2022-23 Uplands Short Story Anthology

Uplands Writes

2022-23 Short Story Anthology

Y7-9 Short Stories

FOBISIA Theme: “The Mystery”

“The Mystery” by Allyster 7B

Ryan loved watching the squirrels Outside the window, brown squirrels were moving around in the blood gold orange leaves Loudly, Mr F rapped his table ‘What are you DOING”! He retreated inwards, cringing as students turned their heads toward him “S Sorry sir”, he mumbled, embarrassedly as laughter rang around the room Stupid, idiot and dum-dum were just everyday names people threw at him It didn’t bother him very much, but he had begun to harbour a small ball of hatred for the people who laughed and jeered at him

His only friend in school was the ‘cool kid Alex’ Alex was his only friend, but he was only friends with Alex because of the treatment he got when he was around him When he was walking home from school with Alex, Sam, Gabe and Trish, who usually jeered and laughed at him, smiled politely and greeted him with respect Every day, Alex used him as his scapegoat, whenever they joked around or threw erasers at the teachers, he was immediately blamed

“Get off the field newbie! You're literally trash!” Alex hollered.

“ O-okay, lemme get you a glass of water.” Ryan stammered, feeling angry and hurt. He loved the feeling of being respected, but more than ever, he loved the feeling of having a friend.

After being harassed after school, Ryan trod sadly through some fields before reaching his ramshackle house. It was almost midnight and he was a pathetic sight, bruised and bleeding and skinny as a twig. “Stupid school, stupid teacher”, he grunted, angrily kicking at the weeds surrounding the porch. After opening the door, he imagined a family waiting for him, ready to support him and help him through his troubles But this fantasy was shattered as he saw his uncle, drunk and splayed across the couch Looking up at Ryan, his uncle spat on the floor

“What is up with you boy!’ He shouted loudly, raising a fist and hurling his empty bottle of alcohol at Ryan “If you EVER bother me again, I’ll kill you I swear to god ” His uncle groped for the next bottle, drool trickling from his lips but before he could throw it, Ryan ducked and the bottle burst into sharp shards of glass above his head

SLAM! Ryan strode into his room and locked the door Bright flashes of red raced around his blurred vision Deep inside, he did really love his uncle, but more than anything, he wished that he were more supportive, more caring, more like a real family The next day, Ryan was awoken by a loud knocking on the door He heard men outside shuffling around Confused, he threw off his covers and opened the door

“Boy”, a policeman said, “I’m sorry for your loss We found him in the lake beside your house ”

“Him?” Ryan replied, his voice cracking.

Ryan walked out the house, and stood at the edge of the lake. In shock, he saw his uncle lying there with a tortured expression on his face. His skin was puffy and red and he looked the worst Ryan had seen in a while.

“Did you hear or see anything?” The policemen asked.

Ryan vaguely nodded, still in shock.

He couldn't handle it. After hours of staring at his reflection in the water, Ryan eventually found the courage to head back into the house Staring pointlessly from his room, he stepped on a phone The screen cracked and buzzed but it looked functional After turning it on he gaped at the last message that his uncle had been sent A message appeared on the screen It was the liquor store owner Ben, demanding he pay his debt It had got to the point where Ben had threatened his uncle that if he did not pay up, he would have to take action Ryan walked slowly away, his footsteps pounding in a rhythmic beat

As he squatted behind the school wall, Gabe spotted him huddled there “His uncle’s kicked the bucket!” They jeered ”This loser is gonna go to the orphanage!” They laughed even harder, and threw dirt and twigs towards him Even though he hated his uncle, he couldn’t stand the bullies making fun of his death He grabbed hold of a stone, raised it back and dropped it He couldn’t do it Couldn’t throw the stone Racked with sobs, Ryan collapsed next to a concrete wall “I can’t do it,” he thought He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut to stem the flow of tears If everybody who made him upset was gone, he would be happy right?

He sat on a wooden chair, reading a newspaper. The damp paper grew stiff as the chilly air of winter blew around the room. He leaned in, smelling the smoke and remembering faces around him charring into ash. The fire that had roared to life in Gabe’s house had killed everyone in the vicinity of the area. Clenching the paper, Ryan stabilised his breathing and reminded himself of his surroundings. I'm in the neighbourhood of Surrey, he stated to himself calmly. The police confirmed my uncle drowned in a pool that night. Weirdly, he seemed out of touch with the world and time. Every time he closed his eyes, flames flashed and a match thrown into a gas tank, and every time, he woke up from the dream to find himself back in this hell.

The cold crack of frost beneath his aching feet startled him. Looking over at his reflection, he smiled. “Hello, me ” He laughed - but it was not him His frosted facial features were too stiff to move, yet the reflection spoke: “I’ve gotten rid of all your problems Are you happy now?”

He heard his uncle’s pleas of help echoing in the night “Water! Help I’m drowning” He screamed as his face slipped under the lake “Help me boy!” He shouted,his face mottled with anger and fear But Ryan stood and stared, watching as his face cries turned into pleads and begs before he sank below the surface and was gone. And Ryan laughed into the night sky and he smiled at himself in the water. “I've made your little world a better place.”

He wasn’t sure if he was the person in the mirror or if he was looking at the ice, for he was looking at himself and laughing. He reached out and the reflection reached out too, before he watched the reflection draw a grin as he set the world alight. Below the insanity, Ryan still held a semblance of his past life. Tugging away from the allure of the fantasy, he tried to pull his gaze from his reflection but to no avail. “Come with me”, the reflection smiled through his teeth.

“Who would notice that we were gone?”

Painting by Camillo 9A

“The Last Goodbyes” by Anson 7A

“Mom, please don’t cry and be sad Grandpa Bob is leaving us now but he will be walking across the rainbow bridge to meet Puppy Chow Chow in heaven ”

“It’s hard to believe that my dad died from a sudden heart attack We were not even able to say goodbye to him I- I love him ”

The tears rolled from mom’s eyes, overflowed and streamed down her cheek Her eyes were swollen and red She looked exhausted and heart broken I wrapped my arms around her tight I tried my best to comfort her It’s Grandpa Bob’s funeral I looked at Grandpa Bob who was laying in a casket He looked so peaceful He wore a dark black suit and black shoes He also had flowers of lilies and tulips on his chest and our family photo in his pocket Mom and I touched him and he felt like ice Suddenly, a white bright light was flashing out from the casket. The glare of light spotted mom and I. It made us blinding and we couldn’t open our eyes. A few seconds later, that mysterious light was gone. My eyes were blurry when I opened them again. I rubbed my eyes and I saw an unbelievable thing happened.

“Oh my god! What’s happening? Where are we?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“We should be at dad's funeral. Why are we at my childhood home?” mom said fearfully. We were both shocked and freaked out by this.

A tall and young man came out from his cottage and said, “Hello, how can I help you?”

“Dad?!” mom said surprisingly

“Grandpa Bob?” I looked at the man He looked as though he was in his mid-30 years He greeted us with a gentle and pleasant smile Oh, that is Grandpa Bob That smile I could never forget! Mom and I went back to the past when Grandpa Bob was only in his mid-30 years by the bright portal It is enigmatic and unbelievable!

“Umm hello, it is hard to explain, umm we are tourists and we stop by here because of the beautiful scenery” I tried to be calm and replied to grandpa

“Yes, indeed This garden is decorated with lots of flowers especially lilies and tulips They are my wife and daughter's favorite flowers Everyday, the sun shines bright on the grass and beautiful butterflies fly over the

flowers My wife and I like to sit in the garden chairs and enjoy watching my daughter swing on her swing The swing flies high and she guffaws loudly My daughter is our sweet little angel ”

“My name is Bob. My wife and my daughter are out of town to visit my mother-in-law today and I am alone at home. I am very gald to see you guys here.” Mom tried to keep her breathing slow and steady. Tears welled up in her eyes while she was looking at grandpa.

I grabbed ahold of her hand. “Let’s take a seat in the garden and try some cookies that were made by my wife this morning. It's a peanut butter cookie, my daughter's favorite flavor.” Grandpa Bob smiled.

“It is the most delicious cookie I ever ate!” Mom beamed with happiness finally.

Grandpa Bob took out a photo album from the house “Let me show you my family,” he said In the photos, Grandma, baby mom and Grandpa Bob smiled happily When mom was a child, she was so cute with her big eyes Her hair has been braided in most of the photos “Oh, wait This photo brings me back lots of memories! As a dad, I assumed that my daughter looked up to me like a superhero Until one day, I saw that the bus was about to pass by Therefore, I decided to make a run for it When we were safely aboard, I noticed that my daughter was staring intensely at me with her big eyes ‘“What’s the matter?”’ I asked her She leaned into my ear and whispered, ‘“Dad, I didn’t know you could run ”’ She is such a funny girl!” Grandpa Bob laughed out loud

“Hey, look at this one My daughter was attending a singing contest at school She loves to sing We always have to role play at home where she was the singer and we were the audience At the singing contest, she has high expectations She was expecting herself to be the champion When the judges were almost gonna announce the result, my daughter felt nervous and she was holding our hands tight In the end, she didn’t get any awards in the contest. She was so disappointed and wanted to cry. My wife and I comforted her. I told her that an achievement award is not the end of a goal. As long as she tries her best to perform, she is a winner. She was not sad anymore.” Grandpa Bob said proudly.

Then, Grandpa Bob bursted into a song, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray…

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away...” mom sang along and I clapped to the beat. In seconds, I noticed that the bright portal was sparkling at the back of the house. Mom and I knew that it’s time for us to go Mom stepped forward to Grandpa Bob and gave him a big hug, “Goodbye goodbye We will miss you Thank you for the memories ”

Grandpa Bob felt a bit shocked by what mom did but he was still smiling “Hey, it’s my pleasure to meet you We had a great time together even though it was the first time we met Welcome to visit me again when you are free!”

“Yes, we promised... we will meet you again one day... Goodbye!” we said. This happy moment became an everlasting memory for us! Mom and I were wet with tears while we walked towards the direction of the bright portal. The flash of light was spotting again and we couldn't open our eyes. We were finally back to the funeral when I opened my eyes. We were still standing next to the casket without a minute gone. Who would notice that we were gone..?

“Disappearance: a Lottery Winner's Monologue” by Chiro 8A

In a little house with a panoramic view of the bright blue ocean, I get up with the sun, brew my coffee and turn on the TV It has been my morning routine since I started to live on this green island about two years ago The TV says, "MrJohn Smith, who won a lottery of 10 billion US dollars two years ago, is missing A neighbor said that MrSmith was carrying a massive suitcase and his pet cat in a cage into a car in the dark when she saw him the last time and that she thought he was going for a trip with his cat; however, he still has not yet returned home since then She is wondering if he is alive or not " I opened my eyes wide and heaved a deep sigh At that moment, my pet cat, Fluffy, is jumping on my lap to remind me to feed him

To tell the truth, I call myself Robert Jones on this small island, though it is not my real one, John Smith I was born in a poorly-known town in England and was raised there Before moving to this island, I had been an ordinary office worker at a local company since I graduated from an unknown local university I simply imagined I would continue living this uneventful life in the monotonous town until that morning when an event suddenly changed my life.

The alarm rang. I stretched my hands to stop it as I heaved myself up from the bed and sighed. I didn't want to go to work. Apprehensive, I headed towards the dining room and made my breakfast cornflake. As I carried a spoonful of cornflakes to my mouth, I opened my phone and scanned the QR code on my lottery ticket to see the result. I waited for the page to load, wishing I won the lottery -10 billion US dollars-. After a few seconds, the word Congratulations popped out on my screen. My spoon clattered as I dropped it. The next moment, I screamed in delight, "YAAAAAAAAAAAY!" Fluffy jumped out of bed, and my next-door neighbor, an old lady, yelled, "Shut up! This apartment's wall is paper thin, you know!?"

I took my ticket to get validated at my town's official state lottery organization Soon after my passbook showed 10 digits numbers that I had never seen before, I emailed a resignation letter to my boss "I am a billionaire!" I roared, raising my arms toward the ceiling After calming down, I decided to keep this from the people around me in order to live a peaceful life That night, I slept in my bed restfully, thinking I would have a happy life from now on, but things weren't as easy as I expected At five o'clock in the morning, my sleep was disturbed by the sound of knocking and chimes I walked towards the entrance door a yawn When I opened the door, a crowd was in front of me People with greedy smiles waited for me and started to ask me about the lottery, prize money, and so forth I wanted to say something, but my throat froze as a fish pulled out of the ocean I was so confused that I swiftly slammed the door closed How come they know my lottery win? I have never talked to anyone about it! WHY?! WHY!? WHY!? From that day onwards, I started seeing the dark side of humans

Day by day, people with dark intentions approached me They talked about donations, investments, clubs, gambling, jewelry, and religions My parents spoke to me about their dreams of retiring from jobs, traveling worldwide, and purchasing a new Benz car and how they expected me to grant them since I was born. My distant relative, whom I had never spoken to, came to my house suddenly and said he wanted to have dinner with me at a three-star restaurant. My kindergarten friend said she opened a jewelry shop and suggested I buy a diamond ring that cost 1 million US dollars. An unknown man spent his whole hour trying to persuade me to buy a magical stone that would make my wish come true. My phone rang all day long, mainly from unknown numbers. I glanced at my Email and saw the spam box full of phishing emails. Mass media and YouTubers followed wherever I went, and some even tried to get into my house! I have no privacy anymore.

