INTER-TRIB CREATIVE WRITING COMPETITION

Our Inter-Trib creative writing competition was an opportunity for Years 7 to 9 to flex their creative muscles and have a go at penning a short story.

Initial entries were judged by Mr Cross and Mr Chidell, in our English Department, and shortlisted stories were then shown to Michael Mann, a celebrated children’s author. He picked the winning stories from each year group and provided feedback to the runners-up.

Michael Mann said about Guilio’s story: ‘Giulio uses some nice turns of phrase that tell us the genre, and period, that are subtle but effective. It is also very well structured with a riddle at start, end, and riddles throughout, that build nicely. I also like how the end takes what is a horrible crime, and, in some way, redeems it as a sort of dignified act – Harrow, the main character, isn’t quite a villain. This is nice nuanced characterisation and this adds some tenderness/sadness to what could have been a purely plot/ puzzle driven piece.’

We are publishing one winning story in this issue of The Barometer and will publish other winning entries in the next edition.

Middle School winner, Guilio S, Year 9 writes...

It was the 25th of December of the year 1953, and I was sitting on my very comfortable red couch, smoking my usual pipe, while consulting my dear friend, James Harrow, about the previous case we had solved. I love Christmas, especially in my beloved London. London was in the heyday of the new economic world and the peak of social status. A new Queen had just been crowned and London was so very different from before.

I looked out the window and was blinded by the blinding Christmas lights sparkling with different tones of colours, flashing around the strangely colourful night. I could see young children playing around in the small park in front of my house, throwing snowballs at each other and exchanging gifts. Families were enjoying a safe and cosy trip on one of the famous scarlet-coloured, hop-on-hop-off buses. I was also grateful of such beautiful Christmas spirit coming from the community.

“We have been very busy with work lately, am I right Mr Doyle?” said Harrow. “I shall agree, my friend. But, I insist, please just call me Roy” I said. “OK, Roy, I always wanted to put to the test your magnificent detective mind. So, I am going to ask you a riddle. “I am something that is loved and hated. I change people’s appearances and thoughts. If a person is careful enough, I will go higher. To some people I will make fun of them. To others I am a mystery. Some people might want to try and hide me but I will show. I will never go down. What am I?” I soon answered, “Well, my friend, I am thinking of the word ego.” Harrow was about to give me the answer, but our peaceful Christmas moment was soon ruined by a phone call, which came right out of the blue by making a deafening sound. I got up from my very cosy couch, and answered the phone, killing that terrible noise.

“Am I talking to Mr Roy Doyle,” the anonymous caller said. “Yes, how may I help you sir?” I said, in a suspicious voice. The person on the other end of the phone said, “I am calling in order to inform you that there has been another case of murder in Baker Street, and I wanted an opinion from the best detective in circulation, which is in fact you Mr Doyle.” “I will be there very soon, thank you for the call,” I said. I grabbed my trench coat, calmly accompanied my guest to the front door, and shared a formal farewell with him. I soon grabbed a taxi and headed towards Baker Street. During the ride, which seemed never-ending, I was looking out of the car window and thinking to myself how much I love snowy London. The small cream-coloured flakes reminded me of my childhood. All of this nostalgia only added to the unbearable stress of being assigned a case at Christmas.

I got to the specified apartment, and soon paid my regards to my fellow police officers. I was introduced to the case and shown the evidence. In front of my frightened eyes, I saw a dead man with a few stab wounds in his abdomen. I was told that the killer had used a kitchen knife, roughly 28 cm long and 3 cm wide. In addition, the killer had left a note, with images imprinted on it.

After long discussions, I could finally start to investigate more on the case. First of all, I started by analysing the figures. In the first figure, an eye and a circle were represented, which I deduced indicated the London’s famous

Ferris wheel. As a consequence, I brought with me the police officers I trusted the most and headed to the London Eye. The area soon became restricted with crime scene tape and we headed towards the bottom part of the Ferris wheel. I could feel the snowflakes drop on my shoulders, which made the situation worse due to the extreme cold that went through my very sensible British spine. One of my trustworthy police comrades noticed a crimson note laying on the top wagon of the wheel. After a few minutes of waiting, we managed to get a hold on the note and noticed that another symbol was portrayed.

This other figure was made of what looked like two stones acting like a support to the stone that was lying flat on top of them. After a few seconds of deep thinking, I deduced that this was the famous British monument called Stonehenge. The police and I headed to Stonehenge and grasped the note which was lying on the grass under the mighty stones. I already knew the drill, so I opened the envelope and read what now looked like a sentence. I read it out loud and it said the following, “I always show the time, my heart pounds when the arrows strike twelve, I am the one above all in London, what am I?” This riddle got most of the police officers involved and gave me some difficulties, too. But after some time, I finally understood that the right answer to the riddle was Big Ben.

I shot back to the police car and sped back to London, in order to reach Big Ben before 12. I found what looked like the last one of the notes at the top of Big Ben’s tower. I opened the note and I was presented with a single sentence, once again. I read it out loud, “The answer was age.” This last note left all of us very perplexed; how could this connect with any of the previous notes? So, we decided to revisit all of the recent clues in order to find the answer to this last riddle. After hours of searching, we all became hopeless and just when the last spark of hope seemed to be gone, I had a huge moment of realisation. “Eureka!” I shouted. This note was connected to a past riddle posed to me! The riddle that I was told from Harrow, “I am something that is loved and hated. I change people’s appearances and thoughts. If a person is careful enough, I will go higher. To some people I will make fun of them. To others I am a mystery. Some people might want to try and hide me but I will show. I will never go down. What am I?” The answer was not ego, but the answer was age. All of the points were finally connected; riddles and London are two of Harrow’s most favourite things.

I ran out of Big Ben and rushed to Harrow’s apartment, which was very close to Baker Street. I broke down the door and found my detective friend sitting on a white, but blood-stained chair, in a dark room, which reflected his old age. “You gentlemen finally found me, it took you a while,” he said. Hopelessly, I shouted back at him, “Why would you do this and how was the victim connected to any of this?” Harrow then answered in a feeble voice, “Well, my dear Roy, what you gentlemen call a victim, is in fact the most horrendous and dreadful person and the murderer of my wife! I never liked his disrespectful behaviour, especially towards my family. As her boss, he physically and mentally abused my wife every day, behind my back. When I discovered all of the horrible things he did to my wife, I wanted my revenge. However, before I could do that my wife passed away because of all the wounds and mental stress she had endured during that period. I couldn’t stand that beast’s presence, so last night I broke into his apartment and stabbed him, finally putting an end to his existence. I have nothing to lose now, my dear detectives, so I turn myself in.” The police officers soon arrested him and knew that he would be brought to court, accused of manslaughter and most likely sentenced to death.

After an exhausting day, I finally got back home and enjoyed the last few minutes of Christmas, while sipping on a hot cup of tea. I stared at the beautiful green pine tree, full of Christmas themed decorations hung on it. I then noticed a gift under my tree. I started unwrapping it while finishing up the last sip of my cup of tea and noticed it was, in fact, from Harrow.

Author’s credit: Many thanks to riddles.com for the riddle on age, which I have used in this story.