Dedication Dedicated to all the children healing in hospital. We wish you the best in your recovery and we hope that you are entertained by our story.
Alpacaz Again Jayden Adams Author Lucy Carstairs Illustrator Giselle Chau Author Laila Chequer de Souza Author Torrek Elbeb Author Jed Gregory Editor Luca Nathan Author Mene Nel Illustrator Eathan Waters Author
Copyright Published ‘Alpacaz Again’, Hillcrest Christian College, 21 Bridgman Dr, Reedy Creek QLD 4227. Jayden Adams, Lucy Carstairs, Giselle Chau, Laila Chequer de Souza, Torrek Elbeb, Jed Gregory, Luca Nathan, Mene Nel, Eathan Waters
Copyright © 2021, Hillcrest Christian College.
All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquires should be made to the publisher.
Prologue This time they would remember her. For eons the outback had feared the witch and her power, so why would this year be any different? But the night was fast approaching and there was no sign of any people. The witch held great power. With the lift of a finger, she could wipe out worlds, and one glance from her crimson eyes left people numb. Once upon a time, she would curse masses of people to drive fear into their hearts, but that wasn’t so necessary anymore. She was a household name, known throughout the land. Now, each year, on the same date, she would wait at the top of the steepest gorge she could find and would watch as the people of nearby towns and villages gathered beneath her to perform the bush dance. With protective wards of rosemary, adorning dark cloaks and oftentimes a petrified complexion, the people would dance in the gorge from dusk until dawn to protect themselves from the witch. And while their little trinkets and dances didn’t affect her power over them, she didn’t interfere. Their ceremony made them remember her. You see, the witch became more and more powerful the more that people remembered her. The more people that knew and remembered her, the better. The annual bush dance was an anniversary that reminded them of their fear of the witch. That’s where true power comes from, right? But that year was different. Again, the night was fast approaching and no sign of any people. They had forgotten. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she could feel anger rushing through her bloodstream. Where were they? The last touches of light around her scattered, and she collapsed into the gorge; her newfound weakness consuming her. The witch peered up at the empty sky. She knew what she had to do. This time they would remember her.
Chapter 1 - Message in a Bottle
The echoing waves giggled at their reflection from the setting sun as they teasingly greeted the shoreline with their caressing fingertips. The shoreline constantly left in a hopeless frustration. The condensation from Clara’s pineapple punch gently kissed her dark-skinned palm as she was fulfilled with the cool, sugary liquid. She was relishing in her tranquillity as she was made aware of a blinding light invading the shore. Clara cautiously walked towards the light, logically calculating the risks which she could undertake. As she reached it, it seemed to be a blue bottle encompassing a shadowed figure. She struggled to bend down in her office attire but eventually succeeded in lifting the heated, cracked bottle. What a cliché, she thought, as she released a jammed note from within the bottle. The note was not tattered or damaged as she suspected, rather, it was elegant and expensive looking. The charming, cursive font and gold-plated border truly emphasised the splendour of the letter. It read: Clara Knight, You have been formally invited to attend the Bush Dance Date: Thursday, 26th of August Time: 4 o’clock in the afternoon Location: Occultatum Castle This is a compulsory event. We advise you to attend.
Okay. This is a little worrying. How does someone know who and where I am? Clara spent the next half hour weighing out the pros and cons. Till finally, she bolted to her sports car in a desperate hurry to arrive in only an hour. While she was halted in traffic, she noticed a young, hippy man with the same letter in hand. She pulled the car over. “Excuse me sir.” She paused as she absorbed his appearance. The tall man wore a colourful tie-die shirt and black shorts which were far too big for his slender figure with only his bare feet touching the scorching bitumen. His flaming red hair was styled into a short, exceptionally curly afro. He was literally the opposite of her logical self. “Yeah, dude.” The man replied. “I believe the letter you are holding in your, remarkably dirty hand is similar to mine.” Clara announced.