In the dead of night, when I was sleeping, the window suddenly crashed, and tiny pieces of glass landed on the floor. I leaped out of my bed. It took me a moment to recognize what was happening. A stranger dressed in black came in, holding a backpack and a knife As fast asthe wind, I slid down my bed, face pressed onto the ground I took out my phone with my hands slippery due to thin layers of sweat to call the police, but before I could, a sinister shadow approached me, footsteps echoing louder and louder My heart knocked my chest, washing me away with fear At that time, out of nowhere, light beamed into the house It was two police officers holding a torch The panicked burglar ran away, but the police were after it After a few minutes of chasing, the stranger was caught and handcuffed I slowly crawled out from under the bed and stared at the broken window and messed house, lips pressed hard I couldn't stand this anymore

"Enough!" I miserably cried out, feeling exhausted from everything that happened after my lottery win Like ants swarming to sugar, people throng my 10 billion and try to sponge on me all the time I became disillusioned with the people around me and decided to disappear secretly I crept through the door with a suitcase and my beloved cat at midnight To live our peaceful life, we are running away into the darkness I turned back for the last time, got into a one-way rented car, and drove off to Liverpool, where I dropped my car and headed toward the cruise terminal. On the ship, I grinned, my cat beside me. Now we've left our hometown, who would notice we were gone?

by Connie 9A

I sat in class not knowing what I had eaten this morning, how I got to school this morning, it seemed as if my memory had been erased but not quite erased I sat next to a classmate who looked familiar but I just couldn’t remember their name Outside of the classroom, the sky was gloomy, resembling a scene from a horror movie According to the clock sitting above the whiteboard, it was nearly 8 o’clock, but the bell still hasn’t rung yet Strange People were running around in the corridors but no teacher seemed to care In fact, there were no teachers around, as if all the teachers went on vacation

I lay on my desk, wondering if I had strayed into a parallel time or into another world Everything and everyone around me seemed familiar but strange I just couldn’t explain why My brain was a mess

After what seemed like forever, people finally started filling up the classroom I was in Then, out of nowhere, a movie started to play. First, the trailer, I didn’t understand what was playing. After the trailer, the trailer played again, and again in a loop. As I tried to ask around to find out whether or not there was a mistake, I noticed that everyone else seemed to be staring at the screen. Everyone, except me, was sitting upright like robots.

I lost count of how many times the trailer played and started dozing off. That's when things got even weirder. I heard a high-pitched scream coming from outside, the lights switched off all at once, the buzzing that came from the air conditioner stopped ...

I followed the rest of the school onto the field. Upon looking up, the sky turned pitch black with hints of purple and the sun was nowhere to be seen I squinted my eyes, that's when I saw it Asteroids? No, spaceships I’ve read about alien invasions but never thought they were actually real

The arrival of the spaceships quickly dominated the news and television headlines, people from all over the world went out to look up at the sky to see if it were actually true or not Contrary to their expectations, there were countless spaceships circling the entire planet In fact it felt as if there were more spaceships in the sky than stars It was believed to be the harbinger of the end of the world and destruction People were worried, in fact, worried was an understatement However, the spaceships didn’t do anything except hover in the air

By the next day, people realised they couldn’t do anything about the aliens Planes were sent out to try and take down the spaceships, but no matter what method was used, none of the planes were able to get within a few

yards of the spaceships There seemed to be a strong repulsive force surrounding each and every one of the ships

The long discussion between heads of state was fruitless, some advocate to attack, but others want to wait and see what happens, and some even proposed using nuclear weapons, but this idea was immediately denied as it could result in not only the end of the alien invasion but also the end of mankind. The world paused, governments shut down everything they could, and told people to stay at home. World leaders tried to keep everyone afloat. After all, the fear of the unknown is hard to imagine. Then, on a random Tuesday, there was a sudden movement in the air.

From the centre of each spaceship hovering in the air, was a beam of light that shot straight to the ground. People assumed it was the aliens leaving their spaceships like they do in the movies but after a few minutes, the light beams disappeared into thin air Along with the light beams, the spaceships with the aliens disappeared without a trace All that was left were millions of scattered pieces of paper on the ground

The most advanced detectives and researchers were gathered to try and put the pieces of paper together After what seemed like forever, they finally managed to solve it The pieces of paper made up a complete image of the earth, but with visibly less land mass and in a terrible condition Above the image, there was a block of writing:

‘The Earth is being destroyed at an insanely high speed, in order to maintain the ecological balance of the universe, humans must take full responsibility for this In another 3 days, we will come back when the clock strikes 12 to take away half of mankind to another planet You will all receive bracelets at midnight to vote on who will be your sacrifices Men or women, children or elderly, you choose ’

Some people claimed that it was just a joke that shouldn’t be taken seriously, but everyone for sure had a bracelet strapped around their wrists, meaning that it wasn’t just a prank. And this time, there was a massive spaceship hovering above the Earth, bigger than all of the previous spaceships combined. Was this the ship sent to take the people away?

As the timers on the bracelets count down, people start to get nervous, countries in conflict have reached armistice agreements, soldiers lay down their weapons, employees put down their work, children rushed home, the various external identities of human beings were laid down, leaving only the kinship of parents, children, and family.

On the night where the aliens were meant to come and pick up half of the human population, almost everyone spent their time with family and friends, cherishing their last moments together: lovers huddled together, young

children in the arms of their parents, and in those final moments, kinship, love and friendship surrounded the world People turned off their lights and prepared to accept the disaster that would befall them in their sleep But at midnight, the spaceship seemed to have received instructions and disappeared without a sound, leaving only a line in the sky:

‘Who would notice that we were gone?’

Painting by Leeia 9C

“The Last Glimpse of Hope” by Eloise 7A

Wee, woo, wee woo! These were the only sounds I could hear as I sprinted for my life, running as if it were the last day ever I was so terrified that I lost all sense of direction, and everything went black

Once again, I was trapped How could they be so cruel? There was no hope, and now I'm back, miserable as can be Just because we are Jews doesn’t mean that we need to live in misery I had an amazing life in front of me, graduating from college, and getting into law school Living the life of my dreams, with my little sister, all of those dreams were fantasy now because of them, those ungrateful, corrupt countries, who say, “Oh, you’re a Jew, the prison you go ” I mocked them She was only 6 when she was brought to this ridiculous and stupid place

Trapped, confined again, and crowded into a cramped cell with 30 other convicts I had to be here because of my idiotic attempt to defy fate. My family, my life, was gone, not a glimpse of hope was left. I sat there, always in my own corner, always minding my own business. I had nothing else to do but stare out the cell bars at the endless number of corpses and dead bodies of those who dared to have freedom. The unending nights of hearing combat shots, gunfire, and lifeless people falling to the ground. This was war. A war to fight for one to fight, a war for freedom. Why couldn't they see, peace?

I still had a few torturous days ahead of the Second World War. These people were inhumane, treating us as a pathway to power. That was all they desired. The moniker of "most" powerful country in the world was plastered on each and every one of those heartless soldiers who abused their position. This was a never-ending cycle of war The inmates in the cells stayed motionless, never daring to speak or move They lay down, expecting the floor would swallow them up and they would simply vanish, but that was not possible in this reality The cell was filthy, with a rough concrete floor covered in vomit and faeces, we were all forced to stay here all day and all night without a glimpse of sunlight until it was time Being here was like entering the gateway to hell

"Den Mund halten! Noch ein Wort von dir, ich werde dafür sorgen, dass es dein letzter Tag war! ( “Shut up! Another word from you again, I will make sure it was your last day ever! ) The towering, revolting guards had just captured another 100 of us, us Jews The Jews begged, begged for forgiveness, of being alive, but to no avail What was wrong with the Nazis? “Please, please I have children at home, please, let me go ” one of the Jews begged “Den Mund halten!” (Shut up!) they shouted again, but their patience was lost Bang! The gun was discharged, and the bullet traveled through the air and struck the prisoner in the chest with such force that the dead figure dropped to the ground, its chest gushing a bloody dark red liquid which flowed down to the floor The guards just laughed and shoved the other 100 prisoners into another cell Another life had been lost The

soldiers took one glance at the now, lifeless body and chucked it into the other cell to let it rot, with the other prisoners After several days, the day had finally arrived The day of death

“Als nächstes beeilen Sie sich!” ( Next, hurry up! ) In chains, I was brought out heavily surrounded by guards. Finally, I could be free, but with the cost of everything, was I really ready, ready to succumb to what the Nazis wanted?. “Nächste!” (Next!) the soldier shouted again. I stood there motionless, darting my eyes around for escape pathways but none came, why was I so desperate for this “freedom”? It was my turn, my turn to finally be free. I stood there in front of a whole crowd of Jews staring at me from their bar cells, looking at what was going to happen next. I just waited for death to take me away, but I felt a sudden urge to run. I glanced at the guard who was distracted by “His majesty”. I wanted to run, but I stood still, my feet not moving an inch. I was trying so hard to run but I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and prayed. I ran. I ran despite the heavy chains pulling me back, I bolted as fast as I could.

Wee, wee, wee woo! These were the only sounds I could hear as I sprinted for my life, running as if it were the last day of my life I was so terrified that I lost all sense of direction and everything went black Who would notice if I was gone?

“All in my Head” by Emeline 9B

The thuds of people falling are preceded by deafening gunshots, one after another The coppery smell of blood Pain in my arm My breath grows shorter and shallower as I feel my knees buckle The last thing I see are the grim faces of soldiers as they carry me to the camp Then, darkness

The light streamed in through a gap in the curtains, waking Margaret from her sleep She groaned as she tossed and turned, eventually half rolling half dropping out of bed The alarm went off, and Margaret rubbed her sore back as she reluctantly hobbled into the bathroom to get dressed, cursing the strict elderly care schedules - a seven in the morning wake up call Out of nowhere, a car engine started on the street below, loud as a gunshot

The gunshot still rings in my head, as a nurse bandages up my wound Her eyes look up to me to scan my face In them, the unspoken question, what is a woman doing on the battlefield? To make an answer up would be to lie to my own country, yet to reveal my identity, a crime punishable by death.

Immediately, Magaret began to weave possibilities for such a fast getaway at such an early time, switching on an almost dormant feeling in the corner of her mind - excitement. She squinted out of the window, taking the scene all in, when she caught something out of the corner of her eye - a shadow - so brief she would have missed it were she not paying attention. Her mind instantly perked up, rejuvenated.

I still have the sense to keep quiet, to simply ignore the nurse’s searching eyes. Instead, I contemplate my decisions and thank that British military jacket - the only item that confirms my identity as an ally Had I not been wearing that out there - I don’t dare to think about how I would have been left to bleed to death

At that moment, Margaret felt as if she dared to do anything - as if she could do anything She grabbed her walking stick and attempted to clamber out of the window with a childish sense of glee A hint of guilt tugged her mind about leaving Eddy - her husband - at home; it was soon replaced by a playful grin that worked across her face as she headed to where the shadow escaped to Just like in the olden days, she thought to herself excitedly Except this time, it’s all real No more games

No, no, no, no, I think to myself, distress replacing gratitude, as I feel around my jacket My documents! This can’t be real, it can’t be The documents that I am - was - in charge of, that I was responsible for, are missing A feeling of dread starts to creep its way in, wrapping its bony claws around my heart and clasping on tight The thought of those precious documents in someone else’s hands, especially the German’s, makes me feel sick to the stomach Where could they have gone? No, no, no

Yes, Margaret thought to herself as she caught sight of the fleeing shadow again The wind brushed her brittle hair, and rattled her frail body as she ran, waving her walking stick in the air. To others around her, the sight was quite something. Hair curlers falling off, dressed in a nightie, and barefoot, the old lady could hardly have attracted more attention. Yet unknown to all observers, Margaret was pursuing a dangerous fugitive who had just robbed the museum of some incredibly valuable documents, and had, as became increasingly apparent, just missed her getaway ride.

Everything is going wrong today. First, I miss my ship ride as a stowaway to England, which landed me here, and now I have lost the most important documents of this war - they shouldn’t have sent me. I know a woman seems less threatening, less suspicious, yet I look incongruous amongst the motley of injured and ill men.

As the conspicuous old lady raced down the street, she stopped suddenly, panting, at 3A Wimbledon Road, and knocked three times Before long, out came a young man, not more than twenty years old, bleary eyed from sleepiness As soon as he had gotten a proper look at Margaret, his eyes widened in shock and he took a step back

“Grandma?! What are you doing here?”

“Shhh you’ll attract too much attention Mikey! I’m tracking down a criminal who just so happened to pass my window as I was getting ready The problem is, she’s led me on a wild goose chase and I haven’t the foggiest idea where she is ”

“Oh, grandma,” Mike rubbed his brow wearily

The general rubs his brow disapprovingly. “First, you fail, losing the documents completely, possibly even to the Nazis,” he spits the word out, “and to top that off, you get people to notice you.” His accusations cut through me, sharp as a knife, and I hang my head in shame.

“I’m sorry, you’re just not cut out to be a spy.”

“I don’t have time for your games right now. I need to get ready for school. Chem starts in an hour.”

“Games?” Margaret scoffed. “No, these are not games. It is real. Eddy’ll tell you.”

“Grandpa Eddy?!” Mike couldn’t mask the surprise in his voice “He died in the war, and I know you’ve been having a hard time acknowledging that, but you have to put that behind you ”

I reach my front door when I realise something is wrong The door swings open by itself, welcoming me back Immediately, I’m on guard, gun at the ready. Once inside, I find my house in a wreck, my belongings are strewn aside and the windows are shattered. My heart is in my throat, pounding hard and fast, but as I step into my bedroom, it stops.

Margaret’s heart was racing. “Eddy? Dead? No it can’t be. I just spoke to him last night!” She turned on Mike with wild eyes.

Lying in bed is my Eddy, peacefully dozing away, but for the unmistakable hole in his left chest, crimson in colour, stark against the white bed sheets.

Mike rubbed his eyes, “You’ve been having your visions again? Oh grandma I’ll text Mrs Malone to get you ”

This is my fault MY fault I gave us away

“No don’t, Eddy’s alive!” Margaret was indignant “Just help me catch this criminal ” She desperately searched for ways to escape from this reality

Tell me this isn’t real Please

Mike let out a resigned sigh as he looked into Margaret’s eyes, full of unshed tears “Okay grandma, one more time ”

Margaret smiled, clapping him on his back “Attaboy! One question After a lifetime of draining my tears, I get up, kiss my Eddy goodbye, and pack my things - I can’t risk them finding little Tessie, who will never know her father now. As I head for the door, ready to disappear and never come back, I look back, one last time. When I speak, my tone spills over with sadness. “Oh, Eddy,”

“Who would notice that we were gone?”

