Part-time Geniuses ~ Vol. 1

Editor’s note I’m the youth-services librarian for War Memorial Library as well as a freelance writer. This zine has come out of [common room], our weekly writers’ group for youth.

We created [common room] for the many local young people expressing a wish for a writing group where they could chill as well as create. I thought this was a great idea, but what I didn’t realise was the remarkable talent I would see in the rangatahi of Lower Hutt.

I believe they will all go far with their writing and I am so thankful to have been able to listen to and read their hilarious, heart-breaking, and poignant stories and poems throughout the year.

The pieces in this zine have been lightly edited to retain the intention the writers had for their work. The full version of this zine can be found in the libraries’ electronic collection on the Hutt City Libraries website. There are two pieces in this zine from regular guest writers. I hope you enjoy the unusual worlds and thoughtful poems in these pages.

Alisha Tyson

Contents Letter to the Gardener 4 Sophie Wei

Falling World 6 Rain Yu

My Pet 10 Simone Botha

Self-Love 12 Marah Roque

Stank U Next 14 Callum Robertson

Magical Movie Theatre 16 Alice Horera-Hunt

The Recipe of Life 20 Jane Doyle

Part-time Geniuses

Letter to the Gardener Sophie Wei In a garden full of flowers a weed wants only to grow And anyway, what foolish hand told his earth, grow me only soft and girly and perfumed?

I am none of these things, apologies, but when summer fades and their colours rot stalks into black husks I will remain as ever I will grow from concrete I will drink from acid rain I will remain and still bloom.

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Part-time Geniuses

Falling World Rain Yu “You know it’s going to happen someday right?” I walked up to the top of the cliff. A wide area spread out in front of me. No plants, no movement, only the dust fluttered in the wind.

“What?” came from the one standing behind me, she expected my question to be more specific. She was my friend, the one I could trust, the one who survived. Her name was Rosy.

“The world is falling.” I said. I didn’t move my eyes from the distance. Rosy stepped forward to see what I was seeing. The Earth was bleak: unpredictable weather, hot sun, and freezing night.

It made me wonder about the world that “old humans” talked about. The large city, soft breeze, green forest and migrating birds, they didn’t need to worry about food and water, people owned their homes, earned money, and used it for entertainment…

The cool wind blew against my face and broke my imagination of the old world. Facing me, there was no forest, no birds, and no people in homes.

“Let’s go, Lynn, night is coming.” Rosy knew we could not continue traveling.

She patted my shoulder to remind me.

We returned down the same path, and picked up our leather bags. The bags were for our daily task we called “searching.” It was the easiest way to keep alive in this world.

“I bet Toby and Corey have found something.” Rosy broke a long silence between us. Unfortunately, thoughts had been hanging around my mind; thoughts about friendship, life, and future. I shouldn’t be worrying about the future.

We shouldn’t.

Negative thoughts seemed to “kill” me. And I couldn’t help it. We had spent a lot of time trying to find other humans alive in this world, but nearly ten years went by, and we lost. We were now lost in the world. We could not guarantee we were not slowly being killed by this environment.

“They must have found some food or water, don’t you think so? Lynn?”

I looked up at Rosy’s face, she was expecting a response.

“Yeah…yes, they will have.” I said, so she would feel satisfied.

Rosy looked pretty under the sunset, the lights seemed to turn her red hair to orange. In that time, the sun was warm and soft; it was the best time to come out of the shadows in my mind.

Our new place was a small cave on the other side of the hills – there we met the other two boys. It was far away from the cliff we had stood on, when we arrived, the night had already come.

Fire lit up the cave, like a lighthouse guiding the boats lost in the ocean.

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Part-time Geniuses “Wow! Girls are back!” One of the boys said, his voice was thin and weak, although he wanted to speak vigorously. That wasn’t Toby’s normal voice, it had sounded strong, healthy but not that deep; it was only suitable for a skinny boy.

“Nights are always freezing.” I said, putting down my empty bag, and sitting close to the fire. It drove away the coldness on my skin.

Rosy passed me a blanket, and sat beside me: “How was the ‘searching’, you guys?” Rosy asked, her voice full of expectation.

“Not bad. Enough for a good meal.”

Rosy was right, she laughed, and then she looked at me, and pushed my shoulder lightly: “As I said, Lynn.”

“Good guessing Rosy.” I smiled back at her.

“Starving time will soon be over.” Toby said, then went to grab his bag behind the other boy: Corey. Corey was lying there, face to the wall, we could not see his face and guess his mood. Toby ignored Corey, and passed his bag to me. I felt something had happened to these boys, I knew Rosy felt so too.

