Future Creations a zine for young people, created by young people. volume 3 - hope
Acknowledgement of Country We acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the country on which we are able to learn, create and grow; the Dja Dja Wurrung, Taungurung and Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung Peoples, and recognise their continuing connection to land, waters and culture. We pay our respects to their Elders past, present and emerging. We extend that respect to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples that experience and enjoy this zine.
This is a safe space for all people Whatever the colour of your skin, your background, your gender identity and expression, ability, age, religion, sex, or sexual orientation, we hope that you can find enjoyment in our publication. You are just as welcome in this space as any other person, and your time is very much appreciated. Enjoy!
Painting From Memory, Part 1 by Niamh
What is a zine? A zine is a lo-fi, usually self-published, tangible design object that can be reproduced with a normal office photocopier. Zines can be any size and have any number of pages as you like, and typically include a variety of media such as photos, drawings, text, painting and more. You can make your own zine with just a piece of paper and some scissors. Zines are a fun way to express yourself or showcase something that you are interested in!
What Was Lost A.J. Eddy It was called Hope. Maddie’s mother used to tell her stories about it. She said it was a sort of orb with a radiant light burning bright inside of it. Everyone had one; they would carry it with them everywhere they went. Her mother said that Hope got them through the hard times: when things got to be too much or when they felt your faith weakening, people would hold onto it tight and dream of better times to come. But things began to change. The world was plagued with natural disasters, illnesses, climate change, violence, and war. It all began to stack up; one thing after another until it became too hard to deal with—harder to hold onto Hope. One by one, the orbs began to fade. People set them aside or thew them away, saying the world wasn’t going to change. One by one, the lights went out until, eventually, they all went dark. Hope was lost.
Now, it was nothing more than a fairytale. Years had passed and people had long given up; they’d lost their ambition and turned their backs on the world, leaving it in desolation. There was no future; everyone just made it day by day. Some people still lived in the cities, dragging themselves through the monotonous routine of daily life while
others scavenging through the ruins of abandoned rural towns, struggling to get by. Maddie lived in a community shelter on the outskirts of an old town. A few summers ago, the town had been hit by bushfires, but they never rebuilt. Instead, everyone moved to the shelter where they waited for time to pass. Eat, sleep, wait, repeat. ‘Maddie.’ She turned to see Oliver weaving his way through the crowded shelter to her, pushing back the mess of sandy-blond curls that fell over his face. ‘Let’s go,’ he said excitedly. ‘Go where?’ ‘Outside.’ He paused. ‘Unless you’ve got something better to do...’ ‘You know I don’t,’ Maddie replied. ‘Then let’s go.’ Maddie shrugged, reluctantly following him through the crowd, out of the shelter, and down the streets that were lined by twisted skeletal trees. The buildings on the outskirts of town had been reduced to ash—the occasional wooden beam sticking out of the rubble like a tombstone to mark where the house had been. The houses that still stood were empty shells – abandoned or left in ruin – and the neighbourhoods that had once been comforting and familiar now seemed haunted. It wasn’t home anymore. Oliver kicked a stone across the pavement, listening to it clatter across the rough concrete as they made their
way down the street. He came to an abrupt halt, staring at an old house. It still stood proud on its foundations but the tiled roof was covered in lichen and the windows along the front of the house were cracked and covered in soot and dust. ‘What is it? Maddie asked. ‘It’s my house,’ Oliver replied. ‘Or it was…’ Maddie watched as darkness gather in his eyes, a look of sorrow and pain darkening his face. She looked from Oliver to the house and back again. ‘Let’s go inside,’ Maddie encouraged. She made her way up the old stone footpath and onto the front porch. She rattled the door handle by it wouldn’t budge. She paused for a moment before turning and using her shoulder to shove it open. Dust and stale air greeted them as they stepping into the old, musty room. There was a look of bitter-sweet joy on Oliver’s face as he walked through the house, haunted by nostalgia. ‘I remember my dad and I used to fall asleep on the couch watching movies every Friday,’ Oliver said, tears welling in his eyes. ‘And mum put every picture I drew up on the fridge.’ His voice broke as he sniffed back his tears. ‘Do you think things will ever go back to the way they were before?’ he asked quietly. ‘Things have to get better, right?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Maddie replied. ‘Maybe…’
She didn’t want to say what she really thought; without Hope, nothing was going to change. But did that mean she didn’t wish things were better? No. Just like everyone else, she wanted things to go back to the way they were or to change in some way; anything had to be better than this. One of the drawers from the small table by the doorway had been opened, its contents spilt across the floor. Something among the clutter caught Maddie’s vattention. She knelt down, frowning in confusion as she hesitantly picked up the dusty sphere. She gently blew the dust away, using her sleeve to wipe away the rest of the grime. She cupped it in her hands. It looked like misted glass but it wasn’t cold. ‘What is it?’ Oliver asked, looking over her shoulder. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘It almost looks like…’ There was a flicker of light, like an ember trying to ignite a fire. A glimmer of recognition passed over Maddie’s face. The flickering light began to glow, growing brighter. ‘Hope.’ She looked over her shoulder at Oliver, smiling brightly. ‘It’s Hope.’
Things Angela Hates Annelise Keirsten-Wakefield
“Growth” by Elizabeth Morrell @lizard.creations
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Finding a park during rush hour
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Unpunctual people
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People who let their kids run around restaurants (Getting in the waiters’ way – check. Screaming loudly – check.)
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LED candles on tables
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The waiter who doesn’t know the difference between a Chardonnay and a Pinot Grigio
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The date who is still late
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Itchy upholstering against bare thighs
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Checking your phone when you have no new messages
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The waiter who keeps looking over concernedly
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Drinking wine alone
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Whoever invented the idea of romantic relationships (that idiot Shakespeare probably to blame)
Never Fade A.J. Eddy Do you know what the most beautiful thing about the stars is? They never disappear. They don’t fade into nothingness and they’re never forgotten. Some stars seem dull in comparison to those that shine brighter, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t just as beautiful or just as radiant. Some are further away and some are just dimmed for the moment, saving up their energy for when their time comes to shine. Each star is special; they have a name and their own place in the sky. There’s a reason our forefathers used the stars to tell their stories and travellers of old would use the glimmering lights in the abysmal black sky to guide them home— they knew those stars would never fade. They could rely on them to lead the way or to pass on their tales. So, little star, worry not. Your time to shine will come, and when it does people will tell your stories for years to come.
“Honour Avenue” by Elizabeth Morrell @lizard.creations
“Hope” Word Search
“Lockdown stroll through Gisborne” by Jay Penny