Painting by Emma 9C

“Music in the Night” by Olivia 9Z

“There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white, Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire ”

“Continue the song, Grandma,” I implored excitedly, my eyes bright with curiosity In my head, I was imagining the robins What colour could they possibly be? Grandma's soft voice floated in the stillness of the dusk So soft, almost a whisper, yet the beautiful words were crystal clear

“And not one will know of the war, not one, Will care at last when it's done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly…”

Grandma's voice came to an abrupt halt. Her face was scrunched up, her eyes were squinted-close, trying her best to recall the rest of the song.

“Is that it?” I tried my best to mask my disappointment.

“Sorry, Aaisha, I cannot remember how the song ends it was so long ago when my mother sang it to me Like you, I was excited and in awe of the story , ” her normally calm soothing voice was now laced with uncontained elation

In the huddled corner of her small bedroom, I didn't hesitate to ask, “Please, Grandma, tell me about those women “

“These women came and sang in the night No one knew where they came from They didn't belong to any tribes Many were unwanted disowned some were widowed Outcasts Women whom society would not normally notice But they came together and sang music and words, from poems, from folklores ” It was Grandma’s eyes that now sparkled with excitement

“They took off their veils, revealing their faces They wore beautiful coloured cloaks Green red blue not the blue that you know, but beautiful royal blue Bright colours ”

“Bright colours?!” I gasped, half-covering my mouth, at the disbelief that women were allowed to wear anything, but black or navy blue. Unconsciously I stared at my own garb, and Grandma’s. We only wore a dark monochrome. Plain. Loose. One design.

“They let their hair loose, to fly freely behind them, as they sang and danced. Mama said some even played the instruments. Tambourines and lutes, as accompaniment to their music.”

“Where did this take place, Grandma? Were all these allowed?” my curious voice interrupted her. I was astounded to hear of such a place where women were permitted outside on their own, and could strip off their veils Surely it was a different world Women singing? Their faces showing? Hair flowing long? Music? Colours? Surely this could not be true Even now, I was staring at a long, black cloth that half-shielded Grandma’s face; the thin, opaque material concealing all forms of emotion

She reached over to stroke the fabric which covered my head, and whispered gently, “Aaisha, you are right It was done secretly At night When the men were away Mama sneaked out a few times That was how she returned and told me I was about your age Some women went with food, to be shared with others Many danced and sang along Mama was so happy and she wished she could bring me along”

My eyes widened with disbelievement I could imagine the exhilaration these few courageous women must have experienced in this clandestine meeting

“Mama told me that these were the most magical moments of her life She talked about how they sang of freedom. Freedom for women. Freedom from conflicts. That our men didn't have to go to war. A world where women were accepted. And their finale was the song I just sang. This happened in a little building which was once a primary school, on the other side of the village...it was so long ago...”

“Grandma, what happened to them?”

In a hushed tone, Grandma replied, “Aaisha, no one knows...”, she cleared her throat, and continued, “They left as suddenly as they appeared. Some said they were caught by the authorities. Others were told that they left for another village.” Grandma paused, closed her eyes momentarily, and then whispered; her voice now quivery, ”Yet, a few have claimed that they were not real Not humans Phantoms perhaps some claimed that they can still hear the music in the night ” her voice trailed off She looked away there was no disguising the sadness in her face, perhaps the heartache of her own mother’s, despite the thin veil

That night, I tossed and turned in bed. Grandma’s words kept replaying in my head. Songs and music floating...with instruments and dances.... Colours... vibrant colours ...colours of the blue sky, red hues of the bright morning sun, dashes of green from spring...intertwined in the background of my subconscious. As I drifted in and out of sleep, unconcealed faces...smiles and laughter...women dancing...perhaps with their bare feet showing... joyous faces of women who dared to venture... watching these outcasts... doing what they couldn't do...rocked me into a long sweet slumber.

The next night, when darkness had crept in, I trudged off, on that familiar route down to the other side of the village Despite the trepidation of being caught, the burning determination to search for the place where joy was once present on this part of earth overcame my fear I knew there was an area behind the old station, where kids were forbidden to go near Trees and thick bushes hid the place from view Even in the frosty stillness of the night, I could feel cold sweat forming on my brow; my heartbeat echoing my every step

the old, cracked, wooden doors groaned as I pushed them open I took a small hesitant step in a spacious hall greeted me Cracks of moonlight peered through the irregular slits in the roof, illuminating bars of dust that danced to the midnight breeze A large platform was at the other end of the hall Was this the place where the women danced and sang? On my right, were a few broken chairs and tables, strewn on the dusty wooden floor I could imagine the spread of delicious shir-pira and qatlama on the tables Then, I heard it Soft but the words were eerily familiar

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound,

I looked around...and only saw cracked walls, with vines growing in its crevices. On my left were rows of derelict benches...the song continued...

Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire,

Then, I saw visions of women in black cloaks and veils, laughing and chatting freely; some with their veils down, others dancing merrily In the stillness of the gripping silence, the sweet singing continued, as I stood entranced

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly,

I stared at the platform; silhouettes of figures in a myriad of bright colours floated... gorgeous exquisite colours, just as I had imagined. One with a tambourine in her hand; another with a lute. No veils. Faces. Smiles. Unmistakable joy. They danced. Sang. Enchanted. I watched, and heard...

And Spring herself, she woke up at dawn Who would notice that we were gone?

Emergency” by Hana 7A

AHHHHH! Dr Allen heard a scream of terror behind him Soon, the monster will disintegrate him as well After him, the citizens of Okledo will be next

Inside a classroom at Okledo middle, a 12-year-old boy called Mike sat at his desk, staring at the clock Tick Tock Tick Tock 9:58 Just two more minutes He could hear his twin sister Millie answering complicated equations he couldn’t understand Suddenly, there was a loud ring and he heard the principal’s voice boom through the loudspeaker

“Attention students and teachers We were informed by the city officials to evacuate Okledo We have to evacuate to the evacuation centre Please follow your teachers to the sports hall This is an emergency,” the principal said through the loudspeaker

Evacuation? Emergency? What is happening? Mike didn’t have time to process this as everyone suddenly rushed to the door into the hallway. The teacher ran after them, leaving him alone. He heard papers rustling. It was Millie.

He stared at her, “Are you serious right now? There’s been an emergency evacuation, and you’re worried about homework?”

His sister rolled her eyes, “C’mon! We don’t want to be left behind.”

They dashed toward the sports hall Everyone was gathered there, lining up according to their classes They rushed to their class and sat down, just in time for their names to be called in attendance They followed their class as they walked until they reached the bus area His classmates were just getting on the bus when Mike realised he had left his phone He might not come back if there has been an emergency Without thinking, he raced back to his classroom and retrieved his phone He sprinted back to the bus area, only to find out everyone had left All the buses were gone Mike’s heart dropped How was he supposed to reach the evacuation centre if the buses left? There was no way he could catch up It was impossible

He was thinking of running when he heard a loud crash He turned around Behind him, he could see a giant monster It was around 3 storeys tall and looked like the alien from ET, just 20 times bigger It took a car and gobbled it down Mike screamed That was a huge mistake as the monster grabbed another car, and threw it at him Mike dodged the car and began sprinting away The monster started to walk He was never going to make it by running He looked around and saw the car that got thrown at him The windows were smashed, and one

door was missing, but it was upright He went inside the car and climbed into the driver’s seat Mike was twelve, so he didn’t know how to drive a car, but he saw his parents drive every day He slammed the accelerator and surprisingly, the car moved forward.

He took a glance at the rearview mirror and found the monster walking towards him, crushing the ground below with every step. He was closing in fast. A lamppost speared the concrete, missing by a couple of centimetres. Another car got thrown at him. Mike took a sharp left around a corner to dodge it when he heard a screeching sound inside his head. It was pain, unlike anything he ever experienced. He wanted to put his hands on his head to stop the pain somehow, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Then suddenly, the pain stopped. He looked at the mirror again but he couldn’t see the monster. It was like it just vanished.

He turned his head to make sure the monster wasn’t there anymore, but he didn’t dare stop and step outside to see He didn’t slow down until 10 minutes later when he stopped at a gas station to rest, check his surroundings, and maybe ask someone for help If anyone was here He headed to the convenience store to see if anyone was there that could help him “Hello?” he called out, but no response came He called out again, louder this time Still, no response He walked around No one was there He took some gum and headed out He called his parents No response from either of them He was about to call 911 when his phone went pitch black No This can’t be happening His phone died He turned and was about to walk towards the fractured car when the monster appeared once again

This time, he didn’t scream There was no point Instead, he shouted, “Why? Why did you chase me? What’s so special about me?” He didn’t expect an answer He wasn’t even sure if it could talk He was about to get in the car when he heard a voice He looked at the monster It wasn’t talking It was like he could hear it in his head You humans have made me mad I do not leave anyone unpunished I have been locked away for eternity, tested on like some lab rat Every human deserves to die Finally, I can have my revenge Starting with you, and this time, you will not escape! Mike looked up to see a car coming his way. He dodged out of the way. Another car came. Mike narrowly dodged that one as well. He was feeling good about himself when he heard a familiar scream. He squinted his eyes so he could see who it was that screamed. His face paled. It was Millie.

The monster was grabbing her and threw her at Mike. This time, he didn’t try to dodge. He tried to catch her. Of course, that was a dumb idea. Millie crashed into Mike and they both fell. Millie was unconscious, but still breathing. Mike wondered how the monster knew about Millie when a memory popped up in his head. His mind, being tortured. The monster read his mind.

“Mike,” Mike turned around It was Millie She was pointing at something “You have to poison it The petrol ”

Mike looked at the petrol nozzle It wasn’t going to reach

“Hey idiot! Come and get me!” he shouted His plan was simple Try to lure the monster toward him so the petrol nozzle can reach the monster, so he can inject it into its leg. Do all that while trying not to get eaten. See?

Simple. Sure enough, after the threat, the monster came towards Mike. The monster was closing in fast. It swung its arm at him. He ran for his life. He took the nearest nozzle and started running towards the monster. Mike closed his eyes shut and held the nozzle in front of him. He felt something and pressed on the handle.

Mike heard a screech of pain and opened his eyes. He had injected the monster’s ankle. Yellow goo was coming out of it. Mike ran away just in time. The monster gave one last shriek and exploded into tiny bits.

He jogged to his sister, who was unconscious again. He half carried, half dragged her into the car and drove to the emergency centre. As they headed there, Mike couldn’t help but wonder, who would notice that we were gone?

“Allison” by

Abigail 8B

“IT'S 8:00 YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL JESSY!” As my ‘so called best parents’ shouted from the corridor which made the voice echo through the hallway like walls start copying the way my mom wakes me up I covered my ears with my big fluffy pillows that tends to lack my ‘own’ scent which I liked instead of washing detergent that my dad uses to fill up the house with his ‘amazing’ washing technique, one time he filmed himself doing it and even posted it on youtube- which got like no views other than him I scrunched up my face and let out a big sigh, my mom once smacked pans and pots together just because I did that one ‘sigh’ and never woke up after that My mom is already fully prepared with the pots and pans-and that's when my tiny brain remembered such depressing info that I had to present my history poster to the class I felt like I had no motivation , I was like- ragdoll I felt like my entire body was numb all over and I couldn't even get up to go to school Just that time when my mom was coming up the stairs with her pots I could already hear her complaining about the mess i made yesterday-

Well yesterday...... I didn't really have a normal day in school. I remembered that yesterday me and Allison (my best friend, ONE AND ONLY) were walking around the hallway in school, due to the project we had to do. We were given instructions to CLEARLY find one simple thing and write something about it, I didn't bother to listen to the teacher when i got my bestie Allison, She is pretty, and a outgoing girl, she’s very knowledgeable and always gets good grades, and that's when my mom compares me to her non-stop everytime she hangs around in my house. Anyways, Once me and my bestie started walking around the school’s hallway- We saw this kind of ‘hole’ in a wall behind a poster, it's like a 3 inch wide hole- I knew there was something on the other side-that's what I think, I saw lights, kind of like a dim flood light. It wasn't really shiny to my eyes. I still wonder whatever that hole was to do with our school or are there like thieves, robbers? You see, I always wanted to become a world known detective- I mean i love solving mysteries or finding suspicious stuff and I do feel like this was my chance! I was so excited I quickly dressed myself, tied up my hair with a hair claw, grabbed my bag and ran off I ran past my mom saying I’ll grab dinner out She wasn’t surprised to see me all ready when just a second ago i was still groaning in bed, that's how to really get me out of bed I ran to school wondering what I would find about the hole, and that's when I visited Allison’s house to walk to school with her Her parents said she happily left home to school already Although I was quite confused why because last night she told me to wait for her- surprise or something?

