Utopia - June 2024

Utopia Magazine Mystery Edition

Editor’s Note

Hello to everyone about to start reading!

I’m Allegra, the editor-in-chief for this year’s edition of the Utopia magazine. A lot of work has gone into this behind the scenes, and I just have to tell you how incredible it is to finally see it all come to fruition. However, we couldn’t have done this without a long, long list of people helping us. Firstly, I’d like to thank Mr Barton and Mr McMahon. Without you, we wouldn’t have had a magazine to make, and I never would have gotten the opportunity to lead it, either. Thank you so much. Secondly, I must thank the entire English Society, for all the work they’ve done, from the assemblies to the design to the posters. I know it wasn’t easy, but look at what we’ve achieved! Next, I have to recognise the incredible GCSE and A-Level art students who have their pieces in the magazine. Thank you for creating such evocative and beautiful pieces. And finally, a huge thank you to everyone who submitted to the magazine. Obviously, we wouldn’t have a magazine without you. It is such a pleasure reading your incredible pieces.

Part 1: Fast Fiction

Pg. 5 - Y7 Fast Fiction

Pg. 7 - Y8 Fast Fiction

Pg. 9- Y9 Fast Fiction

Pg 11. Honorary Fast Fiction

Part 2: Distant Galaxies

Pg. 13- Amal Rahim Ahmed

Pg. 16 - Isa Mcvey

Part 3: Mystery Fiction

Pg. 21 - The Book by Lorelei Goach

Pg. 23 - Click Clunk by Wan Ho Ai

Pg. 24 - The Storm by Anoushka Loomba

Pg 25- Deja Vu by Andrea Cheung

Pg 28- The Presence by Ava McIntosh

Pg 30- A Shriek by Daniel Cheung

Pg 32- The Unknown by Amelie WardropSzilagyi and more...

Pg 34- Miyamoto Musashi by Iris Ridgers

Pg 37- The Presence by Livia Bao

Pg 39- The Hidden Book by Kamini Chak

Pg 41- Delivered by Ruby Shaw

Pg 43- The Revenge of Moritzo by Wan Ho Ai

Pg 46 - Stuck by Daniel Cheung

Pg 48 - I Saw It At the Top of the Stairs by Lorelei Goach

Fast Fiction Year 7

Matilda Lee 7 Y-K

”Where was I?“ I reluctantly opened my eyes to chaos unfolding around me. People were shrieking cacophonous screams throughout a spacious hallway. What was happening? A feeling of deja vu abruptly came over me like a tsunami, overwhelming inquisitiveness pounding in my head. It must’ve been kismet that I was in this peculiar place. Suddenly,the walls made of pristine marble started collapsing and colliding into each other,creating a myriad of shimmering stars.

As the place started to crumble,an expansive void unmasked itself from its bright facade. The inky sky acted as the perfect canvas for the shards, now dissipating midair. I could feel the lacuna of a black hole starting to suck me in,craving something to fill its eternal loneliness,yet nothing could soothe its ravenous appetite. It was too late… . Beep. Subject 0351’s condition is stable. Continue to reap her memories. Initiate phase 2.

Charlize Lam 7MK

The moon's ethereal glow seeped through cracked windows, casting eerie shadows on faded wallpaper A chilling breeze whispered through the dim hallway as a malevolent presence emerged. Veiled in tattered remnants, she dragged a gnarled rake, its tines etching a tormenting tune along the suffocating corridor.

Beneath decaying floorboards, a squeak pierced the frigid air, unraveling emotions within the figure Compelled by obsession, she lunged towards the whimper, anguished screams echoing as she clawed at rotting planks, desperate to reveal the trembling soul hidden below.

Within the recess of splintered wood, the soul trembled violently, haunted by betrayal The figure's determination to destroy intensified, chilling the atmosphere Her icy face drew closer, the rake poised high, ready to torment With a twisted, contorted grin, she unleashed the rake with a demented laugh, metallic shrieks blending with a blood-curling chorus.

Fast Fiction Year 7

Heibo Chung 7B-B

The realm of the human psyche. Darkness. Manifesting and embodying the labyrinthine depths of one's thoughts, where shadows dance and secrets lie concealed. It’s ghosting you, negative, ignorant and disruptive. It is the haunting void that engulfs the mind, casting doubt and fear upon the fragile fabric of consciousness.

Within this darkness, doubts breed like whispers, and anxieties grow like gnarled roots, ensnaring the weary soul in a web of introspection.

DON’T look into the eyes. Enveloping the world in its nocturnal embrace, the absence of light renders the familiar alien, shrouding reality in obscurity. A canvas upon which dreams are painted. It is in this literal darkness that the mind finds solace, yet you can’t stand it. It hurts. Darkness holds the power to both torment and inspire, but all you do is sink into ignorance and despair and you stare right into them. The eyes. It’s the end.

Sophia Coventry - 7M

The real mystery wasn’t how 12-year-old Prudence became so brainily bright, insightfully intelligent or curiously creative…it was how two stupendously dullwitted dullards like her parents, Mr and Mrs Winklebottom, could produce such a shining example of intelligence, resourcefulness and imagination

Humans and chimpanzees share 98 8% of their DNA Standing next to the Winklebottoms, chimpanzees were outraged and insulted to be so closely related to those two

Percy and Petunia Winklebottom – denser than the thickest undergrowth, more vacuous than a vacuum, dimmer than a 20-watt lightbulb.

Prudence loved to read everything Picking up the newspaper, she read an article with fascination. 12 years ago, a lovely, super-smart couple lost their baby in a hospital mix-up and had been searching in vain for their long-lost daughter. Advances in genetic tracing led them to embark on a new search with renewed optimism

Good luck, thought Pru I hope you find her

Fast Fiction Year 8

Esra Akin, 8B-B

Time pauses. The sharp pulsing of my thick blood against my skull confuses me. Why do I feel so peculiar? The anxiety building inside me is persistent, pressing against my ribcage now, clawing at my chest like a prisoner thirsty for freedom.

I can feel my heart drop to my stomach as I look at her, my beloved. For a moment, she is frozen, and I find myself holding my breath alongside her. Why must big decisions always fall onto me? The tormenting tug at my heartstrings pulls me back to reality, and I feel everyone’s eyes burning deep into my flesh.

They are judging me, chipping away at me. Someone clears their throat, and I spring back to life. I need to remember where I am. “Erm, yes, yes I do”. The church erupts in cheers and relieved laughter, drowning out my internal static as I kiss my bride.

Kabo Chung 8-BK

I walk into class and sit down. Chatter echoes around the room, seeming tranquil. But I know better. There is always a calm before the storm. And of course, I feel something laser into my back, like a hot iron.

It multiplies, two, three, four of them, engraving into my skin. I wish for the agony to stop but to no avail. Minutes pass and it only intensifies. I want to shout, order them to stop, tell them they can’t control me!

But my throat dries, and my skin turns feverish. My ears redden and every part of my body wants to surrender. I need to fight, but I can't. I’m... too weak. I sit there, and succumb to the onslaught of pain that comes my way. Just like every day before. Are they happy? Happy to see me suffer? It's always been a mystery. A mystery of how they find so much joy in making my life a living hell.

Fast Fiction Year 8

Pranay Devchand 8C-B

Tendrils of emerald smoke rose dreamily skywards, like hazy skeletal figures clawing at the ancient limestone that towered above. An antique wooden clock stood tall, its ornate frame weathered by time, its rhythmic ticking echoing through the centuries.

Clouded by the misty vapour, even the soft, flickering illumination of the candles which burned behind could not distinguish the face of the clock creeping open, its light lost as it ventured into the abyss of the smoke. The hands of the clock seemed to beckon imperiously, like a puppetmaster steering me as I floated through the mist Then, through the clock, I saw the room: A colossal dome of intricate glass stretched overhead, its translucent panes refracting sunlight in a kaleidoscope of colours It bathed a gargantuan library in its ethereal light, illuminating towering bookshelves overflowing with an endless array of books. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my head. Then, darkness.

Vivienne Chen, 8B-K

The lights flicker while they fill the room with their presence. Their shapes blur into one, but infinity at the same time. There simply is no way to conceive their physical properties Darkness is light; light morphs into darkness as they flutter and dance around.

The only real way to tell how many there are is to look into their eyes. Yet, their misshapen eyes are dangerous places. One look; and then they truly are You feel that their pure essence is that of evilness, in fact. There is an absence of sensation as they surround you; your vision becomes a haze; slowly consuming the last shreds of solace that you were desperately holding onto. You try to whip your head around to no avail; your brain processes pain from sensations that aren’t happening as the delusion becomes stronger, and you sink deeper into peaceful ignorance and disappear.

Fast Fiction Year 9

Yash Nandwani 9-CK

The heavy, wrought-iron gates creaked open, allowing a somber Elias Tate to enter the desolate graveyard as a thick fog enveloped the scene, casting an ethereal pallor over the black-clad mourners, their features etched with grief. The air was laden with a macabre silence, broken only by the distant hoot of ravens perched atop the highest branches of the mighty oak trees. Inside the decrepit mausoleum, the flickering candles cast eerie shadows on the moss-covered walls.

