Doodles Magazine 2023

DOODLES

WelcometothefourthannualeditionoftheDoodlesEnglishandArtMagazine.

TheDoodlesteamhavelovedputtingtogetherthisyear'smagazinetoshowcasethe outstandingcreativewriting,poemsandartworkproducedacrosstheyeargroups. Thisyearwereceivedthehighestnumberofsubmissionssincethelaunchofthe magazine,makingitanincrediblydifficultselectionprocess.

Thisyear'sthemeis‘Emotions’andeverypieceofliteratureandartencapsulatesthe themewithpassionandcreativity.ThecoverwasdesignedbythetalentedSophie Alexander(10S)whoreallybringsthethemetolife.

Theteamwereveryimpressedwiththehighqualityofworkandwearesopleased tobeabletosharesomanyofthemwithallofyou.

Wearehonouredtogiveaspotlighttoalltheskilledwritersandartistsandwehope youenjoyreadingitasmuchasweenjoyedmakingit!

Toodles,

Doodles

penswhenangerstrikes?

orchyou

fireondrytimber? aperonawound?

klikesmoulderingplastic?

ougag-milk? hine erdrill, makeyouill?

KyraSingh-8E

Tones

Hiddenaway,itfindsyouoneday, Anditmakesyourvisioncloudy. Astormstartstocontrolyou. It’sdark,it’sheavy Andasyoustruggleandsearchthroughthethunder, Youcatchsightofit. It’stheeyeofthestorm. Red.

Thedeep-downcolourthatyousometimessee--

Ittakesholdofyou,pullingyouupandup Asyourfrustrationbuildsaroundyou

Untilyoujustcan’tkeepalltheredinanymore Anditallescapesinashout. There’snosilencewithred.

Itburnsaroundyou,leavingatrailofdestructioninitspath, Thecharredrealityleftinitswake Andthenthecalmafterthestorm.

Awave--

Ithitsyou,thesuddenthoughtofallyou’vesaid.

Water.

Itextinguishestheredwithangrysparksandsizzles, Washingaroundyou.It’scold. Atorrenthitsyou,rushingdownyourthroat. Asobescapesyou,andthefloodflowsdownyourcheeks. Saltywater,anoceanof-Blue.

Insideandout.Cold,afreezinglakeofhurt,ofguilt, Ofnotknowingwhattodo. Frozenintoaseaofsadness.

Drowning,noonetohelpyou, Hoursofcoldpass

Andyouthinkthatnow,thereissimply Nothing

Thatyoucando.

Butthen,youseesomethinginthedistance

Reachingoutoverthefreezingexpanse, Lookingtofindyou.

Aglimmerofhope,somethingwarm Meltingthefrozenblue.

Itgivesyouhope,strength, Yourfrost-boundfingersbegintouncurl.

Youreachout,thoughthecoldisbiting.

Theicemeltsaroundyouasyoutakethehand

Andanewhopeopensforyou.

Theiceandfrostmeltintoabeautifulriver

Thatflowsintobubblingstreams.

Theytwistandturn,flowingfast

Andyoufollowthemintoaforestof--

Green.

Andyouwatchinawe

Astreesgrowupbeforeyou, Flowersbloomandbirdssing.

Youtwirlthroughthetreesandthetearsonyourcheeks

Simplymeltaway

Asyouliedowninaslowlyswinginghammock. Yourealisethatalltheredandbluearegone.

Allthat’sleftisgreen,calm, Abreathoffreshair.

Asyoubreathein,youreyesslowlyclose…

Whentheyopen,youarebackinyourhouse

Andyoucan’tstayinyourroomforever.

Soyougodownstairs,awaitingthesurgeof Redflame, Atidalwaveofblue.

Butinstead,allyouseeare

Thesamegreentrees

Growingallaroundyourhouse--

Vinesentwinedaroundthestairs, Leavesflutterfromtheceiling Andyourfamilystandsinthecentreofthegreen. Asyoufallintotheirarms, Astreamrunsunderyourfeet.