I went to school quickly to find where Allison were, I entered the warm and lively hallway of music classes, a group of people were gossiping about ‘girl stuff’ and the others were playing music- no I can't call that music, that's just like random noises no offense, The violins were out of tunes the cello were missing a string what music where they playing!? I quickly ran across the music hallway, it was a complete nightmare to my ears, Then I saw Allison standing next to the toilet, facing against the wall, frozen like a statue I came up to her and

asked if she was fine- she slowly turned around and gave me a long lasting, un-enjoyable death stare She had dark eye circles around her eyes, Her hair wasn’t brushed in a way she normally would brush it to, I could sense her aura, the not usual cheerful happy aura- but it seems cold, cold and terrifying. I stared at her from head to toe multiple times, and then asked if she was feeling alright. She was silent as a mute person, she didn't reply to any of my questions I asked her, That's when I realized she wasn’t ok- I mean it's pretty obvious she’s not ok but she mostly pranks me all the time alright!!?? Anyways, as I felt her cold aura surrounding me, I walked back a couple of steps, still facing her scary messy face..... And I thought it would be a good idea to try and solve what happened to her, so I grabbed both of Allison's arms and brought her back home first, as I thought it would be a good idea bringing her home instead of staying at school. As I recall, yesterday I left home first because I was so tired after Allison drags me around the school like the whole day.And as I slowly walked away down the old creaking steps, I remembered I forgot to return her pink hair tie she borrowed me when I was running around the place, So i turned back and I saw Allison. Allison... I didn't know what was happening to her- I-i peeked in a small hole from the door t-to only see her black Big Circular Eyes Just staring, not at me though, staring at the hole behind the poster I was confused and curious, So I kept peeking to see what Allison was doing, And now- I don't know how to explain this part, it's like magic- You wouldn't believe me though, In Fact I didn't even believe it myself! At that second, the same second where the big old clock tower about 100 meters behind me strikes 12 And exactly on the last strike she disappeared Like she really really disappeared I had no clue what on earth was happening It's like when I just looked at the old clock tower on the last strike I looked back, then saw a fast blur- fast black blur I felt like she wasn’t human or something, So today right here right now, I will go and figure out what's happening to my bestie And I will start With the hole Which I find very very suspicious, I mean everything happened there! When Allison disappeared, This morning when I found her Every moment was there I approached the hole with caution I was so scared I was trembling, I had a shiver up my spine but I knew I had to do this FOR ALLISON!

I went close to the hole It gave off a dark aura, the wall had weird patterns and it gave off an odor blinked once it appeared. Blink twice, it's gone. Blink thrice........... .ALLISON! who would’ve noticed they were gone.

“The Mystery” by Melissa 7A

“Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

I peeled my eyes open, only to be blinded by the harsh glare of the ceiling lights I blinked and my vision cleared and focused to reveal a policeman shaking me gently to wake me up Looking around dazedly, I asked myself how much time had I spent at the mall, passed out That particular Saturday was definitely a day I would never forget All those supernatural events that were not supposed to be happening on earth happened on that fateful day, in front of my naked eyes Just then, it dawned on me that I had not managed to find my friends My whole body felt like shutting down, all hope lost First of all, I was incapable of saving my friends and my perspective of this world turned upside-down My thoughts floated to the mind-numbing scene

It happened on a cheerful Saturday morning My friends and I decided to watch the latest blockbuster at the cinema. As the movie reached to an end, we stood up and sighed contentedly, our stomachs filled with the buttery sensation of popcorn. At this point, events started picking up. All of my friends wanted to take a restroom break so I patiently waited outside. Soon they walked out and we turned to leave. Surprisingly, there was no sign of an exit door. Instead, we saw a queer looking door. On this particular door, there were words ‘Enter if you dare’ written in bold red. Well, my friends were bored. I was bored. So, we took up the challenge to give ourselves some thrill. Calmly, I stretched my hand and got hold of the rusty, old knob. The door yielded to my pressure. A blood curdling noise came from the hinges. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the worst.

Carefully, I navigated into the sinister room followed by my friends. Chills ran down my spine. Due to the lack of windows, the whole place was almost pitch-black except for a dim light from a single candle on a beaten stool, casting eerie shadows around the room Possibly, someone might have come into this room not too long ago because the candle looked like it had been lit for only a few minutes I decided to pull out my phone for better lighting Cobwebs lurked in every corner, every nook and cranny casting a haunting aura to the room Oddly enough, at that moment, draughts swept across the room Though how was that possible? There wasn’t even a window in sight Looking everywhere with curiosity and wonder, I failed to notice a muffled scream and a figure leaping across the room Minutes later, realizing that there was a sudden hush, I looked around, my eyes sweeping the whole area with panic Strangely, it seemed that my friends had suddenly vanished into thin air To my horror, there wasn’t a living soul in sight Looking towards a second door, I dashed through it and tripped down the staircase that came after the door

As I descended the last step, appearing in front of my very own eyes, I literally saw words written with the same bold red colour that my friends and I saw at the entrance of this unknown area This time though, I was breaking into cold sweat The words were clearly spelt out: ‘They Were Here ’ That surely was not right, did that mean

they had been through this room already? Something told me that they had been kidnapped The burning question though, was who might have written those words on the wall Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow of a person, I could not see clearly in the darkness but I reckoned the person was dressed in black. “Nevermind, it was probably just a hallucination,” I pacified myself. Turning around, I ventured further into the room. The first item that caught my attention was a spindle that really reminded me of the one in the fairytale, ‘Sleeping Beauty’. What related even more to the story was that there was blood at the edge of the needle. Every horrifying discovery urged me to make a run out of this room instantly, but I needed to find my friends. “Hello, Is anybody there?” My own voice, hoarse, alien and unfamiliar to my ears, echoed along the deathly silent room, a plea for reassurance never answered. Beginning to feel the first terrifying tinges of desperation creeping into my heart, I resorted to go through another door. Wait a second. I could not believe my eyes. I just saw the door swinging...back and forth and getting more vigorous.

This was the last straw The room was lit with a ghostly light and the sound of a grinding noise was not too far off Out of the blue came the figure I saw in the other room My pulse quickened I was all alone It pounced on me with its sharp nails digging into my skin Fighting back, I tried to pull it off At the same time, I frantically looked around the room but instead, I saw blood flecked all across the floor and a machine that was making the grinding noise, the blades of it seemed to stare at me with an evil glint Stumbling onto the floor, the creature loosened its grip on me and I ran back into the other room, sprinting through the stairs into the first room, my ankle throbbing as I ran for my life Little did I know that dozens of the figures I witnessed would be guarding the door Now, I really saw all their faces clearly They resembled one of the scariest masks I saw during Halloween and it was intimidating With all the strength I could muster, I crashed their heads into each other Flinging the door open, I emerged out into the strange entrance As breath after ragged breath tore through me, I slammed the door shut behind me Looking at myself now, there was blood all over my arms and legs and my ankle was swollen after I tripped on those stairs Sobbing hysterically, tears cascading down my cheeks, I was disappointed in myself that I was unable to discover where my friends were taken too Hopelessness and grief pulled me apart as I succumbed to the thought of who would notice that we were gone.

“The Curse of the Mary Celeste” by Yi-Jay 9A

The Mary Celeste is probably one of the most famous ghost ship stories in the world There have been many theories about how it became a ghost ship However, all of them do not come close to what really happened This is the true story of the Mary Celeste And I, Captain Benjamin S Briggs, take up my pen and go back to the year 1872 when my family and I had just relocated from Chicago to New York after my many successful trades over the years

I remember it as though it were yesterday It was October 21st, a cold rainy night The weather outside made no difference to us as we were inside one of the biggest mansions in New York The fire lit up pleasantly, warming everyone in the room My friends and I sat around smoking cigars, discussing the latest news as we always did every Saturday night

My friends who kept me company were: Doctor Stuart, a neurologist; Robert Brown, an engineer and James Smith; a banker. All successful and respectable personages. “Well Stuart, what about the Chicago fires?” asked Robert Brown.

“According to The Daily Telegraph the police are hot on the trail of the culprit.”

“Apparently the fire started from a farm,” Smith broke in.

“It is speculated that he is a sailor. Perhaps a merchant.” It was I who had now put down my newspaper to join the conversation

The Chicago fires, a current hot topic happened a year ago in 1871 The fires destroyed eighteen thousand buildings and killed three hundred people

“The chances of the criminal escaping is slim, ” said Stuart

“The world is a big place,” I muttered

“I agree with the Captain,” said Brown “There are still many places yet to be discovered It is very easy to go missing”

“About going missing,” said Smith with a fascination for mysterious events “There is a cursed ship called the Mary Celeste The previous captain died in it from pneumonia On the ship’s second journey, it ran aground

Then recently, it collided with an English Vessel! Anyhow, one of my friends, Richard W Hanes bought this cursed asset and restored it He is now looking to sell it Benjamin, you're a fine seaman Why not buy it? Break the curse.”

“Buy it?” I asked incredulously.

“Look,” broke in Brown “Let’s make a wager. If you buy this ‘cursed’ ship and sail it from here to another port, say Italy and survive the trip, we will each give you a thousand pounds.”

“This is absurd!” I cried.

“A true gentleman will never back down from a challenge,” said Stuart bluntly.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” I said finally

A wager was at once drawn and signed by the four parties I was set to go to the port in Genoa, Italy delivering one thousand seven hundred barrels of alcohol I will leave New York port on November 7th and arrive in Genoa in three weeks

By the time the ship was ready to sail at noon, I was tired out I had brought with me my wife, daughter and eight able crew men A huge company gathered around the New York Harbour Word had spread like wildfire about our private wager, and many other gentlemen were making their own small bets “How about a song, Captain?” shouted Walker, our cook

“Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!” I sang and the whole crew joined in: “To me way-aye, blow the man down!”

The anchor was lifted and the winds filled the sails. People began to wave and soon the port was nothing but a small dot. The first few days passed by, uneventful. There was one event where Fred got into an argument with the cook but it was soon resolved. The food was good, the workload for each crew member light and the weather conditions were perfect. After crossing half the Atlantic Ocean, the curse of the Mary Celeste began to strike. At around midnight Fred reported that Walker was missing. “He said that he heard you calling him, Captain.”

I scoffed at this “I did not call anyone I was here in my quarters ”

“Well, have you seen him Captain?”

We immediately launched a search party but as the hours dwindled by with no sign of Walker, fear slowly crept into our hearts. Alas when we regrouped, we realized that Fred was gone too.

“It’s a cursed ship Captain! This ship is haunted. I can feel it in my bones!” I could see panic in their eyes.

“Perhaps this is their little prank. Tomorrow morning they’ll both be laughing at us.” We never saw Walker nor Fred again. From then on, no more songs were sung. The terror of the Mary Celeste had fallen upon our spirits.

With the cook gone, my wife took over the kitchen. Tonight's menu: stew pork with mash, accompanied with plenty of rum. When the food was served every man gobbled their meal down heartily. As Jim got up to get more rum, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Akin to someone being stabbed, he dropped down onto the ground with a loud thud His body lifeless

Everyone went dead quiet, eyes widened and faces as pale as death Another thud was heard, this time it was Adrain, the engineer, his head dropped lifelessly onto the table “It’s the ship The ghost of Mary Celeste is after us!” one cried The whole crew drew their pistols preparing to shoot something they couldn't see

\Thud Another crew member down

“I should have listened to my wife I shouldn't have come aboard!” another cried

Thud Thud Now it was only the two of us left Scond mate Nevile and I

“Captain, what are we going to do?” I slowly approached him.

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Soon the poison will kill you too.”

“You!” Nevile growled. “But why?!”

I let out a chuckle. “This is my getaway, you fool. You think I meant to stop in Italy? The bet was the perfect cover up. It was I who started the Chicago fire. I set my barn on fire for the insurance money. I needed the capital to fund my trading business.”

Thud Nevile collapsed The last victim falling to the curse of the Mary Celeste

“Never liked you, Nevile Always wanting your way In fact, I never liked any of you boys,” I muttered as I tossed their lifeless bodies overboard

Taking my wife and daughter with me, and leaving everything else untouched, we got into the lifeboat and sailed away. Who would notice that we were gone?

The Chicago fires happened on October 8, 1971. It supposedly started from a barn belonging to Patrick and Catherine O’Leary and took the lives of three hundred people. As for the Mary Celeste, it set sail a year later on November 7th. On board was Captain Benjamin, his wife, daughter and eight crew members. It was set to arrive in Genoa, Italy but on December 5th, 1872 the ship was found sailing aimlessly by itself near Azores, Portugal. Nobody was found on the ship and nothing was missing except a piece of rope and a lifeboat.

“Weapon to Kill” by Yi-Liz 8A

Beeepppppppppppppp, went the flat line of the machine hooked up to the patient's heart I switched off the monitor

Time of death “9 54pm,” Dr Adam announced as he checked the time

They say it gets easier with each passing patient People die all the time, even more so in hospitals and in the Intensive Care Unit Yet, my heart felt heavy Dan was only in his forties He was on the mend, and his prospect for recovery high This was totally unexpected

I pulled the white sheets to cover his face Outside the unit, I could hear faint sounds of cries Through the small tinted glass, I could make out three figures in an embrace A mother who has to bury her son, a wife who has lost her life partner and a baby who will never know her father. The angel of death has won yet again.

“Hello,” Ms. Turner a Senior staff from the hospital Risk Management department said whilst stepping onto the small platform, demanding attention. Her audience, doctors and nurses who had filed into a meeting room. “We want to make you aware of an event in this hospital. There has been an incident in the hospital which we are investigating. We thought it best to bring you all together, to let you know that the police are involved.”

“What sort of event?” a senior doctor blurted out

“There’s been an issue with a patient's death in the ICU ”

“Was the death suspicious? If the police are investigating ” Another from the crowd asked

“I want to be very clear, we’re investigating with the assistance of the police,” Ms Turner interrupted her “ As external parties are involed, Mr Beattie, our attorney is here, and he would like to say something ”

“Thanks,” he said as he steps up onto the platform, “I just want to say in your interviews with the police, patient confidentiality is of utmost important Hence, for every interview that you may be called upon by the police, either I or Ms Turner wil be present at all times Thank you”

“Amy, come in.” Mr. Beattie said as he open his office door. I fixed my white nurse jacket before walking in. “This is Officer Braun,” he continues. “Have a seat.”

I nodded. “Do you remember Jane Martinez?” Braun questioned.

Startled, I replied, “Yeah, Jane was my patient.”

“Do you recall or remember anything strange about what had happened to her?” Braun inquired.

Confused, I asked, “Strange?”

“Well, she died ” Braun stated

“Yeah It was very sad, we didn’t expect it,” I said

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and a lady popped her head in “I don’t mean to interrupt but can I see Mr Beattie for a minute?”

“Is it urgent?” Mr Beattie asked sighing

She nodded her head

“Excuse me I’ll be right back ”

Officer Braun’s eyes glistened. He flipped open his file and placed a sheet of paper in front of me. “Do you see any deviations here?”

