot of records school records, going back quite a way. So if you don’t know where to put something, you often hear people say “pop it in the tower”.

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Espo by Francine Legaspi

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Red Like Roses by Holly Webb Royal Ace by Nancy Shen Anchor Girl by Nancy Shen Sunny Days by Faith Fitton-Gum Year of the Dragon by Amelia Tran

Written By Fei Stokes

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But we are defiant. Vexillography? Vexillography is the art of designing flags. It is the art of creating symbols. Flags proclaim power, and we will not be powerless anymore. We take our colours back.

to fear it.

Red, vibrant, thrumming with energy. Life-giving red, love-giving red, flowing through our veins. Bursting, blooming, the smiling curve of a lover’s lips.

Orange is seen in the flames lit to destroy us. We burn in the bonfires of history – both literal and metaphorical. Orange is the destroyer. It erases our history, our identity, and consumes our very lives. Orange reduces us to little more than kindling, tossed away and used up. Orange punishes us. We learn to fear it.

Orange, fire, warmth, health. The flames reduced all to ash, but here is room for fresh growth. Renewing, rejuvenating, orange is the phoenix. Orange is sunsets and sunrises that salute a new day.

ed is in anger, in the righteous wrath that gives the right to shed our blood. Red is how it’s not enough to kill us, but how we must be tortured first. It’s in our broken ribs, our bloodied lips – our battered, shattered will to live. Statistically speaking, each time fury is unleashed against us, there is over a 50 per cent chance that our blood will be spilled. Red turns against us. We learn

Yellow is in sickness, in the waxy dying hue of skins and eyes. We fall in great numbers, yellowed as wilting flowers. We are drenched in it like shame – yellow is a coward’s colour. Yet how else can we survive? Yellow buries us. We learn to fear it.

Green is the colour of Catholic liturgy and the colour of Islam.

Green is the colour that has condemned us to Hell, and torn down our ancient paradises. It is the colour of children raised to hate us and of children raised to hate themselves. Green damns us. We

Yellow as golden sunshine, as cheery flowers. We are coming out, heads held high, out into the sun and the world. We are here now.

In the open. We cannot be made to hide in the dark anymore.

Green as grass, natural fresh growth. Green like half the globe, the globe we live on, are part of, belong in. Nature is ever-growing ever-green, and we will follow suit, spreading out our roots, our branches, our leaves. Green like the carnations worn by Wilde.

learn to fear it.

Blue is a calm colour. We have taken our sadness and allowed it to flow through us and we emerge, washed clean. Blue has showed us how to be – like the ocean, like the rivers, eternal, infinite, serene.

Blue is the colour of the sadness that fills us, of the silence that surrounds us. Blue is a cold colour and it numbs us to the bone. We are three times more likely than most to experience depression, and it is five times more likely to kill us. But we are given the cold shoulder when we say we feel blue and our cries for help go unheard. Blue drowns us. We learn to fear it.

Purple, in nature, is rare – like us – and precious – like us. Purple is the hue of the flowers lovers give each other, purple to honour Sappho. Purple is the colour of magic, of wonder, of spirit. And our spirits are strong.

Purple represents royalty. A colour restricted only to the elite, it reminds that that we will always be less, less, lesser. Purple is something we can never have, except in the dull shades of our slow-healing bruises, a reminder that this is all we deserve. Purple disciplines us. We learn to fear it.

This is what we have been taught. We hide, or we die. We extinguish our colours.

Red for anger, for bloodshed.

Orange for burning, for destruction.

These are our colours too. These are what we make them mean.

Red for life.

Orange for healing.

Yellow for sunlight.

Green for nature.

Blue for serenity.

Purple for spirit.

Yellow for cowardice, for sickness.

We are heavenly and we are of this earth. Natural as the sky, the sun, and the rain. We are children of these; we are the rainbow.

Green for hatred, for religion.

We stand for peace.

Blue for depression, for cold-heartedness.

We proclaim power.

Purple for privilege, for bruises bone-deep.

We are rising.