“Ooh, groovy man! See ya then I guess.” He remarked as slowly as humanly possible. “No don’t leave! Would you like a ride instead of walking all this way?” Clara offered. She was desperate to discover the meaning behind why the letter was sent to her and this strange man. “Oh, thanks man! That’s real cool of ya. My name’s Motis, it means movement in Latin or Spanish or somethin’. That’s why I became a hip-hop dancer, just following my destiny if ya know what I mean.” Motis began. “I don’t need to know your whole life story, thank you.” She stated unemotionally. “Well, my name is Clara, but you may call me Ms. Knight.” “That’s cool Clara.” Motis humorously answered. Clara huffed in exasperation. Motis rambled on for the entire… car… ride. At last, they arrived at the castle and Clara escaped the car so rapidly that she tripped over her heels and fell on the rough ground, flat on her angular face. “You right dude?!” Motis sympathetically called out. “Just fine, Motis.” Clara spat. The castle left Motis and Clara completely awestruck. The sheer enormity of the castle was astounding. It was as if Buckingham Palace was relocated to Australia. The light-brown and yellow bricks supported by the navy-blue roof became sunkissed because golden hour had just welcomed itself, which further added to the grandeur of the castle. A pigment of purple caught Clara’s eye as a concentrated fragrance pleased her sense of smell. The rosemary blooming in the autumnal sun caused Clara to recollect memories from her childhood for some strange reason. “Bro, is that seriously a fountain?” Motis questioned as Clara slowly nodded her head. They warily approached the castle and were greeted by a threatening entranceway, which was engineered with a dark oak wood in the shape of a classic Disney villain’s lair. The door and handle were both fiercely outlined with gold, alike the letter. “Um, ladies first.” Motis suggested in fear. “Such a baby.” Clara criticised as the handle’s brutality pricks her finger. Yet, remaining determined turned the knob to face a cool, frigid breeze.
Chapter 2 – Dance
Dark oak doors glided to a close behind them leaving a soft pile of dust behind it, contrasting the chorus of drinking crowds before them. “Where are we…” breathed Clara. Her mind spinning with the formulas that were required to make such a place. Motis beside her, took in the raw and rustic dance hall in front of her. Striking rusted metal beams lined the hallway of the wooden decked hall. A dozen or so knotted wood tables lined the front of the room, each telling lifetimes of carless fun and party. But perhaps the most awe-striking feature of the room was above. Hanging from the ceiling was a 3-meter-wide chandelier; and it was fully decked out for the occasion. Covered in bear cans and country styled silver, the chandelier clearly revealed the Australian styled theme behind the party. Suddenly a young, presumably drunk, couple came barrelling towards them, each with matching cowboy hats. Waking up to the true style of the party Clara muttered, “this place feels…too energetic.” “You’re probably not used to fun, are you.” Motis managed to splurt out despite his nervous chuckling. An indignant snort came from beside him as brown eyes tried to melt a hole in the back of his head. Suddenly a new song played over the radio, the iconic ‘Nutbush’. Getting into his natural hip-hop style, Motis’ eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful un-synchronicity that only bush dancing could provide. All reservations gone, his head tilted back in melodious laughter, “Come on Miss Logic, Let’s go!” Unwillingly, Clara’s was tugged into a line of energetic dancers. Clearly in his element, Motis began to explain the routine; only for a loud screech to echo across the large room, its high pitch making both of them wince and the room went unnervingly dark. In a ghostly fashion, every door and window was sealed; the bush dance was no more. After the pain faded and their eardrums stopped shaking, a shiver ran through their veins. Slowly but surely the air around them seemed to freeze solid, continuing until it consumed every thought, unfalteringly. People began to run, some fainted, the whole event was unearthly. Another loud screech echoed across the room this followed by a soft raspy voice. “Forgotten are the long-held traditions of the past, slowly and surely they fade into nothingness. These liberties were bestowed by me upon you. You have forgotten it all. You have forgotten me… and thus, you will pay. Now dance until your hearts break as they once did for me. For I am the witch, you WILL remember me.”
