Ink Stains 2020

INK STAINS

SUMMER 2020

PRIMARY SCHOOL

AN IB WORLD SCHOOL SINCE 2000

A PLACE WHERE WE BELONG

I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

CONTENT

FRONT COVER: ELENE ALEKSISHVILI, Grade 4B 2

TS 4

FOREWORDS

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S 2020 KG - G 2

G 3-5

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P O E T RY

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P O E T RY

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N A R R AT I V E

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N A R R AT I V E

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

FOREWOR As one of PSI’s core values, passion seemed an obvious theme choice for this year’s writing competition. A person’s passion can be very unique to them and therefore this year’s theme is all inclusive and every entrant can share their own voice and interest. Everyone can develop and follow their passion and this can become their guiding beacon and light their path in dark times. Passion helps to sustain motivation when a task becomes challenging in all aspects of life not only in writing.

As a community we cherish, value and promote

creativity and therefore feel inspired by the diversity of interests demonstrated in this year’s magazine. You will discover a range of different passions through autobiographical pieces as well as through fictional characters in students’ writing. Students’ passion is also evident in artworks published in the magazine along with the photographs of the drama production directed and written by students themselves.

As librarians we once again feel proud to be

a part of this display of students’ creativity and talent. We wish you all an enjoyable read and hope it will motivate you to follow your own, or discover a new passion to inspire new learning, spark enthusiasm, sustain positivity and find internal peace.

PAM YORK and POLINA SPENCER PSI Librarians

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RDS PSI students have numerous and varied passions.

As teachers, we see and hear these passions in conversations and observations we have each day with our students. It might be in the Monday discussions of what we did at the weekends... it might be in the writing pieces that are crafted on topics of students choice…..or it might just be in the way a student responds to hearing an idea for the first time….and realising that this is what will drive that particular student's learning.

Our Passions are powerful learning springboards and this became the theme for this year’s Young Authors writing competition.

Firstly, a big congratulations to the students

who submitted entries. Your passion for writing and enthusiasm to share what you love doing was a pleasure to read. From well crafted pieces of clever poetry, to structured stories containing elaborate detail and voice, the writing this year was of the highest quality.

Although the number of entries this year

was lower than previous years, the standard was exceptional and you will see this as you read through the entries in this magazine.

In a change from previous years, it was decided

not to award a 1st, 2nd, 3rd place to entries...but to rather acknowledge all entries equally with ‘Highly Commended’. As peer judging was not possible, we felt this was a fair solution.

I hope you enjoy reading through the entries,

and appreciating each individual writer's craft, as much as I have.

BRYAN REARDON Gr 4 Teacher Young Authors awards organizer

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

AUTHORS

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DOMINIKA SIVKOVYCH Grade 3U

IAGO ARENCIBIA PENDER Grade 3C

CHARLOTTE MCWHORTER Grade 3U

ANAIS BARBOLET-SWIFT Grade 2M

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SEREN ETHERINGTON Grade 4B

OLHA KOVALCHUK Grade 3U

WONWOO KIM Grade 2M

KATJA MONASTYRSKI Grade 4B

LILITH BARBOLET-SWIFT Grade 4B

SASHA POPOVA Grade 2T

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

PSI YOUNG AU 2020 KG - G 2 P O E T RY 10 M Y U N I CO R N

Anais Barbolet-Swift 2M 14 S P O R T S

Wonwoo Kim 2M

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KG - G 2 N A R R AT I V E 16 E V E RY W E E K M Y PA S S I O N C H A N G E S

Sasha Popova 2T

UTHOR’S G 3-5 P O E T RY 55 B R I L L I A N T B O O K S

Seren Etherington 4B 56 T H E 3 PA S S I O N S

Lilith Barbolet-Swift 4B

G 3-5 N A R R AT I V E 64 T H E DAY CO O L B OY 1234 W E N T TO T H E M O O N

Iago Arencibia Pender 3C 68 AU R O R A

Charlotte McWhorter 3U 74 M Y SW I M M I N G STO RY

Katja Monastyrski 4B 77 A R T

Olha Kovalchuk 3U 80 B A L L R O O M DA N C I N G

Dominika Sivkovych 3M

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

KG-G2 POETRY

My Unicorn ANAIS BARBOLET-SWIFT Grade 2M

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • KG-G2 POETRY

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • KG-G2 POETRY

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

KG-G2 POETRY

Sports WONWOO KIM Grade 2M

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • KG-G2 POETRY

MARGARITA SHEVCHENKO, Grade 4L

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

KG-G2 NARRATIVE

Every Week My Passion Changes SASHA POPOVA Grade 2T

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P S I Y O U N G A U T H O R ’ S A W A R D 2 0 2 0 • K G - G 2 N A R R AT I V E

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P S I Y O U N G A U T H O R ’ S A W A R D 2 0 2 0 • K G - G 2 N A R R AT I V E

ANDRII ZHURZHII, Grade 4L

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

DIVNA TARA, Grade 4L

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • G3-5 POETRY

G3-5 POETRY

Brilliant Books SEREN ETHERINGTON Grade 4B

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

G3-5 POETRY

The 3 Passions LILITH BARBOLET-SWIFT Grade 4B

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • G3-5 POETRY

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • G3-5 POETRY

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • G3-5 POETRY

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PSI YOUNG AUTHOR’S AWARD 2020 • G3-5 POETRY

OLIVIA PALMIRA, Grade 4L

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

G3-5 NARRATIVE

The Day Coolboy 1234 Went to the Moon IAGO ARENCIBIA PENDER Grade 3C

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P S I Y O U N G A U T H O R ’ S A W A R D 2 0 2 0 • G 3 - 5 N A R R AT I V E

DENIZA TAALAIBEK, Grade 4R

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G3-5 NARRATIVE

Aurora CHARLOTTE MCWHORTER Grade 3U

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G3-5 NARRATIVE

My Swimming Story KATJA MONASTYRSKI Grade 4B

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Art OLHA KOVALCHUK Grade 3U

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G3-5 NARRATIVE

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

STEPAN SKRYPKA, Grade 4R

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P S I Y O U N G A U T H O R ’ S A W A R D 2 0 2 0 • G 3 - 5 N A R R AT I V E

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G3-5 NARRATIVE

Ballroom Dancing DOMINIKA SIVKOVYCH Grade 3M

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INK STAINS

SUMMER 2020

SECONDARY SCHOOL

AN IB WORLD SCHOOL SINCE 2000

A PLACE WHERE WE BELONG

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

CONTENT 4

FOREWORDS

8

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 LOW E R M Y P

UPPER MYP

10 P O E T RY

22

P O E T RY

16 P R O S E F I C T I O N

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PROSE FICTION

20 N O N - F I C T I O N

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NON FICTION

MARIYA MALYTSKA, Grade 12, Tender Is The Night, Acrylic

2

DP 34

NON FICTION

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THEME

TS 0

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 LOW E R M Y P

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P O E T RY

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PROSE FICTION

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THEME

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

FOREWOR Passion. The concept of pursuing your passion is

“Passion is the oxygen of the soul.” “Skills are cheap,

one that is discussed frequently at PSI; but what do

passion is priceless.” “I would rather die of passion

we mean when we talk about passion?

than of boredom.” “Passion is ___________ (insert

your own quote here).”

You hold in your hands (or are browsing on

your screen) one part of a larger answer to

that question. Between these pages are the

word. We are always urged to follow your passion

performances, art works, and compositions that

or to complete a task passionately. But what does

encompass some of the passions of our community.

that mean? As an EAL teacher I believe it is my job

There is drama. There is poetry. There is painting

to encourage students to think carefully about

and sculpture. There is even a piece titled “On the

the language they use - not only the meanings of

Current State of Genealogical DNA Testing”. All of

words but how words are used - and I am therefore

this and more encompass the variety of personal

delighted to see so many entries in this year’s

passions at PSI.

Alexander Awards that do just that. Whether

poetry, fiction, non-fiction or pieces related to this

The Language and Literature department

always enjoys reading through the submissions for

year’s theme, I am once again mightily impressed

the Alexander Awards. We are consistently pleased,

by the range of our students’ submissions as well as

surprised, and often left speechless as we read the

the thoughtful ways in which they use language to

work students do in other classes and in their own

invoke emotion and evoke an internal landscape.

time. This year, more than ever, it was a wonderful

I heartily congratulate all students who submitted

reminder of the diversity of thoughts and ideas that

their work this year. I was again impressed by the

permeate our campus. It reminded us of the joy we

high standard of work and I greatly enjoyed reading

have in working with our students; it reminded us of

through the entries. As usual it is very difficult to

our own passion.

decide on winners and, although there must be

We hope you enjoy this collection of works

some in a competition, I do hope that all entrants

and we hope you are inspired to pursue your own

take great pride in having their works published in

passion.

print in this year’s Ink Stains. I salute you all!

CORY HAUGEN Language and Literature, Head of Department

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It’s fair to say that passion is a much utilised

JAMES SPENCER EAL teacher

RDS A wise woman, Oprah Winfrey, once said “Passion is

“What is important to me is not the truth outside

energy. Feel the power that comes from focusing

myself, but the truth within myself”

on what excites you.” In the world of Visual Art

Konstantin Stanislavski

at PSI, and in the art classroom, that energy and excitement is something that one can feel

constantly, like electricity in the air, as our students

themselves and in doing so awake their PASSION

are immersed in the creative process. Not only is

for expression. PSI students are no different.

their passion felt in the studio space while artwork

Over the course of this school year, students

is being imagined, planned and created, but their

have tapped into the truth within themselves to

passion is evident in their impressive final pieces,

create wonderful works and moments of theatre.

which range from textile work, drawings and

Ranging from comedic improvised scenes to deeply

paintings, to mixed-media and more experimental

tragic investigations on the human psyche, this

pieces, while all representing a multitude of

year, students created characters full of quirky

concepts.

personality traits with a deep psychological

background, scenes that hearken back to Ancient

Visual Art is often a deeply personal expression

Every artist searches for the truth within

of our passions - what we place importance upon,

Greece, performances exploring the European

what we hold dear. The diverse artwork within

migration crisis, even investigations on the nature

these pages communicates this undeniable passion,

of ‘theatre’ and ‘performance’ itself!

this beautiful energy, for Visual Art at PSI, and

should inspire us all to dedicate ourselves to that

numerous to mention) students have demonstrated

which we truly love and that which excites our daily

not only a commitment to showing the truth, but

lives.

doing so with full devotion and passion for telling

In all of these examples (and several more too

a great story. Just like us, stories contain deeper Bravo students!

truths within themselves and it is passion that brings this truth out for all to see. PSI students have consistently demonstrated their passion as they become participants in the grand tradition that is human storytelling.

MAGGIE KESSEL Secondary Visual Art Teacher

ERIK ZAMBRANO MYP Drama and DP Theatre Arts Head of Department

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I N K S TA I N S • P R I M A R Y S C H O O L

AUTHORS

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SOPHIE O'HARA Grade 8

ROSHAN BASU Grade 9

SEOYUNG LEE Grade 8

YUKO MIYAMURA Grade 8

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IRYNA VYSOTSKA Grade 8

ANDREW SPENCER Grade 12

ANASTASIYA SAKOVYCH Grade 9

TARAS YUSHCHENKO Grade 10

OLESSIA ZHEVAGO Grade 8

KATE WASKOW Grade 7

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

ALEXAND LITERARY WINNERS LOW E R M Y P

UPPER MYP

Poetry Winner

Poetry Winner

10 M Y B O O KWO R M

Olessia Zhevago (Grade 8)

22 W H AT D O E S A P E R S O N H AV E

TO D O W I T H W I N D? Anastasiya Sakovych (Grade 9)

Poetry Honorable Mention 12 A V E RY F U R RY P O E M

Iryna Vysotska (Grade 8)

Poetry Honorable Mention 24 STO N E S

Roshan Basu (Grade 9) Poetry Honorable Mention 15 D R E A M L A N D

Sophie O'Hara (Grade 8)

Prose Fiction Winner 26 W H Y M U ST I G O O N ?

Taras Yushchenko (Grade 10) Prose Fiction Winner 16 B R O K E N VA S E

Yuko Miyamura (Grade 8)

Prose Fiction Honorable Mentions 28 B L AC K L A D D E R

Roshan Basu (Grade 9) Prose Fiction Honorable Mentions 19 M Y T U R N

Sophie O'Hara (Grade 8)

Non Fiction Winner 32 O N T H E C U R R E N T STAT E O F

G E N E A LO G I C A L D N A T E ST I N G Non Fiction Honorable Mentions 20 A STA N D U P F R O M FA I LU R E

Kate Waskow (Grade 7) 8

Roshan Basu (Grade 9)

ER Y AWARD 2020 DP

THEME

Non Fiction Winner

Theme Winner

34 R E P R E S E N TAT I O N A N D

OPPRESSION

36 ( U N T I T L E D) PA S S I O N

Roshan Basu (Grade 9)

Andrew Spencer (Grade 12) Theme Honorable Mentions 39 N OT H I N G N E S S

Seoyun Lee (Grade 8)

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

POETRY WINNER

My Bookworm OLESSIA ZHEVAGO Grade 8

Holed up in my room, a bookworm resides,

My hope was relinquished a long time ago,

Together with friends, it secretly hides.

They will never take me, stricken by woe.

They travel in concert, sneak out when it’s late,

Wrongfully cursed, I have slowly grown,

Abandoning me, in the time I most hate.

For metamorphism I must now atone,

For kingdoms, forests, seas: all a delight.

My innocent smile, ripped away, gone -

Morphing into creatures of beauty and fright.

My face composed, I await dawn.

Bitter green, I sit and wait,

The sun is up, and they are here,

This feeling I must quickly abate,

No more than whispers in the air.

Not envy. No, anger! I’m angry alright.

Their hushed voices heard only by me,

A lawful response to this unjust plight.

My room locked, I hold the key.

Why must they always leave me alone?

No one must know of their existence,

I’m not a dirty rag, used and later thrown.

Society will make me keep my distance.

Hands outstretched, I approach them; calm,

It was different once, I recall,

But they turn into heavy books in my palm.

When I was still very small They took me with them, to ride the moon:

Holed up in our room, my bookworm resides,

I’m drowning in memories, too heavy to prune.

Smiling, as I look on with sad eyes.

Days filled with laughter, no panic, no fret…..

These precious memories I mustn't forget.

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

SOFIA PALOSSI, Grade 12, Kahlo’s Memories, Mixed Media

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

POETRY HONORABLE MENTION

A very furry poem IRYNA VYSOTSKA Grade 8

I’m not a dog-person they said.

And then we see them out of bed, At sunrise, 7 in the morning.