The scent of damp earth and wilted roses mingled with the faint aroma of incense, leaving a haunting impression upon the senses. Cobwebs hung like fragile shrouds, interweaving with the musty scent of forgotten memories.As Elias Tate stepped further into the heart of the graveyard, time seemed to stand still. Each step he took echoed through the silence, amplifying the weight of his sorrow. The gravestones, weathered and worn, stood like sentinels in the mist, bearing the names of countless souls who had found their eternal rest in this hallowed ground…

Anoushka Loomba 9M-B

The rain had slowed to a cold drizzle, matching the chill seeping into my bones I hugged my jacket tight, straining to see through the haze. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed and flashed, creeping closer with each passing second. My hands shook uncontrollably No matter how hard the rain fell, it couldn't wash away the crimson that stained my skin. Flashes of memory tore through my mind her scream piercing the night, our struggle, the sickening sound as her body fell limp in the leaves I screwed my eyes shut but she was there, pale face locked in terror Before I could run, blinding white lights shattered the gloom Shouts and crunching leaves signaled their approach, closer with every heartbeat. I was trapped, a soul haunted by my own hands and the innocent lifeblood on them. There would be no outrunning the truth or the ghosts of this terrible night.

Fast Fiction Year 9

WanHo Ai 9-YK

One gloomy night in Norfield, Joe Rockford wal from the Advisory with a drooped head and hands in his pocket He wore a fur coat, a clean but not crisp shirt, trousers as thick as the snow and boots comparable to a fireplace.

But he was still cold. Joe Rockford shivered and rubbed his hands vigorously to stay warm. As street lamps cast unnatural cones of yellow on the streets, the town was shrouded in fog and rain drizzled down in a light and happy mood. The moon hid behind the clouds and emitted a sick, pale glow through the fog.

As Joe Rockford turned left onto Hoppit Street, he whistled and stopped in front of an alleyway. A man slithered out; with him, Rockford continued forward. In front of the churchyard, the men climbed over the wall like snakes and quietly crept into the imposing mausoleum of Lord Simmons.

Lois Hamilton-Norman, 9B-B

She clutched the bony white candle; its flame flickered as it guided her through the darkened hallway. “One last room…” She turned the dented brass doorknob and a shiver of unease crept up her spine as she stepped into the desolate room.

But she knew she must continue. Innocent blood had been spilled and yet the guilty walked free. She looked up at the painting. It was almost a perfect likeness: his piercing eyes; his pale cheeks; his sallow sunken skin. All that was missing was his sickening grin. She pulled out her knife and ripped open the painting. A crisp white envelope emerged, delicately falling to the ground. She had been lied to. She had been deceived and her sanity was hanging by a thread, but she had found it Truth She reached out to clasp it, but froze as she felt his icy breath on her shoulder.

Fast Fiction Honorary Mentions

Ruby Shaw 9Y-B

Panting hard, my breath plumed before me, a welcome contrast to the quickly enveloping darkness as dusk began to shade the sky indigo. I lifted my face to the crisp night air, letting the cool breeze dance over my skin, sweat collected in beads along my forehead. Gazing down from my stone plinth, I marveled at the view below: vast swathes of land stretched into the horizon, while great ribbons of water twisted as far as the eye could see, adorning the hills and mountains that rose and fell like waves in an endless sea.

I had finally made it. Inching forward, I stopped myself just in time, granite crumbling at my toes. I had to be careful; nearly a thousand feet lay between me and the ground—a fall no one could survive.

That was the moment terror struck.

Two weights landed on my back. I tumbled into darkness.

Natalie Sinn 7M-B

I woke up groggily, my back aching. I looked around, inspecting my atmosphere I was in a shed of cardboard boxes, the dim luminescence of the rising sun lighting the room. Strange- I’d never been here before, yet something about here gave me a twinge of deja vu.

My thoughts slipped back to last night – being ambushed down the murky alleyway from people who… I couldn’t recall I staggered around, looking like a tipsy middle-aged man who’d been drinking far too much from the pub. I didn’t know how I got here. All my memories had disappeared since yesterday The only thing I wanted to do was get out of here. Soon, I found a tarnished door handle. I yanked on it, almost dislodging it from the door. The timbered door burst open and I sprinted, inhaling the deleterious air of somewhere ‘in-the-middleof-nowhere’, as people would call it.

Artwork

Sophie Hanlon

Distant Galaxies

2000 years ago, the great Feline Empire had technology given to them straight from heaven. Their knowledge surpassed the human race’s, and their lifespans extended to almost 200 times greater than that of the Homo-sapiens.

These creatures were disgusted by the sight of the Humans and other creatures around them, scared that they would advance in knowledge and attempt to take their goods and technology, so they built great large ships and traveled to distant galaxies and universes in search of a new home with better companions. It is said they never found a home and perished in outer space.

A girl, young and unsure, awakened in a ship, her head swimming amid the bright lights reflecting off her smooth chocolate skin. Fluttering open, her large hazel eyes gleamed at the planet before her, the cotton candy clouds so perfectly arranged, one after the other. Spaceships floated past, some making their way towards skyscrapers so tall they were visible from outer space. The three moons circling the planet shone brightly onto the glass building, making them look iridescent.

The girl shook her head and stumbled out of the sleep pod, looking for a control panel so she could guide her ship towards this mysterious planet. Her hands finally found the lever, and using all remaining strength from her starving, energy-deprived body, she pushed towards the planet. As the ship started to gain speed, the girl felt her eyes start to droop, her brain start to power down. The last thing she saw before her ship hit the ground were human-like creatures scurrying away from the ship.

Distant Galaxies

Chandni winced as she opened her eyes once more, blurry silhouettes blocking the ceiling lights. She groaned and attempted to get up, but was forced back down by a soul-piercing pain in her stomach. “Young Homo-Sapien, do not attempt to sit up,” a stern husky male voice admonished. Her eyes blinked, bringing the man into focus. Chandni’s eyes widened.

A cat the size of a human, with thin rimmed glasses at the end of his nose, languidly sat down on a chair. He sat as though he were human, hind legs neatly folded.

“I’m sorry, but, what in the universe are you?” asked Chandni as she suppressed an urge to run from the strange human-feline beside her. The cat sighed and stood up. “That is not important Homo-Sapien. Now, you have been permitted to stay in Catavia for 1 fleek. Any longer and you will be forcefully removed and punished.”

He nodded at Chandni and calmly walked out of the room. “Wait! What do I do here?” she gasped as the door slowly closed. Scared for her life, she slowly got up, her legs wobbling and her stomach on the verge of attacking her again. Gingerly and carefully, she wobbled over to a giant steel door opposite the one the cat-doctor-human had left from, using up most of the little strength she had left to push it open. She was greeted with a sight that would forever be tattooed in the depths of her mind.

Distant Galaxies

A great city, with tall glistening glass buildings in shapes that she never knew could exist, let alone constructed. Hundreds of roads and bridges looping and twisting around each other. Small cars and big buses floating and gliding along the roads and bridges, sometimes swerving smoothly off into the air.

Chandni felt something stir in her memory, as though she had heard of these feline creatures before, in some story.“The Feline Empire! This is the Feline Empire! I’ve found it, oh my… cat god!” she gasped in wonder as she hurriedly limped back into her room and scrambled around for her disposable camera. She quietly creaked open the other door, peeking out to see many cats of different colors, hair lengths, and sizes walking around on two legs, up and down the corridor, fully clothed.

Chandni snatched her satchel and opened the steel door once again, finally making it out. She breathed in the sweet refreshing smell of the air and gazed up at the sky, still wondering how something could be so pretty. Suddenly, from behind her , a small young cat wearing a blue shirt turned to her and said “Me-ow you doing?” He walked suspiciously towards her, stopped, and tugged on her shirt .“Get lost! Nasty Homo-Sapien!” Suddenly, more and more cats emerged from everywhere and started chanting, “Get lost! Get Lost!” Chandni’s palms were sweating, her brain turning fuzzy. Why were these creatures being so vile? A large cat loomed before her. “You aren’t supposed to be here. Wake. Up.”.“What…?” her voice trailed as she collapsed.

Chandni woke up panting on her ship. She looked out, no planet. She was alone in the dark abyss we call space.

Distant Galaxies

We know earth, where the sky is blue, where gravity exists to keep us stable. We know there are the planets that surround our world, but what about the planets that we don’t learn in school, that don’t cross our minds, the ones that we don’t know exist, but what if they did.

Spinning, rotating, swivelling and then a stop. Stars were revolving round poor Asteria’s head, when she opened her eyes, it was as if she was hallucinating. Stars gleamed down on her from up in the heavens, as she lay on the icy ground, she felt safe. For once in her 14 years of living she felt safe. She felt as though nothing could hurt her.