My eyes ran through the sheet of paper containing Jane’s blood test results. I examined the amounts of hemoglobin, lipids, salt and so on. “Wait. Her glucose... The blood sugar levels are wrong. There’s no C-peps...”

“What does it mean?”

“It means that the insulin in her system wasn’t made from her body” I was as perplexed as he was “She isn't diabetic The insulin would’ve been a double medication error, which is rare ”

“Would that have killed her?”

“It could.”

The conversation quickly ended when we heard footsteps approaching. He swiftly stored away the paper.

“Sorry about that,” Mr. Beattie said. “Let’s continue.”

“So, we understand that you work with Charlie and Ron.” Braun prompted, “Could they be involved in this?”

“They weren’t there. Jane died on the day shift we work nights.” I replied defensively. “They are very good nurses.”

“There’s no reason to suspect anyone,” Mr Beattie interjected, “Thank you Amy”

***

As I drove into the front porch of my home, standing at my front door, Officer Braun A week had passed since I last saw him Exhausted from a long day at work, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened to him, but I can’t ” I stammered as I got out of my car

“Who’s him?”

“Keith Anderson, I mean ”

“Has there been another death? Another double-medication error? Were the Cullens with him?”

“This has nothing to do with them.”

“How well do you know them?”

“They have just been here for four months, but they are my friends.”

Braun filled me in quickly that the Cullen brothers had been working at nine hospitals prior to this. “None of the hospitals will talk about them They are stone walling us Amy,” Braun replied frustrated “I know they are your friends but if there is anything you have missed out that you might be able to help us with, please contact us ” As soon as he left I picked up my phone, I knew just who I needed to call

“Hey Sarah, have you heard of the Cullen brothers?” I asked an ex-coworker from Saint Barnabas hospital

“Yes,” Sarah replied after a long pause.

“Well, I’m working with them now,” I said slowly.

“Oh Amy, you know, there were rumors about them. That they were responsible for a patient’s death,” she said in a hush tone. “They found insulin and digoxin in the victims saline bag. The scary part was, when they searched the stores, they found tiny needle pricks in the saline bags!” I bit my lips.

“Amy, I am telling you this as a friend. When they arrived our code blue was two to three times a week. After they left it was back to once or twice a month ” A chill ran down my spine Drugs like digoxin when employed in large enough doses and injected via IV stream was lethal Combined with insulin it would send patients into a spiraling diabetic comas As both drugs were transparent, injecting them into the saline bags would go unnoticed

In the hospital medical supply storage, Amy slumps down the floor as she discovered tiny holes in the saline bags It all became clear to her The tampered saline once hooked onto the patient, enters the bloodstream slowly, taking hours or even a day to kill the patient, explaining why the victims didn’t die during the Cullens shift Not too far off, with music blaring at maximum volumn, the Cullen brothers drove off to Pennsylvania where their next nursing jobs awaited

“Who would notice we were gone?” ***

“The Bathhouse” by Doris 8A

The Greenhouse Terrace, the home to many orphans who do not know where they came from and the place where my best friend Roxanna and I grew up The Sisters who took care of us said that we were inseparable We called everyone family here, and we lacked nothing We had a blissful life within the walls that separated us from the Outside

Every year, the orphans who turned fifteen would transfer Outside after the great ceremony of Graduation The number one most discussed topic amongst us orphans, our Graduation kept our minds occupied but somehow nobody had ever talked about what we would do afterwards Maybe we simply did not have time for it during our fully packed schedules Our Sisters, the caring but strict guardians, taught us at the Academy in the Greenhouse Terrace We learned to cultivate cabbage and carrots and plant orchards; three days a week, Sister Agnes led us to the field and we ran and jumped till we fell on the cool green grass, exhausted For a couple of hours a week, we learned to read, and I loved it. But the Sisters told us we would hardly need reading skills after Graduation. Yet, Roxanna would quietly steal a book or two from our measly library and we would read about Alice bravely travelling through Wonderland and the Red Riding Hood chatting with the Wolf. I had never seen a wolf, but I think I would know what to tell him if I did. We lived and studied in a huge, sprawling mansion of the Greenhouse Terrace. We called it home.

Adjacent to the mansion, stood an odd crumbling building. They called it the Bath House. But I do not remember when we had ever bathed there. The small windows right under the roof always emitted a shimmering ghostly light, but I had never seen anyone ever walking in or out of it. Roxanna wondered once, ”It would be interesting to know what’s over there, in the Bath House”

One spring night, Roxanna snuck up to me in our dormitories, her eyes glistening with excitement: she saw a shadowy figure with a lamp traversing the orchards towards the Bath House Smirking, I immediately knew her intentions: ”I see, it seems an expedition in the Bath House is due Let’s find out what exactly is going on in there ”

Roxanna and I spent the next few nights gathering the equipment we needed Avoiding suspicion from the Sisters proved hard but our curiosity and determination to carry out the expedition made us careful and thorough We stole flashlights from the cupboards, biscuits from the kitchen to make our stakeout more like an adventure, and, just in case, a swiss army knife that Sister Anne kept inside a metal box for peeling apples Finally after all those meticulous preparations, we had only one last step to take: investigate the Bath House

Dressed in identical marroon raincoats and wellington boots, Roxanna and I slipped quietly through the heavy carved wooden doors of the Greenhouse Terrace and crept across the pathway right into the orchard It was the biggest thunderstorm we had seen in a while. Nobody’ll notice we snuck out. Clinging to the Bath House wall and with the thunder masking our sound, we moved like shadows to the plankwood door. Even if the lightning struck far away from us, I felt like electricity was making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Peering into the darkness, I suddenly noticed that there was a lock on the door! Out of nowhere, Roxanna pulled out a hair pin, lowered before the lock and after a few fumbling movements we heard a click. How could she do that? She must have read about it somewhere in a book! We carefully tiptoed inside. The ghostly light, emitted by countless tubes above the ceiling, bathed the walls of the bath house, stacked with shelves full of beakers, mason jars and glass flasks. Inside some jars, what looked like hearts, livers, and brains, floated in transparent fluids. Whose were those? We never had any animals around; neither did we have any meat in our meals.

Roxanna let out a muffled gasp and pointed at the door ahead A bright narrow strip from under it could mean only one thing: someone was there, in the room conjoined to the hall where we stood We looked at each other: voices Crouching, trying to make no noise, Roxanna and I pressed our ears against the closed door My eyes widened I recognised those voices The Council of Sisters!

The head Sister’s monotonous voice spoke with authority: “We are running out of time The Outside requires more specimens immediately and their demands are greater than what we can provide The Greenhouse Terrace is the most successful incubator for large amounts of food, and we must uphold that reputation If our next batch of girls are not ready by next month, our orphanage will not receive the funds to sustain you and me for another year We don't want to become food ourselves, do we?”

Incubator all those hearts and livers in jars Food! I glanced at Roxanna: her hand kept the gasp of horror inside, but her eyes screamed

We heard next:

“From now on, the training regime must be regulated strictly: the girls must be lean but healthy. I heard some orphans asking questions: sounds like someone wants to know more than they need. Find those curious ones and dispose of them immediately. Asking questions leads to seeking answers. They must live in oblivion before their Graduation. Enforce a stricter training system; focus on their physical fortitude and inducing mental retardat...”

Before the head Sister finished her words, Roxanna and I had burst out of the bath house and dashed back into the orchards Cold, ghastly silence tied our tongues Who were we? What should we even do with our newfound knowledge of our home?

As soon as we were on safe grounds, Roxanna vomited straight into a nearby bush and collapsed onto the neatly trimmed grass. After a long bout of silence, she stuttered out: “I-i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... We’re screwed!” I didn’t know how to respond to her. My mind was completely blank and even the sound of rain was drowned out by my heartbeats. Without thinking it through, I blurted out: “L-let’s get out of here together! Even if w-we don’t know anything. Nobody cares... Who would notice that we were gone?”

“Preservation” by Amelia 7A (Selected: FOBISIA International Competition)

Famine swept through the woodlands, and the winter snow blanketed the already bare trees This winter was like no other The bitter cold stung, and the river had been glazed over with a layer of ice From a dead oak tree, a tawny-brown nightjar was perched on the branch, its limbs too numb to move This particular nightjar had not constructed its nest for winter, as the forest ground was frozen solid, the twigs snapping as soon as the slightest pressure was placed upon them The nightjar’s stomach gnawed with hunger, and its wings were stiff with cold

Other nightjars had instructed it to construct a nest in the dense forest floor, and enter hibernation, but there simply wasn’t a suitable space that wasn’t prowling with the rust-coloured foxes or persistent birdwatchers with their clicking cameras No matter what, the other nightjars muttered, do not seek help from whoever dwells in the cottage Those who go in don’t come out

Howling, the winds swept through the woodlands, the nightjar knew that this night would be frigid and that his luck had run dry. Eventually, the nightjar found the strength to fly off the tree, swooping through the woodlands, crying out. After several hours, the nightjar collapsed onto the damp snow, shivering. Wisps of cold air emerged from his beak as the nightjar exhaled defeatedly. Then, it glanced up. There was a brick house in the distance, with plumes of smoke emerging from a chimney. Using its last burst of strength, the nightjar shot toward the home, banging its head on the door.

Hearing the impact of the nightjar against the door, an elderly woman opened the door and spotted the exhausted nightjar on the ground

“Oh, you poor bird,” cooed the woman, scooping it up “I’ll take you in, where you’ll be warm ”

Without protesting, the nightjar was carried into the home Everything was furnished: the couch was lined with woollen pillows and the ground with rugs The blazing fire in the hearth cast a warm glow across the room

“Thank you, kind stranger,” gasped the nightjar, raising its head

The woman chuckled, nudging a bowl of assorted dried fruits toward it “Oh, there’s no need to thank me, nightjar Even through this famine, I’ve gotten some food for you, as I’m more than glad to help poor creatures such as you Why don’t you spend the night here?”

“No thank you,” replied the nightjar politely “I must return to the woodlands to build my nest ” “You could stay here till the end of winter,” offered the woman

The nightjar paused. “Alright, then. How could I repay your generosity?”

“There’s no need to, my dear bird,” The woman answered. “I’ll make you a bed.”

The woman left the nightjar on the dining table to finish his meal and departed towards the bedrooms. Moments later, the woman emerged with a cigarette tin and a woollen piece of cloth. At that moment, the nightjar realised that it was in the cottage – it was the only bungalow in the woodlands – that was occupied. By all appearances, this elderly woman was harmless: her creaking limbs, skeletal face with warm eyes, and a flowery apron that served as a winter jacket. What was it that made the other nightjars so concerned? Had they not seen how pleasant and cordial she could be?

“This will keep you warm during the night ” She picked up the nightjar and tucked him into the makeshift bed

“Good night, nightjar Whatever you are to do, never open the door with the red string on the doorknob ”

Curiosity gripped the nightjar As soon as the woman left, lightly shutting the door behind her, the nightjar rose, and hopped out All the candles had been snuffed out The nightjar shuffled across the coarse but intricated Arabian carpet, to the door with the limp red string on the doorknob Surprisingly, the door wasn’t locked Gingerly, the nightjar pressed itself through

The room was bare, the walls whitewashed A damp rug was placed in the centre of the room, and from a visual point of view, for no reason at all The nightjar nudged a corner of the rug up, with its flat head There was a worn wooden trapdoor. Prodding the rest of the rug away, the nightjar wedged its beak under the sunken handle. After much effort, the trapdoor was open wide enough for the nightjar to enter. Rasping stairs descended into the darkness. Instantly, musty air filled the nightjar’s lungs, as it descended underground. Instead of a treasure horde of unimaginable riches, the nightjar was greeted with the sight of countless glass jars, each the exact copy of the others, stacked in neat rows in the shelves, labelled and preserved. The nightjar was a nocturnal creature, with its orb-like eyes able to pierce through the dark. It flew up to one of the shelves and peered into the glass jar. To the nightjar’s horror, the bloated body of a woodpecker, with its head tucked towards its chest, hovered in the mustard-coloured liquid, bubbles at its neck. The dark, beady eyes of the woodpecker glared back at the nightjar, peeled open. In the next jar, was a goldfinch, with its minuscule beak and tufted head feather bobbed in the liquid Preserved and frozen in the winter cold, the bodies of every species of bird fathomable was stored in these glass jars, labelled with translucent paper

There were still several shelves here that had unoccupied jars in their place The nightjar swooped towards them, scanning the elaborate cursive handwriting, and to its dismay, there was a tag with ‘Nightjar’ scribbled on it in thick ink. Instantaneously, the nightjar shot out of the cellar, its heart in its throat. Franticness gripped the nightjar – to bolt out immediately, before it was joined the ranks of the other birds.

The nightjar dove out from the trapdoor and headed towards the door through which it had entered through, but now the exit was bolted from the outside. Frenetically, the nightjar flapped around the room in a fit of sheer terror, but there were no windows; no gaps in the wall; no exits in the cellar; and now the only escape was restricted.

After what seemed like several hours, the night’s periwinkle curtain was drawn back by the golden fingers of dawn Cold had eaten away at the nightjar, frosting its feathers with a tiara of crystals around its head The fatigued nightjar, depleted of all will and energy, lay on the ground, its body temperature perfect for preservation

I, the nightjar, in my desperation, lay on the tiled ground Before me, the door creaked open The elderly woman entered, and plucked me up from the ground, and headed downwards to the cellar of preserved birds Bottles of formalin and silver trays were set on the ground Unbeknownst to her, I was still conscious, merely unable to move In my last moments, before being dipped into the bitter formalin, I glanced at the rows of dead birds, bobbing in the clear fluid, one no different from the other

Who would notice that we were gone?