Ew, dogs are gross!

And then you share your piece of toast, With younger ones.

Oh mother, can we get a dog?

We’ve already had this dialog A million times.

A million jobs and chores ‘ve been done To get this little one: A place that he’ll consider home An owner of his own And finally- a fresh new bone.

Over the years we get attached To someone small, Who shows their love, Without using a single wordThat’s how a miracle occurred.

They’ll stay with us until they’ll die Watching us as we lie, With eyes filled up with pain, Knowing that we’ll take the blame, Upon ourselves.

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

NADYA PALOSSI, Grade 10, Untitled, Watercolour 13

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

STELLA KHOLODOVA, Grade 8, Plastic Waste In The Ocean, Mixed Media 14

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

POETRY HONORABLE MENTION

Dreamland SOPHIE O'HARA Grade 8

The sun sets as time passes by And I let out a relieved sigh.

As the colors flood out through my window, I wait for the darkness to creep and grow.

The night is here, the moon shines bright And shooting stars fly by like kites.

I can turn around and head to my room And close my eyes, to dream away the gloom.

When I sleep, I enter a world in which, the people can breathe again and the soil’s rich.

A place where trees grow at every corner And humanity keeps on moving forward.

A place where nobody needs to starve So that people far away can still thrive.

Everyone can learn about the world and, No one can take away the people’s land.

A place where people can speak their minds And live to tell the tale of mankind.

Where parents don’t need to hide their children From the forces who now, are our everyday villains!

A place in which all conflict can cease, So that everyone can live in peace.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

PROSE FICTION WINNER

Broken Vase YUKO MIYAMURA Grade 8

Louisa’s finger pressed the doorbell for the fifth time

objects sat on different surfaces, and after taking a

as she shivered against her damp clothes. She had

closer look, Louisa recognized them as different objects

dragged herself through the horizontal rains of April

from the past. The once vibrantly colored birthday

with a broken umbrella and jeans drenched with water.

girl mug was on the kitchen counter, now chipped and

Water dripped off of her raincoat and pooled around

faded from years of use. Family pictures hung on the

her dirty wellingtons. She hadn’t come all this way to

walls, smiling faces covered in layers of dust and grime.

check up on Sarah just to catch a cold. She snorted at

Books were all over the coffee table, and a chair was

the idea - The mummy hunter becomes a mummy - a

buried under a pile of clothes.

Japanese proverb that seemed very fitting of the idea.

She jammed her finger into the doorbell again

thoughts. “What’s up?”

“I just came to see you because I haven’t seen you

before she resorted to impatiently rapping on the

door. Sarah was not responding to any of her texts or

in a long time,” she said, looking up to Sarah pouring

calls. She could be dead for all Louisa knew. Ever since

a cup of something brown for her. “What were you

Sarah started freelancing as an animator, she had

doing?”

become shut-in, excusing her lack of communication to everyone by saying that she had a heavy workload and

was not able to hang out. That would’ve been fine if she

was hearing. Working?

“Oh, you know, just working.”

What? Working? Louisa couldn’t believe what she “You haven’t spoken to anyone in months! You were

hadn’t stopped coming out of her home for weeks on

end. The only thing stopping Louisa from filing a missing

working the entire time?” She cringed at the tone of

person report was a little green dot next to Sarah’s

her voice, but that didn’t matter. Her friend was acting

Instagram profile that signaled that she was active.

like incredibly stupid.

After abusing the poor door for another five

“Look, it wasn’t that bad, I went outside at least

minutes, she made out the soft patters of a pair of feet

once a week, it’s not like I was working the entire time,”

approaching the entrance.

Sarah replied, setting a mug in front of Louisa

The doors opened to reveal a Sarah she hadn’t seen

“Once a week? Really?”

ungracefully, much like that of a plate of spaghetti

tipped into a garbage can. Her clothes looked like

and you’re telling me that you’ve been working the

she hadn’t changed them in a week. The lack of odor

entire time?”

since college. Her messy hair fell over her shoulders

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.”

“You haven’t responded to my texts since February,

Sarah set her mug down with a thud. “Look, I’ve

surprised her, but that was nothing compared to the

dark circles that framed her eyes. Louisa’s arms reached

been busy with a new client, okay? I’m fine, don’t worry

out to Sarah’s shoulders but were shrugged off.

about me.”

“Come in,” Sarah rasped and moved to make room

for her to enter.

Five years ago, when Sarah was still working at her

Louisa was tempted to grab her by the arms and

shake some sense into her.

“I absolutely will worry, you’re being ridiculous!”

old, sustainable job, she had excitedly dragged Louisa

all over the city to help her buy things for her newly-

career, and working isn’t ridiculous.”

“No, I am not!” Sarah raised her voice. “It’s my “Ah, yes! You’re right, working for months on end

bought flat. The flower vase Louisa gifted to her to

celebrate the occasion had contained flowers when

without taking a single break is perfectly fine and won’t

they partied that night over Thai takeout. Now, the vase

do any damage. You’re being a moron!”

was sitting on a windowsill collecting dust. A few other 16

“So,” Sarah’s voice startled Louisa out of her

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

HYUNWOO RA, Grade 10, Story Telling, Acrylic

“If you’re going to say things like that, get OUT!” “No, I won’t leave until you agree to take a break.”

“Why are you acting like YOU know my life better

than ME?”

“Because you’re being a DEMENTED FOOL who

can’t TAKE CARE OF HERSELF!”

Louisa immediately regretted saying that as Sarah’s

face contorted into a menacing glare that made her want to recoil.

“SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP!” Sarah screamed,

making Louisa flinch. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“I’m sorry, I-” “GET,” Sarah seized Louisa’s arm, “OUT.” Louisa struggled as Sarah dragged her to the

entrance of the apartment. Sarah’s grip on her arm was painful, and Louisa could feel her arms bruising. She gritted her teeth as the grip tightened.

“Did you visit me just to insult me and my career?”

“No, I came all the way here to check up on you, but

She started. She genuinely wanted to apologize, seeing

now I’m wondering if you need some sense knocked into you.”

“I’ve been working. You don’t have to worry about

anything because I’m perfectly fine!”

“You need to take a break.”

“Look, Sarah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,”

that she had done more damage than good.

“I don’t care about your opinions anymore, I want

you OUT.” Sarah let go of her arm and violently shoved her to the door.

“Sarah-”

“You are not in a position to tell me what to do!”

Louisa slammed her mug down, internally groaning

collided with the door behind her. She stared in horror

Louisa’s words were disrupted as a glass object

at the loud thud it made. “Any sane person can see that

at the shattered pieces, realizing that they belonged

you need to take a break!”

to the flower vase she had gifted to Sarah. She reached

“Are you calling me insane?” Sarah snarled,

narrowing her eyes.

“Yes! I am! Take a damn break!” Louisa yelled.

for the door handle and twisted it with her shaking hands, relieved to see that the door was not locked.

She turned around one last time but was met with

“Your devotion to your job is getting out of hand! It’s

an infuriated Sarah forcing her out the door.

unhealthy, it’s hurting you, take a break or get some

help!”

Sarah’s chair tumbled backward unceremoniously

as she abruptly stood up. Louisa got up, ready to argue with her.

“My job keeps a roof over my head and food on my

The door slammed shut.

The muffled sound of glass crunching and colorful

cursing soon faded to silence.

What have I done?

The question lingered on her mind as she made

her way home. She wanted to cry. Sarah was probably

table, you have NO right to judge!” Sarah shouted,

working again, maybe even harder than ever. She would

angrily making her way over to Louisa.

probably work herself to death this time. If only Louisa

“It’s keeping you alive, but your obsession with it

had used a different approach, if only she hadn’t been

is ripping you apart. Take a break, damn it!” Louisa

so accusatory with her words, if only she hadn’t called

stepped towards Sarah.

her a demented fool-

“Shut UP!”

She went to bed feeling low-spirited, waking up the

“Take a-” Louisa started, but was interrupted by an

next day with a cold, a sour reminder of the day before.

enraged Sarah.

17

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

DALIA GOLBERG, Grade 8, Inside We Are All The Same, Digital Drawing

18

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

PROSE FICTION HONORABLE MENTIONS

My Turn SOPHIE O'HARA Grade 8

The pain is slowly going away. I read somewhere that

my brain. What if I died here? What if I never got to

was a bad sign. I can’t feel my legs anymore and my

see the world? What if the last thing my mom heard

hands are as cold as ice. I’m lying in a pool of blood.

from me was a grunt as I walked out of the door? No, I

I don’t even know if it’s mine or someone else's. We

couldn’t think like that, I had to get out of here alive.

barely had time to process what was happening. It

started off like a normal day, we got to school and I

sound of the gun shots made my eardrums burst and

got off the bus with my friends. We walked to class

I screamed as I saw the shooter aim the gun at my

cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular.

classmates. I knew my turn was coming, so I turned my

Our first class was math, and we were scrambling

back and crawled under the desk. I pulled my backpack

to finish our homework before the teacher came in.

toward me and had it protect my back from the

Halfway through class we heard two loud bangs ring

shooter. I breathed out shakily as I covered my head

throughout the school.

with my arms and waited. Waited for my turn.

I looked at my friends one by one and they had the

The door got kicked down with a thud and the

I woke up and felt all the air escape from my lungs. I

same looks on their faces that I had on mine. A look of

was shot. I was scared. I tried to scream, but all I could

confusion and fright, everyone was staring at the door.

do was stay on the floor gasping for air. I tilted my

I looked over at our teacher who was already pulling

head back and saw some of my friends lying motionless

down the blinds. Another bang followed by a scream

on the ground. I cried out, but it sounded more like a

so loud it shook the walls of our classroom. The look of

croak. I knew the shooter had left already, but I didn’t

realization hit everyone’s faces, they were gunshots.

move. I couldn't, I was in shock. I felt a shiver down my

I started to panic, I couldn’t move. It was like I was

spine and realized just how cold I was. The silence fell

glued to my seat. Everyone stared at the teacher,

over me like a blanket as ice cold tears streamed down

expecting some kind of reassurance, instead, we heard

my face. I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

another gunshot. Everyone scurried to the corners

of the room. Everyone reached for their phones. We

of the bleeding. I could feel myself slipping in and out

needed to make sure people knew what was going on.

of consciousness. I was hyperventilating and couldn’t

Maybe help could get here in time.

think straight. The air seemed thin as I tried to sit up.

I didn’t want to die here. I tried to find the source

The eerie silence was so loud it made our ears

A sharp pain hit me in the back and I decided that was

ache as we waited for any more clues as to where the

probably where I got shot. I started to cry as a wave of

shooter was. The school looked abandoned and dead. I

panic washed over me. I pulled my jacket and pushed

wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head

it under my back to stop the bleeding. I knew that was

on my knees. I was trying my best not to cry. Trying my

the first step. I didn’t know what to do next, so I just

best not to make a sound. There was a collective gasp

layed back down and tried to steady my breathing. As I

as we heard someone run down the hall, screaming

lay there on the ground, all I could think about was what

to open the door. We heard them stop at our door,

I haven’t been able to do in my life. I’m only sixteen,

panting and crying shakily. Then a sharp gasp and a

I had to keep living. I couldn’t let them win. I thought

high pitched scream. They shouted and kicked at our

of my family as I tried to stay awake but it was getting

door. A gunshot. The screams stopped.

harder by the minute. I turned my head slightly to look

The only thing between me and death was a wooden

up at the window. The sun shined on my face, but there

door. I felt a cold tear stream down the side of my face as

were no sounds, no sirens. No one was coming, I was

I faced the possibility that this is how I was going to die.

all alone. I was dying and I knew it. My eyes started to

My mind started to race and my thoughts were clouding

close, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

19

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

NON FICTION HONORABLE MENTIONS

A stand up from failure KATE WASKOW Grade 7

Another day of failure. Why can’t a young teenager

working, and the results are fantastic. That sounds like

like me reach her goals?! Maybe dance isn’t the right

me, except for the last part. There are NO results! I

thing for me. All that I hear is ‘Lin quit, it’s not your

felt like the tears filled up my eyes. I took out a warm

thing. You’re failing it I understand that my mom wants

tissue with my cold hands and wiped off the tears,

what’s best for me, but to hear that from your dance

that would soon turn into ice. Why can’t I be just like

teacher, it’s awful.

this city? The walk back to my house wasn’t filled with

Long ago, maybe like 3 years ago, I’ve found

interest in dancing. It went from interest to passion.

thoughts that made me almost cry. All of them being

For some reason, I‘ve been dancing for so long but

about my passion, dance. No music could help here.

never succeeded. My dance teacher never takes me to

Before I entered my house, I wiped the rest of my tears,

dance battels, because I am not ready. The only person

so my mom wouldn’t be worried. “Hey, mom!” I said

that might support me is Emma. Emma has been

with a fake smile on my face. “Oh, Lin! Your back, come

dancing since she was 3. No wonder she is so good. She

and have dinner” I heard my mom’s voice coming from

keeps telling me not to quit, but I don’t know if she

the kitchen. I wasn’t really hungry, I just wanted to go

just says that because she is my friend.

to sleep, “Um mom I will just go to sleep, I m very tired

I really don’t know what to do. From one point of

after today’s training” I answered and ran upstairs.

The warm shower made me forget about the

view, it seems to be my passion and I enjoy it, but no

one really sees me, I feel like I am invisible. Maybe I

problems, but just for 10 minutes. As I walked out of the

should just quit really, just like my mom and the dance

shower I fell onto my bed and stared at the ceiling until

teacher say. When I think about the fact of quitting

I got a message from Emma. I reached out for my phone

doing it breaks my heart. I really don’t want to forget

that was on the night shelf and checked the message.

and quit my passion. I think the only good option

“Hey, Lin. I know you might be upset about your

now is to go home to get a nice shower and go to

dancing, but I just wanted to let you know that we have

sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and I will think of what

a battle in 1 week. Just so you know” I answered with

to do next. Still, I am not going to school tomorrow,

thanks and turned my phone off, and placed it back onto

therefore I will have time to think.

the shelf. But really it’s my only chance to show that my

I went out of the changing room and headed to get

passion for dancing is strong, and I can do it.

My dance teacher doesn’t have faith in me. All I can

my coat out of the closet. As soon as I was ready I took

my phone and earbuds out of my pocket, I placed the

do is to practice at home hours and hours. I only have 7

earbuds in my ears and connected them to my phone.

days, well 6. I have to be ready on Sunday. But now I will

Maybe some cheerful music will bring some positive

let myself into the world of dreams and sleep.

thoughts to me.

The sunlight that hit my face woke me up, of course,

As I walked out of the building, I felt the small

I was so tired yesterday that I forgot to close the blinds,

snowflakes hit my warm face, causing them to melt.

perfect. I rose from my bed, ready for the new busy day.

