St Nicholas' Creative Writing Competition 2016 by The Global Educator

WORLDS IN WORDS A YOUNG WRITERSâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; ANTHOLOGY

Year 2016 / Volume II

Table of Contents

Subject A5....................................................................................................... 4 Just Like a Movie..............................................................................................9 Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s All in Your Head........................................................................................13 Meteor............................................................................................................ 19 Tornado I..........................................................................................................21 Tornado II.........................................................................................................23

The second edition of Worlds in Words presents the winning stories of the 2016 St. Nicholasâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; School Creative Writing Competition, in which once more over eighty students from M1 to S6 accepted the challenge of making their voices as writers heard. We would like to congratulate them all on sharing their passion and we invite the reader to listen to some of those voices through the stories that follow. We would also like to thank the artists who illustrated these narratives, drawing or painting the worlds in words our young writers imagined. Find out what happens to subject A5 as she awakens in the intense brightness of a white room, surrounded by scientists; follow friends Jake and David as they cling to life amidst catastrophic climate change; experience little Emmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fear of the dark; meet Lundy Fraites, the boy who changed the world; witness the destruction caused by a tornado â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and feel the thrill of hunting it! We hope that this anthology will be enjoyed by all members of the school community and that it will inspire others to share their talents in the editions to come.

Subject A5

he could hear them behind her, their distant cries now closing in on her. A deep ache travelled from her bare feet, full of cuts and bruises, to her tired legs. Who knows how long she had been running. She forced herself to move faster, trying to widen the space between herself and the scientists. She tried to remember something, anything. Her name, her family, the reason why she was there, who were the people that were chasing her and why. But all she could remember was waking up in a bed, the bright light above her blinding her sight. She closed her eyes due to the intense brightness and re-opened them slowly. Once she could see and had adjusted her sight to the environment, she lifted her head to take a look around. White. Everything was white. Impeccable. Even her clothes: a smooth, white shirt and white pants, bare feet. She saw a small mirror resting on a table and she approached it. She grabbed it and saw her reflection. Big brown eyes, thin lips, pale face, small nose. Her hair was cut short, almost bald. It was either black or dark brown, she couldn’t tell. A small paper called her attention. It was pierced through her left ear. White, of course. “A5”, it said in wide black letters.

A sudden noise behind her back distracted her. A glass panel was sliding into the wall, creating an opening for a middle-aged man, dressed in a white coat and big black glasses, who was reading some papers. He lifted his head and saw her, confusion clearly drawn across his face. The door closed behind him with a light “click”.

“What the...,” he said softly. He coughed and cleared his throat. He picked up a small device in his pocket, pressed a button and spoke, trying to sound calm and plain but visibly concerned. “Please, send someone with sleeping serum to room 312. One of the subjects is awake.” Sleeping serum? Subject? There was no way she was going back to that bed. She clenched her fists and came closer to the man. He smiled in an attempt to comfort her, but his eyes suggested something else. “Don’t worry. I can help you. Why don’t you...,” She hit him hard on the cheekbone and ran past him towards the glass door. She could hear the scientist groan behind her while she tried, uselessly, to open the door to her escape. It needed a password. The man picked up the device that had fallen from his hand and bellowed: “Send guards and sleeping serum to room 312! Immediately!” Her heart started to race. She did not have time for this. She stepped back and kicked the door with all her strength. A small crack appeared where she had stomped. She kicked again and the crack expanded. The scientist started to recover and stood up, fury in his eyes as he started towards her. She panicked and kicked harder. The glass broke and fell, clinging to the white tiles. She had cut her feet, but she didn’t care. She just started running through a hallway full of glass doors on either side, all of them leading to a room with someone sleeping on a bed, each room identical to the one before. Suddenly, the hallway split into two. On the roof, a sign was hanging that read “LABS” on one side and “EXIT” on the other. She could hear the backup the man had called coming from the lab-zone and the man behind her. She took the turn to the left. Towards the exit. This pathway did not have glass doors or subjects in a room. Just an empty hall, white walls, white tiles, white lights. A new crossroad brought her back to the present. She could turn left, right, or go on in the same direction. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her heavy breathing. Her legs were exhausted and she clutched the side of her ribcage, in an attempt to soften the pain. She couldn’t hesitate any longer. She kept on going in the same direction. A few minutes passed and she stopped to listen. The cries could still be heard, but further away. She smiled, relieved, and caught her breath, standing with her hand on the wall to keep her balance. Drops of sweat streamed down the sides of her face, dripping to her chin. She looked behind her shoulder to check if she was still alone. She was. She noticed a window some steps ahead and walked towards it. The sight filled her with