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Galaxy Courtesy of Life Scribe Media

+ Around the River Bend + Written by Charlotte Fleming “Good afternoon, darling,” my nan greeted. She strolled through the garden with a tray adorned with cakes of all shape and sizes, a steaming pot of tea, and two quaint cups marked with washed-out, hand painted flowers. It was six in the evening, and I had been enjoying the cool breeze and orange sky for only a few minutes before Nan had engaged in her famous tradition of afternoon tea.

She placed it on the small coffee table I had grown friendly with over the past month. Her white hair hung in the wind, and her cheeks were pink, nipped by the cold.

“Thank you, Nan,” my lips drew into a wide smile. I was always in the mood for tea – she was the one who had gotten me hooked. It was great for any occasion: a date – a boost after the Sunday gardening; or in our case, a conversation. Her aged hand placed the cup in front of me, the hot steam in a dancing battle, attempting to combat the icy wind.

Staying in the United Kingdom had been the trip of a lifetime. Finally home in the motherland of England. Nothing could compare to what I felt in that moment: although I was tens of thousands of miles away from Australia, it felt like home. Across oceans and countries that spoke with different tongues, different forms of currency and climate, I’d never felt like I belonged more. My own accent had started to adapt, mixing in with my relatives – a soft, slow change, until there was no twang when I spoke to my young cousin about a kangaroo or a koala.

Now I was really an Englishman, blood and soul. I had come from a line of nobles and lords – a single drop of a rain storm that began long before 1585. My obsession with the place and its people had made me wonder if I had been born during the wrong time, and most certainly in the wrong place.

The garden fairy lights came alive as the sun slowly fell, and soon after I was surrounded by twinkling beams that dreamed of being stars. It was magnetic really, the beauty of it all. The sudden thought of leaving in two weeks brought a feeling of sorrow.

“Tell me, what did you get up to today?” my grandmother inquired, with mischief in her eyes.

[Type here]

What I had done when left alone in a forest that never ended? I had strolled through the deep greenery – the lush leaves created a haven.

The chirping of birds and hum of the river assaulted my senses.

Never before had I seen this kind of beauty, this kind of life in Australia. My mind had conjured up something unlike reality. I remembered all the stories and history lessons, and soon enough the past had caught up to me, showing me where I should have grown up, and where I rightfully belonged.

I could see a fierce battle across the river, red coats and rebels clashing with long iron swords, men fighting for what they believed in, fighting for freedom. I could see the revolution, a whole new era of life, a working age. I saw kings and queens, and young princes rebelling against their families, looking for true love. In this forest, beyond a life of rules and expectations, reality was blurred with fiction, so much so I wished I could never leave. A warrior, a princess, a pioneer, a rebel – it was an endless adventure of being someone who I was not.

Simply seeing was not enough, for I wanted to dance with princes and sneak off, hoping his mother would not find him with a kind, but common girl. I wanted to ride a horse across the hills as the wind danced in my hair – a never-ending song of billowing blonde locks.

I wanted to lead men, and give courage to scared women. I wanted to be a part of history, be a part of an old but not forgotten time.

And in the getaway of this Oxford home, surrounded by green forests and open land, I could. In the dark of the night and the early hours of the morning, something had called out to me, a whistle in the wind, and a howl for adventure.

Smiling to myself, I took a sip of the forgotten tea, still warm like the embers in my stomach. I had decided to finally answer her question- after all, there was no other way to put it. I spoke the truth: “I lived Nan, for those few hours, I didn’t just exist, I was alive.”

She knowingly smiled, her soft face pulling into a gentle grin as we sat under the twinkling stars, and although only temporary, it would never be forgotten.