The cold breeze made me shrug. As I walked past

My mom went to work, of course, its Monday. I have

the beautiful busy city with snow falling at night it

the whole day to practice. I made myself some fried

made me think. The city is always busy, it never stops

eggs and got dressed in my gym clothes. I played some

20

happy thoughts, instead, my head was filled with cold

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • LOWER MYP

AUDREY RINGGER, Grade 10

Rabbit, Textile Embroidery

Fox, Textile Embroidery

rap music and started with a warm-up. I tried to recall

all the dance moves I learned from my dance teacher.

is, and how small I am compared to it. I felt like an ant

One by one and I have mastered already 3! That’s

while looking at the stage.

some progress in an hour. I took a 10-minute break and

continued. Now I need to master 7 more moves.

the building I heard my name. As soon as I heard it my

After 5 more hours, I have mastered 4 moves. I was

When I arrived I was shocked by how big the stage

I didn’t get time to prepare, as soon as I entered

heart started to beat as fast as a cheetah running. I

proud of myself. Now I will get myself ready or the next

took a deep breath and headed towards the stage.

days of hard work.

As I entered the stage, the bright lights made me go

The 6 days went by pretty fast. Each day I got 3 or

sometimes 4 moves mastered. Now I have a full set of

blind. I couldn’t see the judges, as well as the audience.

I closed my eyes and waited for the music to start.

As soon as I heard the first beats of the song, I

10 moves. I feel like that will be enough. Today is the

last day for me to practice, I am already signed up for

started to dance with all my force. I felt all my muscles

the battle, and no teacher this time told me I can’t

working together. I totally forgot about the world

attend it.

around me. I just heard the music and felt me dancing

I am confident in myself as well as in my dance.

with all my force.

The music stopped and I could take a deep breath

However, I would like to practice today as well. Today

I did the finishing touches and got myself a nice grey

in. I heard the applause coming from the audience. I

hoodie and black leggings. This day went by faster

went down the stage and waited for the other dancers

than I expected it to go by. I couldn’t sleep this night,

to finish dancing.

probably because of the stress.

I woke up from the bad night’s sleep and ate

Finally, the moment of truth. I heard my name again.

I felt my heartbeat as fast as a cheetah running. The

breakfast. I tried to eat more nutrients today. After the

next words that came from one of the judges made me

nutritious breakfast, my mom made me, I got dressed

so happy that tears came running down my face. “Lin,

in my grey hoodie and black leggings I got myself ready

1st place”.

the day before. Finally, I had to get into the car with my mom and drive to the battle.

21

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

POETRY WINNER

What Does A Person Have To Do With Wind?

ANASTASIYA SAKOVYCH Grade 9

The wind howls in the backyard, Oozes through the fissures in the old moldy fence.

It rushes to the left, it hurtles back, it rises up and plunges down, At the fool speed it crashes into the dampened ground.

It is looking for its place.

The wind drowns out the wailing cries of shabby foxes.

Nose deep into the dead parched leaves, They dodder, they stroll and suddenly they dart in fear As if escaping from a monstrous hound.

Thousands of trails tangle on the wounded ground.

They are looking for their place.

The wind never stops, it hastens further Thousands of miles away, to what seems like a different universe.

Where somber waters of the restive ocean Hare to pierce riveted cliffs.

They tear to the shore, they rise in assail, they slump onto the whetter rocks, they pleat.

As white and tarnished gore the waves retreat.

They are looking for their place.

The wind keeps playfully tugging my collar, my sleeves and the hem of my coat While I leave behind rows of gaudy buildings In the suburbs of the prodigious city.

I don’t scuttle or lurch or reel.

And yet my thoughts cannot escape the all-consuming chaos.

Thousands of questions left without answers.

I am looking for my place.

22

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

MARIYA KRYSHCHUK, Grade 10, Chili Peppers, Oil Paint

23

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

POETRY HONORABLE MENTIONS

Stones ROSHAN BASU Grade 9

Life is an:

You watch as people party,

Endless loop,

War yet love; Amoung Astarte,

Swing after swing,

all but a mindless clone,

Hitting nothing.

Stone after stone after stone.

Pretending.

Digging deeper into a pit, as deep as you dare,

Pretending to strike gold.

Imagining; believing, that it will lead somewhere,

Really, it is their own lives they condone

Noone is there, alone,

Stone after stone after stone.

Stone after stone after stone.

Desperately,

If only souls would turn around.

Trying to hit something,

Open their eyes.

anything,

Stop pretending.

Lying to yourself.

Stop digging.

Should they be Shown?

They would see.

Stone after stone after stone.

Stone after stone after stone.

Imagining, in endless roam, Stone after stone after stone.

24

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

JULIE SENECHAL, Grade 10, Identity, Coloured Pencil

25

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

PROSE FICTION WINNER

Why must I go on?

TARAS YUSHCHENKO Grade 10

24/10/19

-------

I am startled by the noise of the sharp German words

When they open the doors, I look up at the sky. I never

thundering into my ears. It’s time to get up and march

realized how starved one could feel for something so

yet again… For days, we walk through these fields and

simple. But the sky is black, and for some reason, it

we never seem to get any closer. The hunger burns

seems it would never have color again.

They separate us into lines. All of us ‘Soviets’ have

through my stomach like I cannot imagine. I already

had to live through one famine at home, will I need to

to strip naked. They pour disinfecting fluid over us. It

do it again?

smells and feels terrible. They treat us like we’re no

Home.

more than an infection that needs to be treated. And

I try to throw the thought out of my head. “It only

why?

We hear the same stories about them that, I’m

slows me down,” I tell myself. I try to forget about my

parents and the siblings I have left at home.

sure, they are told about us. That they’re monsters,

Who knows if they are still there?

that they threaten the existence of our people and

Every so often, some of the other prisoners run

need to be destroyed.

Is it really so easy to believe these stories? When

into the fields surrounding us and grab some corn.

Our guards are considered the ‘good’ ones since they

I was home in Khoruzhivka, I never shot at a German

don’t shoot us on sight of stepping out of line.

soldier. I understood that, just as I was forced to fight

I trudge along, waiting for another day to pass.

for this Soviet monstrosity of a state, my brothers

Out of nowhere, we approach a train station. Finally,

were forced to fight for the German monster.

My officers even dared to tell me: “the last bullet in

we will no longer need to walk. The hardest part is now

over. Or, so I thought.

your gun is for yourself”. Did these people really think

The old buildings are run down and the walls are

I would die for this artificial, brutal state? After what

peeling. The large train engine drags dozens of red

they did to me? To my family?

train cars behind it. The officers force us into one.

I’d rather point my gun in the opposite direction.

“How the hell will we fit in here?” I heard someone yell.

It’s what we are all wondering.

history of our people. Constantly being torn apart,

Somehow they wedge us in. Packed like sardines, I try

gutted and stripped of solidarity.

to make my way to the sides of the train car so I have

Has anything changed?

something to lean on.

It’s funny. I remember how my father told me the

They put us Soviet combatant prisoners in a line.

They march us away and force us into a dark room, -------

one at a time. We are told to take off our shirts. They

The trip is worse than hell. I can sit down occasionally

use a small machine and start tattooing numbers

and even get some sleep. But this is rare. I laugh at my

onto us. They label us like we’re cattle to keep track

naivety - thinking I knew real hunger before.

of on a large farm. They mark us like we are now their

26

After the first few days, I fall into an absent state.

property.

They hand us back our shirts with a red triangle on

I no longer think of my hunger, I no longer think of my

pain. In fact, I no longer think of anything at all.

the sleeve.

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

DARYNA LUBKIVSKA, Grade 8, Silenced, Acrylic

are building new buildings. Apparently, they are to be connected to our camp. I am so confused. Who are they? Who are we?

Even though all of us soldiers are in a separate

building from the regular prisoners, sometimes, when we are working construction, I get to speak to some of the men who know Russian, or even sometimes Ukrainian. Luckily, I also know English, so I can speak to more of the prisoners and this keeps me from being totally isolated and broken, like so many people here.

We are escorted to a different section of the camp.

They tell me I’m lucky that I am allowed to work

outside. They say I’m lucky that I can take any food,

We walk through a different set of gates. More barbed

plants I find outside. They say I’m lucky I haven’t just

wire, more guard towers. Is it so important to keep us

been shot like many of the other soldiers.

here? Are we really their enemies? I wonder — who are

Is there anybody here who is actually lucky?

they? Who are we?

When we get to our barracks, I am shocked to see

-----

only hay on the floor, no beds. We really are animals in a

I dread working each day. The work couldn’t be harder.

barn.

The food rations couldn’t be smaller. I agree with the

It is already night, so I try to find room on the floor.

guards. Yes, the communists should be destroyed. I

I look at the number they tattooed on me. I

hate them just as much as you!

How can someone hate me so much for something

memorize it. It is now more than a number. It is who

I am. The thick black paint embedded in my flesh

that isn’t even true?

represents my life, my story, and my only purpose.

117654 is now synonymous with Andriy.

I am so close to just throwing up my arms and giving

I look at the boy, just a bit younger than I, laying next

up. But no, my family line didn’t come all this way, fight

to me, tears rolling down his face. His number is two

all of their battles for hundreds of years, dream of

numbers greater than mine.

freedom, demand independence, survive all of these

Still, I have to go out and die a little more each day.

genocides, just to have me die now.

A single thought occupies my mind. I must fight. I

-------

The first morning, before dawn, they hustle us out of

must fight that feeling that tells me to give up. I must

the barracks. We are given tools and told we would

never stop. I must never stop until I achieve the one

now build a road. The nearby village has already been

thing in my life that matters to me. No, it is not to hold

evacuated. All the buildings are being demolished.

on to life. It is not to see my family again, not to return

Looking around, I see the personal belongings of the

home. The one thing that matters — I must have a son.

former inhabitants of these homes lying strewn all over

I must never stop until I can show him how good this

the ground. Everything these people did not have time

world can be. I must never stop until I teach him to

to take is now being ripped apart. Other prisoners

love life.

27

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

PROSE FICTION HONORABLE MENTIONS

Black Ladder ROSHAN BASU Grade 9

When I was young we lived in a place at the very tip of

teacher. It struck me cold. I stopped moving as he

North Africa. A place called Tunisia. Tunisia was filled

walked towards me. He snached my violin, looked me in

with kind and caring people. They want to help you.

the eyes, said nothing and walked away. He didn’t give

They want to dance. They want to smile. They want the

it back until 2 weeks later. When I got it back, I realized

best for everyone. This is a lie. A lie devised to cover

he had down-graded my violin to a smaller one. And

up the Tunisian equal to the Global Drug-Trade market.

given mine to a new child sitting on the other side of

An underground market consisting of evil and hate, all

the room.

The violin.

to make us all sound bad?” the teacher would say. “Is

It started simply, as a harmless hobby. I signed

this another one of your pranks?”. There was nothing

up for the class thinking nothing of it; what a fool I

I could do. I couldn’t re-learn how to play on a smaller

was. When I walked into that big bright room, it felt

violin. I stood. Faced this lion of a man. And told him I

cheerful. Filled with children, most of whom would fall

wanted my old violin back.

to the evil surrounding the beautiful instrument. But my naive eyes. So innocent. I held the instrument to my

chin. And that’s when it began.

anger, “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT GET OUT GET

then, we were oblivious. I looked up at the teacher with

“Stop messing with the violin, you’ll break it!” said

the teacher. He looked at me. I thought nothing of it

“Get out,” He said.

“What?”

“Get out!” His face grew red, and he shook in

OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!” I grabbed my stuff and left.

and placed the violin on my lap. He looked at me. “Not

on your lap! Hold it like you can see everyone else

BACK.”

“AND DONT YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING A couple weeks went by and I was re-invited to play

doing.” I looked around myself. All I could see were

the 40 or so children in the room, and all of their eyes

violin, but now my teacher was different. She was the

looking straight back at me. I shivered.

fattest, most heavily obease woman I have ever seen.

I should’ve quit right there. I was stupid, a fool. I fell

She filled the room, not just with her personality. It was

right into their petty trap, like a mouse to a mouse trap.

nice to see a new teacher, I thought maybe we’d work

There was no escape. I was stuck. Chained down by my

well together. I was so wrong. So very wrong.

She was even worse than her predecessor. The first

light, bright, violin. The next day, we were in a smaller

portable classroom. Painted with white walls, and filled

day she handed us sheet music and expected us to play

with no more than 10 chairs. That was where I would

it immediately, without practice. When we failed to do so

meet my fellow flies, trapped in the streaming, endless

she would ask us to leave the room and stand outside.

This abuse went on and on. The torment grew and

web. We played as good as we could. But it was never

enough. Each and every class the assault was worse.

grew and my hatred for the instrument grew with it.

One day, one horrid day. The string of my violin

snapped. I still remember the look I got from the 28

I played bad that day. Real bad. “Are you trying

devised on something so beautiful and innocent.

Every day a new problem, once she stole someone’s sandwich because they didn’t play quietly enough.

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

I remember her leaving the classroom for over an hour,

all?” She took a step closer. Took in a deep breath to

only to come back with a full meal.

support her next insults. “You are out of tune! Stop

There was one incident, so serious, I never returned

DESTROYING the entire ensemble’s sound, with your

to that classroom. I would never set foot near a violin

out of tune violin you little-!” She held herself back.

again. Something that startled me so much I would

She began to brutally assault my instrument for the

throw away my passion for good.

only purpose of tuning it. In truth, I wasn’t out of tune,

It happened on a Friday, that day had been going

she had heard my friend, who had forgotten to tune

well. I had practiced my music (as if I didn’t she would

that day, I had tuned before the lesson. I didn’t speak

ask you to practice outside the classroom in the heat

out as I was scared of her reaction.

Then my face grew red, and a salty, warm, but yet

for hours till she thought you were good enough).

When I walked inside something felt… off. Something

so cold, tear grew from my eye. I tried to hold it back.

was wrong. She didn’t seem normal. Like a lion that

Evade the inevitable by blinking it out. There was no

hadn’t been fed. More dangerous than usual. More

avoiding it. It was too late.

“Why are you crying? Have I hurt your feelings?”

aggressive. We made eye-contact. She didn’t say

hello, as was the norm. We sat and she said her usual

She looked at me, acting as if she was concerned, but

greeting, which was saying nothing. She stood before

the same thing would repeat itself day after day. Night

us and began to count:

after night, week after week, and month after month.