“The Future” by Audrey (Gimin) 10H

When I was very young, I met a girl She was 17, I know that for sure, and I was about 6 I remember thinking that she was very pretty She smiled at me and knelt down in the grass I was playing on top of a small hill; it might seem irresponsible to some that my parents were letting me play alone, but this was a village where everyone knew each other As soon as I made my way down, there would be someone to recognise me and take me back to my parents

I looked up at her and asked what her name was She told me it was Lynne I was young and simple and saw no reason to continue talking to her now that my curiosity had been sated, so I played by myself in silence before my parents came to collect me Lynne was already gone by then

A handful of years later, I met her again. I had just started middle school and was lounging on a bench, completely spent after a long school day. She skipped up to me and waved before pointing at her face, beaming like seeing me was the best thing about her afternoon.

“Remember me?” she asked.

I blinked She must have sensed my confusion as she elaborated, “I’m Lynne From when you were a kid?”

“Oh,” I replied I had foggy memories of a girl with flowing hair smiling down at me “Lynne You look the same ”

She giggled and sat next to me. I briefly wondered how she could recognise me from a single meeting that happened years ago, but brushed it aside in favour of talking to someone new. As nice as the town was, it was boring. All it was to me back then was a never-ending stream of the same faces over and over again

In my mind we talked for hours. She was the most interesting person I had met. Her voice had a breathy quality to it and she recounted events like she had experienced them centuries ago. ‘It was so long ago’s and ‘I was so young then’s filled the air as she told me story after story. But eventually, the sun started to set and I had to go home.

She became a part of my life after that. Every day I would go to find her so I could sit and listen. I had loved to lose myself in the worlds she created, and every moment where I wasn’t with her was spent daydreaming. When I woke up my head was filled with tales of royalty. During lunch I drifted off to sea, and before I tucked myself in I fantasised about ballrooms. Lynne always stayed the same. Same face, same

height, same voice And she still talked like she had existed for centuries

I had worked up the courage to ask her about it on a snowy day We had been sitting on the hill again, delicate crystals getting caught in our hair and dampening our clothes She laughed and told me that aging was so tedious she decided to stop I was puzzled but accepted it After all, she was an interesting girl in a dull village If she wasn’t completely human then so be it

But aging wasn’t a choice for me I grew as the years passed and the future loomed over me I had been terrified at what it meant and so I waited for something to save me I was ignorant back then I thought that wanting meant you would be getting Soon I realised there was nothing coming for me No flash of lighting, no knight in shining armour, no grand sign that I could be something more than another face in the crowd So I longed for something different but never did anything to make it happen

My had peers moved on. My teachers had retired. My neighbours had moved out.

I'd stayed. I’d decided to stay and be young forever. Just like Lynne. I told her so, and she smiled.

But then a sign came It wasn’t anything like I had expected Nothing like those fairytales I kept close to my heart Instead of a swooping hawk or a sudden death, my revelation was a party It was a small celebration between family and friends for Jackie Day who had got accepted into some faraway city’s college As one of her neighbours, I had been an attendee And when I saw the look on her face I knew what I wanted

She looked exhilarate and terrified Like one wrong word would send her running I knew then that I would give anything to feel like that; to feel something that made my heart thump And I realised I would have to work for it

I told Lynne my decision. It hadn’t been a confrontation, not really. Just a quiet mention that I was going to take a chance That I would come back

Lynne didn’t see it that way She had screamed that I was abandoning her and cried as she clawed at my arms I sighed.

“Is it really so hard to grow old?”

“Yes!” she cried out, appalled She gave me one last look before stalking off, her hair flying behind her like a flag

I had returned the next day, then the next, then the next I slowly realised that the only thing I’d hear from her was her shuffling behind the closed door I resigned myself to the fact that she wanted nothing to do with me, and stopped coming back.

It wasn’t easy, leaving her behind But I had things I wanted to do, things I wanted to see So I moved to the city

It was far from perfect It was messy and noisy and there were days where I would have rather torn my hair out than get out of bed In spite of that, I loved my life I had grabbed the reigns instead of sitting in the back and mourning what I refused to do

Hence, I decided to pay her a visit. I drove back and met with my parents. I hugged them and sat on their table, soaking in the warmth they provided me before grabbing my shoes.

I found her on the hill. At first she was a silhouette, a figure swaying with the wind like a reed.

Her hair was sheared short Her eyes had wrinkles around the corners, the kind that came with laughter She was taller She smiled at me And together, we talked about the future

Hope, the word which possesses the meaning-of positive in desiring, is my name I always thought magical living things were real, like in a fairy tale Having tons of imagination, this was just a routine in my life The illusion which emerged inside my head kept dragging me into an unrealistic world Perhaps this was the reason why my name was called Hope If anyone asks me what I usually dream about, I would say that I imagine myself deeply immersed in an unknown world Then the person, who gave me the inquiry of “philosophy”, would say that I’m out of my mind My father also shook his head when he heard my personal opinion of dreams. And this is my thought about it. “What is the point of living when you can't do the things you desire to do?” I chose not to care about what others have forced me to. I would always read books about fantasy and adventures. Drastically excited, the red beating machine was bumping inside my body. I stepped towards my father's library where most of the books were stored. My dad made sure not to come inside his room otherwise he would allow me to. But I was too excited to think ahead. I was looking for a book with other stories about fictitious creatures. Then, I found myself in front of a desk drawer. It pulled my arm and forced me to grab its handle. The drawers were open-nothing. I reached out to the dark shade and felt something woolen-it was a book! As I opened the book, the wind flipped the papers. There were ripped papers in between pages. There were only three pages that were left behind. I wondered if my father used it. But this one looked like an abandoned book. I thought this could come in handy as a notebook for me to write my thoughts When I hid the book inside my bag, the door shouted with a creek sound It was a person who interfered with my life When he saw me in his private room, he started yelling at me He was nagging at me saying, "Hope! I told you not to come into my library!"

I didn't like him scolding me. I tried to clarify that I was getting a book to read, but he only thought I was making an excuse. I don't even know why he is so obsessed with it. Not wanting to hear his words anymore, I walked out of the room. 'Who calls that a dad?' I thought. "Bam!" There went the door. Shut me in a cage like a poor animal. I didn't come out until my dad forced me; it was dinner time.

I decided to do as he told me to because hiding myself in a room won't help me anymore. Instead of talking to my father, I thought about rushing towards my room. But this indifferent, chit-chatter kept talking to me. It felt like his words went through my right ear and left through my left ear. But this one thing kept my ears open. It was when he said we were going to move house.

"To where? When? What about my friends at school now? Why are you telling me this right now?" I tried to sound calm

"It's not going to happen straight away, Hope We have at least half a year"

"But this is our home What else is our home?"

I wondered why he wanted so much to leave this house All he talked about was nonsense What about all the memories with mother? Well, I don't want to leave my real house It is like my shelter, my mother's arms Now you don't have any feelings for her? Do I have a decision? If you want me to, then take me You have the authority to make me change my mind anytime What? It's the truth

With tears bursting out, I couldn't hide my expression There was a flood in my room I pulled out the book I found inside my father's desk drawer and wrote down the disappointments I had today Describing each emotion of my feelings at that time I was exhausted I quickly wrote the last line saying that I wish he didn’t bother me anymore After writing it, I said good night to the fireflies above my bed and slept The sun rose; it was the next day My dad was knocking on the door, trying to wake me up Is it just me, or do you always say to your parents that you are awake, then go to sleep again? I do that sometimes-ending up getting late for school Luckily ,today was not the same, but everything was still gloomy And I was still upset because of my father deciding without considering my thoughts After school, I usually do my homework first-but like I’ve said, I don’t feel like doing work today So I just sat on my chair and pulled out the diary My feelings were telling me that something was wrong The color of the written text was changed into gold It seemed like gold ink, and looked like it wasn’t going to rub off easily Felt something shivering inside my body, I quickly tore down the page The ink was still there, glowing Then I had this thought

of my dad disappearing I Hurried, ran to my father, worried, panting There were no signs of him No one was there and it was the middle of the night Now I wasn’t satisfied with my wishes I asked them for more privacy, they gave me a dark void instead It made me sob with nothing left behind As I cried, I tried to find him outside But it was too dark, so I came back home Then I thought, ‘When was the last time I’ve searched for him?’ I was the one who didn’t listen, I was the one who didn’t care It was no use blaming myself He was gone Vanished like a shadow of nowhere Made my hearts torn instead of tearing down the pages How I wished my mother was here How I wished my father came back I walked towards the desk again, hitting it I pulled out the handle of the desk drawer-this time, something was there A note, saying, Hope, even though it seems like I dislike you, I love you I love you so much darling

It made me burst into tears, and said, “I love you too dad.” My eyes were closed.

“Hope! Hope!” I could hear dad’s voice. I opened my eyes, and the one who I was desperate to see was standing right in front of me. I didn’t have time to think about what had happened. I was just relieved that he was here.

At first, I didn’t know how valuable this person was At least I do now I’m not going to ask him to walk toward

me because I’m going to Love you dad

“Coming of Age” by Swati 10C

Jade, abnormally, didn’t wake from her slumber when her alarm tinged this one dawn Her eyelids restricted her to be conscious She quietened her alarm and floated back into her dreamless sleep After a couple of hours, her body eventually chose to collaborate with her mind The clock on her bedroom wall indicated 9:00 AM As her gaze locked on the clock, she realized she was an hour late for an eminently essential meeting Jade scrambled out of her sheets and dressed in her work clothes She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, dark circles under her eyes and knotted hair; she improved the disarray and darted out of her apartment. Jade started the engine and accelerated to her office. "How could I let this happen? This meeting was going to bring my business to its full potential and I'm late." She violently screamed at herself. Her mind was too preoccupied to observe herself accelerate past a red light. Everything blackened within seconds.

“Jade? Wake up dear” murmured an unfamiliar lady to Jade Jade’s eyes slowly peeled open, the glow of the world blinding her vision A captivating lady was seated on a rocking chair beside her The unknown lady had short hair that was coated with streaks of silver and dressed herself in a mint-green cardigan and flower-patterned skirt She eyed Jade with a delicate smile, dimples flattering her face

“Um Miss, Where am I and who are you precisely?” Jade questioned

“My name is Beatrice, I am an advisor, and you are in the afterlife! Well, eventually you will be. This is a location halfway between life and death, it's where certain individuals arrive, where they understand the errors they made in their mortal lives This is to ensure everyone will live in tranquility in the immortal world"

“Slow down Beatrice, afterlife? What are you indicating by that? Am I dead?" Jade gradually initiated panic in herself.

"Deep breaths Jade, unfortunately, you passed away in an automobile collision close to 7 hours ago Its okay, there is no need for panic, you are in a harmless place” Beatriced comforted while simultaneously calming down Jade

"How could I have generated mistakes in my life? Do you what my life was like, it was flooding with success and cash Everything anyone could desire, how is that an error in any way?" Jade ranted “Darling, your life may have been filled with fame and money, but was it supplied with any love? Let's get you out of this bed and we can have a small discussion on that sofa, alright?” Beatrice took the hand of Jade's and enabled her to sit on the couch “Lets watch a scene” Beatrice said as she turned on the projector

Jade observed herself organizing her heels alongside her others by her front door She sat down, pulled out

her laptop from her bag, and was greeted by blue light - illuminating her face The sky was painted with pigments of orange, yellow, and blue She started typing, which continued for hours until the clock on her wall revealed 12:00 AM. She got herself prepared for bed and sank into her mattress. Beatrice paused the video for a moment and turned to Jade “Do you understand what you did wrong in this video?” Jade replied with a clueless facial expression. “Let me show you a couple hours later”.

Beep Beep Beep Jade fluttered her eyes open to gaze at her alarm ; 5:00AM She got out of bed and started to make her coffee She truged over to her desk and started typing

“This routine of life was a constant for you Jade, from dusk until dawn, you were drowning yourself in the same blue light Every minit of your life consisted of your business It had been over half a decade since you went out with friends Your family only sees your face through pictures in news articles Meetings, Food, Work, Sleep - the only 4 elements in your life “ Beatrice lectured Jade Jade couldn’t comprehend what the issue with her past life was

"Let's play another video for you” Beatrice suggested Jade agreed, she wasn’t grasping the matter and needed a better context of the situation When the projector screen turned on again, she saw herself 18 years old, dancing and singing with her mates on prom night Recollections of moments flooded Jade’s lifeless mind, and the enchanting colors of life came back to her She recognized the feeling - joy She initiated a conversation with Beatrice about moments from that evening and the two ladies laughed about some of Jade's specific flashbacks she could recall Jade felt alive - she relived those moments from years ago And she experienced feelings that had been suppressed for a prolonged duration

“Remember your 15th birthday party which was scheduled by your friends?” Beatrice asked curiously. “Yes, I do! Can we watch it?” Jade answered

“Of course, we will” Beatrice beamed back.

Both women watched mini Jade and her party She intended to have a straightforward birthday and desired to stay home, but her friends had other schedules for her They prepared a picnic birthday party with arts and crafts activities and group games to be enjoyed by everyone at the party Jade admired the moments of her younger self and gradually began to question her adult life, and started wondering why the same feelings didn’t occur during her adulthood. Beatrice noticed her reflection and wanted to show one last video to Jade to make her truly understand the wrongs in her life.

“You don't recognize this memory but I wanted to show it to you because I think you will really appreciate it” Beatrice spoke whilst modifying the memory on the projector Jade didn’t even recognize herself She was four years old and was reading her favourite book Sitting beside her was her mother After Jade had read

the book to her mother, her mother told her,

“Make sure you live a life like the character in this book - lead by happiness - and don’t let anything stop you from being the happiest girl in the world”

Jade finally realised her mistake at that moment. Becoming an adult doesn’t mean all work and no fun, there must be a balance Jade never found that balance, it was on one extreme side of the spectrum She hadn’t seen her family in over 5 years, she didn’t make any friends, she never went out, never went to parties and didn’t take part in the joys of living That was the mistake and she understood it now

“Coming of age isn’t about throwing your fun away and being disciplined, its about living an enjoyable life with maturity.”