The soft rasp that droned and hummed with power came to a startling halt, leaving the room silent and devoid of the presence that held them still. Everyone in the room reacted. First was a young lady beside Clara. She made a break for the exit, only to simply disappear. Similar spectacles happened all around the room. Everything became clear to Clara, you danced or, as the witch said, ‘you break’. Clara’s knew there was no logical way out of this; she had to dance! It’s just 1+1 = 2, right? Dancing can’t be that hard, can it? As if his hippie mind could read hers, “You just have to feel the rhythm.” Pulling her towards himself, he guided her in a gentle version of the dance at first. Trying to loosen the robotic nature of her bodies’ movements. “You’re fine… I promise,” Motis cooed as he tried to get her to relax. Her eyes closing, she tried to follow his practised movements. Taking a shuddering breath she whispers through gritted teeth, “Fine.” A deep-set rivalry between her survival and pride rose within her mind, battling each other for supremacy. Motis just smiled knowing her internal struggle. One by one, he guided her through the motions again. Couples started to fall around them, simple mistakes that made them ‘break’. Each couple ghostly disappearing with a mystic ‘poof’. A gentle shiver ran through her spine, each nerve firing an electric pulse; Motis just thought it was nuts. The number of pairs whittled down along with her strength. 500, 200, 100, 50, then finally 40. No longer was it a series of flourished movements, but a twisted ritual of placing one foot than another. A shell gathered around her inner thoughts to lessen the fire within her calves, burning with a desire to falter. Only the sound of soft poofs around her kept her steady. She counted each one until only 20 pairs remained. “We did it!” exclaimed Motis, he jumped out to hug her only to be rudely shrugged away, “I guess you’re not the hugging type”, he muttered. A strange rosemary tinted aroma suddenly engulfed their noses, and the witch’s chalk-like voice filled the room. “I would congratulate you, but you’re not going to live to appreciate it.” With a sudden jolt, a low mechanical purr rattled across the long-forgotten bush dance and the entire floor, with it, everyone on it descended deep into the earth.
Chapter 3 - Blank Pages
“Where are we?!” “Get us out of here!” “Where are you mum?” A multitude of screams filled the pitch-black elevator, only to be silenced by the floor coming to a shocking halt as ghostly lights appeared overhead. As their eyes adjusted to their surroundings, a beam of light appeared, dividing the room into two, with a lectern in the center and a strangely thick book laying on it. Instantly intrigued, Clara moved to examine the puzzling object. She laughed with confusion and nostalgia. “Year 11: Unit 1 Mathematics.” Clara opened the textbook, anticipating the fundamental concepts that made her who she was. However, all that was before her was blank pages, page after page, blank. She flicked through to the back and found that it wasn’t blank, but instead contained a single question. “Clara has 20 adults, create a fraction that represents the number of men.” As she read the question aloud, the entire group that stood on the floor began to frantically run around the area. “I’m a student!” “All the lads over here!” Clara realised something through all the chaos. “The line!” she yelled. “Stop!” The energy in the room suddenly died; Motis just smiled. Clara confidently explained; “The line here is the vinculum, which must mean that we need to create the fraction on the floor!” The group began to arrange themselves with the men on left side of the room and the rest of the group on the right. A piercing red light flashed. Clara gasped in realisation. There were more than 20 men in the room. People began crying out frantically. “Move some of them!” “Stand on the line.”
Clara intensely stared at the question. And then she reached an epiphany. “The question says adults! The children need to stand on the line!” A flock of children from both sides started moved quickly towards the center. Another piercing red light flashed. “What did we do wrong?” “Are there still too many of us?” Everyone began to stare at Clara. The children stood still on the line with grief in their eyes. Clara searched every nook and cranny of her brain; this was year 11 math for goodness’s sake. Feeling the necessity to do something to help out Motis stared at Clara and whispered, “breathe and think it through.” Clara took a deep breath and as she did, she felt an herb-like aroma enter her nose. She suddenly remembered exactly what to do. “You, 1, 2 and 3,” she pointed at three children and motioned for them to join the adults. Some of the other children began to move as well. “No! Don’t move!” Clara screamed. As soon as the 3 children moved over the line, a bright green light flashed. The people cheered! “Yeah, the boys!” “Let’s go lads!” “You’re a life saver!” “Thank you,” Clara murmured awkwardly. Clara got ready for the ground to jolt, for an elevator to move. But it didn’t. She felt an electrifying feeling surge through her body; it was unnatural. In an instant, everyone in the room disappeared.