Itbubblesandsnakesitsway

Outofyourdoor

Intotheoutsideworld, Abeautifulsightinthestreet.

ShereenAbsoud-8N

OliviaBebb-9G

AmandaChen-11S

Ithasbeenalongtime

Sincedifferenttypesofpainroaredaloneandtogether. Iamsurroundedbybeatinghearts, Sometimesinfamiliarskin,othertimesstrangers. Istage. Icreatesounds,Icreatenoise. Idisplayplot,intriguingplot. Igivemyshowmywholesoul,mymostdramaticemotions. Iwantmyaudiencetoenjoy Adelicacy.

Painpickedfreshfrommybrain, Pouredwithaservingofpipinghotragetolifttheflavour, Sprinkledwithsomecrunchyself-loathing, Finallythrustintototheoven,settingadjustedtodespair.

Jumpingfromahelicopterhoveringhighinthesky, Iwantedtotastethecloudsbeforeeternalsleep. Ididnotknowcloudsaresimplymist. Everythinginthisworldisdeceptive exceptmyquilt,pillowandbed, IfIignorethedeadbodiesofthemitesonthem.

Roxanna Quinn-9D

WhoDidIt?

TaliaFranks-7N

Chapter1

Welcometothewonderfultalesofmylife sucks.Noonetookmeseriously,ayoung girl who wanted to become a detective -yeahright,whowouldbelievethat?Butit's true:Idowanttobeadetective,yetIcan't find any case that would prove I can be one. A good one. Anyway, I am River Delarney, an aspiring detective studying criminology (which if you don’t know is thestudyofcrimeanddeviantbehaviour) andtodayIwasinvitedtomyfirstcollege party.Myletterarrivedaboutanhourago.

Itread:

DearMissDelarney,

Youhavebeeninvitedtoattendthemurder mysterypartyatthehouseofMissCurum, BlakeCurum.Youwillbeplayingthepart ofLadyCastledown.Sheisaveryposhlady whoisthemothertoMaryCastledownand isforevertellingherdaughterthatshehas togetmarried.Youwillhavetodressasa richladywithacurvednecklinedress,long satinglovesandhighheels.Thepartywill beonthe22ndofMay2010at7o'clock.

Yourssincerely, MissBasset

Iwassosurprisedwhenitarrived;itwas like getting an invitation to the queen's birthday. It arrived in a fancy envelope withagoldvinealongthetop.Ibought my dress straight away. The shoes I already had, but the gloves were harder tofind.Anyway,Ifoundthem.

Chapter2

Finally,IhadlefttheflattogettoBlake's flat across the corridor. Oh my god, I looked ridiculous. I had my long silk glovesandhighheelsplusmydressthat wasreallyquitewideatthefront.Should IjustturnbacknowbeforeIembarrass myself? Stop it, River, time to get into themode Strictmother,poshladyand obsessed with her daughter getting married--thecompleteoppositeofme. Maybeitwaspurposefulgivingmearole which was nothing like me. Anyway, I was trying to think how to act. Strut, maybe. Quickly, no. Slowly, maybe. Confident,no.Let'sgowithamix. Slowstrut.

FallingintoaPitofFear

DaisyGoddard-7E

Onestep.Another.Ihadtokeepgoing.Ihadto leavethepainofthememoriesbehind.Theforest seemed to envelop me in shadows, smothering meindarkness.Theonlynoisewasthedeafening thumping of my pounding heart and the sharp soundofmyquickbreath.Iwaslost.Icouldn’t see. I didn’t know what was happening to me. After a bright flash of light, the wind whisked meoffmyfeetandgavemeafacefullofmud. Theworlddiedanddarknesstookover.Thenext thingIknew,IthoughtIwasblind Istumbled intospace.Ifumbledinthedarknessthatwasmy thoughts.Myfeelings.Mylife.