“The Agony of Coming of Age” by Daryn 11C

Maya was an innocent, ignorant, infant when she was destined to go through her coming of age with gruelling rituals, harmful traditional practices and deep rooted religious beliefs The road of coming of age for Maya was not a bed of roses but a path of prickling thorns

Maya was born in a remote village to a peasant family From birth, she had to undergo hardships and obstacles for being born a girl Giving birth to a female was considered a bad omen by her community The pain of getting a baby girl

was more than the pain of labour for her mother. Social evil made many to consider women as a curse in her community.

At the tender age of seven, she had to work on the farm and do household chores. She was deprived of basic education as it was considered educating girls would bring more harm than good. Again, education for a girl would not help a girl as a housewife to serve her husband and look after her children. It was even considered as a taboo to get Western education.

Most of the girls in her village were confined to the four walls of the house, once they attained puberty The coming of age was celebrated to tell the world one’s daughter is now ready to get married and bear children Child marriages were rampant and some of them were married to rich old men

Maya was a determined young girl as she raced up the ladder of coming of age She wanted to liberate women from the clutches of men who deeply believed in evil traditional and religious practices

Maya believed that being born in a rural area, would neither make her a peasant nor an illiterate housewife She grew up with a vision to discard and dismantle the age-old traditional beliefs, which hindered not only the movement of women but obstructed progress and liberty of women

Maya’s vision was merely an illusion at first. She could not accomplish her mission without arming herself with a sound education. As she was the only child in her family, she had little freedom to choose her course of path. She

attended a local religious school, but with multiple misconceptions and stinking stigmas she was unable to go further. She found it hard to cross the boundaries her parents had set and the laws her community had drawn.

Then came the bombshell The day every parent was the day of her coming of age This is going to change

the fate of her destiny This was the day which brought cheers and not fears to parents as their daughter would be sold as a slave to a man

The coming of age was a ceremony where the whole village would participate and wish the girl a new life Maya’s continuous conflicts and repeated resolutions would end today with new conflicts, but no resolutions The many meaningless chaos, which Maya wanted to turn into meaningful concepts will come to an end today

On the day, Maya came of age, she was dressed as a queen Her lips were perfumed, face powdered, head full of jasmine blooms and hands and legs painted with henna Faked jewellery glittered in her neck as she was brought to sit in a wooden chair in the corner of her tiny room The house was decorated with palm and banana leaves Guests, mostly villagers, came to wish Maya attaining adulthood Frightened and confused, Maya put on a fake smile to please her parents and warm the hearts of the villagers

Many came with presents like chickens, eggs, sundry goods and even with coins to wish her coming of age. The rustic house was a scene of smiles, music, merriment, foods and fun Maria was a little princess who had come of age to delight her parents and her community, but she camouflaged her anger, fear and frustrations The celebration went through some ceremonies such as bathing rituals, dressing and praying It looked good to the eyes and cameras, but it was a scene of shame to humanity and gender inequality

Suddenly the sound of a roaring machine broke the silence of prayers being performed by a religious man. All eyes turned to the roaring sound. A well dressed elderly man got out of a Chevrolet car. The wealthy land owner came to propose with an unspecified sum of money, gifts of goats and cows in exchange for the newly turned adult- Maya. As he entered, Maya had a slight glance of the bald man in the corner of her eyes. He was then accompanied by Maya’s father and village elders to sit on a colourful spread mat The sight was a bitter pill for Maya to swallow The engagement ceremony ended with some entertainment

After the ceremony Maya burst into tears and conveyed her displeasure to her parents of getting married to an old man. Her parents comforted her and told her that it was for her and her children’s future. In Maya’s community, women give dowries to men and in Maya’s case it was different due to the age differences. Again, Maya’s parents would be unable to find the money to get their daughter married.

The next morning Maya didn’t wake up as usual. Thinking her daughter was tired, Maya’s mother went to the farm to help her husband. When they returned home, Maya had disappeared from home. There was no trace of Mayah except a piece of note which read, “I apologise for my action. I was born as a human but I was not respected. My right to live like others, was pawned, merely to fulfil the lust of men. There is no meaning to living in a cruel society. I hope my sacrifice would erase the silent sufferings of other girls like me. Our traditional beliefs must go and girls must not be sex toys for men. I am sorry, I couldn’t fulfil my vision and

mission, but I am sure this will make other girls to wake up and oppose these illogical, illegal traditional beliefs of our ancestors' '

Maya’s body was found drowned in a well close to her house, where once she frequented to fetch water and meet with other girls of her age

Her death brought a new chapter to her village It was like coming of age to the village Her death brought changes to traditional beliefs and liberty to other girls Age-coming ceremonies ceased and girls were treated equally as boys

Today, a statue of Maya stands at the site of the well, reminding others, the sacrifice of a poor peasant girl that changed the coming of age of other fortunate girls.

Painting by Connie 9A

The rumbling of the drain, its metal chain clinking and clacking against the porcelain basin, battered by the rough stream of water plummeting into the bowels of the world An outline of a slight brown tinged with yellow, scratches along the bottom A testament to its years of service I look up, hair slick and water dripping in slow hesitant streams down my face I smile, and my reflection smiles back

Those teeth, caged in metal I had welcomed them years before It had signalled my transition into glorious adolescence But I miss it The gradual wiggling, the fiddling by gracefully jamming muddy fingers into the furthest corners of my mouth That vexing spontaneous ache of the gums, a testament to growth, sprouting before my eyes Now, that ache is methodical, returning every four weeks as I lie in a chair with a light shining down my throat and wires being pushed and tugged to force that growth into position Similar But not the same Artificial

One two One two One foot in front of the other then transfer your weight I climb the stairs with its chipped corners and faded rails Some paint flakes off and sticks to my moist hands, the specks of creamy beige looking even beiger against a stark white background Overhead, through that small arching window, the sun gleams, a brillant shade of red and orange Boldly emblazening the sky with its presence till the very end as it slowly dips into oblivion

I enter, smoothing my gown and adjusting my cap with sweaty hands before bravely stepping through the open door No one notices - all preoccupied - excitement, pride, sadness, fear, anger A mosaic Or rather a melting pot

On a table are three choices in towering thermoses. Choices, once a prized form of liberty but now barriers towards the belittled comfort of familiarity, of routine. Coffee, tea, juice. I choose the one on the left, condensation forming halves through the middle and purple splotches on the tablecloth encompassing its base. I take a sip. Grape. A last ditch attempt at holding on to the remaining bits of immaturity, mistakes, dreams, possibility. But it doesn’t taste like it used to, too sweet. I throw the rest in the bin. It lands with a thump, tipping, and I watch as it bleeds, splattering a deep purple.

Tick tock. Tick tock. I watch as your hands inch closer together. An everconstant presence in the back of my head, intensifying, pounding. Like nails on a coffin. Finally, you converge. 00:00.

An echo, a hush, a silence Then the waiting begins I relish it, savor it The feedback of a mike reverberates through the walls and my ears ring I don’t even notice That familiar A to Z All too soon, my name is called Remember, one two one two

I reach you You hold out your hand for what feels like would be the last time and I shake it I smile You smile A picture is taken For the memories I turn Lights, blinding almost I bow To whom I don’t know To me. My family. To you. All of the above. I mean it, I truly do. But at the same time, it all feels so empty. I step off the stage, the texture of the smooth roll of paper gripped preciously in my palms but foreign under my fingertips. I take a seat and another replaces me. I look up. Just a sliver of meek orange left now. We rise and throw our caps in the air, forming a turbulent sea of navy, red tassels becoming sails. A cloud shifts and I am bathed in the sun’s receding light. Bam. My once seemingly clear trajectory grows faint before disappearing.

What now What’s next Have I done enough Graduation

The start or the end.

Father Skim Read” by Grace 11C

My father skim read He skipped lines, pages, chapters even His fingers were bumpy, his joints bubbled with arthritis His nails concave with age, deep ridges engraved on the crescent surface He ran his finger, calloused and wrinkled, down the spine of the book, focused on only what he wanted to He kept this outlook with most things in life He skipped parts of movies, only ate his favourite part of his meal, only paid attention to the parts of my life that didn’t need his full focus

To him, I was like background music A distantly familiar melody that he’d hum along to every now and then He would tap his foot to the beat but never got up and danced with the rhythm Part of my song that he listened to were my grades Such a minute part of life that he tuned into He tapped his foot when I did well, he turned the volume down when I didn’t He even leant towards my speaker to hear my results

My font was big and clear yet he was still too far sighted to read it He didn’t strain his eyes or put glasses on I made sure my words were evenly spaced I took notes on what he read the most and made sure to write about it more and more I shaped my text in an attempt to please him He just bent the tip of my page and left my book abandoned on the coffee table Every time he put my book down, I lost more of myself I lost a few of my pages, ripped out due to frustration I began to look at others to read my book I flaunted my text, I changed my cover and left my book wide open for everyone to read I begged and begged for anyone to read me

Someone started to read my book He wasn’t like my father, his hands were youthful and gentle He was careful to not bend my spine and gently smoothed down my pages He took the time to sit down and gave his full attention to reading every single word slowly and carefully He didn’t mind that my font changed, he didn’t mind that a few of my pages were missing He was soft and gentle, cautious but caring

He got to a point in my book where nothing made sense. He leant forward in his chair, squinted and readjusted his eyes. He gripped the arms of the chair, creased the plush cushion beneath his strong hold. He changed his glasses, gently wiped them with his soft cotton shirt. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t understand. I would rip more and more pages out, a feeble attempt to try to get him to understand my jumbled and confusing writing There was barely any left to me

He soon got sick of my book. He tossed my empty cover back onto the couch and walked away. I always hoped he just went to clear his head. After he left, I flaunted more. I knew what it felt like to be read, I chased the feeling of first being read again. I needed the attention and it felt as though my worth was based off of it.

Someone started to read me again It didn’t feel the same I will never have the thrill of the first read ever

again I needed more No one was ever as attentive or charismatic as my first read Instead of looking for the right reader, I looked for the most readers I altered my chapters for

each reader I crafted a delicate balance between them In the meantime, I lost the plot I had no idea what I was reading, I barely recognised myself I had changed myself so much for people that didn’t know me I started to think I was someone, something, I wasn't I needed to get back to who I was

I printed more pages, made myself whole again I had a consistent flow, but still kept the jumbled pages I still had my creased spine and bent pages, but I learnt that the jumbled and messy pages are what makes every book whole My creased spine and bent pages show just how far I’ve come Everyone starts with gaps and inconsistency, everyone has their flaws but they fill with time and age I never again looked for anyone to read my pages, not my father, not my mother, not a stranger My cover was strong and pristine I didnt flaunt my text or leave my book open I was reading and living for myself I had rewritten myself in a way that even I enjoyed reading

My father still skim reads His rugged hands, spotted with sun spots and freckles, will never pick up my book and fully read it However, even he, a far sighted, cold man, can still see change He takes notice of my new cover, my consistent and neat pages He nods and smiles, and that is all I need I don’t chase for his attention, a nod or smile is appreciated, but not chased after I am continuing my book for myself, with or without anyone else

“Promises and Petals” by Thomas 11S

A door slammed open on and out fled a boy, no less than his youth years with oak wood hair and bright orange clothing starting to rot He ran around the ripened front yard, mouth widening to take gulps of freshly sprayed lawn sprinklers Mid-July leaves dappled the chimeric town in shades of emerald jewels The crimson-flamed sun reflected by oily green grass gave off the summer heat Looking down the flat road horizon, the ocean blue that touches the earth was lined by a suburb of cartoony dreams He glided his fingers on the next-door metal fence to hear the repeated piano notes, and as his hands dropped down to feel the coolness of the damp soil a pair of eyes appeared next door. Not menacingly but calmly, and batting an eye. The neighbour’s girl, though his thought focused on mom’s fully grown bright golden roses blooming in the spotlight.

A boy just past his teen years exited the doorway, followed by Ma, a drenched napkin in her hand and her face hot red He carried a dark green duffle bag no larger than the typical briefcase and wore Dad’s old maroon navy fatigue tucked into his wide jogging pants to fit his size George watched as Mom adjusted his collar and mumbled some words into his ear, and the boy finally moved his sight to meet his Heaving his luggage down the front steps and slowly walking across the lawn towards him carefully avoiding the over-puddled holes.

“George! Little George ”

Pause

“The man of the house huh.” with his hands tight in his pockets.

The boy looked into his brother’s eyes in wonder and nodded

“I promise I’ll be back soon kid, and can you help out the house with ma? Not a pinkie one, a real one okay?”

A few nods later he heaved up with his hand on his knees and a silent groan. A dark-coated no-labelled truck with dampened windows could be seen in the distance. It seemed like early winter as leaves from sidewalk palms seemed to have shifted yellow, twisting to the tarmac ground.

“George! Come on here and stan’ with me.” His mother called for him. “Wave bye to ‘Big’” She ordered.

“Bye,” Two waves are greeted by one as he steps onto the flattened front wheels “See you soon, and George” Looking him in the eyes one last time, “say hi to gramps for me!”

He stared, with a sudden smile as a pink figure exited the neighbouring front door Though a little petal snapped off in his heart

A trim gloss of yellow caught his eye, a gift Mom’s roses can stay as a friend, he thought as he brushed its roots and stared it down The dampened seeds sheeted with oil, with shimmering teeth of yellow sticking out from all sides, glowing celestial object in the palm of his hands

The distant sun can be seen approaching the horizon, shifting twilight magenta Exploding shards of rainbow pixels across every dimension From the corner across the freshly cut lawn, the pair of eyes stared in wonder

“Hey! I know you're lookin’, come out, I ain’t hurtin'”

A bundle of hair slowly emerged through the cracks, bright in colour, curled at multiple angles as if the night was long, and skins of prickles, blue dress just like a young Patty Marie waltzing a light-gloomed stage.

He stared, watched in wonder as the neighbour’s girl, not much older than he was, stepped up close

With no thought in mind “Care for a rose little one?”