“1, 2, 3, 4” and we began to play. I was entranced,

She handed me back my violin and told me to wipe the

focused, completely in the zone. We got through the

tear off my face and focus. I reached out for the violin,

intro, we separated for the chorus, 2 groups playing in

and she thrust it into my hand. Almost knocking me

harmony.

over. She told me to play. I took a breath, paused, and

“STOP” she walked up and down. Eyeing each of

moved my shakey hands across the strings. The sound

us down. She stood in front of a quivering child, and

the instrument screamed was very similar to nails

asked him to get his stuff and leave. After he was gone

chalkboard, a cat screaming, goats dying. She picked

she stood in front of us.

up my sheet music and threw it at me.

“Play” We began again, from the beginning.

“Is that all you can do? Read the marking there!

The intro was perfect. The chorus came and went

Read the marking!” I looked up at her, the marking read

beautifully, and the first verse began.

piano, the musical term for reasonably quiet. I stood,

“SHUT UP, Everybody Stop. What is this?” She

with regained confidence.

“PLAY AGAIN, maybe this time it’ll be good!”.

looked everyone in the eye, and grabbed a musician

by the arm and made him leave, this time not even

My hands trembled across the strings, “THATS NOT

allowing him to grab his stuff.

PIANO” she screamed, I wanted to disappear. She

This time there was no queue, she just moved her

stood there, looking at me. I had to play. But her

hand in rhythm and we started. Each movement was

reaction was inevitable. “NO. No, no, no, no, NO! P-I-A-

perfect, flawless. My playing was the best it’s ever

N-O!” She enunciated every letter of the word. “PLAY

been.

PIANO! PLAY IT NOW.” She grabbed the sheet music

“STOP, STOP, SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!!!”

off the ground and ripped it in half. She threw it on the

The loud, booming voice of my violin teacher

floor again, and stomped on it. She looked at me, in the

thundered down as a lion would, ready for attack. The

eyes, like a murderer before the final blow, and finally

lion pounced, all 500 pounds of her. Brutally wobbling

she sat back down. It was too late, though, the damage

over to me. Her fat wobbled as a penguin would walk.

was done.

Finally, I had to put an end to this madness, I walked

Like a seal’s flab, being dragged across the room. She

stood in front of me, glaring down. Her breath was

out of that forboden, ugly, violin studio, and never

sickening. Like the smell of a skunk, or that of a rotting

went back. Throwing that part of me away for good.

egg. She bent down, I felt her dark, gloomy shadow. My fingers trembled over my bright, wooden violin. With

*

*

*

fingers the size of an arm, she reached out. She was “The violin quivers like a tormented heart”. When in

poised and ready to strike. She ripped the violin right

out of my hands. I froze like a deer in headlights. Every

hand, it sobs, it smiles, it darkens, it brightens. The bow

single eye in the room was on me.

strokes in, the bow strokes out. Like peace, like war.

“What are you doing? Have you listened to me at

Like brotherhood, like betrayal.

29

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

30

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

</THE NET WIDE>, created Jassem Ammar, Lara Arencibia Pender, Sara Ashraf, Eva Bertrand, Sofiia Domochka, Sofia Dmytrenko, Kai Fritz, Ella Gocentas, Bogdan Ivanytsia, Julia Jyde, Mishel-Anastasya Kyryllova, Nikolaya Oresharova, Mariya Shevetovska, Polyna Stolar, Erik Zambrano, 2019, performance art, experimental theatre 31

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

NON FICTION WINNER

On the Current State of Genealogical DNA Testing ROSHAN BASU Grade 9

In the year 1997 GeneTree was the first company

somatic chromosomes (chromosomes other than a sex

to provide direct-to-consumer Ancestry Testing.

chromosome). The autosomal DNA test is the most

Genealogical DNA testing is a newly developed

useful, as it is available for both sexes, and shows both

technology that provides an inexpensive and fast

sides of your family lineage. Most direct-to-consumer

way to learn about genetic heritage through the

Ancestry tests are this type.

in three ways; Y chromosome, mitochondrial DNA,

only identify biological relatives. It is possible to be

or autosomal DNA testing. Each test requires only

matched to a blood relative who is not in your family

a saliva or blood sample, making testing available to

lineage. Companies sometimes keep DNA and sell it

a wide market. The customer base are told through

“to research diseases by non-profit organizations”

advertising that this is a way of self-discovery.

(AncestryDNA, 2019). DNA is also sold to third-party,

However, one’s culture should be based on

for-profit pharmaceutical companies to create drugs.

commitments, traditions and beliefs, not who their

Ancestry tests work more often than the public

DNA says they are.

assumes. AncestryDNA claims that in 2019 their “test

Advantages and Disadvantages of Each Type of Ancestry Test

32

A major downfall of all Ancestry tests is that they

examination of a customer’s genome. This is done

was correct 99% of the time.”

What One Can Learn From Ancestry Testing

Each type of Ancestry Test is relatively unique.

Y-DNA testing examines short tandem repeats

(STRs) on the Y chromosome. This “is a male-specific

and genetic matches. Most customers purchase the

Ancestry tests tell people their genetic ethnicity

DNA test as women do not have a Y chromosome”

product hoping to discover their countries of origin;

(FamilyTreeDNA, 2020). Y-DNA tests show male

as this is advertised the most. In 2013, Ted Wood took

lineage. Thus, the disadvantages of this test are

an atDNA test to learn more about his birth father. Mr.

the inability to see the female ancestral line, and

Wood was a sperm donor during college. Although the

the female inability to take the test. Most DNA is

tests did not identify his father, he learned he had a

stored in chromosomes within the nucleus. The

twenty-seven year old daughter. He did not directly

mitochondria contains a bit of its own DNA: called

learn about his father through the tests; but, he was

mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA). mtDNA testing is

reunited with long-lost relatives and pieced together

available for both sexes. However, mtDNA is only

a story of his father’s life. Ted Wood is one of many

transferred through female ancestors. Therefore,

who matched with others and learned more about

it will provides information on the female ancestral

their family’s history through ancestry tests.

line. Lastly, autosomal DNA (atDNA) is found on

DNA tests will inform one of where they are from

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • UPPER MYP

and of their genetic matches, but not who they are.

In 2020 Georgina Lawton, a writer for the Guardian said, “The test showed that my blackness comes from Nigeria; 43% of my DNA, in fact.” She then reported

References list 1: AncestryDNA® Test Accuracy | AncestryDNA® Learning Hub. (2020).

Retrieved 12 February 2020, from https://www.ancestry.com/lp/ genetic-testing/ancestrydna-test-accuracy

that she had “no cultural knowledge of Nigeria” and that the tests had “made [her] question [her] ancestry”. A collaboration between music company Spotify and AncestryDNA created an ad where they will tailor a playlist for you based on consumer’s DNA. This begs the question: Is your DNA related to your

2: Are genetic ancestry tests reinforcing wrongheaded ideas of race?.

(2020). Retrieved 6 February 2020, from https://nationalpost.com/ news/world/are-genetic-ancestry-tests-reinforcing-wrongheadedideas-of-race 3: How DNA Testing Botched My Family's Heritage, and Probably Yours, Too. (2020). Retrieved 10 February 2020, from https://gizmodo.com/ how-dna-testing-botched-my-familys-heritage-and-probab-1820932637

culture? For instance, Georgina Lawton found she was Nigerian but she had no cultural relation to her heritage. Lawton has Nigerian ancestors, but she doesn’t take part in any Nigerian holidays, traditions, or other cultural activities. There is no connection.

DNA is not deterministic. Another test taker, Kristin Brown claimed in 2018, “DNA testing botched [her] family heritage”. In this case, Ms. Brown thought her ancestry was completely different from what it truly is. Brown took four DNA tests by four different companies, each time getting a different result. In summary, DNA tests are useful in some cases, in others

4: Lawton, G. (2020). ‘It made me question my ancestry’: does DNA home testing really understand race?. Retrieved 10 February 2020, from https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2018/aug/11/questionancestry-does-dna-testing-really-understand-race 5: Schmidt, S. (2020). 9 Leading Companies in Direct-to-Consumer Genetic Testing. Retrieved 6 February 2020, from https://blog. marketresearch.com/9-leading-companies-in-direct-to-consumergenetic-testing 6: What is genetic ancestry testing?. (2020). Retrieved 6 February 2020, from https://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/primer/dtcgenetictesting/ancestrytesting 7: What is Genotyping? | Thermo Fisher Scientific - UK. (2020). Retrieved 6 February 2020, from https://www.thermofisher.com/ua/en/home/ life-science/pcr/real-time-pcr/real-time-pcr-learning-center/ genotyping-analysis-real-time-pcr-information/what-is-genotyping. html

they provide incorrect information. When they do work, they still do not tell you who you are.

Conclusion On Ancestry Testing

8: Zhang, S. (2020). Your DNA Is Not Your Culture. Retrieved 10 February 2020, from https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2018/09/ your-dna-is-not-your-culture/571150

Reflecting on myself, my genetic heritage is Asian

Indian and American. I spent most of my life abroad in Tunisia and Ukraine. My second language is Russian and more than half of my life was spent on two different continents. Each of these places have made me who I am and my DNA is none the wiser.

33

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

NON FICTION WINNER

Representation and Oppression ANDREW SPENCER Grade 12

34

In a place of ethnic diversity, there will always be a lens

hand, a gesture to show his skin tone (ACLU, 2011).

with which people consciously or unknowingly act and

In this video, people of colour are represented in an

interact a certain way. The common issue of People of

oppressed way, portraying this group as one that is

Colour (PoC) being stopped regularly by the police in

commonly harassed because of physical appearance. In

the United States is an example of a particular social

the video rights and actions are discussed, and there is

group being treated and interacted with in a certain

also specific mention of different rights that a person

way. There are statistically more PoCs pulled over by

has over a police officer. By setting the instructional

the police than caucasian people, and this is due to

video in a comedic light, this eases the audience into

how people perceive that social group and why they

listening to the narrator and inforces that though this

have this certain lens. A video from the ACLU featuring

is a video about the still relevant discrimination against

comedian Elon James White discusses and instructs

PoC’s, the video is not a form of protest and mostly

what PoC motorists should do when they are stopped

wants to show people how to deal with racial profiling

by the police or any kind of officer. The video discusses

and police.

how this social group is represented and how to act

around the particular lens people would have for them

in the event of being stopped by the police, and how

(PoC’s).

to act and what a person can refuse. In the video at

1:20, James White discusses how people have a right to

The video is set in a more comedic tone, and

This ACLU video discusses specifically what to do

features an African-American comedian as the narrator,

resist an officer searching a vehicle, and before this,

which boosts confirmation that this is a common

brings up how people have a right to remain silent and

issue, as the narrator discusses a personal incident.

a right to an attorney (ACLU, 2011). People of Colour

In the beginning of the video, titled: The ACLU &

are targeted in this video, as previously mentioned

Elon James White: What To Do When You're Stopped

they are statistically more likely to be stopped by

By Police, at the 20 second mark, James White brings

police. Further, at 3 minutes in the film, the narrator

up, sarcastically, how he has never had problems

specifically addresses people of Spanish speaking

with an officer and then continues to point at his

countries, as they are part of the social group which

BOGDAN IVANYTSIA, Grade 12, ‘Flores” & “Flores para los muertos”, Embroidery

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • DP

this is targeted to. The effect on the audience this

to what to do, because it could save someone’s life,

gives is that it not only shows how African Americans

or keep them out of prison. People are talked to in

are discriminated against by having a black narrator,

this direct way in the video, because it needs to be

but also that there is also racial profiling against

understood how to act in this type of situation, and

Mexican and Latin people, informing people of the

what to say, for example stating that “I have a right

scale and severity of the issue.

to an attorney!”, or “I do not give you permission

to search my car!” (ACLU, 2011). For the audience,

This video, in general, addresses people who are

being stopped by the police, which happens to be

this makes it clear what to say exactly, specifically in

People of Colour, and represents this group in a way,

a police stop and search. This information informs

which shows that people do not know their rights

the audience of the most important things to say,

or what to say, and that they need to be careful, like

especially to the viewers of colour, which is the major

mentioning the fact that people need to be clear when

target of the video.

they are reaching for something, and they must not

resist arrest. The reasoning behind this video and

represented in this way of being oppressed and having

its target audience is because of the statistics and

prejudice on them, because it is statistically true and

previous cases of the kind of people who were stopped

there is evidence for officers pulling over people who

by the police.

are not caucasian.

The video is specifically targeting People of Colour,

Overall, the social group of people of colour are

The video outlines how this particular social group

as in America, African Americans are 31% more likely to

are represented and treated, and represents these

be pulled over than white people, and Hispanic people

people simply as everyone else, however they have

are 23% more likely to be pulled over (Ingraham, 2014).

experienced prejudice and difficulties, which this video

From these statistics and past issues, such as the

is trying to solve, by discussing how to act when a

incident of a police officer shooting African American

person/officer uses a racial lens on them.

Walter Scott in the back in 2015, the video has been formed in a way, where there are clear instructions as 35

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;˘ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

THEME WINNER

(Untitled) Passion ROSHAN BASU Grade 9

A drug that you feed off of,

Without it,

a part of you,

You are alone.

An extent of your body.

Lost without the torch to guide you.

One

Empty, Spinning in circles,

A leech;

Hopelessly looking for the light.

Nagging you, Eating you,

Desperation,

Stealing you.

Attachment, Devotion,

A feeling that you seek,

Commitment.

A need for it, A requirement for it, Seeking the warmth it provides.

Feeling the flame against your face, Allowing it to consume you.

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all you are now.

The only thing keeping you from going under.

36

This is passion.

BOGDAN IVANYTSIA, Grade 12, Small Talk, Paper & Wire

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ THEME

37

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

SOFIA PALOSSI, Grade 12, Creeping Insanity, Acrylic

38

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD WINNERS 2020 • THEME

THEME HONORABLE MENTIONS

Nothingness SEOYUN LEE Grade 8

My teacher told me to write a sonnet, A sonnet about passion of some kind.

Stare at my notes, only scribbles on it Stare at my ceiling, nothing comes to mind.

“Darling, now go to bed,” hear my mom say I slam my laptop shut, flump into bed.

I close my eyes, block my ears, shut away With them I shut this world out of my head.