Myclotheswerenothingmorethanrags,hanging inshredsfrommybody Thefirewaslonggone, andastormwasbrewinginthesky.Windshowled like hunting wolves and ominous clouds grew closer andcloser andcloser

Thunderboomedoverhead,soloudthatthedeaf couldfeelthevibrations Ihuddledunderatree forshelter,onlytosoonremembertheleavesand brancheswerelonggoneintheblaze.Rainfelland chilledanddrenchedmetothebone

Iawoketothesmellofashes.Andfire.I…Icould see ButIwishedIwasstillblind WhatIsawwas worse. The forest was ablaze. The fire was a monster;itsurgedupthetrees,suckingalltraces oflifeoutofthemuntil,withasickeningcrunch, the trees fell. The fire was a disease, and this diseasekilledeverything Iwasn’tsafe Icouldn’t breathe. The smoke filled my lungs, but I was trapped.Iwaslockedinacageoffire,andthefire hadburnedthekey Mykneesbuckled Youare betterthanthat!mythoughtspleadedwithme. Don’t give up and die. Find a way out! My eyelids flickering shut, I braced myself for the impactoftheinferno.Iran.

As well as the storm, I had another problem: darkness.Thesunwavedgoodbyeandsunklower andloweroverthehills.Nostarslayintheendless void that was the night sky It was black It was blacker than black. It was a blanket of fear. I driftedintounconsciousness.

I woke up with a start. Adjusting to the light, I realisedIwasindoors.Itfeltlikeithadbeenanage sinceIhadbeenindoors;amillenniasinceI’dbeen anywhere warm and safe. Suddenly, I realised I wasn'talone.

“Hello,child.”Thewomanhadakindvoice,butI didn’t trust her. “I’m Isabella. I live here.” Thunderroaredoutside

Ikeptrunning.Icouldn’tlookback.WhenIdid, the fire was gone. Ashes were everywhere -- a blanketofdeathandsorrow Myskinwassinged and burned. I was weak, but not quite dead. Wincinginpain,Ikeptrunning.

“Whatisgoingon?”Isabellawhispered Hervoice was high-pitched and frightened, like a scared mouse,abouttobethecat’slunch.Thedoorwas smasheddown Threemenstoodimposinglyinthe doorway.Feargrabbedmyheart.

“Thereisnotime”UrgencylurkedinmyvoiceasI searchedforawayout.Thebackdoor.

“Saveyourself!”

Iranoutofthehouseanddidn’tstopuntilIwas deepinthesmoulderingforest.Apiercingscream from the house broke what was left of my dying heart The back door was smashed off its rusty hinges.Iduckedbehindatree.

“He’shere,”oneofthemengrowled “Andwe’ll findhim,ifit’sthelastthingwedo…”

Iwasinasmallroom,barelyfurnished,witha smallfirecracklinginacorner Ishuddered It broughtbackthoughtsoftheforestfire.

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK. Someonewasoutthere.

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK.

Weretheycomingforme?

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK!

My face turned pale. My past was quickly catching up with me. The running, so much running. The screaming, so much screaming. Lightningflashedinthegloomoutside

AmerieDharman-8S

WhenThereAreNoWordsLeft

WhenIcan’texplainhowIfeel, Becausetherearenowordstodescribeit, Isomehowfeelwaves Ofdifferentemotions. First,thereisconfusion, Thenannoyanceandanger. Maybehopeless,withadashofgloom. Thenconfusion, Anger, Hopelessness, Gloom. Thewaveskeeponcrashingoverme, Drowningme.

Thewords, Confusion, Anger, Hopelessness, Gloom, Stuckinmyhead, Gettingfasterandfaster, Likeatornado, Amess,anditdoesn’tstopthere. Itallgetstoomuch. Ineed s p a c e. Icancalmmyselfdown. Butitdoesn’tgoaway; Itgetsdraggedinmyhole, Whereemotionsarestored Andtherearenowordslefttodescribeit. Nowordsbigenoughtodescribeit.