A light grin emerged on her soft red lips as she gently picked the stem from his hand, bringing it close to her nose, neither flared nor pinched. Sniffing out a smile and a soft sigh. And as time grew, their relation followed along, gradually tightening as strong as bundles of rose roots clinging to the soil. All until that one cliché summer sunset.

“I like you”

She paused “No one’s ever said that to me George ” Whispering his name

“I promise I do” he gazed with dreamy eyes.

She sat down next to him. “The sunset is beautiful isn’t it George?”

A sudden streak of silver flew across the darkened sky

“There! There George look! A shooting star, c'mon let’s make a promise Past those dark clouds, we’ll cross each star one by one and,” She points and lies down on his lap, gently resting her head, “and we’ll find somewhere, someplace as quiet an’ lovely Promise me ”

He pictured that “I promise love, I promise ” The imagery drove by like a dream The black truck noised down the street every morning, seemingly changing the seasons Winter, summer, winter, fall He waited by the doorstep for him.

It was that one Sunday morning that felt different Either the grass was not as green, or the postman came early George walked steadily down the staircase A gloomy silence blew from the dark hallway, and light sobs rang like daggers slicing into the heart

“Mom?” His heart stopped

He walked with careful quiet steps a broken soul, laying flat on a table of water, tears. A scream ran through his body.

“Mom, what happened? The hell happened?” A tear ran down his eye too The suffering of watching a broken loved one, helpless. Letters lay scattered on the table, from ‘Big’, the diaries of the front lines. Backing slowly, chemicals of heart-bound poison filled his head.

“Ma, mom, mum”, tears streaming down his face “no, no, no!” He ran up and ripped the paper off her hands Her blood-infused eyes looked up, stuttering in pain “H he’s” Dear Mr/Ma’am, we are sad to inform you that

“Gone My brother’s DEAD!” He screamed A starless night and the second petal snapped The morning blood-stained sun grew and steamed off sweat He sat on the creaking stairs, briefcase no larger than the duffle bag on his side, fading rose in his hand as she approached “What's the point George, ya know it’ll grow back the next day” The grass below unfurled to invite the trickle of water

Without a thought, he closed his fists crushing it into golden sand. She screamed with her hands in her eyes refusing to witness the crime George stood up, eyes staring at the diesel-oiled skyline woozing the natural blue to brown The overgrown weeds, desert-dry leaves, and plastic-flocked lanes

“I’ve lived long enough in this fake world to know that promises are lies that cannot be told.” He spat on the ground as the black figure sped down the littered street. A small glimpse to his side, the broken sprinkler and dust-dyed flower, bowing down with no branches left, dangling in the wind, slowly, quietly. And he won’t be there to see it wither away.

Ma came out moments later, just to catch her boy swallowed into the now devil’s mouth. With his head not turning, the teeth crunched closed. She stood on the porch, firmly next to the weeping girl. Her face, swollen and viciously pale, and thunderclouds start to rain instead of her eyes. She watches as the army truck sped

its way, whispering with a waterless mouth

Painting by Melina 9C

Farewell of Sorts” by Nicholas 11H

Dearest friend,

Do you remember the old cherry tree? Where we’d always venture to play hide and seek, scheme our plans for futures which only existed in our imaginations, or the millions of other shenanigans we’d concoct together For 8 years, the school bus would grind itself to a halt at the stop serving the storefronts lining the next street, and we’d skip out the door Do you remember how we’d always enthusiastically race down the 5-foot way? Weaving our way through the stream of narrow archways, queuing folk and the occasional cyclist, their angered clinking was mere amusement for us We’d always imagine ourselves as Olympiads, turning the corner and sprinting the final stretch, using our fiery reserves to fuel our strides Shoving and giggling as we attempted to outpace each other When we’d arrive at the park just before our neighbourhood street, we’d throw our bags and collapse under the mesmerising shimmering of light through swaying leaves Oh, how we’d always roll around breathless, ribs tight as if they were squeezing us and legs burning like they’d been on scorching embers Yet, all we did was laugh until our heart’s content our competition with words persisted long after our sprint had been won For 8 years, that was our 2pm routine

Then, Year 6 came knocking on our doors our final year in Primary Since the day we donned our uniform, we had known only a school where we were together The very thought of this reality being shattered made us shudder, sometimes to the brink of tears So, we did what we thought was best: we scrambled to build a veil of hyperactivity Every meet we had became an increasing conflict to exhaust more energy in the name of ‘fun’ Every laugh we had, every race down alleys, every ball tossed and every conversation sparked became our ecstacy When parents forbade us from meeting, whether it be because we hadn’t finished our homework, already had preexisting plans, or simply because it was late, we’d curse them Spite them Wish we could fill their larger shoes, be able to cast our decisions as we pleased, to be reckless and free from the chains of youngling conformity Ah, how naive we were back then!

Come orientation day, and the seat beside me was occupied by a lad I had never met in my life My bus ride to-and-fro school was silent When I arrived at the stop, there was no running, or weaving through alleys, or causing commotion amongst shoppers and cyclists alike Passing the cherry tree, I did not throw myself underneath it panting - instead, I simply gazed at it as I strolled Of course, we had phones, we’d often catch each other on the street, and our weekends still allowed ample chances to meet Even for the first two years, the unfamiliar made us into pillars the other could lean on But, our pillars began to crumble Unfamiliarity can only be temporary, after all I suppose this was the spark that set our rope burning

As more years passed, our sporadic meets became more and more sporadic Whatever free time we had once used to meet became preoccupied with the life we built in our

respective schools Our weekends were increasingly together with our friend groups from school, rather than between the two of us Sprinting down the neighbourhood street became infrequent with you, and more for us to catch public buses into town, where we’d spend time with mates the other barely recognised. The nights when we used to cross the road to each other's houses were slowly invaded by time spent in our rooms, buried between stacks of books and hunched in front of our screens. There were times I’d look out the window, and would also see your room lights illuminate among darkened silhouettes. I knew we were both studying, yet I had urges to open up our chat and invite you over for a snack, or to take a break. It never came to fruition I’d always stare at my blank screen, then slump back, sigh and place my phone back. Perhaps, this was why our messages dried up from daily conversations, to weekly gossip, and then trickled down into monthly jokes or occasional findings. When I accidentally stumbled upon our chat again, my heart truly sank in realisation.

Our birthdays were the only thing that kept a tight rope tied between us, and even then its fibres began to rupture. When you invited me to parties with you and your schoolmates, I’d always attend, always found it enjoyable, and was always grateful for the invite but, so too did I feel more like an outcast with each passing celebration. When feasting on cake, I was a

mere satellite of a crew which I had never been a part of, and never will Though, I’m also aware it was likely the same when I invited you to my birthday meetups For that, I am truly sorry

By our 16th birthdays, the rope had snapped entirely Yet, it wasn’t dramatic like we once expected years ago there was no argument, no sudden brawl or spiteful endings Instead, a simple sigh signified acceptance of a moral judgement We had simply drifted too far apart from each other Our senses of humour have divulged, our friend groups are different, our idea of ‘fun’ has morphed significantly I still struggle to describe it, but I noticed it in the live shows we watch

I have grown to adore stand-up comedy I find comfort settling in a dimly-lit hall, spotlights centred on the wit of the night, and being seated with a tamed audience sharing a collective humour After a long week, I need time to steady myself, unwind and retreat to calmness through laughter To me, the tranquillity of late nights is what makes it special

On the other hand, you have grown fond of the concert scene; your heart yearns for exhilarating nights and blasting music which thumps the stands and chest On weekends, you recharge through getting your adrenaline running and revitalising your soul To you, late nights are a unique opportunity to paint a quiet canvas with cheering and singing until your throat becomes sore Though we mutually understand each other’s preferences, neither of us are eager to partake in the other’s a testament to our long journey from rolling under the cherry tree

You’re probably wondering: why did I write this? To be honest, I’m not so sure myself This was originally meant to be a congratulations for graduation handwritten too just for ceremony’s sake But, when I grabbed the pen and paper, I could not stop recollecting everything; the past 18 years of us growing up together…as well as us growing more distant.

Deary me, even the cherry tree has wilted and lost its branches perhaps a perfect analogy of us as drifting individuals

I suppose I see this as an opportunity for a proper farewell Though we have become strangers to one another, deep down you are still the buddy I hold dearest For that, I am forever grateful

Good luck, my friend, for this is where our crossroads diverge fully.

Sayonara

“The Selection” by Timothy 11C (Runner-up: FOBISIA International Competition)

The last of a series of agonised cries is suppressed as I wrench the implant out of his left forearm It crackles and vibrates feebly on the sun-scorched clay ground before it turns stationary forever - a painfully similar end to its owner Insignificant and inferior I flip over the lifeless body, rummaging through its packs for food Nothing. I curse spitefully under my breath; I had squandered a precious twilight in fruitless pursuit. I should have deduced that he would die on an empty stomach. His face was too youthful, his palms too soft, his skin not caked in the baked clay that encrusts those that have scavenged for long enough. He had probably just been cast out in the most recent cohort - just another inconsequential victim of the Triadal system, destined to be swallowed up by the merciless ravaging of the Wilderness.

I twiddle his implant in my remaining fingers absent-mindedly; the finely cut ridges feeling unnervingly familiar My fingertips navigate themselves to an indentation bearing a crest I did not need to place it alongside my own implant to know that it was identical The engraving of that same crest in my implant was all that still bound me to the triads - to a time before the gripping hunger, a time before the scorching heat, and a time before I was nothing. It was a crest that I had been blindly infatuated with for so long, but now triggers hatred and resentment.

Impoverished wails disrupt my meaningless meanderings into a fabled past They reverberate in and out of crumbling concrete ruins that lie beyond the sleek Osmium fortress - remains of a primal civilisation from centuries ago The wails are magnified as more wretched scavengers chime in: wails of starvation, wails of the searing temperature; wails of intellectual inferiority that has cast them into the abyss where only one outcome awaits All that varies in life outside the safety of the triads is the fashion in which it ends

Fortunately, this is an end that I should never have to consider If I truly do succeed my father as the triad’s Assassin, I will succumb to a painless passing as my algorithm is breached at the hands of a rival In the world of triads, even deaths are systematic - a sharp contrast to the chaos that ensues in the Wilderness The Assassin bears the weight of their entire triad when they enter a duel with an opposing one Two individuals pitted against each other in a battle of intelligence, fervently attempting to uncover the other’s algorithm to neutralise them and consequently their entire triad The stakes could not be higher, and therefore it is only the most intelligent and genetically suitable member who can be selected for this role

Every person regardless of triad has a unique algorithm: seventeen digits that are automatically assigned at birth, and are encoded into their implant An Assassin has the ability to discover then decode this algorithm,

disabling that person’s bodily functions This is why they must possess the intellectual fortitude to shroud their own algorithm in layers of decoy code, while simultaneously attempting to penetrate their opponent’s enigma - skills which I have been trained in since birth.

My father has been spearheading the triad for decades as its Assassin, but he draws closer to the thirty-year maximum that has been established across all triads to prevent the monopolisation by a single triad My entire life revolves around my father’s firm notion that none other than his own son may succeed a legacy as great as his own While my compatriots relish their childhood in youthful naivety, leading a carefree lifestyle, I spend hours sitting with my father in front of the neutraliser, memorising how to bypass common decoys, and reciting regions and their respective algorithm digits To call him a father would be lying He is a tutor

Yet, with all that is imparted to me, there has always been a nagging in the back of my mind that casts seeds of doubt With each lesson that passes, I cannot help but feel that these seeds are steadily nurturing into sprawling plants that gnaw away at my confidence The numbers and codes which are like a language to my father do not obey me with the same ease Rather than the sense of exhilaration which an Assassin should feel when the neutraliser starts, I revert to a sense of dread and inferiority However, there is little time left to second-guess my abilities The Selection is in less than a week I can just hope that the identification process does not expose my lack of ability, or that there are no others in my cohort that are naturally intelligent enough to usurp my countless hours of gruelling training

***

“Member seven-five-three-two. Intellectual-Metric: seventy-six. Physical-Metric: eighty-four. Emotional-Metric: fifty-four. Supply Management sector” The Elder’s voice resonates across the overflowing courtyard, followed by a routine round of applause It is the only time of year when every member of the triad is present in the same vicinity, hundreds craning their necks to witness which wretched member will face the humiliation of being expelled to the Wilderness, as punishment for their lack of God-gifted ability This time, there is the added thrill of nominating the next Assassin for the first time in decades, which causes an anticipating pause whenever an Intellectual-Metric of over ninety is read

The numbers left until seven-six-eight-four deplete too quickly for my liking. This year’s outcast has not been announced yet, but that is not my concern. My confidence begins to swell with each name that passes without the label of ‘Assassin’

I catch my father’s icy gaze before treading towards the podium, as hushed whispers now replace the dissonant cacophony of seconds ago. They would all have heard about the renowned four-two-eight-five’s son by now, a child touted to thrive since birth, with some possibly betting large sums on my anointing. He glares back anticipatingly. Imperiously.

“Member seven-six-eight-four” My heart is a hundred galloping horses

“Intellectual-Metric: Fifty-two ” The horses stop So do the whispers

“Physical-Metric: Thirty-six.” An outcry ensues. Dozens have just lost a fortune. “Emotional-Metric: Forty-five.” I stop thinking. The jeers reach new heights. “Expelled.” My father leaves the table of elders. They do not try to console him

The rest is a blur. My senses are overwhelmed. I am numb to the blazing iron that wrenches implants from my neck and deaf to the clamours of fury that engulf the courtyard - but I do see the empty chair; the untouched celebratory glass in front of it.

Briny droplets trickle into my still-gaping mouth It could be perspiration from the fifty-degree midday, but I think that they are tears I had never cried before; never been pushed over in a childhood scrap; never been called names like other children, but the cause of their tears had never cost their parents an eternity of shame. Never cost them a lifetime in the Wilderness.

Calloused palms shove me towards the retracting Osmium doors For the first time in three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, they open, revealing a barren panorama that casts a rare silence over the masses

Then, for the last time in my vision, they close