She felt invincible. She didn’t have the faintest idea why, but she knew this was where she was safe. Not like on earth with all the crimes committed there. She got up cautiously, both hands gripping the ground like her life depended on it, both feet steadying herself. For Asteria it felt as though it had taken decades for her to stand up and stabilise herself, but in reality, it had taken 5 minutes, but was this reality?

Was the time in this galaxy the same as on earth? Asteria gazed around curiously, her eyes darting from one new object to the next, curiosity fluttering around her. As she placed each foot in front of the other, her mind wandered to why she was there. As Asteria continued to walk, a voice in her head spoke out “Where are you going Asteria?”. Asteria was used to the voice in her head. Being alone your whole life, you start to imagine supernatural beings being present. Calypso was her supernatural being, her voice in her head, the voice that pushed her to do things.

Isa McVey-

Distant Galaxies

As Asteria reached the edge of the planet, breathing heavily, but calmly, surveying her surroundings. There in the corner of her eye was a small, shrivelled being, lying helplessly on the ground, Asteria could have chosen to let her heart overrule her mind and go up to this creature to understand why it was in this state, but being alone her whole life had given her the ability to ignore, to disregard, and to just not care

Calypso's voice rang through her head, telling her to ignore this creature, that it wasn’t her problem and to show no empathy towards it, so she listened. Asteria walked away, holding her head up high, not even glancing back at the vulnerable being.

Amalthea, the goddess of this galaxy, had summoned Asteria here, to subject her to the test of kindness. She observed her as she walked away, pitying this intergalactic girl

Two weeks had passed since Asteria had been summoned here, she had learned to provide for herself in this galaxy Her only company was Calypso, and though Amalthea had watched and studied Asteria during this time, she had never made herself known to her

As the moon, glassy like a freshly polished pearl, came into view,Calypso’s voice sounded in Asteria’s ear demanding she woke up. Asteria’s body was limp and her mind relaxed, it was morning. Instead of birds chirping softly through the window all you could hear was the daunting, almost frightening silence. Walking was becoming unnatural to Asteria, she now glided. She was gliding like a snow white swan on a smooth lake, following Calypso’s voice in her head.

Isa McVey-

Distant Galaxies

Every morning a different withered being would appear near the edge of the planet, and every morning the little being shook so much it would vibrate closer to the edge, eventually falling off, and everyday Asteria could have helped it, but Calypso’s voice had told her not to. Hidden, Amalthea consistently failed each day to bring kindness into Asteria’s frozen heart.

Amalthea couldn’t understand this being and why her heart didn’t want to help, so she strategically placed withered creatures with the hope to change Asteria The sight of the helpless being that had appeared made Asteria feel powerful, but not in a good way. Calypso told her she was better alone, just to look out for herself so once again she listened

Amalthea watched Asteria speak out into the darkness. She then realised that the thing making Asteria’s heart cold as ice was Calypso, the inner voice Amalthea had blessed Asteria with to help her feel less alone. Instead of helping her, it was destroying her ability to feel empathy and to care Amalthea had no choice but to release Asteria of this voice. So just like that, Calypso vanished, never sharing an opinion in Asteria’s mind again. The next morning Asteria was greeted by the same being, but Calypso’s voice didn’t appear.

Asteria was lonely and had no one to talk to, so she decided to edge closer to this being, curious and finally wanting to help it.

Isa McVey-

Artwork

Annika Bell

Zoe Dewar

Time Capsule

Time capsules are a permanent way to remember something Not only to enjoy it yourself for you to enjoy as memories, but also to serve as an enjoyment that would be passed down unto the next generations

One thing I would put in a time capsule would be photos to remind myself of the past and my childhood Similar to a photo album, I would try to collect photos of my life from an early childhood and would incorporate and condensed into one photo album that would try and remember my life as rewarding and never forgetful After all, everyone knows that you would only get to live once in this life, and memories of your past that you want to cherish forever should be remembered forever.

Another thing I would like to put in the time capsule is similar to photos of my past life would be toys, that would serve as a reminder about my childhood, my past, and also even a looking forward to the future, Toys, in childhood, are a things of the past, but stirs memories of simple thing back then, when you did not have to do any work However, toys are not only used as an item for looking of the childhood and past, but to be optimistic about the future and look forward to a renew in life

I would also like to add a newspaper articles fromduring the time when I lived and open up the time capsule to stir up the memories in the future. Who knows? Maybe newspaper articles would all transition to digital? Only time will tell, but preserving news articles can also be something from the past to share it for everyone to enjoy Whether it might be exciting news, or depressinged news, a newspaper article can help remember key events that have been lost to the mind

Additionally, I would like to add a letter to myself in the future, addressing to myself of all the past experiences that I had before. In fact, I could start writing about experiences as a child and open it up decades of years later to remember what I thought in the past. Isn’t that just mesmerising to remember a past writing addressed in a diary format?

The last thing I would put, well I would not talk about it, but a small device made even earlier than me that is still bought by people today It is a small, electronic device that can be extremely durable in regard of some people You use it as one of the first ways of entertainment, and is something that I want to remember even when I am older, and the invention is a century old.

Daniel Chueng

The BookLorelei Goach

The brisk breeze bit into the back of my neck. It was already March, but the winter seemed to overstay its welcome. I rubbed my hands against my worn arms, their dry surfaces subtly sanding me. A man hollered from the inside of his shiny new Honda as I urgently jaywalked across the bustling street, almost tripping over myself at the tone of his voice. This hostile environment felt strangely welcoming, as I noticed the corners of my mouth creeping up my cheeks. Walking across the avenue, I let my legs work to the rhythm of familiarity.

I had walked this street several times in my youth; I was glad to have a chance to do it again. Desperate to escape the wind’s wrath, I grabbed for the handle and pushed the ancient wooden doors open.

Stepping into the warmth of the theatre, I let out a sigh - a sigh that I had been holding in for weeks, months, maybe even years. I missed this feeling; I could let my emotions run wild through the notes of my instrument, I could hear the chorus spring up from beneath the verses, I could imagine the audience swaying to the sound of the melody. Hesitantly trailing down the aisle, I brushed my finger over the arms of each chair, feeling the rough texture against my skin. It was good to be back.

But then I saw it. All colour drained from my face as the tenacious grip of my memories were suddenly brought back to the surface. A plethora of questions emerged from my conscience: What was it doing here? Who had done this? How did they find it? The sighs of relief I had just released suddenly lodged themselves back into the depths of my throat. Eyes widening, the hairs on my arms raised, preparing myself to flee instantly from the scene. I’d never thought the day would come, but sometimes, the once hidden past comes back to haunt you: it was the one thing I could never escape.

It was The Book. “What do you want?” Although I intended to sound confident, my restrained voice cracked as it echoed throughout the hall. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t let it get out - I couldn’t let the truth get out. The familiarity of the theatre that once felt warm and comforting couldn’t possibly get colder.

The BookLorelei Goach

Then, I lost control. My body seemed to have a mind of its ownmoving rapidly underneath me, a raging fire consuming anything in its path. All it took was one misstep, and I was sent flying for the bottom of the stairs.

Pain. Several stings simultaneously sent themselves up from my knees and palms. I let out a short cry. All melodies previously playing in my head suddenly silenced themselves, and now, all I could hear was my heartbeat in my strained eyes. I bit back the lump in my throat as I stumbled upwards, a pathetic prey animal yapping at the sensory overload. I no longer felt afraid: my raging fire of fury spread - my once pale expression bright red - as all the muscles in my body tensed. My fingers dug into the heels of my hands, forming fists at my sides. The pain was gone. I strode further - further down the stairs - my eyes burning holes into The Book. My claws waved through the suffocating air as I eyed down my target. One, breathe. Two, breathe. Three, breathe. I leaped towards it.

It was all too late before I noticed it. The book in my hands was lightnot like The Book that I thought it was; The Book was a rich shade of sage, gold letters engraved into its leathery surface, spilling unspeakable words. I will not let anybody read those words. Not like this.

But this book was red. A bright, piercing red that stabbed at the retinas of my eyes. Mocking me. How could it be? Phlegm built up in my throat, heat surged through my body, paper dug into my nails. I had made a terrible mistake.

I was not in the theatre, nor had I ever been. I was outside of my apartment complex, the air’s resistance sending needles to my skin. I had just jumped out of the window.

Click ClunkWan Ho Ai

Click! Clunk!

The train screeched on the rails; the lights swayed and shook and flickered under the rhythmic clicking of the wheels against the cold steel. The dark-purple glow of bygone sunset grazed the dark sky, the stars shivered and the moon shone with a pale light. White flakes fluttered from the heavens like souls and piled up on the ground. The landscape flew past like ghosts, dots of light popping up from the houses before fading away again. Skeletons of trees lined the railwaytheir leaves died months ago.

Inside the carriage, it was cold and quiet. The coal had been used up and icicles froze down the vents connecting to the fireplace. The passengers lay on their bunks like corpses in a graveyard, tombs that displayed their bunk numbers right above their heads. On the gangway, snow exploded through the gaps; a chilly breeze filled the train coach.