CiciLi-SF-LHU

RollercoasterofEmotion

DaisyGoddard-7E

Myheartwasadrum, beatinghardandfastinmychest.

IcouldhearthesqueakofthewheelsasIascended, Whilesweatbeadedandanticipationseeded.

Mystomachwasleftbehind. Iscreamed.

Timepausedaswelooped, looped, looped.

Iwavedgoodbyetomyworryandwhirledroundabend. Therollercoasterwasagreatbird, swoopinglowandtakingflight. Therollercoasterofemotionwaslikeanadventure, athrillingrideIshallneverforget.

TheDayAfteraNightmare

AbhaBhole-SF-RG

Foronce,theskywasblue,andUnit15 (for she had still not chosen a name) was, yet again, avoiding a ‘social enrichment’ session. If she spent mandatory time with the other Units, she may reluctantly make emotional connections with them, like she had withherfourbatchmates,andthenshe mayneverseethemagain Andyes,she knewshewasbeingstupid--youcan’t controlthehandlifedealsyou,solivein themoment,etc.,etc.,etc.

Butithurt,damnit.

Shejustwantedtobealone.Fornowat least Soshehadsnuckaroundthecity wall and had found this little maintenanceplatformthatwouldhave beencalledabalconysomewheremore luxurious.

Shegazedoutoftheseaandattempted to shake off the ghost of yesterday’s nightmare

Fire.Smoke.Empty,hungrygazes,tears streaming down her face, and bloodanddustandsmokeandsomuchblo od.

Shelettheroaroftheseacocoonher

So many people feared drowning in thosewaves,butshewelcomedtheway they drowned out her thoughts. The rhythmic swish, the mist on her face, thefaintscreechofthebirds.

She almost didn’t notice the brother approachingherfrombehind.Almost.

Fight among themselves as the Units sometimes did. There was one they couldneverdislike.Soanwastheeldest of them. He was strong, in that nothingcouldmovehim Hewaskind and warm He smiled, all the time Evenwhenhewasupset.Hestoodup for them when their trainers were beingtooharsh.Unit15alwaysknew when Soan was nearby. He reminded her of home. Of fuzzy blankets, a bookshelffullofwisdom,oftighthugs andhuge,proudsmiles

Breathe Breathe in, breathe out Your thoughts do not control you, she told herself.Youcontrolthem.

Soan carefully stepped out onto the platform. He looked at her like she rememberedherparentslookingather, though she barely remembered their faces. And he smiled at her. Gently, calmly, without the nervous twitch that batchmates had whenever they smiled.

"What are you doing here, little one?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with what she imagined to be fondness and a hint of concern, though she had never seen that lookbefore.

"I like to listen to the sea, " she replied, carefullykeepinghermanyemotionsaway from her voice. If she cried now, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop. Ever.

Soan’s smile diminished, though he held thesamewarmthinhiseyes.Heshuffled closer

"Seemsabitlonely,"hecasuallyremarked. Unit15wonderedifhecouldreadminds. It was near impossible to hide anything fromhim.

She didn’t respond. She turned away to gaze out at the ocean again There were cloudsgatheringonthehorizon.Thesky wouldn’tbebluemuchlonger.Herthroat tightened and her fists clenched. She was shaking. Barely, but Soan noticed. Of coursehedid.

Andthenheputanarmoverhershoulder

Soan didn’t say anything He just held herasshewept.Andastheoceanwithin herdraineditselfdry,untilmeredrops remained, she clung onto her brother likehewastheonlythingstoppingthe wind blowing her away from this platform.

