Maribrynong Young Writers Anthology 2022

maribyrnong young writers

maribyrnong young writers

Maribyrnong Libraries

56 Paisley St, Footscray VIC 3011

www.maribyrnong.vic.gov.au/library

First published 2023

Text copyright © Maribyrnong Young Writers

Competition

Individual stories © retained by authors, who assert their rights to be known as the author of their work.

Cover artwork created by Taihan

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

FOREWORD

The Maribyrnong Young Writers Competition is a highlight in the Library's calendar of events. Each year we give children the opportunity to write and enter their short stories and we, along with our partners, The Rotary Club of Yarraville, have the enviable task of judging who will win.

This is the third anthology celebrating our young writers of Maribyrnong. It gives us great pleasure to publish the winning entries of the competition. It is an opportunity for the community read the winning stories, to give our young writers an avenue to have their voices heard and have their work published! We hope this book will inspire them to continue in their craft and encourage other children to have a go at creative writing.

The cover artwork this year was created by Taihan and is the illustration for his story, Banished.

We are thrilled to present to you the 2022 Maribyrnong Young Writers Anthology.

short story winners

Give Me Peace

by Alice, age 10 Bam!!!!!!!

Katalin woke suddenly as her room shook. She wanted to scream and run to her mother’s warm safe arms. “Katalin” a familiar voice entered the room. “Mmm” Katalin groaned “What was that?”. “The war, sweetie”. “The war? Katalin thought. How could the war come to her beautiful Ukraine? The war could go anywhere else in the world, and it chose here, why?

As her mother helped her get out of bed, she was told to get into her warmest clothing. She decided on her favourite woolly boots, a warm leather coat and a traditional winter blue dress.

As she stepped out of the house, after saying multiple goodbyes to all the chickens, Katalin felt depressed like a deflating balloon. As she walked with her heavy load her pace quickens. She was relieved that it looked like everyone was leaving. Her family reached the grand fountain where someone

was speaking, “I know you are all panicked but we must stay calm” ……. Katalin looked around but her parents weren’t there, she twisted and turned in every possible direction but still nothing.

She had lost them. It was like Katalin could hear the soldier shoes marching behind her. She had to keep going.

As she entered the forest, she started doubting herself. Was she strong enough? Would she make it? Katalin looked down in deep thought.

Crash!!! Click!!! She turned around. Someone was definitely there. Katalin eyed the bushes suspiciously. Suddenly a fully armed soldier burst out and he was aiming at her. “Look out” someone called out from behind her, but it was too late……

Katalin was there lying on the forest floor. She didn’t move. She was paralysed with fear and all she could do was lie in tremendous pain. She listened for the sound of a loading gun and screaming, but all was quiet. Katalin opened her eyes to see a dusty orange sky through the trees. She slowly got up to see she had been lying in a

puddle of blood. She looked down to see a bullet hole in her arm surrounded by blood-stained clothes. Her head felt dizzy as she used a tree to help her stand up. Katalin looked into the distance to see endless trees. There was a long way to go.

She decided she would continue her journey. Each day she walked, she felt more hopeful. The thought of her family waiting for her was a boost to keep going.

Finally, after three days of walking, she could see the border in the distance.

As she approached the border, she could see the Polish people helping the Ukrainians, giving them food, medical treatment warm clothes and shelter. As she walked through the crowd, people gasped at her wound.

Although the wound looked better, it felt worse. If she had been at home, she would have been in hospital for at least a month, not walking to the border without any rest. As Katalin walked to the first aid tent, the nurses looked at her with a worried expression. “How did you get your wound” one of the nurses asked Katalin in Ukrainian while they checked her. “I was shot” she said weakly, but

she was in too much pain to continue.

As Katalin woke up she knew something was different. Even with her eyes closed it was bright. She was in a comfortable bed, and she was no longer in her dress and couldn’t remember why. As Katalin opened her eyes, she realised she was in a hospital. She slowly sat up and looked around. She tried to get up but unbearable pain stopped her. Suddenly she remembered the gun and the screaming, the war and the fight, it all hit her again like a bullet. “Please lie down” a voice said. Katalin looked around to see a half relieved, half worried nurse speaking in Ukrainian.