There were some biscuits and a bottle full of water in the bag.

“That is for you both.” Toby said and looked at us until we began to eat and drink.

“You guys found a house?” I asked. These biscuits didn’t taste fresh, but still good for four hungry teenagers.

“Houses.” Toby corrected me proudly, “Corey and I have only been in one, we saw the other from a distance: it looked big. We got back before it became dark. I plan on us moving there tomorrow.” When he finished he started coughing long and heavy.

I glanced at Rosy, we were surprised. We won’t be starving for a while.

But Toby seemed ill, it might be flu, we didn’t know what the source of it was. It was the biggest problem for us so far. All he had was the last of his prescription. Could we find some herbal medicine in the wild? We couldn’t let the flu kill him.

“Good idea.” I said and Rosy and I arranged plans with Toby.

Corey moved a bit, and caught my attention.

“What happened with Corey?” Rosy whispered to Toby. I wanted to know too.

Toby shrugged his shoulder, but his eyes betrayed him.

“I also want to know that.” I pumped.

Toby sighed, “We saw the dead in the house, Corey might feel uncomfortable somehow.”

“Death is normal, Toby.” I doubted he was hiding the truth.

“I’m not lying.” Toby sounded a bit serious, and then he was rapidly coughing again.

“You are! Toby!” The skinny boy shouted behind him, his voice was full of anger and sadness, “You know what’s happening; you know it more clearly than anyone else!”

Falling World Toby lowered his head, keeping silent.

“You are dying Toby! You are suffering! You told us the prescription works for you, but I know it doesn’t, not even a little.” Corey pulled off the blanket that covered him; he stood up, looked at our shocked face, “People are dying in the silence, they abandoned us. We are the last Survivors; we have spent years searching for more that live, now we must admit, no one is alive in this world except us.”

I understood the sadness of Corey. Darkness covered him, it was easy to let the negative thoughts fall.

“But…Corey…” I really wanted to fix everything, but I couldn’t.

None of us responded to Corey, we knew his words were extreme, but we didn’t know how to help him, how to fix it, or how to completely protect ourselves from those negative thoughts.

Corey sighed and laid back, he didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

That was a dark, cold night; we used up all our wood in the fire. ~

No one mentioned what was said the following day. We still carried out Toby’s plan.

Just as Toby said, it was a big one, a big house with a yard and garage. We went away from the cliff, and climbed over four or five mountains to get to the house. On the way, we cut off the branch of dead trees to add to our fire wood.

The big house was magnificent to us, although some part of the top had been damaged. The gate of the house had been open for a long period, it stuck in the soil, the handles were covered by rust, and it could not be twisted. Many stains were on the wall, which was also covered in dust.

We walked in to the house, and began ‘searching’, also looking for the best place to sleep overnight. The house smelled old, I walked up stairs, leaving the first level to the boys.

There was a corridor, some of the doors were broken, and I opened all the doors that were closed. I walked unconsciously into a room. It was a big room, a wide bed in the middle, wooden chairs that had fallen down. Sunlight came through the broken windows. From the light, I could see little things floating in the air.

Everything was covered by the dust, they were all but forgotten. A wooden wardrobe was on the left side of the room, my curiousness came out. I raised my head to see the top of it, and pulled the handles carefully.

It felt like opening an ancient secret, the friction from the sound of rust. The floating dust made me cough and I had to close my eyes. The light cleared the darkness out of the wardrobe, and finally, I could see the things inside.

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Part-time Geniuses

Falling World

Suddenly someone was yelling on the first level, it sounded like Toby.

I couldn’t hear it clearly until he yelled a second time, “Guys! Come here! See what I have found!”

I closed the wardrobe, and ran down to the hall. Rosy and Corey were also on the way, the yelling directed us to the room where Toby was.

It was the kitchen, bottles and tins were on the shelves. On the floor there was broken glass telling the history of the room. Toby squatted on the side of the room near the shelf; he looked at something on the floor, and gave us a gesture to come close to him.

We moved there slowly, he was looking at some broken glasses.

“What’s happening?” Rosy asked.

“See the dust on those glasses, and look at that direction.” Toby said calmly, and pointed. He stood up so we could see.

I saw something on the floor on the other side of the room. They looked rather like footprints, although they were not clear, but I could figure out the outline, they were from human beings!

“Got it?” Toby asked. “The broken glasses are fresh.”

Rosy smiled happily. It was a great discovery; the sunshine shone on Corey and Rosy’s face.