Meanwhile, on the roof, a shadow crawled along, occasionally picking at the screws that secured the plates on the ceiling. With a creak and a ping, the screws came out and clicked against the train before vanishing into the abyss below the wheels. The man pushed the plate off and with a loud clang, it smashed onto the rails adjacent to the train. Quietly, the man climbed into the train coach.

The StormAnoushka Loomba

The lightning crashed above them as chaos unfolded on the deck. People screamed, ran, and bled as the masts fell and the glass windows caved in. The storm raged on, its ferocity intensifying with each passing moment. Amidst the pandemonium, a sense of foreboding gripped the air, as if something more sinister lurked beneath the stormy surface.

As the massive wave crashed down onto the deck, flooding the ship, panic escalated.

People coughed, sputtered, and choked as they clung to the last hope of life. Mysterious hands of water seemed to drag unsuspecting victims into the unforgiving ocean, their desperate cries swallowed by the raging tempest

The captain's voice boomed from the crows nest, a mix of fear and urgency. "Lower the sails! Seek shelter!" he screamed, his words barely audible above the howling wind But as the crew attempted to reach safety within their cabins, they were thwarted at every turn, as if an unseen force was conspiring against their escape.

CRASH. Suddenly, an unexpected event unfolded, further heightening the enigma The flaming torch perched atop the column came crashing down onto the deck, setting ablaze anything and everything in its path The fire danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls The crew scrambled to extinguish the flames, their efforts met with fierce resistance from the storm itself.

Below deck, a group of stragglers who had remained hidden since the storm began, desperately sought refuge. They scurried about, dragging sandbags towards the shattered glass, their hands cut and bleeding. The ship groaned and creaked, as if it held secrets of its own, secrets that could only be unraveled in the depths of its watery grave As the stragglers huddled together, their hearts pounding in their chests, a sudden gust of wind blew open a door at the end of the dark corridor. They exchanged terrified glances, their eyes fixated on the yawning darkness beyond. Slowly, hesitantly, they approached the open doorway, their fear mingling with a desperate curiosity With trembling hands, they extended a lantern into the black abyss, hoping to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. And as the dim light flickered, revealing just a fraction of the chilling truth, their blood ran cold. What they saw in that fleeting moment would haunt them forever, and they realized that their battle for survival had only just begun

Deja Vu - Andrea Cheng

When Jerry wakes up, the night is late and dark. He yawns and unsticks his face from the warm metal of his desk

It’s his third night on this job, guarding some safe behind at least eight layers of bulletproof doors. It’s easy and mundane, as the extent of Jerry’s duties lies in ‘sit in this chair and stay awake for the night’

Well, the latter part may need some modification But it’s not his fault that the place unnerves him Some high-security vault owned by some rich tech executive. Silent as a mausoleum, one exit and four walls of impenetrable steel caging him in. More like a cemetery than anything else.

Jerry swipes across the back of his neck A sheen of sweat sticks his collar to his skin Dimly, the sleep fog in his mind starts clearing, revealing underneath a barely perceptible thrum of unease. It’s that fleeting flash of sudden recognition, like what he’s experiencing now has been echoed before in his mind. The French had a name for it. What was it again…?

Screech

Instinctively, Jerry’s fingers jump to the service pistol holstered at his hip He whips his head to the bulletproof doors. Did he imagine that? There’s no way anyone could have gone past eight layers of steel without triggering the stateof-the-art security system

Right?

Jerry swallows. He should be reasonable. He’s been a security guard for decades now. Ghost stories may scare the novices, but he’s been on too many late patrols to be scared of every little noise.

Just to be sure, though, he makes his way to the control panel where a multitude of screens display the live feed from the numerous security cameras scattered all over the place. Jerry scans across the screens, and his fingers loosen on his pistol when he sees nothing amiss.

Just your imagination, he chides himself Nothing more Then his eyes catch on one of the feeds

The little square of footage shows only one thing: one of the bulletproof doors stands ajar. Jerry gapes at it for a second, then his fingers hover to the keypad. Maybe maybe the feed disconnected. Tech issues are not uncommon, especially so late into the night He just needs to check to make sure He scrolls back the footage to several hours before, eyes peeled for any movement.

Deja Vu - Andrea Cheng

And there— Jerry hits pause.

A figure. Shadowy in the windowless space, but impossible to be mistaken. The person is dressed in some sort of uniform. Another guard? Unlikely, judging from the furtive, cautious way the person is moving. They’re heading towards the end of the corridor, and Jerry recognises it as where the safe lies. But instead of a metallic facade, only an indecipherable grainy darkness is shown on the screen, as though the safe has disappeared entirely.

The figure in the dark starts turning, almost as if the person is searching out the camera… Jerry can almost see their face, just barely… Creak.

Jerry jumps. He turns, slowly, and finds the bulletproof door opened behind him, almost… expectantly. He tries to swallow. His throat is dry. With careful steps, he makes his way towards the door. He’s a security guard. This is his job, he reminds himself. Both his hands rest on the cold metal of the gun at his hip.

Hesitantly, he steps through the door. Clang. Jerry whirls around, but it’s too late. The door has slammed shut behind him.

A cold trickle runs down his spine. The click of his throat is loud in the silence as he swallows.

Jerry pulls out his pistol and turns to where the rest of the doors await. He has no choice.

Nowhere to run. He continues on the corridor.

The more he descends, the darker it is. It feels as though the passage is endless, the number of steel doors infinite. Jerry’s pulse is a glottal beat racketing his chest. His knuckles are white where he grips the gun.

Jerry’s feet step through the doorway of— the fifth room? Eleventh room? He has lost count already. What he knows, however, is that this is the space he saw in the security feed.

It is as though he has been dropped in the Arctic. The temperature falls to subzero, the air suddenly frigid and piercing. Jerry looks up and sees why.

In front of him, a black void consumes the end of the corridor. It eats at the steel walls, the centre of it a dizzying vortex of darkness. All at once, Jerry feels all the hair on his skin stand still and tense. There is a gravitational pull, a tempestuous force that draws all the atoms in the space towards it.

Deja Vu - Andrea Cheng

It compresses the air entirely: Jerry can register none of his senses save for an all-consuming, oppressing sense of pressure radiating from the black hole in front of him.

Come, it seems to beckon, and Jerry is merely a fleck of dust in the face of such devastating force; who is he to deny its call at all?

Subconsciously, his feet gravitate towards the vortex, dragging along the concrete floor.

He is close, close enough to peer into the darkness and see its unending spirals of nothingness unravel into a bottomless abyss. His foot lifts. A prickling itches at his neck, a hyper-aware sense of being watched. He turns away from the black hole, muscles trembling in effort, and he sees the red light of the security camera blinking in the corner of the ceiling.

Everything is suddenly so absurdly simple. He knows what he’s meant to do now, peering out of the screen to look into his own eyes.

I am there, he thinks.

He turns back to the black emptiness. And I am here.

He steps into the endless.

When Jerry wakes up, the night is late and dark. He yawns and unsticks his face from the warm metal of his desk. It’s his third night on the job.

The PresenceAva McIntosh

I ran, listening to the sounds of branches being broken behind me, my head turning to look behind me at every sound. The bottom of my dress was covered in mud. Almost tripping over the slowly decaying branches, I thought I saw… it. Glancing behind me, I saw nothing but trees, with leaves slowly falling off. Frantically, I kept running through the pain, desperate to find someone, anyone. The forest became harder to see as my eyesight blurred, the tears running down my chin.

Eventually, light began to stream through the canopy of trees. Despite my wheezing and panting, I kept running, determined to reach the end, to escape it.

As I neared the end, there was a path towards a decrepit house, standing menacing and tall. I ran the other way, not daring to seek shelter. Then I heard it again, creeping through the woods. It was hunting me. Every step I took away from the house I could feel it, watching me. When I got further away, I could hear it snarling, ready to attack. I had to do it. I scurried back to the old abandoned house bursting through the rotten door.

Coughing and spluttering, I entered the house and inhaled a thick layer of dust. I took a look around, the floorboards creaking as I walked. The furniture had been gnawed on, the remains lying on the floor, the moon shining on them. Nervously, I glanced at the mullioned windows and saw the dust that covered them, hiding what was outside. I had to hope that it was gone. The house was dim, the only thing lighting it up was the moon’s hazy glow. I stumbled. My bedraggled dress had gotten caught on the splintered floorboards. I put my hand against the stone wall, feeling something peculiar. I looked to see what it was - , scratch marks. I turned to the other walls, my head spinning. They were everywhere. Then I took a step back, my dress had once again got caught but this time it had gotten caught on a latch. Unlike everything else in this house, it was clean, and it looked like it had been used recently. With the little strength I had left from running I pulled on it. My heart was racing as I wondered what was inside. The latch eventually gave way, revealing a trap door. There was a set of stairs and the wood was still intact.