The nurse went away to speak to the doctor and came back. “Some people have come to see you ” she said.

“Come in” she said to them. Suddenly two people came in. They looked so happy to see her. Now she knew who they were. “Mum! Dad!” Katalin said weakly. Her parents ran towards her, and they all bundled into a big hug.

Katalin was crying now. She happy for the first time in ages.

The war meant Katalin had to leave her beloved Ukraine. But now she was reunited with her family, and they could make a new safe life together.

My Process with Autism

by Aisha, age 9

Hi, I'm Aisha. When I was first diagnosed with Autism I was feeling a bundle of feelings and it was all quite confusing for me. Every thought swished around my head, it was quite strange to me. I felt like a freak, and that everything would change because of it. I thought people wouldn't like me for it. Continue reading if you would like the full experience of what it feels like to be Autistic and to feel all those feelings like me!

I was mainly scared. I don't know an entire lot about it. I was also scared people would bully me and tease me for being Autistic and all. I really felt alone and it was hard for me to agree to go to school because people may not like me. My mum told me that nothing changes because I got diagnosed that day (turns out I had a bad day at school anyway!). I still felt like a paranormal freak that didn’t belong, but then I was looking on my mum ’ s phone and I saw that I could be so, so awesome even with Autism, and that just being Autistic is my superpower. I know now that it isn't a really bad disease or terrible disorder. It was a good thing to be Autistic and have a bit of ADHD!

My favourite part about it is that now I know how to help myself in areas I didn't. And embrace others in new and current ways I didn't know how to a long time ago. I can now talk about it with my psychologist and help me in the parts I find really hard, and I can talk to my teachers about challenges I have. I found the place where I belong and that is……….. with my Autism and ADHD, also with my Autistic needs and differences! And being different is a unique special thing, that we should all accept and appreciate! And so I hope that anyone and every one who may have troubles in things or things that are hard to control, or the people who care and love them, you too should never think you ’ re alone, or you are not skilled enough to help. You should always say to yourself I Am Enough. I am beautiful hardworking and caring!

So I hope these messages have helped inspire others who might be like me, about who they are and that they are beautiful, special and independently strong all in our own ways! Everyone is special and everyone has a big wide beautiful HEART! Everyone deserves love and support. My story was pretty ugly as you can see, and that is the reason I wrote it, to inspire others to not make the same mistakes I made in thinking I was a paranormal freak.

Remember if you ’ re having trouble thinking YOUR’E AWESOME, then just look up the other awesome celebrities that have done so much, just like Albert Einstein and Lady Gaga! Did you know Lady Gaga has ADHD, or that Albert Einstein was dyslexic and had ADHD and was Autistic?!

So in conclusion, being different is so much better than being Neurotypical! Because being typical means you just do typical things, BORING! I’d rather just be me wouldn’t you? I don’t want anyone to try to change a single awesome thing about them.

The Story of Pencil Case Town

by Veronica, age 7

Once upon a time, there was a pencil case with many things that everyone could use to create artwork. You may think it was just an ordinary pencil case. But it was not! It was Pencil Case Town with many residents such as pencils, sharpeners, rules, pens, scissors, erasers, textas, a calculator, sticky tape, paper clips and gluesticks. However, things in this town did not go very well. The town was really messy and its residents did not get along that well: some were very rude to each other; some were calling names and some even were fighting. They did not have a leader who would help Pencil Case Town to be become a better place.

They all had enough of that so they thought they should get a Mayor. There were two residents who wanted to help Pencil Case Town. The first one was Mr. Eraser Tip. He was a tall grey-lid pencil with an eraser tip which he wore as a hat. The second one was Miss Violet Crayon who was a little slim crayon in a wonderful paper dress. As there were two candidates, a voting competition was set. Both started their campaigns. Mr. Eraser Tip hung up posters around Pencil Case Town.

The posters said: ‘Vote for Mr Eraser Tip! I’ll get those who fight out!’. Miss Violet Crayon also hung up posters but they had a different message: ‘Vote for Miss Violet Crayon, I’ll make this town a friendly community!’ The residents walked around the town looking at the posters and thinking. Whose idea is better? What would be a better choice? The voting day has come. The residents had to write the name of one candidate on a piece of paper and put it in a special box generously provided by Paper Clips. Once they finished voting, Mr Calculator counted up all the votes. It was really important not to make a mistake so Mr Calculator took his time to do it accurately. Of course, Miss Violet Crayon and Mr. Eraser Tip were very nervous while waiting. They both wanted to be a Mayor.