[Type here]

[TypeRiverhere] Bend courtesy of Paul Purday

Crimson Blue Written by Jagreet Malhi

T

he cloaked man flew across the rooftops of the suburban buildings that encircled the entrance to th e city, h i s leather boots connecting w i t h t h e dilapidated tiles and slates with practically no noise. He ran with the swiftness of a fox and the dexterity of a trapezist. Years of running through the bustling streets of his home city, Chicago, aided with every leap and bound as he navigated his way to the alien city’s center. He soared through the air against the backdrop of the night sky that was painted an ambient azure blue, instilling a sense of temporary tranquility within the man. However, tonight there would be no peace, as he set out to bring an end to the sleepless nights lost to the demons of insomnia. Years of repressed grief and the feeling of regret and inadequacy had ravaged his mind. He would bring peace to his tormented soul by exacting the only means of catharsis he knew.

He would have his vengeance.

The boy pedaled his bicycle vigorously in an effort to catch up with his friends on the hill, the perspiration on his forehead trickling into his mouth and leaving a salty aftertaste. He was by no means an athlete, which was clearly evident in his lanky frame, but the thought of winning the race against his friends to the Chicago river made his adrenal glands work overtime. He knew he would be victorious, partly due to the fact that his friends were still grimacing over their report cards, which were now justifiably at the bottom of a bin, along with the year’s School books.

It was now or never, he thought, and ploughed up the hill and past his friends who looked at him awestruck by his sudden gain in momentum. He gave a triumphant holler as he began to descend, the Chicago river growing in size as he neared it at light speed. He turned back and shook his fists at his friends who were now mere ants atop the hill. As he neared his home, a roomy Dutch-Colonial house that hugged the end of the street, he noticed a weathered van with a small white label on the side reading ‘Bennet Debowen Corp’. He made his way to the front door and heard muffled shouting originating from upstairs, shattering the serenity that usually blanketed his abode.

The boy cautiously walked up the stairs, as the dispute becoming more audible with each step he took. He quickened his pace towards his father’s office, opening the door to see his father behind his desk and a man whose back was toward the boy. “It’s time I cut my losses, Mr Bennet,” he heard the man say. while simultaneously reaching into his jacket, pulling out a revolver and firing at his father. The boy screamed and ran toward his father, his vision becoming blurrier as tears bit his cheeks. He looked up at the monster that had shot his father – the man’s electric blue eyes glistening as he fired once more. The man pocketed the revolver and left the boy and the father, now slowly fading into a pool of crimson.

The hooded man strained as he clambered over the top of the skyscraper, the toll of scaling eighty story building with only his polyurethane gloves. He took off his hood and crouched over the edge of the building, observing the busy nightlife that was occurring hundreds of meters below him. He looked to his left to a skyscraper that reflected the two moons of the alien planet like a mirror – the words ‘DBN Industries’ plastered on the top of the building. The man stood facing the building now, and allowed himself to freefall, before firing his grapple gun towards a balcony on the 78th floor. “Now, the time has come,” he murmured to himself, his body shaking with anticipation.

He unlocked the window with a click, and entered the room, the moonlight illuminating the lavish suite. A bed was positioned in the middle of the spacious room, the couple sleeping on it awakening to the sound of a cocked gun. The man on the bed froze at the figure whose gun was aimed at him. Just as the hooded man was about to squeeze the trigger, the door adjacent to the bed opened to reveal a young child, a girl who seemed no older than five, with eyes bluer than the sea. The individual looked at the girl and the man, both with horrified looks as they realised what was to going to transpire.

At that moment, the hooded man realised that his choice would inevitably seal the child’s fate. He holstered the gun and stared straight into the male’s eyes.

“It’s time I cut my losses” he said, before somersaulting elegantly over the balcony and disappearing into the crimson, emerald, and gold pool of the city lights.

Frankie: Oh my gosh, wow.

Avengers Endgame

Fei: I suppose Endgame must have been good because I cried, which is an achievement. I cried at two points, which you can probably guess if you saw the film: when [redacted] and [redacted] [redacted].

Frankie: I sat in the cinema and cried for the entire epilogue. I’m not sure how long that was for, because Endgame was so long – it was three hours.

Fei: I must admit I was very sceptical before I saw it, because in my opinion the previous film, Infinity War, was the most disappointing Marvel movie. For the first half I felt like the film was good, but nothing special. It did pick up in the second half, around the point where Captain America faces [redacted]* across the battlefield – it was a really powerful shot that just got to me.