“I think they were just passing here a few weeks ago, the steps go into the storeroom and out the backdoor.” Toby raised his arms to point out where they’d been. Rosy and Corey started to cheer, a celebration was coming. Corey left the room, asking us to check the footprints that Toby told us about. Rosy followed Corey and they disappeared behind the door.

I looked up at Toby’s face; I wanted to tell him his discovery had saved us. Toby’s expression was one I will never forget. He was smiling, full of pain, but also relief. “This world isn’t falling. It never was,” he said.

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Part-time Geniuses

My Pet Simone Botha My pet is an angel.

I found it in the mud, the storm of thrashing waves and rainbow light battling silently above. It had been a bad week, and an even worse day, the weather wasn’t doing much to help it. It was as if every shadow was countered by at least two or three bright lights, and every step you took seemed to shake the earth as if it were screaming.

My parents never see it, but they know it’s there. It waits in the garden, flowers flourishing under its feet, for me every day. It comes covered in bruises, scarred and sore from battle. It shields its wings under the porch’s veranda top and smiles when I hum.

It never speaks a word.

My angel likes to dance, and spread its wings in the garden. It feeds on home baking and warm family nights, but its favourite food of all is the warm feeling that bursts from people when they smile so widely it almost pains them. Like babies laughing for the first time, that moment is filled with something so deliciously simple.

It listens to my day, and spreads its wings at night. It makes the neighbours smile, and plants the stars in the sky. It leaves after a while, and the storm comes creeping back to greet it.

It never speaks a word.

My angel is made of colour, covered in every light. Its hair is coloured red, while its skin is littered with sunsets. Its eyes are ever-changing, and its wings are quite a sight. It sits in softly coloured clothing, its hands clasped around a bag of night, filled with all the stars.

Its feet are always bare, and roses sit in its hair. One moment the roses are blue, the next they’re the prettiest shade of yellow you’ve ever seen.

My angel is littered with golden blood, bruises of soft silver, and it smiles with the colour that lives deep inside my soul.

It showed up in the garden one day, no longer filled with warm light.

Its pouch of shining stars were gone, its hair done up tight. I cried, for I had loved my angel. I cried when it held my hand to say goodbye and planted flowers in my hair.

It never showed up again, like it was never even there.

And if it loved me too?

It never spoke a word.

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Part-time Geniuses

Self-love Marah Roque Self-love isn’t all about the glow, body positivity and celebrating all the things that make you feel alive and free; because self-love, like any kind of love, is painful too. Self-love is allowing yourself to be vulnerable when your world crumbles down. It’s accepting defeat and the fact that you can’t have things figured out all the time. Self-love is letting yourself stare at your own reflection and really see your own imperfections—each pimple, each stretch mark, and each layer of fat on your belly. It is embracing the darkest facet of your being, and loving it just the same way you love your most beautiful angle. Self-love is learning to be gentle to yourself even when you feel otherwise. It is taking a step back to reconnect with your roots and allowing yourself to be more human—to feel the ache, the chaos and the nothingness. And self-love, just like any kind of love, is a choice. It is deciding to wake up every single day with hope, even if the world is giving you all the reasons to dim your light. And I hope you choose it every waking moment of your life, because guess what, it’s worth it.

YOU’RE WORTH IT.

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Part-time Geniuses

stank u, next Callum Robertson “Don’t make me tell you again! I need, backstage, right now, a white horse, so get out of my sight and get me what I want!”

I didn’t dare say no. She was, after all, Ariana Grande, and she needed what she needed I guess. It was my job as her personal assistant to fulfil her every wish. She was paying me a lot to do so. But I don’t care anymore. I’m done being bossed around by someone named after a Starbucks drink size. It was time for a little payback.

“Yes sir,” I told the farmer.

“OK, but tell me again, just so I’m totally sure. You want the smelliest horse I own?”

“Yes sir,” I repeated.

“Oh jeez well I suppose that’d be Ol’ Nelly. Alright. It’ll be a few hours before I can get her out to ya though…”

“I’ve transferred six -thousand dollars into your account. A helicopter will be arriving shortly. Have the horse ready.”

I hung up.

Miss Grande stomped around the stage. It was almost an hour before her show was meant to start.

“This lighting is terrible!” She yelled, “Can’t any of you bozos do anything right? And where’s my damn horse?”

“She’s in your dressing room Miss Grande,” I replied calmly.

“Finally! You know I oughta fire you!”

“Yes, yes. You’ve told me before.”

Ariana stormed off toward her private room, flung the door open and slammed it behind her. I locked her in. Ol’ Nelly stood in the centre of the room. Ariana carefully approached her. This was her pre-show ritual. She had to woo a horse. Don’t ask me why.