I started to walk down the stairs, hoping that whatever created those scratch marks didn’t live down there. The further I walked down the stairs, the more I could hear the sound of glass breaking.

The PresenceAva McIntosh

As I reached the bottom of the stairs I noticed that unlike the rest of the house, it was lit. There was someone, or something, down there. Taking a deep breath I took the final few steps. There was no one in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief and decided to take a look around. It seemed as though this cellar had been repurposed to be a laboratory as there were beakers and vials all around. They were full of mysterious liquids; some were colours I’d never seen before. While I was walking around, I noticed the smell, which was oddly metallic like blood. I looked around to see where it was coming from and then I saw it. It was horrifying, vile and gruesome. I felt sick looking at it. There was a shelf - full of body parts, any and all body parts from various different creatures, it looked like. They had been carefully preserved, a collection of sorts. I couldn’t stand to look at that abomination. Panicking, I ran towards the stairs, desperate to get away from it. I heard the floorboards creak. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man with crazed eyes. I turned round. He smiled with his yellow teeth. He mumbled something, then it all went dark.

A ShriekDaniel Cheung

It was a dreary and dismal November night; it was a night full of terrors and turmoils; it was a night where I found myself wandering deep inside the dark, woodland forest in hope of finding an exit All was quiet; all was silent; it was pitch-black darkness, as if I was enveloped in a dark hole without any end to this eerie atmosphere The more I walked, the more the path was stretched. Beside me stood tall trees that were overgrown and blocked anything from creeping past

Though I looked in awe at the trees, there was something terribly wrong about them Their branches were long, skeletal fingers that grasped at each other, their roots grated and scraped each other like rusty hinges worn over the ages, their leaves shook violently in the chilling breeze. But still, I pressed on with my journey What was I supposed to do? Head back and come back before dawn? So, still I pressed on with my journey along the path. The moon was an odd shade of yellow, and like a gleaming yellow skull, mocked at my perseverance Every step forward, the darkness grew deeper, more complete, more worrying. But still, I pressed on with my journey along the path. Slowly, cautiously, and quietly, the misshapen clouds grew larger in the night sky. But still, I pressed on I was unwilling to stay in the forest, and was planning to get back before dusk till I was stuck in this calamity. How awful! How terrible! How catastrophic!

Suddenly, it began to rain hard. The downpour dampened my spirits, and ushered me to leave this forbidden place. A mist was beginning to form around the treeline, and stealthily trickled up the path, as I began to look for refuge against the ever-thickening mist. What should I do now? Immediately, the faintest glimmer of light shone dimly amongst the forest in front of me, so small, so distinct, as if the gates of light had opened to comfort me in my high state of anxiety. Running towards what seemed to be the end of my journey, I was greeted by a sight - a majestic mansion loomed over the forest. The state of it was beyond repair, with its period of isolation and loneliness slowly devoured by time. Dilapidated, the mansion stood, but barely, in the pattering rain. The dim, yellow light flickered like a broken flashlight that pervaded through the wood However, every time I began to approach it, the less the light trickled through the forest, the less comfortable I began to feel, the less I felt being closer to the light. I quickened my pace.

A ShriekDaniel Cheung

My heart, that was as heavy as the load, began to beat. Ba-dump! Badump! BA-DUMP!

I crashed through a locked door and tumbled onto the floor. Opening my eyes, I was greeted with a sense of breathless horror. I entered the mansion. It was long deserted, but still remained in shape. The pathways of the mansion were like a black web of some sprawling spider that covered the floor like a thin sheet of white blanket.

“What should I do?” I muttered to myself.

Then, there was the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned around, only to be greeted with the dark, empty corridor that scarcely stood in the shadows. I began to explore around the house, before heading out on my way. I could feel my breath down my chin, panting hard. The more I walked, the more I wondered what secrets lay in this mansion. What kind of person would live in this type of mansion in a state of ruin? Paintings hung up the walls, depicting people dressed in oddly 18th century outfits.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream shrieked through the corridor. My face began to turn white and pale; my ears tingling in fright, my hands trembling in a heightened anxiety. I was no longer the brave, dauntless person I had known myself to be, but exchanged with a demeanor of fluster as I stood flabbergasted.

I started to sprint into the opposite direction. My legs grew tired, my arms swayed, and my face was crawling with a sense of fear. Banging at the door, I screamed, pushed, and shoved at it with all my might. It was no use. I could feel a sense of horror building. Something. Something was breathing heavily behind me, as I stood, waiting for my fate to tell…

The Unknown - Lili Wardrop-Szilagyi

As the sun started to creep down, I ran through the thick vapour. My heart was thumping in my chest, my breath shallow, my legs sore I stopped to catch my breath, my thin blonde hair falling in front of my face, and looked up. There was a manor shrouded in mist. The mouldering stone walls had vines crawling up the sides of them, the windows were cracked and covered in cobwebs, and the grand front door was rotting away I started walking towards it on the cobblestone path, moss between the pieces of stone, and looked at the surrounding scenery

The trees were dead from the November cold, branches sticking out like claws, and the area in front of the mansion was withered and unkempt, covered with a mixture of weeds and lifeless roses

It was clear the mansion was abandoned and I decided it was a good place to take shelter. The sky had now turned twilight, the only source of light from the pearl-white and iridescent moon I was nearing the neglected manor, the light guiding me through the darkness, when rain started to pour down I ran towards the mansion, each step thumping against the stone path, the rain soaking my dress. Thunder crashed; lightning boomed. When I reached the stone edifice, I stepped towards the front door. My heart sped up. I slowly turned the dust-covered doorknob, revealing what was inside this neglected manor

The inside of the mansion was what I had expected: everything was covered in dust and cobwebs I examined it and the layout was quite simple: a foyer where I currently was, what seemed to be the dining room on the left, the kitchen on the right and ahead of me was a corridor leading to several more doors I took careful steps, the wooden floorboards creaking, and looked around the foyer. There was a coat hanger right next to the front door, holding expensive-looking coats, a grandfather clock, ticking loudly as each second passed, and a collection of paintings on the wall I walked over to the dining room and peeked in to see an extravagant, rusted golden chandelier in the middle of the room. Below it was a massive wooden table, surrounded by 15 chairs, the seats covered in a plush, scarlet red On top of the table was a vase of roses, withered and a dull auburn I admired the room for a while then decided to investigate the other rooms I crept down the corridor and saw what seemed like thousands of rooms. There was a seating room, a ballroom, a study and a library. In each room, everything that was once in perfect and pristine condition, lay dead

The Unknown - Lili Wardrop-Szilagyi

At the end of the corridor was a set of stairs, draped in carpet, and as I climbed up them, I saw a light. My pace slowed, my heart sped up. At the top of the stairs, I looked towards the source of the light and walked towards it. I started to wonder what was behind the door, if it would be a blessing or a curse. I approached the ajar door and peeked inside. It was a bedroom, completely spotless.

My heart froze. How could this bedroom have been in perfect condition? After who knows how many years? Despite myself, I stepped in. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. The room had a large bed up against the wall, covered in blue silk and velvet, with a matching canopy overhead it and on the left of it was a bookshelf filled with new books as well as a pair of plush armchairs and a small table with a single lit candle on top near the shelves. Opposite the bookshelf was a vanity, cluttered with makeup and pleasant-smelling perfumes, and next to it was a mirror. I crept over to it, looking back at my reflection. There stood a frail and slim woman. My fine blonde hair was up in an unkempt bun, and my face pale. My skin was sallow and my eyes sunken. I saw how my dress hung on my slender and petite body. Had I always looked like this? Had I always looked like I was being consumed by sickness and distress? Suddenly, a dark figure appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. I whipped my head around to see them. Who is this? I thought, “Why are they here?” Once they came into the dim light from the candle, my eyes widened. What is he doing here?! “Well… what a coincidence!” he said amusedly, walking into the room. He was tall, with dark hair falling into his face and jet black eyes staring into me, like there wasn’t a soul behind them. I started to walk away from him and towards the corner of the room, cowering and trembling. “What?” he said, his voice seductive as he neared me. “What’s wrong?” Once he stood in front of me, he leaned down. My eyes flitted around the room as I tried to hold my focus on anything that wasn’t him, my breathing increasingly getting faster and faster. “Not going to answer?” I flinched and slowly looked up at him, my heart feeling as it had dropped. “What…” I started, my head all over the place. “What are you doing here?” I finally looked up at him as he smiled sinisterly, his obsidian eyes revealing nothing. “Why… it’s to take you back where you belong of course!” I heard a bang and then, everything went dark.

Miyamoto Musashi

-

Iris Ridgers

Outside the cracked and faded door stood a man. Tall and thin, it seemed that even the slightest breath of wind might be able to carry him off, off to a far-away place. If only. A large top hat obscured his face and a briefcase hung next to a shapeless black overcoat. The night was still and dark, as thick clouds denied any light to the silent street Suddenly, the man checked an intricate silver pocket watch

As though someone had pressed play on some unseen remote, he fled, tearing down the road, until he was swallowed up by the darkness

6:00. Lily’s alarm beeped and she rolled out of bed with a groan. Stretching her stiff arms, she walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out her school uniform The ugly green gingham draped bulkily over her short, stocky frame Her eyes still gunky and blurred, she crept downstairs as quietly as possible 10 minutes later, she was running after the bus with a piece of toast drowning in jam sticking out of her mouth.