Soan wiped her tears away. He didn’t askquestions,justsmiledsoftlyandtold her not to stay out too long. A storm wascoming,hesaid.Itwouldn’tdoto get sick now, and anyway, it’s almost curfew. Then he patted her on the shoulderandwentaway

The clouds over the horizon grew closer,withthefaintrumbleofthunder. Theoceanbegantolosetheshimmery glazethebriefpeekofthesunhadgiven it.

Fire Smoke--shh

The floodgates opened. Unit 15 was crying. The sea howled in her ears. It rushedthroughherandovereverywallshe hadbuiltinsideher,crashedrightintoher heart and gushed out of her eyes, leaving saltytracksbehind.

She silenced her traitorous emotions. She fixed her hair and uniform -- it wouldnotdofortheotherstoseeherin such a mess -- and she shoved her nightmarebackintothedarkestcorners of her mind She straightened up and marched back to her quarters, every inchtheperfectUnitshewasmeantto be.

Roxanna Quinn-9D

She raises her cigarette against the distant blackboldcityskyline,astheduskdroops belowtheedgeoftheworldtonight.The evening is slipping away, and strongsmelling smoke is wafting into the evaporatinggoldenlightasshepercheson herelbow,lookingoutacrosstheplacewe usedtoknowinthedistance.

“Itshouldbeanymomentnow,”shesays, staring across miles of farmland. She had wokenusinthenight,likethedawninthe blackness, promising of glory beyond the citygates.HernameisTina,butitmayas well be Liberty; she has changed it thousandsoftimes.

Bestfriendofmyoldersister,sheoperates ongutinstincts,jumpingoutofwindows whenthepressureintheroomistoohigh, running from badness into the night, flyingawaylikeabird.Sheisprideonfoot, rougharoundtheedges.Asyouthfulasshe is, she is not pretty, but beautifully imperfect,making menandwomenwish they could have her. She runs across bordersuncaring Tinacutsherownhairwithscissorsfrom underthesink;shecreatesherownrules. She is claustrophobic, yet fearless, and wants the free night air smoking her cigarettes, not backing down to higher power

She is a feeling; she is freedom -- portable pride.

It will be any moment now Soon the peacefulskylinewilllightupwithfireand anger.

“Iwouldfeelsorryforthem,”Tinasays.“I would feel sorry for them if they hadn’t takenmysister.”

Andthecitywecalledourowneruptsinto flames,thebricksofbuildingsbreakingfree of structures, the explosion like a violent sun against the twilight sky. The skyscrapers fall, collapsing onto the ground,crushingthestreets.Theprideofa thousand storms, the years of oppressed citizens,everyoneofthemhostageintheir ownhomes,lightinguptheskyinablastof fury. We had escaped, and they had been trapped.

“Thatwasourhome,”Isay.

“It wasn’t,” Tina mutters. “They took it andtookus,soweblewthemup/”

Everything that ties us down is in flames, and we watch it burn. We watch it burn intothesky,sofaraway,sooutofreach. Wewatchitburnintothenight,lettingit all go as the flames lick the sky. You can hear the sound of relieved murmurs from ourpeople

Tina extinguishes her cigarette against the wooden fencepost, its light sizzling and dyingasthewoodturnsblackagainstit.

“We can’t stay here. We must run. If we move now, by dawn we should be out of reach.”Sheturnstothepeople,scrambling upthefenceandstandingonit.“Wemust leavehere,”shecallsovertothepeople.The people gather their belongings and get to their feet from the grass Tina jumps from the fence, hurrying them all, leading the crowdtofindagoldenlightindarkness.

Undernight,thepeoplegobyfootonthe road; under the stars they traverse to freedom. The road is long; but freedom’s legs never tire. Upon the dawn when the stars sink, the people collapse to the earth, pleadingforanend.

“Wemusttravelfurther!”Tinayells,butthe peoplerefusetostand,ignoringhercry."We aren'toutofreach."

“We can’t go any longer,” I say, but she is desperate

“Come on! We have to go further! They’ll reach us here!” She fights to be heard over thegrowingwearymurmur.