Peering through the keyhole, I didn’t need to second guess the moment the first of Ol’ Nelly’s farts reached Ariana’s nostrils. Miss Grande reeled back, flopping to the floor like a freshly caught salmon. She grasped at her throat.

Her eyes were watering. Mascara had begun dripping down her cheeks.

“Open…” She gasped, “…the…door…”

I had my headphones in.

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Part-time Geniuses

Magical Movie Theatre Alice Hoerara-Hunt

I liked the rain. It meant I got to jump in puddles. The muddy water would splash my trousers. Then, I would move on to the next puddle. Mum always lagged behind with her phone. She clomped along in her emerald snakeskin heels, hoisting her leopard skin handbag into a more comfortable position on her arm. She watched me splash in puddles and I remember her wrinkling her nose in disgust before returning to the screen.

Nevertheless, I continued to splash in puddles, feeling the rain wet my hair and fill my gumboots. I was about to demolish the next puddle but then I looked down and saw something quite unusual. Mixed in the muddy brown water was a hint of colour: a dull red and a queer suggestion of black and white, rippling along with the rain water. I bent down and picked it up. It was a movie theatre ticket. I pocketed it and scampered away.

I hopped in a couple more puddles and started skipping down the grey street. I only stopped when I passed an old looking brick building. It had bright fairy lights hanging down over the big board with the words “Now playing: The Disappearance”. The building towered over me, dragging me closer with its multi-coloured fairy lights that adorned its doors. Bright light leaked through the empty ticket booth.

I stared at it for a brief moment, and then snatched the ticket from my pocket. I looked from ticket to theatre, then back to the ticket again. Written in smudged type were the words “The Disappearance”. I grinned and splashed in one more puddle.

As I edged closer, the mouth-watering smell of buttered popcorn wafted into my nostrils like tendrils reaching out to me. One more step and the doors flung open, begging me to come inside.

I walked in, oblivious to the creature lurking in the darkness. I didn’t know he was waiting for me. I hurried down the red-carpeted stairs, heading to the front row, eager to be fixated on the big screen. The seats were all flipped up, like the theater wasn’t expecting visitors. I sat in the only available seat that was flipped down; it had a plush burgundy velvet cushion hanging off it.

I made myself at home, getting all comfortable. Immediately, the movie started playing. It was obviously a really old movie, where annoying credits play for ages at the beginning. It was boring, but I watched contently, leaning back and getting comfortable. The images were black and white scrolling letters. Music played. It was slow, scratchy and strangely relaxing.

Suddenly, I heard whispering behind me. I looked back. Nobody was there; the seats were empty.

I was alone.

I focused back to the screen. Again, I heard giggling and loud

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Part-time Geniuses

Magical Movie Theatre munching from behind me. I looked back and, yet again...nothing. I tried to ignore it, but it continued. One minute. Three minutes. Ten minutes. I couldn’t focus on what was playing on the screen; something about a poor boy looking for food. The movie could have been foreign for all I knew.

I stood up and started up the stairs. I had no wish to continue watching the screen, or listening to the phantom behind me.

As I made my way out, I became aware of someone, or something following me. I could hear it breathing. Crooked, gravelly breaths. In, out, in… out. It was right by my ear.

A wave of nausea crashed into me and I fell.

I heard a high shriek from the entrance of the theatre, followed by the clomping of high-heeled shoes. ‘Mommy!’ I yelled, trying to pick myself up.

Before I knew it, I was gathered into her arms. Her breath felt hot on my shoulder, and mine on hers. My mother held me crushed against her body. As she ran, I bounced up and down. Her fake nails hurt my back and her eyelashes tickled the top of my head. She didn’t look back.

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Part-time Geniuses

The recipe of life Jane Doyle Step 1 Collect sadness from a metallic pail And guilt from a sharpened nail.

Gather 3 coins made from absolute disgust From vault 66 with a pint of lust.

Step 2 Mix well and cream in a bathtub filled with fondness and love, And a tablespoon of the desire for a miracle from above.

Get an angry tear from a waiter dropping mutton on his trousers, so fine And a cup of impatience at a terminal from people waiting in line.

Step 3 Squeeze heart-breaking betrayal from a bullet that shot a friend in the back, Drag righteousness from the bonce of Judge, setting justice back on track.

A dagger in the night, a foolish jest, A near end to what is best.

So stir well, drain it all ‘till it’s gone, You won’t last forever you know, but life will always go on.

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[ takes place at 4.30pm every Friday during term-time. if you are interested in creative writing and want a space to share your ideas, get some advice – or just hang out with like-minded people – we’d love to see you there!

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