“Yet another reflection? Honestly, why don’t they make you sleep here at this point! It’s not your fault that the bus driver was a blind old cod who failed to notice a child running after him!” Lily’s friend Melodie was ranting exasperatedly Melodie would never have gotten a reflection No, Melodie was too perfect for that Oh well, at least it was a reason to miss rugby Lily hated rugby with all her might, yet her dad insisted that she just hadn’t “gotten into the flow of it”. She didn’t need another reason to be a disappointment, so she went every Wednesday without complaint.

The classes flew by quickly, too quickly, and before Lily knew it, she was standing outside classroom 2208. Ms Kapley beckoned her in with a smile. “Missed the bus again?” she said, smiling sympathetically. Lily nodded and weaved her way through the maze of desks to her favourite one by the window Dumping her bag by her chair, she sat down and fixed her expression into one of guilt and recompense while her mind wandered down through the street below. It was filled with thoughts of the brand new notebook that was nestled snugly in her bag. In approximately 10 minutes Ms Kapley would leave to “spend my twopenny’s worth” as she so poetically put it Then Lily could start sketching Maybe she could draw that elephant again It turned out a little wonky last time, but with a little adjustment… “What on earth was that?”

\

Miyamoto Musashi - Iris Ridgers

“What on earth was what dear?” Ms Kapley asked disinterestedly.

“Oh, nothing, I thought I saw something. Must have been a trick of the light though.” Lily said sheepishly.

It had looked so real though. She was sure she saw a tall figure swaddled in a shapeless black overcoat flash past the window. Shaking her head, she returned to her daydreams.

“Please excuse me dear, but I must go and spend my twopenny’s worth.” Ms Kapley cut through the silence and started Lily awake. The second that Ms Kapley left the room, Lily felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Shaking her head, she pulled out her notebook with a sigh. What was going on with her? It must be something to do with that knock on the head she got last week. Just as she decided that she should probably tell her mum about this, she went cold. A hand had grabbed from behind! She opened her mouth to scream but a thin wisp of smoke curled around her. She fought frantically, but more smoke was binding her to her chair. A tall, thin figure in a shapeless black overcoat and a black top hat that cast his face into an unnaturally dark shadow swept into view. He was clutching a briefcase, which was emitting the same silver smoke that was even now filling the room.

“Hello Lily Ayto. I am Miyamoto Musashi. Don’t worry, your suffering won’t last long.”, he leered nastily. Lily widened her eyes in shock and attempted to throw off the suffocating silver smoke.

“What suffering?” Lily managed to gasp out. She wanted to scream, but that would mean inhaling the mesmerizing coils of smoke swirling around her mouth and nose.

“You’ll soon find out.” The Man laughed at the struggling girl, “And there’s no use trying to fight the morsoavato. It will only fight back.”

As he talked, the morsoavato, as he called it, began to burn white hot. Lily began to scream, though she was not aware of wanting to. She inhaled massive amounts of the smoke, which began to burn her insides too. All she knew was the searing pain. Where she was, who she was, what she was were lost to her. The screams faded away, as she descended into black. She was lying on a metal floor. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could see that the walls were metal too. A blinding light flickered on above her, and she was aware of a cold presence behind her.

Miyamoto MusashiIris Ridgers

She turned around to see Myoto Musushi, or whatever his name was. Somehow his face remained in shadow, despite the harsh white light reflecting off the polished metal.

“W-what are you?” Lily managed to stammer out.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Miyamoto Musashi asked, in a clear, high voice.

“Yes.” Lily tried to sound confident and defiant, but only succeeded in sounding petrified.

“Oh well, if you insist. I was hoping to have a little fun first.” With a mock bow of submission, the freaky man pulled off the top hat. The face was horrific. Except for the scarlet eyes that seemed to burn with a cold emerald fire and the thin, smirking mouth, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was a face at all. It was terribly scarred, bits of flesh were missing and you could see through a hole in his skull. Inside the skull there was horror. The very sight of it filled Lily with violent impulses. She wanted to scream, to pull out her hair, to gouge out her eyes, to end it all. Anything to save her from having to look at that… that thing.

However, try as she might, she could not pull her eyes away from it. She scratched at her face, trying to drown the terror in pain. She was unaware of the wet redness that was seeping into her dress. She was unaware of the high, mocking laughter that was filling the room.

“You’re dead, Lily Ayto.”

Once again, she found herself spiraling into darkness. She welcomed the swallowing black void, hoping that she could escape the appalling thing.

The PresenceLivia Bao

As the final lock to the gates released its grip, she toiled onto the worn pavements, her weary feet stepping through abandoned grasslands, her shuddering legs bringing her towards the castle doors. The pallid glow of the serene moon shimmered upon her once hopeful eyes, which now glistened with remnants of tears, dimmed by the horrors etched upon her soul. She looked down at her bruised and welted hands which bore the witness to the cruelty that was inflicted upon her. Her once graceful frame now carried the burdens of unspeakable torment. With every breath, her trembling hands mirrored the anguish that permeated upon her fragile being. Resting them upon the doorknob, she hesitated; her trembling grip was a reminder of the pain and suffering that dwelled within her spirit. As a chilling breeze swept closer, she steeled herself, forcing the creaking doors open. With trepidation, she crossed the threshold, entering a realm enclosed in haunting truths and restless spirits.

A strong gust of cold air swirling through the dimly lit foyer greeted her presence as the shimmer of moonlight that penetrated through the thick, tattered curtains, shone towards a labyrinthine corridor, with entrances to several unknown passageways. The curtains swayed gently in the phantom breeze, their fabric whispering tales of dormant secrets. The room was ringed by a jeopardizing stale and musty scent which very soon forced a strong sense of disgust up her lungs. Her lips were now concealed with the scars of stifled screams, their tender curves twisted into a figure of anguish. Letting out a soft yet tormented cough, she strolled further into the corridors. Each of her steps was an agonizing reminder of her shattered spirits, ringing within her wrecked figure. As she turned and gazed upon her reflection, a complex mixture of emotions surged towards her. The mirror revealed a face so familiar, yet so different. The once decorous strands of her elegant blonde hair, now hung lifeless and limp, their once vibrant luster entangled with thorns of despair.

Faced by a sumptuous staircase, she stepped upwards, its steps crackling under the weight of countless unseen footsteps. As she reached towards the second floor, dilapidated chandeliers hung precariously from the ceiling, their flickering candles casting a macabre show across the doors of the rooms.

The PresenceLivia Bao

With trepidation, she stole a cautious glance through the slender opening on the side of a door frame, her senses immediately assaulted by a dense fusion of chemicals and decay. The room hadn’t changed.

Liquid filled bottles were crammed onto the shelves, their contents emitting an otherworldly glow.

The laboratory was strewn with shattered glass, decaying specimens and arcane diagrams that were scrawled across the walls. His reputation was shrouded in whispers of forbidden knowledge and unholy experiments. With a tint of shimmering moonlight penetrating through the windows, the light casted upon a workbench, displaying his hunched body. Her legs quivered beneath the weight of an approaching terror as the sight of that ‘beast’ once again seared into her eyes His unhealthy countenance radiated a twisted sense of triumph, gloating with an unsettling excitement. His hair was unkempt and wild, as if possessed and consumed by a relentless pursuit of forbidden knowledge. A surge of unease coursed through her veins, compelling her trembling hands to clutch onto her shirt, a desperate attempt to anchor herself and tame the racing rhythm of her heartbeat. A wave of profound illness washed over her, rendering her body weak and feeble Her breaths became erratic, devoid of any pattern, as if each inhalation was a struggle against an invisible force. Every breath bore the weight of immense difficulty, as if her lungs denied the intrusion of oxygen into her body She still remained oblivious to the streams of tears that silently etched their way down her cheeks, as if the weight of her emotions had surpassed her awareness…

Startled by a sudden yell of annoyance, she was pulled back from her emotions Summoning her courage, she peered through the opening. There, she beheld him, his gaze fixed upon his hands, bearing the stains of potent chemicals from his last experiment She watched it spread a subtle laugh escaped his lips, piercing the corridors with its haunting melody, sending shivers coursing through all who dared to listen With his very presence, he conjured up her darkest memories, each scene coiling around her thoughts like a horrendous serpent, injecting them with anguish and despair. Her mind became a battleground, where the past waged a relentless war upon her mind, leaving her trapped in a cruel dance of torment.

The Hidden BookKamini Chak

I stumbled my way through the thick forest, tripping on roots as I glanced behind me periodically, giggling, listening as the hoots and cricket chirps overtook the now-distant laughter I could barely see anything in front of me through the darkness and fog, but I knew these woods like the back of my hand.