Overthehill,theycomerunning,carrying theirheavyweaponsinthedawn,running towards us like the rays of the sun ’ s first light, blocking the horizon as they swarm over the hill like crowds of hornets. They come, shouting, covering the light with their dark silhouettes. They pounce upon thepeoplelayinginthegrass.Thepeople are slaughtered upon the hill, staining it red.

I look around the scene of terror, the peoplelyingdead,theirtearsonesofpain insteadoffreedom.Ilookaroundforour Tina,butsheislostamongthescreams.

“Tina!”Ishout.“Tina!Pleasecomeback!” Butitisnouse.

She is gone. Our portable pride is gone. Tinaisnowheretobeseen.

But the people have began to lie down on thegrassasthemorningsuntouchesit,the rayscatchingintheireyelashesastheyweep puregoldentearsofwildjoy.

“Stand up, for we are not free yet!” Tina cries.Buttheydonotlisten.

TheGuiltofBeinganExcuse

SofiaAnjarwalla-10D

Oneofmyfriendsclaimedtohaveahalf-blackfriend.

Iwasthatfriend.

I'mhalf-Indian.

Ididn'tknowwhatitmeant.

Iwassix.

Iwassixandalreadybeingusedasanexcuse.

Ishouldnotbeusedasanexcuse--

Ican'texcusetheirexcuses.

ThesecondtimeithappenedIwas10.

Istoodonmyfeetandsaid...whatfriend...

Iamnotyourfriend.

ThatfearwastherewhenamanyelledPakiatmewhenIwasthirteen.

Iamhalf-Indian.

LilyZapp-8E

Wonder LydiaMinko-SFLHU

Attheendofthestreetisatheatre.People arewaitinginline,dressedinenoughfinery to make Marie Antoinette jealous, in complete disregard for the cold of the night. There seems to be a brightness to themthateventhedarknesscan’tswallow. Theladiesaredressedinelegantgownsof satin,velvetandsilkwithflowingbodices, andglovesreachingpasttheirelbows.The men are dressed in evening suits and top hats. The more eccentric of them have canes and velvet waistcoats which have somesortofpatternorothertomatchtheir partner.Itseemsasifeventimeispausing tolook.Suchistheirdecadence.

Eventually, the last of them enter the theatreandtheanticipationfromoutsideis nothingcomparedtothescaleofthatfrom theinside:thereisabuzzofexhilarationas peoplecranetheirheadstoseethestageand turn to the viewing boxes where the patrons of the theatre are sitting, clad in mystique.Withporcelainmasksobscuring theirfaces,theyturntotheircompanions, nodoubttouttersomethingsoprofoundly philosophicalwithallthetimetheyhaveto think, as they devote themselves to hedonismandluxury. Thetimeapproachesfortheperformance tostartandtheaudiencegrowsquietasthe candlesareblownoutandtheroom

descendsintodarkness.

They watch as the curtains open with tantalising slowness and a light is shone into the centre of the empty stage. From theleftwing,awomanemerges.

Herarmsarestretchedoutbeforeherand her toes are pointed. She is dressed in translucent black and her face is solemn. Herheadisraised,asifindefiance,asshe presents a challenge to the audience -- a question:canyoukeepup?Fromtheright, herpartneremerges.Armsheldinthesame wayastheycometogetherinthecentreof thestageunderthesingularlight.

Thenthemusicbegins.Itissoftatfirstand the dancers begin swaying around each other. All of a sudden, the music crescendosandthewomanbeginstoturn withsuchfeverandsuchpassionthather midnighthaircomesfree.Themusicswells until it reaches its climax when suddenly the dancer drops; her partner is there to catch her as she falls. They pause for a moment, breathing heavily before continuingwiththeirdance.Themusicis back to its light and merry gait. He turns her around slowly, her hair unbound and wild.Heisthewindinhersail;sheisthe birdandheisherwings,theairtoherfire which keeps roaring until the flame rises higherandhigher.