Finally, Mr Calculator announced the results. He said: ‘And the winner is… Miss Violet Crayon!’ The residents clapped and cheered really happily. Miss Violet Crayon came up on stage and said: ‘Thank you so much for choosing me! I will keep the promise I made and our town will be the friendliest community! Mr Eraser Tip scowled in the corner and did not say anything.

Éna Pséma

by Scarlett, age 13

It stared at him tantalizingly, its intricate black frame contrasting greatly with the numbers placed on its discoid face. Its longest hand only twitched every handful of heartbeats, inching closer to the ‘5’ with frustrating leisure. Each time it acted, his eyes enlarged, until the straining threatened an abysmal headache. When the hand was barely a millimetre from the ‘5,’ he was standing, providing the office wall clock his full attention. And then, it happened. He smirked, and then snickered, and then executed his signature side shuffle of victory right out his office’s doorway, coming to his senses shortly before colliding with the wall. It was time for Raymond’s long-awaited holiday! Done was ‘Reaper No. 30081923’ of the London Institute of Reapers… for a month at least. He pondered if the institute would miss him and his incredible skills at helping deceased spirits appreciate their lives and accept their deaths, transitioning them into the afterlife. He sadly chuckled, knowing that all he’d ever done was eons worth of paperwork for other competent reapers, for thus is the life of an officereaper.

His mind was a cheerful chaos at the thought of his leave; however, events can’t ever play out that easily. Raymond realised this when a familiar wrinkled hand grasped his shoulder. Remington. Not bothering to address his employee, he simply beckoned him towards his office. Raymond, though very unsurprised, groaned in frustration, and begrudgingly followed his boss. Once they were both seated, Remington melodramatically sighed in defeat.

“Oh Ryan, what in heavens am I supposed to do?!” wailed Remington.

“Sir, the name is Raymond, and I really haven’t a clue on your supposed doings.” Raymond retorted.

“Hear this, a town in Wales, known as Abergavenny, houses a 300-year-old spirit, in which no, and let me reiterate, no, reaper has successfully reaped.”

“Unbelievable! Can I leave now?”

“And just this morning, the higher ups have assigned me to hand someone the task!”

“Sounds irksome! Can I leave now?”

“Raven apparently had some crows to clear off, Rafael supposedly had tennis rackets to polish, and Racheal went into labour as soon as I asked her! Leaving, dare I

say it, you, the only possible candidate.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I become a fieldreaper?”

Raymond was bit torn at the thought. On one hand, his holiday would be delayed if he took up the task, but on the other, the opportunity of participating in an actual reaping was endearing. Remington sighed in impatience, reached into his pocket, and slowly slid incentive towards his employee. Raymond’s eyes widened, wondering how he knew of his empty bank account.

“ … Abergavenny seems like a joyous place, doesn’t it?”

Remarked Raymond.

“ … Doesn’t it, Robert?” Chortled Remington.

It was a stormy night in Abergavenny. As Raymond stepped onto the train platform beneath him, his face morphed into pure disappointment, and his eyes were slits as he tried to tell the grey elements of the town from one another. The citizens seemingly had a predetermined route to their everyday doings, with perfect precision as they went about their business.

Raymond sighed, questioning why his mood dropped when he took in the monotone sight.

He shook himself out of gloom and recalled the informed location of the spirit: the roof of a crumbled watchtower. When he arrived at its base, it felt different from the rest of town, like an old passion surrounded the place, intensifying as he climbed the stairs. Before he had even a chance to step onto the roof, the spirit spoke.

“Your one of those reapers, aren’t you?” the spirit serenely asked.

She stood, leaving her array of books and her telescope. She introduced herself with a swift handshake and a brief mumble of what Raymond thought was her name then quickly became engrossed in her telescope again.

“Um, so you like, uh… astronomy, was it?” He stuttered, noticing the pictures in her books.

“I admit I wasn’t really ever too interested in the… in

the subject…”

“So you like, constellations and the sort?”

This seemed to spark something in her eyes.