Distracted, a stray branch managed to scratch my face and leave behind a hot line of pain across my cheek I frowned, batting the branch away, just as the rock beneath my foot loosened. I fell

There was no way to describe it other than how the air whooshed as it escaped my lungs as I tumbled down a hill I was sure never used to be there, helpless to fight against the unrelenting force of gravity. I crashed into bushes and rocks alike, hair matted around my face rendering me blind, and when I finally rolled to a stop my body felt like a single, throbbing mess of blood and bruises.

I laid there for a moment or two, and through swollen eyes watched the dark yellow moon shift from behind gossamer clouds. The seekers will find me, I thought. Those were the rules of the game, after all.

The moon and I both knew that they wouldn’t The other kids would have left by now, half-heartedly searching the woods before heading back to the party, reassured in the knowledge that I knew these woods better than anyone. That I would be safe.

But they would be wrong

I gingerly picked myself up from the ground, wincing at the alarming way my ankle twinged Raising my arms, I fumbled in the darkness of the ditch, hoping for a tree or a large rock to rest my weight on, so when my hand brushed against leather I nearly fell over in surprise. I jerked my hand back, preparing for a talon or a beak, but the forest was as silent as it was still. All I was left with was the sound of my heavy breathing.

The Hidden BookKamini Chak

I tentatively reached out again, and grabbed the foreign object. Groping it, it didn’t take me long to realise that it was a book One of the really old ones, all leather bound and crinkly pages Someone must have dropped it in here. The urge to bring it up to my nose and smell it overtook me, but I didn’t. Something inside me shuddered against it.

I started shuffling over to where a bare patch of moonlight hit the corner of the ditch, faintly illuminating the moss and weeds growing on a rotten tree stump

My body ached with every movement, but the same thing in me that shied away from the book was just as eager to find out what was written in it. I could not have resisted it the same way I could not resist air

A bead of blood from the cut on my cheek rolled down to my chin. I wiped it away from the back of my hand, and accidentally smeared it onto the leather cover of the book

There was a sudden shift in the air, like the half-second before lightning struck down or before a trap snapped shut. Before —

Teeth sank into my hand

I shrieked like a dog gone mad, trying to wrench my hand away, but it was useless; the teeth were curved on the end, reducing me to nothing but a fish on the end of a hook The more I tugged, the deeper the — the thing bit and chewed, and I could do nothing but sob I staggered to that patch of moonlight, hoping desperately to at least be able to see what had attacked me out of the blue

I wish I hadn’t.

There was no vicious animal, no wild coyote who had been in the ditch all along, hidden in the thick shroud of shadows. There was only me, and the book, and the bloody, gaping place where my hand used to be.

On the front cover, someone had drawn, in crude marker, the shape of a mouth

Delivered- Ruby Shaw

I finally breathed out, the hot breath from my lungs flowing cautiously into the icy air before me, forming a single cloud in the stark darkness that, for as long as I could remember, enveloped everything. The midnight hour was approaching, a tentative silence hanging in the air as I stood hopeful yet fearful at the always-closed door, my knuckles turning white as I grasped the bars that had caged me for too long. Now the man in the dark uniform marched towards me, metal jingling at his hip.

He stopped a few paces in front of me, shiny black boots glistening in the dim light as he tilted his capped head upwards, refusing to make eye contact, his expression impassive. After what seemed like an eternity, he removed the glittering silver from his belt. It slid perfectly into its slot, joy filling my heart as the great iron gate was heaved open, its stiff bones creaking from their long rest. It had been years since I had felt that feeling, the feeling I had as I took my first step over the once-impassable threshold, out of the iron-barred room that had ever since confined me: freedom.

That feeling was short-lived. Immediately, I was yanked forwards, two meaty hands clamped around my arms as my ankles were shackled, a painful reminder of the last time I had felt the cold grip of the manacle. The man in the uniform grabbed my arm aggressively, directing me towards a spiral staircase leading down into the shadows. As we descended, I couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for me. Though I had assumed I was being discharged, I’d had no means of keeping time in my cell and had no idea as to whether I had served my sentence. Surely there could be no other reason for the guards’ strange behaviour? I repeated this hopeful thought in my head over and over, its comforting sound seeming to echo around the cold walls of the stairway.

At last, we reached the end of the staircase. “I’m nearly out”, I thought to myself, an overwhelming sense of glee filling my weary soul as the guards marched on, straight towards the door leading to the world beyond. I thought of the family I had left behind. I still remembered the sweet smile of my son, a mere baby at the time of my arrest, who must be at least a few years old by now. How could I forget the glittering eyes of my daughter, the kind, generous girl I loved with all my heart? My life had been ripped away from me, and I was determined to get it back.

Delivered- Ruby Shaw

We were nearly at the door, and my heart was pounding as I glanced behind me, back towards the prison that had been my home for countless months. Though I had been sure I would not miss it, it still wrenched my heart to say goodbye to the stone walls that had kept me safe all these years, that had stood sturdy against the ongoing chaos in my mind. The door was only a metre away now. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath…

We took a sharp turn to the right. My eyes fluttered open. Surely that was the exit? My heart beat louder, my breath coming in short puffs. I looked back towards the door to the world, the world I would have done anything to get back to. What was happening? Where was I going? I scanned the view ahead, my eyes resting on a sign above the door we were heading towards. As I read it, my shock was replaced with dread.

The guards’ hold on me tightened as I fought against their vice-like grip. No, I thought desperately, anything but this. I dug my beak into the arms that held me, feathers flying as I tore myself from their grasp, racing back towards the door that had filled me with so much hope, so much longing. It was my only option now, as I thought of the sign, unable to shake the image of it from my mind, its word replaying over and over in my head.

Slaughterhouse.

The Revenge of Moritzo- Wan Ho Ai

Rain splattered all over the stone pavement. The dim lamps shook and flickered at every thunder strike Windows exploded and wind rushed into the buildings, blowing the candles out and forbidding whatever little light they had. Wailing in agony, the wind ran through the streets; it smashed into everything. On Mount Cisinio, named after the Count, the Count’s castle loomed over the small town Thunder exploded on the tip of its tallest tower, illuminating the castle in an eerie glow.

Like claws, the shadows of the towers reached and lunged for the small town below. A dim light crawled through the top window of the castle weakly. Slowly, a frail and stooped figure walked in front of the light and gazed at the town before finally walking away That was the Count Even the moon was alarmed as it hid behind the clouds. In the town, the stone pavements were covered with water and mud. A few men huddled together as they walked back to their homes after a night of drinking Pulling their coats over their heads, the men trod quickly and laughed like oblivious young boys. Around the corner, the pubs were starting to close. The patrons stumbled out of the bars, hastily putting on their coats while chatting merrily Finally, after half an hour, all the patrons departed and some walked alone back to their homes. The lights died and the streets were deserted. The only sound was the rain dripping onto the pavement like blood. The town was dead The Count’s castle with its ferocious claws and sinister glare, seemed to have sucked all the life out of it. The thunder boomed like laughter.

Inside the prison, a young man sat on the edge of his stone-hard bed He had dark hair and his green eyes gleamed cunningly. He paced around his cell nervously as his eyes darted around like a fox searching for its prey in the snow. He was extremely tall and his head scraped the ceiling However, he was quite thin which made him look. He was the famed Lord Moritzo, Commander of the 3rd Royal Army of Count Cisino. His smart uniform had been exchanged for a crude, dirty shirt and trousers worn by peasants

He was a ruthless and ambitious soldier - the perfect specimen for the Count’s ever-expanding empire The Count had seen his potential early on and cherished him as his most precious asset. Moritzo was originally born an orphan and he survived his childhood by stealing from shops. He was repeatedly caught and he spent most of his childhood within the walls of Aristo Prison

The Revenge of Moritzo- Wan Ho Ai

He developed a deep hatred for everybody. At the age of 15, he joined the army and he quickly advanced to the top for his bravery and brutality against the enemy despite refusing to obey any orders by his commanding officers. He was an arrogant and impatient man and he never worked well with others. During his time as the Commander of the 3rd Royal Army of Count Cisino, he started to be more ambitious, hoping one day to replace Count Cisino. The Count did want Moritzo to replace him since he only had a daughter and he has always considered Moritzo as his son. However, Lord Moritzo grew increasingly impatient and decided he might as well replace him now. He ordered his subordinate officers to besiege the Count’s castle. Finally, the subordinate officers had the chance to teach Moritzo a lesson after years of abuse. They told the Count and Lord Moritzo was taken away and sent to prison. He had been sentenced to death for treason but Lord Moritzo wouldn’t be here for long. Suddenly, he stopped and stood proudly as his lips twitched excitedly.