Until all that’s left is dark and silence Feels like I’ve jumped off my seesaw of life On it, I struggled to find my balance Off it, I’m free, I’m a bird in wildlife I think I have passion for nothingness All pain’s left behind the world of nothingness

39

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

ALEXANDER LITERARY AW CONTEST SUBMISSIONS LOW E R M Y P P O E T RY

42 L I F E ' S G U ST

Eleonora Yakubova (Grade 6)

48 L A ST DAY O F S C H O O L

/ FUTURES FULL OF

53 T H E R E W I L L B E B LO O D

Haiar Isliamov (Grade 8)

BULLET HOLES 45 A N I M A L S A R E

Ben Broucke (Grade 8)

DIFFERENT BUT THERE I S A LWAYS A S P E C I A L ONE

OPPRESSION 49 O N T H E M O U N TA I N

57 O D E TO PA S S I O N 51 A N U N E X P E C T E D

Juliana Zhevago (Grade 8)

Michelle Likhatska (Grade 8)

Stella Kholodova (Grade 8)

Sofiia Spatar (Grade 6) 46 R E M E M B E R

54 PA S S I O N VS

Christina Kostur (Grade 8)

MINDSET Milaniya Nguyen (Grade 8)

58 T H E C I TA D E L

Meera Maniar (Grade 8) 52 T H E S A M U R A I

Igor Tretiak (Grade 8)

40

WARD

S 2020 LOW E R M Y P PROSE FICTION

61 R E D B A L LO O N

Olessia Zhevago (Grade 8)

THEME 72 S C I - F I O N A N

76 T H E N I G H T O F

I N T E R G A L AC T I C L E V E L

NO REGRET

Serhiy Kovalchuk (Grade 7)

Ben Broucke (Grade 8)

62 N E V E R R U N AG A I N

Juliana Zhevago (Grade 8)

74 L A M U R D E R M YST E RY

Christina Kostur (Grade 8)

80 PA S S I O N STO RY

Stella Kholodova (Grade 8)

66 T H E V I R U S

Igor Tretiak (Grade 8)

75 L E T M E B E

Meera Maniar (Grade 8)

82 PA S S I O N AT E L I E S

Daryna Lubkivska (Grade 8)

68 T H E P E R F E C T C H A N G E

Marius Veaux (Grade 8)

84 J E A LO U SY I S

PA S S I O N AT E 71 A PA S S I O N AT E T R A N C E

Daryna Lubkivska (Grade 8)

Milaniya Nguyen (Grade 8)

41

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

Life's Gust ELEONORA YAKUBOVA Grade 6

Passions are so different

William Shakespeare,

That’s what I will say

He is known all over the world.

You will never count them all

He wrote tragic stories

Even in a few days.

One happened near Rome.

What is passion?

The story I was talking about

Alexsander asked

Actually should be crowned

It’s what you love or like

As a very famous one

Fales said.

It is about Romeo and Julliette Young people that had fell in love

These are famous

But as they were from families,

Greek philosophers

That had a war

Whom we can call as

They married secretly.

Wisdom officers.

But soon Jullietta found out Passions …

That her parents will marry her

It can be your love of days

So she pretends that she is dead

It can be to swim in a lake

And sends a message to Romeo

It can be something you do

Which he didn’t get.

It can be to watch how flowers bloom.

When Romeo hears about Jullietta’s death It can be many things,

He came as fast as he was able

Much more

And when he saw her in the coffin

Like making carpets on the floor.

He took a sword and killed himself.

Passions make you go straight on your way,

Julietta woke up up in a few seconds

They motivate you,

And when she saw Romeo near, dead

That's what I will say.

She took a sword he killed himself

They challenge you,

And killed herself.

And only those for whom it is important Go forward.

So where are the passions In this story

There was a famous author,

You will ask

In old Great Britain,

42

By whom this famous poem

I’ll tell you

Has been written.

The explanation

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

Wouldn’t last For long ...

I think it is easy to mention That we can call their love as passion And this will never be old-fashioned.

It makes you do incredible things For yourself and others, too.

You can’t live without it like the glue Without a cap.

It also challenges you Sometimes you don’t know what to do But after a few or a bunch of tries You would understand That if you won’t do it Certainly, you will have to pay a price.

If you want another example It is easy for me Let’s take my passion And it is my love to read.

Relaxed and challenged I travel in time where noone has gone And no book has ever made me run.

If you can’t imagine yourself without your passion And it is what makes you original Even if you slip on your way Passion can be like the sun on a rainy day.

ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Icarus, Block Print

Reading books makes me feel

43

SOFIA SPATAR, Grade 6, Mourka, Pen Drawing

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

44

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP POETRY

Animals are different but there is always a special one SOFIIA SPATAR Grade 6

I am passionate about animals, And all the mammals, I really love cats, And even baguettes.

I’m a true animal lover, And never was a hater.

I saved a stray kitten, Which looked like a mitten.

I have saved two stray puppies, And have helped other doggies.

I gave food to the stray, Sometimes they jumped in order to play.

They are really cute pets out there, And maybe one ate an eclair, But it doesn’t matter... It lives a life, like us, And maybe they were on a bus.

But every animal is special, And maybe one of them will be loyal to you.

You may be the person to save a life from the streets, And then always remember the treats.

They will say thank you differently, And even hi and bye might be a little wiggly.

But you will have a little buddy, It doesn’t matter how they look it matters what’s on the inside You weren’t stray like Mourka, But you were close to me, You were always there for me, And this I write to you, my little Olivia.

45

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

Remember JULIANA ZHEVAGO Grade 8

Remember me, when this all comes to end Remember this, when you are left to fend The whole world by yourself alone And know there is nothing to atone Remember - we were happy here Do not, all the sorrow, pain and fear Remember me, the best version of self Remember us, when we were full of fire and health Remember the time when we did not think of the future or the past A time when we believed that all happy things would last Forever, oh how wrong we were, how wrong yet still content we were I know we can’t go back, but wish we could, believe me darling, that I do Cherish those memories of freedom, laughter, color When all we needed was a canvas, paint and each other Remember, when our passion fueled our actions Remember that we didn’t wish to rest in solitile inaction We lived, fought, breathed and all for simple purpose To create something that was truly gorgeous We were together but did not forget ourselves We each were whole, and never of each other halves Those times were good,yet now they are long gone It fell apart: our art, our friendship. And now we are alone We cannot bring it back no matter how we try The sun has disappeared and left us lone to fend the cloudy sky

46

MARIYA MALYTSKA, Grade 12, A Flower, Acrylic

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

47

I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

Last Day of School / Futures Full of Bullet Holes BEN BROUCKE Grade 8

What is the value of life?

When it can be ended so quickly, Yet it has the power to change the world.

With a gun’s clap shooting a bullet with all his future Everything goes black, And with a pull of the trigger, The man is no more.

What is the value of life?

Every day he comes home from school with a sigh of relief, Not because school is over, But because he didn't die today.

Yet there is someone committed to changing that, As they become the one who take away that sigh of relief.

Because he won’t be coming home that day.

Or the next day.

Or the day after that.

As bangs like fireworks rang through the building, Fear swallowed the campus whole.

Every pop ending a life.

And as those pops tormented the room, Butterflies filled her stomach with angst.

Those butterflies armed with knives that stabbed And tore their way through from the inside, Meeting the bullet which pierced her from out.

When do the people realize the importance of a life?

When will the people stop taking it for granted?

And come together to end the bloodshed.

How do we make sure these massacres will cease to exist?

Because what gives a man the right to own something designed to kill and only to kill When our children need to graduate without scars.

Because only by making someone confront death face to face Will they truly understand the value of a life.

48

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP POETRY

On the mountain STELLA KHOLODOVA Grade 8

JOKUBAS LABUTIS, Grade 12

Determined and strong She took a step for the last time.

Hiking all alone, In the dark with no one but the trees to talk to She continued her journey.

She went higher and higher up the mountain.

Her passion made her blind Anger overcame her.

She was reckless She didn't see the danger.

The ground below betrayed her.

Her anger dissipated.

Replaced instead by fear.

She plummeted down the mountainside.

Stag Beetles, Watercolour

Knit Sweater, textile

Ladybug Bowl, Grade Ceramic 49

MARIYA MALYTSKA, Grade 12, New York, Acrylic

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

50

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP POETRY

An Unexpected Mindset MILANIYA NGUYEN Grade 8

I knew it was coming, I knew he would leave, I tried to prepare but it wasn't enough.

Even from the start, I was too naive, I should've known it was always a bluff.

Now I walk alone, fully in the dark, Listening to the crinkling leaves fall down.

What to do? I have nothing to embark.

The lines have blurred so I should just skip town.

But no! I will not let this change everything, I haven’t lost yet, no need for an adieu.

Maybe my business will even upswing, By all means, I can start completely anew.

Even though I was betrayed by his greed, It won't affect me since there is no need.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

The Samurai IGOR TRETIAK Grade 8

On a warm and blissful night, a samurai stood deadly still Every story has an end, and samurais must know it well He looked up at the calm sky, thinking back before his kills Samurai took one last glance at his shining sword “This is the way”, he told himself, “I took this oath I must fulfill it” A sky-blue tear ran down his tired face A tradition ran through his blood, one he could not ignore Samurai was part of something larger than himself He knew it well and yet he hesitated His master saw his worrisome look and slapped him It felt like a rock had been thrown through his heart Samurai collapsed onto his knees “I can’t do this master, I’m not strong enough” he whispered His master picked him up and looked him in the eye “This isn’t something you enjoy, but it’s not a choice With that in mind, he closed his eyes and sighed He violently penetrated his heart with his own trusty sword “I am fulfilling my destiny”, he whimpered as he slowly drifted off Into the unknown light Guiding him, Through darkness

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP POETRY

There will be Blood HAIAR ISLIAMOV Grade 8

The ceiling won’t stop me from going up there, Knife and blood are the price I pay.

The sins will repay. I swear. the knife in my bone is there to stay.

Now in the face of God, I must repent, For men I killed and orphans I left.

Shall the sky’s punishment be imminent?

Forever in my spirit there is a cleft.

But, how could I have rest, When a sinful soul is walking in this place.

A father deep in the ground with knife in his chest, And a fatherless daughter smiling beside his grave with his blood on her face.

So long as God has power, or fish can swim, So long my shadow will hang over her and her smile will always be grim.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

Passion vs oppression MICHELLE LIKHATSKA Grade 8

Wrapped in squashy silk blankets she lays, With her lithe body unwilling to raise.

Fragrant breakfast conveyed directly to her jumbo bed, By the servants of her own, who keep their envy unsaid.

Like birds they wirl all over her precious chamber, Adorning their hirer and curbing their anger.

Her Louboutin heels rap the marble ground as she marches, While she is giving out unpleasant and foolish charges.

Chanel LBD binded firm on her lissom silhouette, Her plumpy lips protracting smoke from a lavish cigarette.

All men glance when she rambles across bustling streets, To which she grumply threatens to arouse police.

Driving her Lamborghini Aventador S she gets delayed by the cops, She gives them long-awaited thrills and bills in a box.

Reluctant to wait, she speeds through the track, Other drivers judge her, to what she says “Hope your cars crack”.

Her servants dash back to work when “her majesty” arrives, Afraid of receiving madam’s disguise.

Soon she lays in a jacuzzi, with pastel petals flowing all around, Her narrow waist burning from the taut corset bound.

Toy-alike feet are all slashed by the poky heels she daily wears, Slim fingers are crippled from the massive gold rings she wears in pairs.

Memories sneak out of her eyes and streak down her cheeks, She recalls the times when she was healthy and there were no addressed critiques.

She calmly plots towards her gigantic snuffy bed, She then reposes with her eyes weeping, feeling extremely sad.

“That terrible passion, the horrible sense of depression, Why do humans have that much aggression?” - she whispers in oppression.

Her wounded soul howls through her mind-blowing body, But there’s no chance her passion will be forgotten so she drinks a toddy.

Weary lady than rises and flashes to her magnificent veranda, Precious cigarettes vanish from their pack while she listens to banda.

She won’t sleep as there is no need, Tones of tone, face powder, mascara and others will fix her, indeed.

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SOFIA PALOSSI, Grade 12, Bouquet, Digital Drawing

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

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DARIA MOZOLYEVA, Grade 12, Friendship and True Love, Photography

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP POETRY

Ode to Passion CHRISTINA KOSTUR Grade 8

My blind passion, you inspire me to write.

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.

I love the way you burn, eat up and blast,

I love your sure interest and obsession.

Invading my mind day and through the night,

Thinking of your black passion fills my days.

Always dreaming about the radio broadcast.

My love for you is the light succession.

Let me compare you to a killing larch?

Now I must away with a blameless heart,

You are more endless, dynamic and pure.

Remember my wet words whilst we're apart.

Grand clouds dull the aimless flowers of March, And the springtime has the fatal brochure.

DARIA MOZOLYEVA, Grade 12

The Silhouette Of A Couple, Block Print

Glass Heart, Sculpture

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP POETRY

The Citadel MEERA MANIAR Grade 8

I’ve gone there once, the Citadel Citadel, the city of dreams The forest of concrete by day But when the buildings light up, Its a firework festival at night The Mecca of technology The land of hope The center of the world And the energy the city radiates, It’s indescribable, its fantastical All the brand stores, known to draw you in, give you a makeover, and send you out looking stunning The business district, famous for its millions and its smart, professional pace The hip, young avenues, full of life and bright, infamous for the rough people and the illegal trafficking The Citadel is loved and famed for its elegance and life, But is feared and notorious for the underworld empire that floods the city with the real money

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

YDE BOSMA, Grade 12, Broadcast, Mixed Media

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ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Apollo, Acrylic

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

Red Balloon OLESSIA ZHEVAGO Grade 8

There is a balloon stuck in a tree. A burst of red against

the green. A speckle of happiness against all the gray.

and she walks all alone. Now, the girl is a woman. The

A girl left it there. A little girl with chubby arms and a

woman passes the red balloon, straight ahead not

well-fed smile. She visited the park with her parents

looking up. It will stay there, in the tree. A colorful

skipping ahead, the balloon following her like a puppy.

dot against the sad world until someone will climb

the tree, someone small enough to slip through the

She was a wild thing, hiding, playing, singing. Until

Now, the girl has skinny arms, now she owns a frown

one day, she had no one left to go to the park with. No

branches and close their small and sweet hand around

one left to drag her back inside. Frantically running

the balloon’s string and tie it around their wrist so it

through the park she looked for them, for somebody,

doesn’t slip when they skip around the park.

for herself. But she was all alone, cold as a stone, not even the balloon trailing her - she let it drift away.