They leap and spin and drop but never hittheground;theaudienceiswatching with bated breath, never knowing when the dance will end but wishing the momentwouldlastforever.Outsidethe theatre, a small child rushes to the gates aroundtheentranceandholdsthebarsof theblack,rustingmetal.

“Maman!” he shouts, cheeks pink from the cold. “Maman, I hear music,” and pointstoacharredbuilding. Hismotherpullshimawayfromthegate.

“It’s your mind playing tricks on you, moncherie,”shesaysandstrokeshisface, “Nobodyhasbeeninthatbuildingsince itburntdown.”

Helooksupather,confused.“When?”

“About thirty years ago. The principal ballerina who was dancing was thought to be the greatest of her time. Nobody madeitoutofthebuilding.”Shelooksat him sadly, and continues, “They say she had hair the colour of the darkest night anddancedlikeawildfire.”

His mother doesn’t know what to say, but she recalls an old story her grandmotherhadtoldherandrepeatsit toherson,ifonlytoputhismindatrest.

“Anoldtownlegendsaysthateveryyear ontheanniversaryofthefire,theghosts of the lives lost return so that they can relive the final performance of the principalballerina.”Thechildturnshis head,“Whenisthat?”heasks.

The mother looks down at her watch, “Why,” she pauses in disbelief. “It’s today.”

Sureenough,whentheylookupandat the building, a small glowing light is emanating from one of the windowless holes and the faint sound of classical musicfillstheirnight.Theystand,hand inhand,untiltheveryendofthesong. Theystandandlistenonlyuntilthefinal chord strikes in a cascading bellow and thedistantlightdisappearsasquicklyas themusic. Then,andonlythen,dotheywalkaway intothecold,darknight.

“ButMaman,”theboyinsists,tuggingon theendofhercoat.“Iheardmusic.”

Thesqueakynoisefromtheshuttersdirectsthelightthathaslostitsway. Everysecond,thenoiseofthespinningmachineslashesthewhite-jadeinsomniac dumplingstodeath.

Myprivateoathstriumphantlyannounce: ‘Iamnotforsale.’

Meaning,meaning,meaning!Time,body,skin–

Offers,grades,popularity–Canyoutellmewhereitis?

Thefizzydrinksizzles,withnowheretorelease. Thebubblespopandrise,riseandbreak.

Onlyascantfewwinnerssurvivetotheend.

Thestainsonthespectaclescanneverberemoved Thetimethatisleftbehindcontinuously.

Isomuchwishmyshadow

Onlyexistedasecondago.

Aballofimpartial,yetcannibalisticfog

Wherehopeanddespairexistsidebyside Isthepathpavedbydestinyaeonsago.

Iamtoobig;Iamstilltoobig.

IsomuchwishIcouldbetiny,almostnon-existen

Justasingle-celledcreature

EvolutionaryAnomaly

NadiaMugbar-Spencer-10T

Mynew,yellowsunflower Resiststheearlymorning. Goldenraysofsunshower, Thedazzlingamberpouring.

Iwatchherwraproundaspade, Uprootherselffromtheground Andcrawltothecool,darkshade, Deep,whereshecannotbefound.

Shewaitsoutglorioussun

Anditswarm,lovingembrace. Shewaitsuntildayisdone Beforereclaimingherplace.

Nowmydry,brownedsunflower Awakes,continuestofight Withallhermightandpower Toavoidrich,vitallight.

Inthatdarkplaceshegoes Whereshehideseachday...

Doyouthinksheknows She’switheringaway?

FlorenceCyriax-Editor-in-chief

AriellaKing-Cline-Copyeditor

NatashaRaphael-Editor andWriter

NayaCooper-ArtEditor,LayoutandDesign

TessWarren-ArtEditor,LayoutandDesign

NatalieAldous-CommunicationsandPublicity

MrsMyatt-Supervisor