The clock struck midnight and in the Count’s castle, a young Lady Maria trembled in fear. She had silky, brown hair flowing on her shoulders. Her pearly grey eyes flooded with tears. She was not very tall and relatively thin. Her thin, nimble fingers fidgeted with the buttons on her gleaming yellow cloak. Her dress fluttered in the cold breeze of the night. She drifted through the corridor. Gold-framed paintings were hung along the walls showing the ancestors of the Count. The Counts gazed ferociously and fiercely while the Countesses smiled and welcomed the visitors warmly. On the ceiling, the moon frowned grimly down through the glass. She passed by multiple doors; finally, she was at the end of the monstrous corridor.

Meekly, she pushed the door open as she shuddered uncontrollably; her face pale like snow. On the previous day, her father, Count Moritzo, had ordered her to be wedded to the son called Lord Lorenzo, who is the son of a nearby Count called Count Lostisa. She disliked Lord Lorenzo because he was an obnoxious, arrogant and ignorant man. The door creaked and she peeked inside the antechamber. The room was tall and the ceiling was covered with paintings of celestial and heavenly beings. Angels flew across the ceiling like stars through the sky. Gold and delicate chairs with spectacular cushions sat in rows by the door to the main bedroom.

The Revenge of Moritzo- Wan Ho Ai

She glided across the room and stopped at a grand door with exquisite gold decorations.

She paused before the door; her courage faltered. Finally, she knocked on the door lightly and nudged it open shyly. Lady Maria looked around but the room was deserted. Refined paintings lined the walls. Gold could be seen everywhere. A massive bear rug lay before his bed. Everything was where it should have been but where was the Count? The sickly, pale moon shone its piercing rays through the window and on the impressive nightstand. A notebook lay on it. The pages were covered with writings and diagrams. Next to it lay a pair of intricate golden reading glasses owned by the Count. She spun away from the nightstand and looked towards the bookcase. It was majestic and elegant and the shelves bent under the weight of the books. She looked back at the notebook: it appeared to have spots of blood on it. Cracked and crooked, the Count’s reading glasses lay next to the book. Was it always like this? She looked back at the open book and it was drenched with blood. She seized the book and inspected it. The page was fully stained red. She could no longer see any words or diagrams at all except for a diagram of an eye. It pivoted and goggled at her. Frightened, she threw the book at the wall leaving a large blood stain. She picked it up and ripped it to shreds. She tried to tear it apart with as much strength as she could muster and successfully ripped out all the pages except for the page of the Eye. Realising something was wrong, she started to back away and tripped over the bear rug. The ghastly eyes of the bear stared into her soul. A mysterious presence loomed over her. Its shadow pounced on her. Stunned, she turned around slowly as ice slithered upon her spine. She gazed at the beast and shrieked.

Stuck - Daniel Cheung

Panting. Sprinting. Searching, and searching for what? All I could see was a glim fade of structures that covered the cemented brown wall. The only thing for me to do was run, and just hope, hope for once that I may escape this terrible ordeal -just hope. Dangling dangerously from the roof, giant spikes pressured me to decide quickly. But what was there to do? Inky black tunnels filled with dangerous, slippery paths only sinisterly grinned at me sinisterly. Like a maze, the tunnels would seemingly twist and turn. If only…

Suddenly, like a silent, screaming mouth, something erupted from one of the tunnels. What was it? As I grew closer, I realised it was light!

Good gracious, light! I started running towards the source, desperate to be anyone’s prisoner. The lights began to flicker and illuminate all over my face, as I leapt in what seemed like the end of the ordeal. Only, it was just the start…

Staring at me, was a puddle.

I Saw It At the Top of the Stairs - Lorelei Goach

I saw it at the top of the stairs. A network of branches spanned the hillside, pointing like a crooked claw at the jagged cliff below. Our torch lights flickered back and forth as they swayed in our hands, creating the illusion of a mysterious being striding through the brush on four golden legs. As our group approached the mossy fingers above, we dangled our legs off the cliffside and glanced below us.

There, in the clouded moonlight, was Bride’s Pool: a silky lake, a giant hole in the landscape that reflected the millions of stars that lit up the sky above. It was as if we could jump straight into the stirring, bubbling, brewing cauldron of some unknown galaxy, distant and mythical and captivating…

“Mary.” The policewoman snapped her fingers in front of my face, right between my eyes. I blinked back into reality. Eyes still wide, the memory was fresh in my mind—I could still see the lake twirling in the woman’s dark pupils. They were circled with deep indigo glasses, like the colour of the sky that night. “You’re safe now. You need to come with me.”

She wrapped me in a soft towel, my hair drenched in fresh water. The towel was of an odd quality; it was fluffy and pure white, but when it hung on my shoulders, I began to notice small branches of pink and red sprouting across its rippled surface. It felt just like the blades of grass I could feel between my fingers that night, as I dared myself to shift closer and closer towards the edge…

“No way.” One of the girls (with blindingly white teeth) gaped in horror at my suggestion.

Another from the group—she had rich, bronze tresses that tickled at the bottom of her chin—nudged her playfully. “Oh, come on, it’s only a myth. Mary’s right. It’s perfectly safe.”

I suddenly felt my cheeks flush. I’d heard about the story before— the myth, apparently—but it hadn’t even occurred to me until now. The young newlywed bride and her husband, jumping off into the depths below, overcome with a lethal dose of excitement and love and life; some say that her ring is still submerged in the murky waters. .

I Saw It At the Top of the Stairs - Lorelei Goach

I could picture the scene now— the sky a rich and cloudless azure, the perfect shade to match the bride’s eyes as they sparkled like the sun on the water’s surface. Her beautiful linen gown, submerged in the inviting depths, blooming white and then slowly pink, red…

I felt no comfort in the towel coating me. In fact, I felt nothing at all. Grief, anger, regret, guilt— that would all come later. But for now, all I could feel was… numb. How was one meant to feel? I didn’t think that humans were designed for situations like this.

The arrival at the police station was a blur of receiving incomprehensible instructions, taking meticulous photographs, and peeling off my saturated clothes. I felt distorted and lost, unable to pry myself from that lake. It was my predator, and I was its prey: its foolish, naive, reckless prey.

As I tore my shoes and socks off, I saw the others doing the same. The water below was so inviting; it was like a freshly-made stew, its potent aroma tempting me in, controlling my hungry body without my mind’s consent. But the girl with the bright teeth hovered behind us, unconvinced.

How I wish she would’ve stayed there.

But her brunette friend (if I could even call her that now, after what happened next) held out her hand, saying: “Together?”

After drinking in a gulp of air, the hesitant girl nodded. “Together.”

All of us lined up along the edge of the cliffside, breathing in the fertile air, the leafy claw hovering above us. How I wish it would’ve sprung to life at that moment, groping at the ground, scooping us back into the copse behind us. How I wish… how I wish… but it was too late to wish now.

We all joined hands.

I Saw It At the Top of the Stairs - Lorelei Goach

The officer from earlier—the policewoman with indigo glasses and a lake in her eyes—was holding my hand now, although I had no idea when she had taken it, where, or why. Her footsteps were hasty, her expression irritated: wrinkled like cardboard from distress and concern and a lack of a good night’s sleep.

All around me was a blur, but suddenly the movement all stopped at once. A heavy door shut abruptly behind me and snapped me back into consciousness. Where was this place? A shed by the lake? No, I was not at the lake anymore. There had been policemen and policewomen, and an array of flashing red-and-blue lights, and my head was now empty and drained. I was in an interrogation room, and the lake-eyed woman was gesturing to an empty chair for me to sit.

I sat. She sat across from me.

“Now, Mary, this is only to clear up all the details of what happened tonight.” The woman rubbed at the corners of her eyelids. “We are not suspecting any foul play—it appears that what happened was only an accident—but we still need to ask you a few questions.”

I nodded profusely, unsure what I was agreeing to, because her words were being drowned out by the deafening memory of my racing heart earlier…

I was overcome with adrenaline. With excitement. How refreshing it will feel when we seep into the pool’s depths! How light my shoulders will feel at the pull of gravity! How pristine and clean I will feel when I’m freed from this oppressive heat and sweat and moisture!

“One!” We all called. Our voices were a cacophony in the empty air.

“Two!” The girl with her bright teeth grinned eagerly at me. I grinned back.

“Three!”

I Saw It At the Top of the Stairs - Lorelei Goach

There was only air, darkness, and the immense sense of weightlessness that comes with falling, falling, falling…

Splash!

Water seeped in at all sides. Soon, I was submerged in a thick, heavy void. It suffused into my clothing, coating me in icy sheets, a torrent of bubbles forcing its way into my nose. I was at complete ease. I was wrapped in the lake’s cool arms: she draped me in comfort and relief and satisfaction. This pitch darkness was all I could ever need.

Until I heard the scream.

As I rose to the surface for air, something had changed. I now felt a heavy weight building in my throat, rather than a sense of relief. The lake felt more like it was dragging me into its malicious mouth, rather than its loving embrace. And the water was warming with stains of red, rather than its murky, starry blue…

And right in front of me, a motionless girl with bright white teeth floated, her blonde hair staining with crystals of ruby, her petrified eyes suspended eternally in time.