Up, up, up where the branches prevent it from being reached.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

Never run again JULIANA ZHEVAGO Grade 8

62

Would I still choose to do the same, if I could go

happiest one in my life. We went to a fancy restaurant

back? I wonder as I look out the window at the barren

and toasted on my success. My parents, I and the few

landscape of the hospital yard. If I would have known

friends I had stayed in contact with. If I knew what

how all of this would turn out, would I still want to do

would follow I wouldn’t be celebrating.

this. Is the outcome worth the price? Well to know that,

we would have to start at the very beginning.

rested and ready for the challenge ahead I arrived at

the track. It was giant and grand. Much different from

It all started in the dining room of my family's

On the day of the Nationals, I was in full parade. Well

house, at dinner, on one stormy November night three

my home one. But I was not intimidated. I wanted this.

years ago. We were all chatting about our daily news,

I had what was needed to have this. I said hello to my

and when my turn came I expressed my desire to run

trainer, who greeted me with a pat on the back. Tying

in the mornings more frequently, and my dad, the

my shoelaces and heading to warm up, I remember my

ingenious man he is, proposed for me to try and run

nerves were especially crazy that day. My intestines were

professionally. This thought, though very relevant,

twisting inside me and It was getting hard to breath.

didn’t occur to me before, and after mere seconds

Till this day, I still don’t know what went wrong. After I

of contemplating I agreed. In the next few weeks I

pushed off the starting blocks, I sprinted the fastest I

joined my local track team, and started attending

ever did in my entire life. With the wind in my heart, and

training almost daily. I admit that it was hard at times,

my ears numb from the starting whistle, and made my

my lungs felt like they were going to explode and my

way around the track. I was first, with the group a good

whole body screamed at me to stop, threatening to

five meters behind me. I still continued sprinting. It felt

collapse. But through all that I still carried on. Perhaps

like I was flying. I squinted my eyes. The finish line was

it was because I wanted to prove that I could be good

near. As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief passed

at something, or because while running I was free and

through me. I won. I wish I was more present back then.

fully in control of that freedom.

Wish I would have noticed the water that was spilled on

the track. Wish I wouldn’t have fallen. Or would at least

Fast forward a few months to my first race. I

remember the overbearing urge to throw up, as I

block the impact with my hands. Instead, oblivious to the

nervously warmed up. Remember the dizziness as I

hazard, I slipped and stumbled downward. My lightning

was kneeling at the blocks. And accelerating freedom

speed worsened the impact.

I felt once I was soaring over the track. That was the

day I discovered the pleasure of winning, and the

numbing, piercing pain. In the hospital, which I was

sensation that followed. Soon one hour training turned

taken to by an ambulance they said I had shattered

to 4 hours, and the empty shelf in my drawer filled up

my knee-cap. Four weeks in a cast, and two months

with medals. I didn’t mind the late hours, and sleep

of physical therapy later, here I am. Unable to ever

deprived days. Didn’t care that I didn't have time to

run again. Forbidden by my own body to feel the

hang out with friends. And didn’t even flinch, when my

magical sensation. This is the price I paid for the title

muscles were sore. I had a goal, to be the best of the

of National Champion. They say when one door closes

best. The best of the best at something I loved.

another opens, in this case I think it was the ceiling

which collapsed, destroying all opportunities I had. My

In the few months I had been in competitive sport

The next thing I remembered is pain. Awful,

it became evident that I had quite a talent. I won

body, which once was my means to fly, now makes each

competition after competition and after eight months

step unimaginatively painful, making it impossible to

of grueling practice and intense competing schedule

run. My dream cost me my passion. The nationals was

I qualified for nationals. That day was perhaps the

the last day I ever ran.

ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Roses, Sculpture

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

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I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Medusa, Mixed Media

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

The virus IGOR TRETIAK Grade 8

It was a hot summer in Phoenix, Arizona. The sun was

in hospitals. The entire city has been quarantined, and

blazing above the millions of citizens living there. For

no one is sure of the virus’s origins. Evo Morales, the

some people, it would just be an ordinary day, but

president of Bolivia personally contacted your father and

for 16-year-old Ingvar, things were about to take a

me to help them, before we could make a decision there

steep turn. Ever since they moved to Phoenix from

was a car waiting for uts outside, we knew this is what

Stockholm, everything has been going great for them.

we came here to do, and this is our chance. We could not

His parents became world-renowned microbiologists,

leave you any money, but we’ll only be gone for a couple

and that gave Ingvar the chance to go to a private high

of weeks if everything goes according to plan. Really

school, Phoenix high. His lifelong dream to become

sorry for this but we would be putting at stake possibly

a professional NFL player is in his advantage. Scouts

millions of lives, something we physically could not do.

were starting to visit and watch him play, and today, the

We hope you can forgive us.

Arizona Cardinals scouts were about to watch him play.

Love, mom.

His parents dropped him off at school, as usual. He left the car in his athletic look thinking this was going to be

the big day. Ingvar knew his parents were busy workers,

was nervous, he was lost. He had no relatives in the US,

they would both travel for weeks at a time all around

he had no way to contact his parents. He had to sort

the world, but what was about to happen is something

something out quickly. The money he saved up from

no 16-year old boy can prepare for.

his middle school lemonade stands and garage sales

would soon run out. He knew he could no longer afford

During his game, Ingvar scored the game-winning

Ingvar didn’t know what to do, he was scared, he

touchdown. The whole crowd was roaring, fireworks

the school, the check for the second semester was

were sparking, the field was rumbling, everything was

sent 2 days prior, and there was nothing he could do.

going great. Ingvar felt the real power inside of him.

The football state finals were coming up, he knew his

He decided to take the school bus home with the team,

team wouldn’t manage without him, and he knew that

they were singing songs, even the bus danced along.

would’ve been his big chance to shine for colleges.

When he got dropped off at his house, the whole

Ingvar quickly took his bike from out of the garage

squad congratulated him, little did they know it was

and rode to his best friend’s house. His bike whistled

going to be the last time...

through the sunny streets of Phoenix like never before,

he needed some support with this, and he needed it

He got home to the letter on the kitchen counter,

the house felt cold and alone, like life had disappeared

fast.

from it. Ingvar got flooded with nervousness. His face

became numb as he slowly made his way around the

was an outcast, he got bullied and picked on. On the

house. Ingvar returned back to the kitchen and picked

3rd month, he met a kid, you could call him the popular

up the letter, it read;

kid, or maybe the class clown, but he knew Ingvar

When he and his family first moved to Arizona, he

needed help. One afternoon after class, Jerome came

66

Dear Ingvarchik

up to Ingvar and asked to be his friend, ever since then

We are sorry to leave on such short notice, and without

they have been inseparable.

informing you but this was an urgent matter. A new

deadly virus had just been discovered in La Paz, Bolivia,

trust anyone except Jerome. Sure, he made new

320,000 people have already died, and 40,000 more are

friends in his football team, but he knew that in these

On this day, he really needed help, and he couldn’t

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

moments they won’t be there for him. When he got

to Jerome’s house, he rang the doorbell until his

through the unlocked front door. He started shouting

hand got tired, and he switched to the next one.

Ingvar’s name while power-walking around the

His heart was beating at supersonic speeds. When

seemingly empty, eerie house. He was about to leave

Jerome finally opened the door, Ingvar was redder

when he heard a slight whimper coming from above.

than a tomato. He quickly started spitting out words,

It was coming from the attic. Jerome quickly made his

he told Jerome everything, the letter, the virus, his

way around the house and got up to the attic. As he

parents, and how he desperately needed help. Jerome

got up, he saw a silhouette of a boy in the corner of a

let him into his house, asked his mom to make them

dark, empty room, Ingvar was in tears. He was going

some food and went upstairs. Ingvar was shaking with

through photos of his parents and crying after each

anxiety, he was scared for his parents and himself.

one, it was like he couldn’t stop. He had been up there

He knew he wouldn’t be able to afford the second

for hours, reliving memories. Jerome almost broke

semester of school, and he would have to quit. Jerome

a tear but stayed strong, he knew he had to help a

offered to give him some money, but it wouldn’t be

friend. Jerome helped Ingvar make his way downstairs,

nearly enough. Jerome told him he needed to find a

and out to the porch to get some fresh air, to get all

job if they didn’t return during the next couple of

that dampness away.

months. Ingvar couldn’t grasp this idea of what was

happening, and just how fast everything changes, he

presented him with the tickets, Ingvar froze. He froze

broke into tears.

instantly, his jaw dropped below his chin, and his eyes

were as wide as ping-pong balls. Jerome could feel

When he returned home, he tried to calm himself

He sprinted all the way to Ingvar’s house, bursting

After letting Ingvar rest for a couple of minutes he

down. He knew panic wasn’t the way to go, and it

Ingvar’s excitement, his joy, and it made him just oh so

would only make things harder. The next day he came

happy. Ingvar didn’t know how to respond, he started

to school but didn’t tell anyone about his situation.

squealing from joy, not able to express his emotions

Ingvar knew if authorities found out, he wouldn’t be

in words. He checked the date on the tickets, ‘this

allowed to live in his house anymore, and he couldn’t

Thursday’, He only had three days to get ready.

bear to lose that too. He only had 2 weeks of school

left until the payment was due, but he had to make the

Thursday, the big day. Jerome’s parents were willing

most of it.

to drive Ingvar to the airport, and get him through

On the last week of school, he was beginning to

security, since he still wasn’t of legal age. As he got

feel much better. He tried to completely forget about

on the plane, adrenaline was pumping through his

his parents, hiding all the photos, the paintings, and

blood faster than a bolt of lightning, he was shivering

the memories, the countless amounts of memories

from all these inexplicable emotions running around

he had of them. One day he got home and couldn’t

him. It was an 11-hour flight, 11 hours of pure blasts

take it anymore. He broke out into a tantrum, tears

of emotions. Shortly after take-off, the plane started

were pouring out like waterfalls, he was destroying

experiencing abnormal turbulence. Ingvar managed to

everything he saw, the plates, the doors, the windows.

fall asleep until suddenly…

He was letting all that anger out through his fists, the

entire street could feel his wrath.

are currently descending at rapid speeds due to an

unknown issue with the turbine engines, The oxygen

Jerome noticed how severe things were getting.

With no plan on finding his parents, it was finally

“Hello everyone this is your captain speaking, We

The next day Ingvar came to school with bleeding

masks will drop from above and seats shortly, and be

knuckles and the facial expression of a serial killer.

prepared to brace for impact.”

After talking with his mom, Jerome got the money to

buy Ingvar a plane ticket to La Paz. It wasn’t a cheap

was panicking, except for Ingvar. He accepted this

gift, and his family wasn’t too fortunate, but Jerome

as the end, he knew he wouldn’t have succeeded in

was taught to always put others in front of him. His

Bolivia without a plan, but all the emotions clouded his

parents were also strongly religious, and they had to

common sense.

set a good example for their kid. Jerome brought the

tickets to school the next day. He was excited to see

approaching the light, he slowly took his last breath

his best friend's reaction, but to his surprise, Ingvar

and...

Screams started exploding in the plane. Everyone

He calmly got into the brace position as he was

wasn’t there. Having spent 7 years with Ingvar, he knew to fear the worst.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

The perfect Change MARIUS VEAUX Grade 8

68

I love this place, in fact it’s probably my favorite place

until I finally found a comfortable position. I was then

on earth. It’s the place that I spend all my free time.

devastated, I looked up and couldn’t see or feel that

Laying down under this tree. This tree has something

special something. I went around the tree multiple

special in it. Every time I lay here I see something new.

times to see the area in which I could feel the nice

Something that makes this tree even more special and

feeling and decided to go home and discover this the

unique. Every time I come here I just forget everything

next day.

and start looking at the tree. Closer and closer every

time. I’ve always dreamt to live under this my whole life

was leaning on my tree. At first I thought that he was

but unfortunately that’s not how life works and I have

just here to chill but then he started getting mad at me.

to go to school and learn things that will be “useful” in

life. However, I like school sometimes; I have a couple

such a fake friend, you are leaving me for a stupid

of friends that I can play with at break and even some

tree! Something that isn’t living, something that is

classes are fun. I have a friend named Moritz, he is

completely irrelevant!”

really nice and very funny. He is my favorite person

ever, apart from my family of course. But there was

that! If you can’t accept my love for this tree then

nothing like my tree. He was my best friend. He was

you don’t deserve to be my friend!” There was a small

always here for me whether I was in a good mood or in

pause, I could see that he wasn’t impressed, I wanted

a bad mood. Sometimes I’m cold but when I lay down

to say something but before I could start, Moritz

under the tree, it’s so warm that I feel like I’m laying in

interrupted me,

my bed under a blanket.

don’t want to hangout with people that you call a

Today was a pretty good day, I was relaxing under

I got here today and I instantly saw my friend who

He scram at me angrily, “How dare you be

I replied,” How could you talk about my tree like

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore, if you

my tree after school and I was starting to realise

friend then you better stay under this tree for the rest

something about the tree; something that I felt could

of your life! I don’t want to see you ever again!”

make me love this tree even more. But then I suddenly

I wanted to change something, but it was already too

felt like something was wrong.There was something

late, he was already gone.

that felt very wrong. So I started moving positions

After that discussion I was really sad so I went to

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

MARIYA MALYTSKA, Grade 12,

Cecile, Acrylic

Portofino, Acrylic

lie down under the tree and I made sure to lie down

give up, he had been my friend for over 5 years so I

in the area with a special feeling. I wanted to reflect

replied,

and think about what just happened. I hadn’t really

thought about what he was saying because I was more

having made you go through this. I have made a

concentrated on the words that he said about my tree.

decision to start spending time with the people that

As I thought about it I started realising that he might

are important to me and be with my tree only when I

have been right. I always say I love my family and that

have spent time with all my favorite people.”

I love Moritz but I never spend time with the people

I saw him let out a smile. Instantly I was relieved.

that I love outside of school. I started to think about

Then he said, “Thank you for understanding my

what I could do because abandoning my tree was not

situation, I would have really missed not being with you

an option. It has been my life since I’m born. I couldn’t

at school but I really wanted to spend more time with

leave it. Then an idea came to my mind, I could spend

you after school. I hope you aren’t too disappointed to

some time after school with my friends/family and at

leave your tree for too long.”

the same time spend time under my favorite tree. After

We both laughed and went to play outside.

this decision I instantly went to Moritz’s house to

After that day me and Moritz went to play after

explain myself.

school everyday and enjoyed our time together. I

thought that making this decision would separate me

As soon as I got there I said, “Moritz I’m really

“I really do enjoy being with you, I really regret

sorry for all the past things that I have done. When you

and my tree forever but it never happened. Everyday

came to tell me that I was just offended by what you

I continued going to my tree for 1 or 2 hours and

had said about my tree so I couldn’t think about what

continued discovering a lot of new things about it. I

you actually were saying.”

am now lying under my tree, the one that I have always

loved.

I hadn’t finished when he interrupted and said, “ I

don’t care now, I don’t want to see you anymore, go spend time with your tree if you love him more than me.”