Chapter 4 – Trust
Clara apprehensively opened her eyes; she certainly wasn’t in a math room anymore. Like a lamb tied down to an altar, she sat prisoner to a crumbling stone throne on a balcony. Chained down by ancient metal, she felt like a puppet, unable to control her own movements. With an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, something, she realised, she hadn’t felt since the beginning of this nightmare. Desperately scanning her surrounding’s, she searched for Motis, or for any of the other challengers, only to be interrupted by the mathematical wonder of the hall ahead of her. It was a perfectly styled Roman setting, lined with ancient stone pillars, crumbling away after years of neglect, animal statues crafted with alien-like skill, moss covered walls and ancient aqueducts passing overhead. On any other day she would have taken hours to wonder around the incredible scenery, taking in the ancient chamber, but today was a different day. She was trapped, a helpless Guinea pig in this evil game. Across the other side of the vast room stood Motis, unchained, on a sheer rock ledge that could never have been reached without the witch’s magic. In front of him were 17 floating stone cubes, carved with inhuman precision, creating a line, progressing from Motis to Clara. With her mathematician’s mind kicking into gear, she started to consider what this obstacle was. Suddenly the ghastly voice returned once more. “You have both used your skills wisely throughout the last two tests, as for the others they were not so fortunate. As I’ve learnt, the world tends to forget what your good at! For this challenge you must trust each other’s skills! Believe me, you’ll never forget me after this!” With a mysterious glow only explainable by magic, the stones began to vibrate, revealing a glowing number on the face of each one. Clara screamed out to Motis, expecting he could see the same thing. But the calm man didn’t even look shocked. In fact, he seemed to be dancing? Seemingly he repelled the chaos of their situation. It was then that she realized, only she could see the symbols. She had to direct him to the right stones, with Motis’ life on the line. She knew there had to be a sequence across the path of levitating blocks. Starting to search her mind for anything, factors, numbers, even some basic addition. Suddenly, Motis let out a scream, something had appeared beside him. A small mouse, contrasting with the gigantic backdrop around it, looked around, licked itself and scurried onto the first platform, marked with the number ‘2’. Working its way across the steps, it passed number ‘3’ and made its way to ‘4’. Clara never thought she’d feel empathy for mere vermin of such insignificance, but what happened next shocked even her. One of the marvelously carved golden lions jumped out from the wall. Well and truly alive, it swallowed the mouse with a single gulp and jumped back into position with an almighty roar.
Instantaneously, two thoughts flashed across Clara’s mind. Firstly, the consequence of picking the wrong stone was evident, and second, she’d figured out the pattern. You could only step on prime numbers, like two and three! The mouse had been eaten on number four because it wasn’t a prime number! There were 17 blocks in total and Clara knew which ones were prime; she drew up a plan. Clara shouted out to Motis, going over her plan. The only way to get through the maze was for him to trust her. It was something she realised she could never have done before, they barely even knew each other! For what was almost the first time in her life, she wasn’t confident, she was scared! She didn’t want Motis to die! What if she was wrong? What if she picked the wrong pattern? Apprehensively, Motis turned up his hip hop music in his earphones and got ready to jump. The jump from ‘5’ to ‘7’ was easy for the lanky man, but the challenge got harder as he progressed, with jumps as far as 6 meters towards the end! To make matters worse, statues came to life after each jump, swiping out and narrowly missing him. But Motis did what Motis does best; he got the job done, even if it meant pulling himself onto the last block! Clara took a deep breath, they survived! The same electrifying sense filled their body and brought a sense of dread to their minds. One more challenge.