“Well…” the spirit chuckled. “All my life, I’ve always been a tad interested in this one constellation… actually, practically my entire existence has been dedicated to researching, and eventually seeing this constellation. It’s called, ‘Éna Pséma,’ quite the endearing name, isn’t it? My teacher taught me of it a couple hundred years ago… Dante Brown… it saddens me to think of his name to this decade. He was quite famous you know, and equally as engrossed in astronomy as I am. I feel as though I must see it, for him at least.”

Raymond, though stunned at the sudden outburst, queried, “And… do you think that you will spot it any time soon?”

“One of these nights…”

The spirit drifted off into her own mind and telescope yet again, so Raymond concluded that the

conversation had closed. Although, something felt off. This task seemed so easy, and yet this spirit had been out on the top of a desolate watchtower for 300 years, and no one had successfully reaped her.

With uncertainty plaguing him, he snatched up a few of her books, and slipped away to the local library.

To Raymond’s dismay, his concerns were never lifted. It was well into the witching hour, and his figure had imprinted itself onto his seat. He felt as though illiteracy was consuming him, and with each passing moment, his brow became furrowed in a way in which it would be most unfortunate if the wind changed. The thing was, the information in the spirits books, and what he found within the library, were completely incompatible. There was no constellation with the name ‘Éna Pséma,’ and most of the knowledge found in her books was bluntly incorrect. As his research continued in bedlam, he recalled a name that the spirit mentioned, Dante Brown, her famed teacher. However, Raymond’s suspicions were piling up, and as he looked through books of notable figures in Abergavenny, he found her teacher. And indeed, he

was quite famous… as a con-man and murderer, known for scamming people with false information, and eventually ending a girl named Astraea Griffiths not 300 years ago. Upon closer examination, the resemblance of Astraea and the spirit was uncanny.

The dots had finally begun to connect in his head, as he registered the true nature of the spirits life. To be completely certain, Raymond, knowing the ‘constellations’ name was Greek, looked it up in an old Greek dictionary. After finding the phrase, he repeatedly double checked in confusion what he was seeing. The Greek phrase, Éna Pséma, meant… ‘A lie.’

He rushed through the pitch-black streets, only guided by the moon that illuminated the watchtower. Raymond’s disorderly mind managed to piece together an understanding: whether it be through truth, or falsehood, Astraea’s lifetime would never end. Neither would allow her to appreciate life and accept death, since neither would be fulfilled. As the horizon broke, he reached Astraea staring pensively into the sky.

“It’s always sad to see the stars go. ” Astraea expressed.

“Astraea, I-I…” Raymond puffed, now faced with a serious predicament.

“Yet another night without Éna Pséma.”

“Astraea, Éna Pséma, it- it doesn’t…”

Raymond gasped. He had said it, stated it almost. He whitened, cursed at himself for acting on thoughtless impulse, and turned away from Astraea in shame. However, when he peeked back, a smile played on her lips, furthermore, a chuckle escaped them.

“You know, many have tried to tell me before, but no reaper succeeded.” Astraea sighed.

“You- you knew?”

“After a few dozen reapers, I eventually caught on. Indeed, I was shattered. Everything I had worked for, everything that my happiness relied on, it was éna pséma. However, wasn’t I still happy at the end of the day? Wasn’t that what really mattered? But still, I could not move on, for in my eyes, life is about happiness and freedom, and before freedom comes truth. For 300 years I was lied to, I was never given the freedom that I so desired. But now that I’ve heard

it… loud and clear… perhaps, I can go… ”

Astraea stood, the gentle sunrise perfectly centred around her, and silent tears fell to her feet. She moved towards Raymond, leaning closer to his ear.

“Thank you. ” She whispered.

As Astraea walked down the stairs at the end of her 300 years, Raymond felt the weight of her life deep inside and quietly smiled to himself. Before he knew it, the spirit was gone. There he stood, alone as the sun rose, not for long however. Raymond was a simple reaper, so he picked himself up, and sauntered off to the station, quite ready to start his long-awaited holiday.

graphic short story entries

Hotel Dog

by Violet, age 8

The Mysterious House

by Iona, age 9

The War with Wheatley

by Michael, age 12

The Shining Bin

by Rand, age 9