I was really disappointed at what he said but I couldn’t 69

I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

SOFIA PALOSSI, Grade 12, Tarot, Acrylic

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ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;˘ LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

A Passionate Trance MILANIYA NGUYEN Grade 8

When Brant jabbed at his phone for the tenth time,

Jolie finally replied. After a short conversation, Jolie

Brant and Jolie used to be good friends which is why

had agreed to leave her house for what had seemed

he knew exactly where she lived. He looked up at the

like the first time in many years. Brant suggested to

crumbling apartment, the building was only a few

meet at a park close to both their homes. He started to

years old but it looked as if it had been there forever.

walk along the rough path that led him to a secluded,

The apartment was weatherbeaten and its paint was

small park. It was around mid-September meaning

starting to peel. Brant looked around to see that he

all the colors were starting to change, shifting from

was surrounded by many other tottering buildings

bright green scenery to an orange hue. By the time

that loomed over him. He stepped up the small steps

Brant had arrived at their meeting point, it was around

to reach the tall dark wood door. He looked over the

late afternoon. A chilly breeze flew by, causing a swirl

list of names next to the small, worn out buttons. He

of freshly fallen leaves to spin in a small spiral. His eyes

found the doorbell beside Jolieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s name and rang it.

were bright as he watched the entrancing display.

He rang it again, and again, and every time getting

Brant shivered from the cold and walked over to a

continual silence as an answer. Eventually, he chose

nearby bench. He would later learn that he would have

to give up and rang the nearest doorbell. Brant finally

to sit and wait there for several hours.

received an answer from a raspy voice, and the door

creaked open.

Jolie sat at her desk, staring at her computer. Her

Before they had mostly gone their separate ways,

long unkempt hair hung over her face casting a large,

dark shadow, similar to the ones under her eyes. Her

out that the door was not locked, so he stepped in and

eyes were glassy and her gaze was distant and hollow.

took in his surroundings. Everything was covered in a

These past weeks all Jolie did was write, and write.

thick layer of dust, it looked as if no one had ever lived

She wouldn't leave the house and hardly slept or ate

there. The apartment itself was quite small and a musty

leaving her malnourished and constantly exhausted.

smell filled the whole room. There was not much light,

Even though she had managed to get another splitting

as there was only one dim lamp. Then he saw her, she

headache, the third this day, she promised herself she

was hunched over and staring at the computer screen

wouldn't leave until she finished this one last chapter.

on her desk with a thousand papers surrounding her.

The next thing she knew she had promised to finish a

The papers were either crumpled, marked with red or

few more chapters and then several more. All her plans

even ripped to shreds. He walked over to her looking

were immediately forgotten, and the thought of even

into her sunken, glassy eyes and tried to shake her

going outside had completely slipped her mind.

awake from her trance-like state. She looked dazed but

didn't react in any other way so Brant kept trying to

By the time the sun set Jolie still hadn't shown up,

Brant turned the handle and was surprised to find

leaving Brant in the dark both figuratively and literally.

break her out of her haze, but nothing seemed to work.

She wouldn't answer his texts or his calls causing him

to intensely worry. He started to become squirmish

computer screen and was shocked to see what was

and at that moment he decided to abandon the bench

written.

He started to panic and then looked over to her

and leave. He started to go in the direction of his home but a nagging thought at the back of his head made him think twice. Brant had tried to meet up with Jolie a few times before but she either cancelled or never showed. With this thought, he skidded to a stop and turned in the other direction.

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LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

Sci-fi on an Intergalactic SERHIY KOVALCHUK Grade 7

72

This story takes place in the year of a 500,000 A.D.,

clearance to get to the older man (because the ID

planet of TRAPPIST. All humans are now immortal.

he bought was of a friend of the older man). He got

Nanotechnologies and advanced medicine are used. All

through, and now has his time. The older man was an

the diseases were cured a million years ago. All humans,

interesting person. He liked art that was thousands of

even the most primitive ones, had the possibility to

years old and, on one planet he found a transmission

travel around galaxies in an instant. The wonders

that was sent from the Earth in about A.D. 2000. He

of cloning and bioengineering have made humanity

had a machine body with his brains and every single

populate over 1,000 galaxies.

neuron duplicated on the robot’s circuit.

There were rumors about the homeworld of

He asked to talk to the older man privately. During

humanity, Rumors about it being lost or found. The

the talk, he tried to persuade the older man about the

clues are that it might be somewhere around the

homeworld. Later he asked some personal questions.

Terran System, or the triple star Centauri systems.

The man hinted at the location of the homeworld. Then

To get there it would take a few seconds, it might be

he figured it out and said:

instantaneous! Due to the wonders of Planck matter.

Humanity has unlocked the wonders of traveling to

have any feelings at that moment, but he was sure that

different universes.

he was right”.

The first settlers were sent through. N7K429, he

The man simply replied:

is a clone, he was the first one. He wants to find the

-”Possibly, but why do you even want to know that”.

homeworld of humanity. People are extremely rare,

And then he answered, -Because I want to know our

they are part of the higher society. It was the dream

home and become an archeologist”.

of his whole life. He went on many journeys. There is

-”Is that what you really want”, the old man asked.

only one man who still lives there since the old days.

-”Yes”, N answered.

He is over 450,000 years old. It is extremely hard to

-”Well then go follow the boy of your dreams”, the

get to him and he isn’t willing to tell the location of the

man said.

homeworld.

started to excavate the land. That old infrastructure is

N7K429, let’s just call him N, sets out for the

-”It’s Earth in the Terran system isn’t it.” (N didn’t

N traveled to the planet known as Earth and

adventure. N started searching for the current

hundreds of meters underground by now. So he kept

location of the older man (nobody knew his

excavating and over time he found an old city, about

name). After a few minutes of searching on the

498,000 years old. It was Kyiv and was located in a

inter-universal net (IUN) he found the current

country that used to be called Ukraine. He has found

whereabouts of the man. He set a location for the

many ancient artifacts, some that they called phones,

world of Kepler 42, also known as Aurora. Not good

headphones and even cars. It was so old and was still

info he thought. That was an expensive world and

well preserved, how. Maybe there is someone who lived

it was extremely hard to get into the state of the

here. He was overwhelmed with emotions and started

older man. He had a solution. There are humans

to cry. And then he saw a root with such old machinery

in the world that can give you their ID card for

that you he couldn’t possibly comprehend.

about 20,000 IUN credits. His monthly salary was

40,000 (quite high for a clone). He bought the ID

brother”. N was shocked, but he doesn't have enough

and proceeded with his plan. He had high enough

time to say anything before he was knocked out.

It says “You aren’t the first one to do that

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

KIRA GOLBERG, Grade 8, Addiction To Technology, Digital Drawing

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LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

LA Murder Mystery CHRISTINA KOSTUR Grade 8

Mystery has been swirling all over LA and the

inhabitants are scared. Ten murders in ten weeks, all

happened to him. Once he had woken up with a broken

of which were beautiful women, and still, nobody has

finger even, however, Shane kept it all to himself.

a clue who the spiteful killer is. The victims were all

Meanwhile, Shane's acting skills got better and better,

suffocated, and the cold blood monster left nothing

and the producers were amazed at how passionately

but a pair of black velvet gloves.

each of his muscles was moving. The director, Allison

Parker even said; "You must be no one else but the

Shane Connor is a passionate and admirable actor

with a fondness for music. He doesn't know it yet but

murderer himself".

he is the only one who will look into the shameless

killer’s eyes.

she thought Shane remembering the last time they

had spoken as he thought. That's when Shane realized

One week before the first murder, Shane got a

The next morning Alison was not there. Where was

proposition of a role. It was a film that had a far similar

everything he had done.

plot. With a cold-blooded killer so passionate for

women, willing to kill them so that no one except for

on and that night and felt even more passionate.

him will get the pleasure of being with them. Freaky

He walked over to the window and reflected on his

coincidence the actor thought. He knew it was the

glamorous surroundings. He had always loved relaxing

role of his life, as after mystery became so famous that

LA Casino with its small, grey casino chips. It was a

people were whispering about it in farther parts of the

place that encouraged his tendency to feel passionate.

world. It would bring him such fame love, everything

he would always want. It was even predicted to win

someone. It was the figure of Alison Parker. Alison

an oscar. Shane was given the role of the mystery

waved at him with a shy smile. Shane gulped. He

murderer, which he was deeply glad to receive.

glanced at his own reflection. He was an eager, selfish,

whiskey drinker who was uncontrollable that night.

Shane was practicing for days and nights. He would

That night Shane had put those black velvet gloves

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather

spend hours staring in the kitchen mirror, trying to find

That night he could not stop looking at Alison’s red

some common inner trains with the murderer. Thinking

dress. The rain hammered like all the 10 lost heartbeats

what he thought, why would he do it, and how he would

of helpless victims of his, making Shane blinded.

act in peaceful daylight. But once he caught himself

somehow knowing the murders were all committed

Alison spotted the strange glint in Shane’s eye.

at night. How could he know such a detail? Shane

blamed it on accidentally hearing it from one of those

far from here", mumbled Shane.

gossiping whispers.

74

I the further few weeks strange things had

As Alison stepped outside and Shane came closer, "You wanna go for a walk, I know a good place not

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

LOWER MYP PROSE FICTION

Let me be MEERA MANIAR Grade 8

It’s weird isn’t it? How in books or in the movies they

The monitor measuring my heart rate started beeping

say ‘a shot rang out’. But there’s nothing musical

furiously. I began feeling lightheaded. Figures rushed

about a bang. It’s just a loud sound. But in that second,

into the room.

that very second, you lose your senses. Your mind

‘Kamila! Can you hear me? Stay with us!’

blanks out, you prepare what little time you have left,

The voice seemed far away, unimportant. I was

for possible agony. Or death.

fading.

I was lucky enough to survive a shot straight to the

I can’t do this anymore. And I don’t have to. No

face. Or unlucky. I’ve been in this damn hospital bed

more surgeries. No more injections. No more chaos.

for months, or was it years? Maybe it was weeks. I lost

Peace. I could leave this. This is no place to live a life.

my sense of time. So it’s just me. Me and my needles

Believe me, I tried to fight as hard as I could.

and my IV fluids and my bandages.

tears. What about my reputation, my standing? I

It’s been like this for a while. Suffered two other

My parents would be devastated, my friends in

shots. I was paralyzed from the waist down, and can’t

worked so hard for it… Everything would be gone.

talk. My entire left eye is completely gone, and my

right eye is going blind as well. I remember when I first

I was stripped of it.

saw my face. It was like something out of a nightmare.

Not much time to decide now.

Even the doctors had concerned looks when they were

The voices became slower and quieter, my

bringing the mirror. My left eye was white, I had nasty,

heartbeat slowed, my eyes closed. My senses

puckered stitches running down the side of my face.

disappeared to nothing. I fell, and fell, and fell.

My mouth is now nothing but a shrunken, shriveled rag.

Darkness ensued.

Whenever I sit up, a side of my face begins sagging and

But that’s for people with futures, with dreams. And

“Time of death – 17:56”

the pain is indescribable.

My organs are beginning to fail. I know it. I’m trying

to fight. I am. But my heart is weak, and my liver is failing. My lungs have turned to rust. I think back to my modelling days. I was thin, young and full of life. Every guy I passed was bewitched by my figure, my smile. I was confident, radiant with a bright vision for a future.

Now here I am, sentenced to live a hopeless, monotone life in the ward.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP THEME

The Night of No Regret BEN BROUCKE Grade 8

As three large, buffed up guards the size of club

actions and expressions. They found nothing. It didn’t

bouncers knocked on the door of the tiny, damp,

satisfy them enough, however, so they put Esteban in

dark cell, he stood up to pick up a chicken and rice,

another holding cell to which they came every morning

pancakes and orange juice from Mcdonalds. Esteban

with a firehose to greet him with a complimentary

had just received the holy grail of prison cuisine, a meal

shower. The catch soon became more apparent as he

that he hadn’t had in a while, and most hoped would

had been cut, strangled and drowned in another room

never have again. Along with the guards came a priest,

on the other side of the campus, far from those who

a short, older, gentleman with thin, gray hair which

could listen to the faint screams of pain and suffering.

just barely covered his head. He was there to talk to

Esteban and hopefully get him through the evening

on behalf of the brutal murder and dismemberment

without him breaking down too many times. What the

of Juan Rodriguez in the Bolivian city of Cochabamba,

guards didn’t know, however, was that the six hours of

about 400km from the country’s capital. His plans

preparation of the electric chair was completely and

to escape the prison and his strong desire to be free

utterly useless. He was ready.

got overruled by the ill-treatment of the confinement

He had been sentenced to death by electric chair

employees and his current mental state now therefore *

rapidly deteriorating each day. He had become weak, both physically and mentally, laying on his bunk instead

The federal prison in a poor district on the outskirts

of scanning his surroundings and making plans to

of La Paz, in the eyes of Esteban, had many flaws in its

break out.

infrastructure. So the first thing he did when he got in

was a thorough examination of his cell and the mental

of the back wall in Esteban’s cell soon became clear

mapping of the facilities to minimize the amount of

to be the most efficient, if not the only way to get

time he would have to stay for. It all seemed natural

out of death row. He had been tortured, harassed,

at first, he would just dig a tunnel - like many others

mistreated, and he almost couldn’t get up on his feet,

have done before, or bust out the cell door which

and there was no way he could harvest some power to

already barely opened because of how broken it was.

break out the traditional way. The lack of energy in him,

The options seemed to be almost limitless, but at first,

however, did not stop his determination from rising

he would have to wait a bit as not to arouse any initial

to the surface and carrying out a new, easier, and

suspicion in the guards and other Bolivian inmates.

improvised plan. The facilities’ structure was in pretty

A small, metal, barred window up in the corner

bad shape. After all, he was in a quite underdeveloped

76

The next weeks were spent by carefully studying every

region compared to some western cities. It was quite

weak point of the establishment. Every hole, tear,

old and weak, but still sturdy enough to keep people

imperfection in his own tiny, damp, dark cell which

without any apparent intentions in. The concrete

he could take advantage of later on. The simplicity of

would be too difficult to break through, taking his

this operation so far would surprise most if they knew

physical status into account, but by weakening the

about it.

structure of the barred metal window, he thought

he might eventually be able to bust it out and climb

Four days later, two of the guards accompanied

by what looked to be like their commander raided the

through.

cell of Esteban as they were suspicious of his recent

activities despite the extra efforts to conceal his

give him a meal which usually consisted of some bread,

Every day at noon, guards would visit his cell to

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

water, and traditional Bolivian Sopa de Mani. With

a minor inconvenience which held him up for about a

enough experience in metalworking to work out how

minute. He just barely fit through the hole in the wall

things rust, Esteban started assembling his master

where the window once was, and he struggled a little

plan, which would one day finally set him free. Saving

bit. When he finally got out, he was almost free. Up

a small bit of the Bolivian soup every day and covering

ahead of him was a trench which he had to crawl into

the metal joints on the corners of the small metal

and climb up, and an electric fence currently down as

window, he was able to rust the connections away in

it had broken down a year beforehand and there simply

about six months. By then, he was able to pull a few

wasn’t enough money to repair it. Climbing over it was

screws out and push the window outward, but he was

no big deal either, as he had already done so the past

sure to put it back each time so that the guards wouldn’t

two times he broke out of prison. Once he got over, he

notice. His only fear at the moment would be that the

was a free man. A feeling of joy and excitement rushed

guards could move him to a different cell without any

through his body as he was finally free again. He almost

rusted away windows to wait out his final days.

wanted to scream, but his mind got the better of him

and soon ordered him to run.