Frankie: And then [redacted] happened and it was the best. The fight scene between [redacted] and [redacted] was really good.

Fei: There were some amazing fight scenes, and that was when I felt really invested in the movie, because the first half of the film was where they were setting up the plot and it felt a bit slow. When they got to the culmination of the plot and the fight scenes, I started enjoying it more. But I read that the directors refused to tell many of the actors who they were fighting during the filming, and I have a lot of feelings about that directorial choice.

Frankie: You can tell that sometimes the acting is a bit flat, but that’s because the directors wouldn’t tell the actor’s what they’re supposed to be doing. I think it was a bad choice. You need your actors to be able to act in order to get your message across.

Did it live up to your expectations?

Fei: I would say both yes and no. Endgame was supposed to be the culmination of the whole Marvel franchise, and sure, it was, but it’s not even close to my favourite Marvel movie. But at the same time, it was much better than Infinity War, so it exceeded my expectations in that regard. So no, it didn’t live up to the hype, but yes, it exceeded my warily low expectations. It was good, but I probably wouldn’t watch it again.

What was the film about?

Fei: Basically, it’s the conclusion to Marvel’s Avengers storyline. It’s about superheroes and saving the universe.

Frankie: If you know what happened in Infinity War, you know what Endgame is about. I don’t even know if we’re allowed to talk about this, because there’s a spoiler ban I don’t want to break.

Frankie: I feel like I knew what was going to happen. I had an inkling of what was going to happen, because I’d been doing internet research on theories and looking at set photos, reading through all the comics and etcetera. But I’m not saying that it was predictable, because when things I’d predicted happened I was still shocked.

Fei: I actually hadn’t expected the whole premise of the plot at all, which was great.

Fei: The surviving Avengers band together to defeat Thanos, but it does not go to plan.

Frankie: A lot of things happened that we can’t talk about or we’ll be shot by the Marvel executives.

Fei: I think the spoiler ban was lifted.

Frankie: I’m still afraid. We’re going to be attacked if we spoil it.

Why did you see it?

Frankie: I saw it because I’ve been a Marvel fan since the first Iron Man movie. I remember seeing that when I was really young, and since then I’ve watched all the movies, even though they sometimes suck. Endgame is the culmination, the peak, the plateau, and the boiling point of a franchise which is iconic in pop culture.

Fei: It’s much the same for me. My brother got me into watching the Marvel movies a couple of years ago, so I’ve seen all of them. Because I’m now following them, I watch each Marvel movie as it comes out. Also, I saw Infinity War when it came out, which ends with ‘to be continued’, and Endgame is the sequel.

How did you feel about Endgame?

Who should see this film?

Frankie: People who have watched all the prior twenty or so Marvel films. You won’t understand what’s happening in Endgame if you walk in to it blind.

Fei: Any Marvel or Avengers fan. If you’re not into superhero movies, then don’t watch Endgame. And if you do watch Endgame, watch all the Avengers films first.

Frankie: There is no point watching it if you haven’t seen those other films. You’re going to be so confused, because a lot of things happened at the same time and you have to remember all the small details from the previous movies. That’s why a lot of people were having Marvel movie marathons leading up to the release of the film.

Fei: It’s a little pointless to recommend this film, because all the Marvel fans who should see it have already seen it, and if you haven’t seen it yet you don’t need to.

If you could describe Endgame in one word, what would it be?

Frankie: Guess what?

Fei: Long.

Fei: You cried.

Frankie: Complicated.

Frankie: Yes. It comes as no surprise for regular readers of this segment – if I enjoy a film or am emotionally connected to it, I cry.

Fei: Confusing.

Frankie: If I’m allowed to use a phrase, I’d call it the end of an era.

Fei: I think we’ve yet to review a movie that you haven’t cried watching.

Frankie: It’s true, I think I’ve cried in all the movies we’ve watched.

Fei: Guess what? I cried.

*Spoilers have been redacted!

MCU Avengers courtesy of Michael Cho