Chapter 5 – A Final Friend
As they caught their breath, Clara felt a great reluctance to open her eyes. The last few times she had made the effort to lift her eyelids, she had been met with a chamber of death, complete with moving gold lions, a crazy room of mathematical torture and, worst of all, a bush dance, where their imprisonment had begun. When Clara finally made the conscious decision to take in whatever tyrannical puzzle awaited the two of them next, she was surprised to find that the room before them was not at all what she expected. Before them was an eccentrically designed room, cosy, and furnished with a random variety of books on conspiracy theories, rugs of every colour, lining scattering the floor and, perhaps most strangely of all, the walls were aligned with fake animal heads? Giraffe heads, crocodile heads, beluga whale heads, some of them even seemed alien! Even Motis might have been out of his comfort zone. It took Motis a sheer piece of orating brilliance to accurately describe the area: “This place is weird.” But it wasn’t the odd collection of items that drew her attention, it was what lay in the center of the room. A woman, crying. Wearing an old, tattered medieval dress, the middle-aged woman, weeping hysterically, sat in front of a lone rosemary scented candle. She looked as though she’d been there for centuries. Dust covered her dress; cobwebs filled her hair. Then she spoke: “Please, forgive me…” Both Motis and Clara looked at each other; they knew who this was. It had the same chalk-like quality they had heard countless times before. This was the witch. Thinking seriously for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Motis went to stop the logical and cocky woman he had just met. He went to stop Clara from physically harming the woman. But he didn’t need too. In front of him, Clara sat, hugging the witch. From Clara’s perspective, she didn’t really know what she was doing. She didn’t think she could ever love someone like the witch. This monster had purposely inflicted her with so much pain, and yet she felt the need to hug her? In the next few moments, the witch’s emotions flooded open. She could never explain her role over the centuries, but she gave it a red-hot crack. She attempted to explain how she tried to gain respect through fear, and the bush dances that had filled her gorge over the centuries and how it had been forgotten, how this whole idea had helped her see what true respect, what true friendship, looked like. She exclaimed to Clara, “I only wish I could have the relationship you two have acquired. Motis is like your big brother now!’
Pretending to understand the witches blubbering life story, Clara empathetically nodded, leaving Motis to say the most intellectual thing she’d ever heard come out of a hip-hop dancer’s mouth. He profoundly muttered, “It’s better to be loved deeply then remembered in fear.” Something must have clicked in the witch’s mind. She stopped sobbing and smiled. This groovy hip-hop dancer had just changed her life, if he could do that, she could change too. Extending their hands, Motis and Clara asked, “What’s your name?” Perplexed, the witch responded, “I don’t know, I’ve never had one.” Taking a whiff of the Rosemary scented candle she remembered their encounters with the herb throughout the ordeal, outside the mansion, on the dance hall and in the Roman styled room. “How about Rosemary?” she asked. With tears of pure joy, the witch exclaimed, “that sounds great, but now that you’ve seen me, I’ll have to kill you!” Suddenly, all the animals in the room came to life. Motis and Clara turned, and began to run for the door, only for everything to stop. They turned to see the witch laughing on the floor. She smiled and muttered, “Don’t worry guys, you are my family now!”
Epilogue It had been some time since the witch had been on her most recent spree. In fact, it had been around a year since the forgotten anniversary spectacle. She anxiously trekked up towards the gorge. No sign of anybody anywhere. The sun was slowly setting as she sat at the top of the gorge. She still couldn’t see anyone. Just as the sun set, two heads bobbed over the horizon. Clara and Motis. “Rosemary!” The pair began dashing towards Rosemary, arms open wide to receive her. And as the three embraced, Rosemary knew she had found what she had been searching for ever since she came into her powers. A family. To be loved, and most importantly, remembered, deeply rather than widely. After all, to be remembered in fear is worth just as much as being forgotten altogether. Nobody deserves to be forgotten, even Rosemary. She could feel it in her heart now… This time they would remember her.
“With the lift of a finger, she could wipe out worlds, and one glance from her crimson eyes left people numb. And as she became more and more well known, her power would only increase.” Abandoned, forgotten and alone, the mysterious Witch struggles to regain a sliver of her power. When Clara Knight finds a message in a bottle, with instructions to find an abandoned manor, addressed to her, she is unsure how to act. But after meeting Hip Hop Dancer and Parkour extraordinaire, Motis, she is ready to face any challenge that comes her way. Only with light guiding them and movement within their feel will the two be able to succeed.
Ages 10 - 14