Esteban let out an immense sigh of relief when

three guards came in on his last day telling him that

su Culo Patético would stay here and that they’ll bring

of at the moment is how he would see his wife again,

in a meal and a priest in preparation for tomorrow.

and they would move far away to the other side of the

He was now fully prepared to run tonight, and he was

country where they could start a new life and a new

confident his plan would work. For the remainder of the

family.

day, he sat in angst on his bunk running everything in

his head over and over and over again.

in a district on the outskirts of La Paz, he was surprised

to find the door unlocked and the shoes of another

As three large, buffed up guards the size of club

Headed home, the only thing Esteban could think

However, upon Esteban’s arrival at the family home

bouncers knocked on the door of the tiny, damp,

man next to her own in the entry hall. He ran upstairs

dark cell, he stood up to pick up a chicken and rice,

to the main bedroom to see his wife in the bed with

pancakes and orange juice from Mcdonalds. Esteban

another man, both sleeping. His passion to finally be

had just received the holy grail of prison cuisine, a meal

free that roared in him while he was incarcerated and

that he hadn’t had in a while, and most hoped would

which switched onto the craving of her had now turned

never have again. Along with the guards came a priest,

into immense hatred towards his wife and the man

a short, older, gentleman with thin, gray hair which

lying next to her. A short trip to the kitchen and back

just barely covered his head. He was there to talk to

upstairs satisfied his hatred almost enough for him

Esteban and hopefully get him through the evening

to calm back down, but the only way was to get rid of

without him breaking down too many times. What the

them all. First, he walked to the man’s side of the bed,

guards didn’t know, however, was that the six hours of

raised his knife, and then stabbed the man, piercing

preparation of the electric chair was completely and

his skin and his lung. Then he did it again and again and

utterly useless. He was ready.

again until the screams of his unfaithful wife washed

out the cries of the other man who soon dropped

As the clock struck eleven o’clock in the evening,

after the last check up on the prisoners walked by,

dead in the middle of the bed which was now a pool of

Esteban gathered up a few floorboards which he

blood. He then proceeded to slowly creep towards his

slipped into his cover to make it look like he was still

petrified wife curled up and screaming in the corner

there. Busting out the worn-out window was merely

of the room, in tears of grave terror.

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I N K S TA I N S • S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

What came next many witnesses later described

were cries of help and screams louder than those of infants on aircraft, followed by an eerie silence which weighed upon the entire neighborhood and filled the streets of rural La Paz. For three minutes the now converted lunatic stood in the doorway of what was now a mostly blood-covered room, with a smile from ear to ear only describable as that of a psychopath.

Soon enough, the soft sound of a police vehicle far off in the distance occupied the ear and the mind of the soon to be convicted killer, until flashes of blue and red lit up the white, blood-covered transparent curtain and its reflection on the ceiling and walls of the crime scene. The man who was once Esteban had now transferred to the other side of the room, a knife still in his hand and facing the door, a ghastly grin on his hideous face. The man stood there motionless as countless cops filled the room, guns raised, screaming something incomprehensible to Esteban whose mind was occupied with vast emptiness.

After several warning shouts meant to throw

some of the terror back at Esteban, the maniac who didn’t bother flinching stood still, now slowly raising the blood-covered knife into the air, hungry for more. The horrid atmosphere which filled the room almost inexplicable to those lucky enough not to have witnessed it glued the officers’ feet to the ground as they were stopped in their tracks not long after their initial entry. The cops, now scared straight all thought the same at one moment as it began to rain bullets upon bullets until their magazines were out, with Esteban swinging around in the air like a ragdoll before dropping dead to the ground.

That night, the atrocious atmosphere which

seemed to have consumed a part of the policemen’s souls and was burned into their minds was not much more merciful to their memories than Esteban was to his wife and her lover.

78

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Man to Demon, Block Print

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LOWER MYP THEME

Passion story STELLA KHOLODOVA Grade 8

80

“Hello, and welcome back to the “What’s New” show.

teaching myself to play the guitar about ten years ago,

I’m very excited to introduce you to our next guest,

and whenever something bad has happened, I have

whom many of you may recognise- a young girl from

found solace being able to shut myself off from the

Seattle who has recently shot to fame after uploading

world and play music. At first, just after my parents

a heartfelt song about dealing with the aftermath of

died, I felt so broken that I didn’t think that music

her parents’ tragic death. It has gone viral over the

could help me, but after a few weeks, I realised that I

course of the past week, amassing over 100 million

was starting to feel slightly better and it was easier for

views on YouTube alone. Welcome, Luna, and thank you

me to open up to people who were trying to help me.

for joining us today in what I believe is your first ever

As time went on, it became slightly easier to articulate

television interview. You must feel as though you’ve

what I was experiencing, but it’s more natural for me to

had a truly remarkable week, going from being a small-

communicate through my music than to talk to doctors

town girl to someone known across the globe. Can you

or therapists.”

tell us a little bit about what you have been up to and

how you are adjusting to your new life?”

experiences in such a public way. Especially since I

understand that you have lost your parents quite

“Yes. the last week has been like a dream and I

“That is really brave of you to share your

keep on thinking that I’m going to wake up at any

recently.

moment. I am still trying to understand and adapt

to what has been going on, and dealing with such a

gained millions of views as we know. With that comes

range of overwhelming emotions. I didn't post my song

quite a big earning of money. What would you do with

expecting this response. If anything, I did it as a means

the money you have earned?”

to try to process my own grief and to try to confront

it in a healthy way rather than trying to suppress such

know that it has happened to hundreds or thousands

a strong emotion. I am very glad that it has resonated

of children that are left without their parents with

with so many people and I would like to thank everyone

nothing. I think that I would try to organize a charity

for their kind comments and support. As I think you

for those people and help them get through with their

know, I wrote this song just after my parents died in a

experience. I think that I would save the rest of the

car crash and I was struggling to deal with the anger

money or invest in other charities.”

that I felt. In the first few weeks, I found it impossible

to talk to anyone about what I was experiencing and

that it happens. So what is the song about what was

I felt myself sliding into an abyss that I thought I

the inspiration?”

wouldn’t be able to escape. People around me became

increasingly worried about my welfare and I ended up

Was actually inspired by my mom and dad. I was going

being closely monitored by doctors and therapists. It

through a lot of pain and I wasn't sure how to cope

was an extremely dark point in my life and it was only

but as I said before writing songs was like a coping

after I met my last therapist that I was able to turn to

mechanism for me so I wrote about what I was feeling

some more positive outlets to channel my energy and

and expressing all of my memories and thoughts

come to terms with what I was having to face. I have

into this song. Also the name of the song is symbolic

always been passionate about music and I started

because leaning to the stars to me means leaning to

Now luna, The song has gone very popular and has

“ This has been a very traumatic thing for me and I

“ Wow, that is very noble of you to say. Let's hope

“ The inspiration for my song ‘Leaning to the stars’

JOKUBAS LABUTIS, Grade12, Scorpion, Wire

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 • LOWER MYP

them. Since they have died I have felt them watching

over me so leaning to the stars would be like leaning to

with your future and success in life. I think that our

them.”

viewers would too. I hope that the next song will not

be written on the cause of grief. But on something

That is something very deep and emotional. Thank

“Yes, I understand that and I wish you all the best

you for sharing that. Also could you tell us more about

magical that you deserve after so much emotional pain.

your life before the catastrophe?”

Now is there anything else you would like to share or

comment on?”

“Well my life before the accident was quite normal.

I went to school, I had friends I did my homework, and

of course I would have fights with my parents but it is a

that the way I dealt with my pain is quite public and it

normal thing. I also had a babysitting job three times a

has honestly been so unimaginably hard for me to talk

week and right before the accident I had a huge school

about it not through music but with actual people. If

concert going on but as you might think I did not

you are going through some emotional pain please

attend.

find help. Talk to someone, don’t let your feelings

consume you. You can't imagine how much it helps to

That seems like a pretty normal teenage life right?

Yes actually I just want to say that I understand

You said that you would have fights with your parents,

let someone know that you need help and let them

could you tell us more about them?”

help you. Also however if you don't feel like you want

everyone to know don’t push yourself too hard. Tell

“ My … My parents and I did have quite a lot of

arguments and I wish we never did. My mom was the

someone when you feel like it is the right time and that

nicest person in the world. She always tried to protect

you are ready.”

and take care of me. However she would take the side

of my dad because she knew he was right. He was.

thank you for joining us today. I wish you all the best.

He always was. And I wish I would've understood that

Ladies and gentlemen this is it with luna and stay tuned

earlier. I think that my deepest desire is … is … I'm sorry

for another episode of ‘What's new’!”

“That is some very good advice than you luna. Luna

, it is to have been able to say goodbye.”

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LOWER MYP THEME

Passionate Lies DARYNA LUBKIVSKA Grade 8

82

8:00 am sharp when sunbeams start circling his

and gets out, swiftly throwing his robe up and wraps it

windows. They burst through the glass, speeding

around his body. Breakfast awaits. He stomps out into

across the room and landing oh his closed lids. Their

the kitchen where the sun lights up the room. Blinded

slightest touch that tingles till he willingly opens his

by the light he goes to close the curtains. His gaze

eyes. He lays there as if paralyzed, only squinting his

latches onto the big streets of NYC.

eyes from the burning light in pain. If he could he

would never get up, but the thought of hot freshly

every face and every bit hidden in the tiniest crevices of

brewed coffee always satisfied his morning mindset.

the city. He pulls the curtains and tumbles to the fridge.

He starts folding the grainy linen bed sheets, hesitantly

Leftovers. Sighing, he grabs the coarse styrofoam

getting out of bed. His feet press into the cold wood

boxes and places them on the counter. He opens the

floors, he shudders and falls bad into bed. Yet another

drawer and takes out the one remaining rusty fork. Joy

tiny splinter. He rolls around to the other side of the

sparks his face. He races towards the kettle and starts

bed, holding his foot up in the air and messing up

boiling the water. Reaching into the cupboard he pulls

his folded sheets. He carefully reaches and opens a

out a fresh bag of coffee grounds. The grainy rich smell

sparkling golden clasp on his 1970 wooden nightstand,

makes him forget about everything. The grounds land

pulling out the drawer and rustling around through all

into the cup. He slowly pours steamy hot water over

the small crowded objects.

them, stirring everything together. He looked around

and caught onto the clock, ticking. His eyes widen.

His hand, as big as half of the drawer reaches in

His gloomy eyes stare into the distance, catching

deep and pulls out a pair of small shiny metal tweezers.

He takes the hot coffee and chugs it, feeling how his

He proceeds to press his big cold fingers on the heel

throat begins to sizzle and burn.

surrounding the splinter and tugging it out with the

tweezers. Satisfaction. He throws the tweezers back

and slides the robe off his body, the silky fabric flowing

in the drawer and shuts it closed. Once again he plops

down to the ground. He quickly throws on his black

into bed, rolling back to the other side and getting up.

t-shirt and his old scratchy grey jeans. He makes a

He swiftly moves to the bathroom, grabbing his white

run to the door and grabs his coat. He slides into his

silky robe and throwing it onto the sink. He turns on

obnoxiously loud loafers and shoves the book bag

the tap and lets the water run for a minute hoping

under his arm, locks the door and runs outside. His

it will get warmer. Disappointed, he gets in. Cold

loafers make a loud flapping sound his whole route

droplets of water fall down his face. Slowly they flow,

to work. 5 meters away he sees Ed outside the shop,

soaking his body in ice-cold water. He turns the tap

leaning on the wall and lightly tapping his dusty

With immense pain. He runs out into his bedroom

ZOE COOPER, Grade 12, Dragon Eye, Coloured Pencil

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;˘ LOWER MYP

cigarette. "John, there you are!" yells Ed, throwing

his eyes and asked: "Mister Porter, so you're telling

the cigarette on the ground and pushing it into the

me you don't know who murdered Edwin Johnson on

cement with his shoe. "Only thirty minutes late" he

the third of July when his body was found next to your

chuckles sarcastically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. You

home?"

know, I get caught up and lose track of time" John says

sobbingly.

home all night and spent time grieving at the 99 Pub

downtown"

Ed shrugs, "C'mon buddy we both know you had

"I'm sorry maâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;am, but as I stated earlier I wasn't

your chances, this was the last straw. We had a whole

conversation on you missing your shifts!". "Please

that we have no evidence of. Unfortunately, some of

I didn't mean to, I need this job" Ed leans in and

our gathered information tells us otherwise about your

whispers in John's ear. "I've had enough, I'm tired of

location last night. But that's enough for today, we'll

listening to your sad excuses. He lightly pushes him on

call you first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe

the shoulder and slowly walks up to the shop.

you'll think, there might be something that you're not

"Your stuff is on the counter, I want you gone in thirty

telling us". She stood up, shook my hand and slowly

minutes" He smirks and walks in. I stood there as if

exited the room. I felt nauseous. Sitting in a cubic

emotions overflowed my body and took away my ability

room, with nothing but a table and two chairs opposite

to move. I always liked Ed he was forgiving and had

to each other. My hands went numb and all I could

the greatest sense of humor. He had kids and a wife

picture were the actions done that day. The day I killed

at home I don't know who would do such a thing. John

a person, the guy that left me with no job, dear Ed,

looked up at Detective Spielberg. She stared right into

Edwin Johnson.

"Mister Porter, those are just empty statements

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I N K S TA I N S â&#x20AC;¢ S E C O N D A R Y S C H O O L

LOWER MYP THEME

Jealousy is Passionate DARYNA LUBKIVSKA Grade 8

Icy cold eyes stare Bitter grimaces cut like blades Jealousy's glare

84

ALEXANDER LITERARY AWARD CONTEST SUBMISSIONS 2020 â&#x20AC;¢ LOWER MYP

SOFIA PALOSSI, Grade 12, Pasts Collide, Mixed Media

85