hope: a wide opening, enclosed by a tall black gate which was slightly open. Behind it there was a road, some mountains in the background. Where was this place? “Never mind,” she thought. “Anywhere is better than here.” She suddenly wondered what her voice sounded like. She tried to speak, but a low groan came out. Too much time without speaking had ruined her voice. Or perhaps it was due to some experiment. She would never know. Having caught her breath, she started running again, this time at a slower pace. She would need strength once she was out to get help somewhere. She tried to breathe evenly and followed the only path she had. The hallway turned some times: left, right, right, left, right... she kept on going. Some time later she reached another glass door with a bright green sign that read “EXIT”. Hope filled her chest, making her feel stronger, ready to leave. She sighed in relief when she noticed that this door had handles. She would not have to kick her way out again. She stepped closer and opened the door. The air was colder on the outside, but she enjoyed it. She closed her eyes to feel the cool air refreshing her from the heat of the escape. She opened her eyes again and started towards freedom. She didn’t see the guard until it was too late. The shot reached her leg and she screamed – in her raspy voice – as the pain struck her in the upper part of her leg. She tripped and fell face first to the floor. It was made of tiny rocks and pebbles which grazed her face. She turned to her side and clenched her teeth to avoid another cry. She clutched the wound and got her hand full of blood, which stained her impeccable white trousers. The dark red liquid kept oozing and it covered the floor. She spat some rocks she had swallowed, her face now also covered in cuts, some small wounds on her face bleeding too. She groaned as she tried to stand up again, but the guard was already there. He took the back of her neck and pushed her onto the floor. Then he took her hands and tied them behind her back. He stepped on her back to avoid another escape. She could hear the guard speaking into another communication device. But she did not listen. She tried to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat. She had been so close... She sobbed, and tears fell down her face onto the rocks. She was in pain, she was scared. She did not deserve this! Or did she? Why was she there? What had happened to her? And her family? She wanted her life back, if she had ever had one. She was not sure of anything. She started panicking and her heart raced as she heard some steps coming closer. “Turn her around,” a low voice ordered.

The guard lifted the foot from her back, clutched her shirt with his huge fist and lifted her from the ground. He turned her around and let her fall on her back. The air left her lungs with the impact and she coughed and moaned. She looked around and saw a group of scientists dressed in white, with notepads in their hands breathing heavily, their faces red from running. One of them was the one that she had punched, his cheek was already bruised deep purple. He glared at her and she grinned with satisfaction at what she had done. At least she had given a good fight. Nevertheless, she could only feel terror about her uncertain future. The guard was at her side, dressed in blue, with a gun held by both hands, pointing directly at her head. The group of scientists looked behind their shoulders and suddenly stepped aside, letting a small old man break the pack as he walked past them with serenity. Clearly the one in charge. The old man was dressed in a black, shiny suit. His eyes were light blue, clear and cold. He looked down at her. The scientists gazed waiting, fascinated and respectful. “She woke up two weeks earlier, Sir,” the man she had punched stated. For a second, the old man’s eyes opened in surprise. Just as quickly, his face became neutral again. “Do you know your name?” he asked in his low voice. She tried to answer, but only a croak came out. She shook her head. “I see. Well then, it seems that Subject...,” he took a step closer to read the sign in her ear, “A5 is awake due to a different metabolic reaction to the sleeping serum. She cannot be utilised for another experiment as we are unable to anticipate her responses.” His voice was monotonous, bored. “She is useless to me. I do not need her.” “But, Sir,” one of the scientists interrupted, “she could be used as a control test. She is the only one that responded differently, we could –” “I do not need a control test. She is useless to my ends. Do not contradict my orders!” he demanded. The scientist’s face turned pale and he stepped back. “Yes, Sir,” he muttered. “Very well, then,” the old man nodded to the guard. The woman’s eyes widened in realization of what was about to happen. Before she could do anything, the guard shot. And then everything turned black.

Giulia A. (S5A)

Martina D. (M3B)

Just Like a Movie

e was only 16 when the World fell apart. Jake Sangster, or as his friends liked to call him, Jake Gangster, was an ordinary 16-year-old: he had a loving family, he went to school, enjoyed partying... he would have never expected his life to change so drastically. He was walking with David to take the underground. The intense glow of the sun reflected on David’s lenses, forcing Jake to squint every time he looked at him. “So, Gangster...,” David started, leaning to his friend confidentially. “Have you asked Melanie out yet or what?” he grinned. Jake pushed him jokingly aside and answered: “You know I haven’t, Dave. I’m still waiting. And I don’t really know what to do. It’s been so hot lately that, even if I asked her out, I wouldn’t get close to her, you know?” “Yeah, you sweat like you were in hell, dude,” David chuckled. Jake pushed him again, laughing, and tried to dry off the drops from his forehead. “Seriously, though,” he continued, without laughing now, “it’s been unbearable lately. Have you heard the news?” They reached the entrance to the underground and started down the stairs, moving along the crowd and thanking for the shade. “This has been the worst summer here in the States. South America has suffered the coldest winters too! Their glaciers have grown so much that villages near them had to be evacuated. And Asia has had more earthquakes and tsunamis this year than in the last three!” Jake frowned, confused and upset. “The World’s climate is crazy, man.” “Yeah, I’ve heard about it. There have been some tornados in Mexico too. People blame it on global warming. Our poles are melting, some areas of Canada have been evacuated ‘cause of the floods,” David added gravely. Jake nodded and stared blankly at the floor, thinking. They had reached the tunnels where they would take the next train. The air was heavy; the air conditioner was not able to cool the heat of the day. And it was only 9 a.m. They stood there, waiting for the train to come while people walked past them, hurriedly or chatting, but all waving their hands frantically in front of their faces in an attempt to lower the temperature. Jake stood still, too concentrated to notice his friend fidgeting around him, checking his watch every five seconds. 9

“Where is it? The train should have arrived twenty minutes ago! There’s no way I’m getting late! I’ve never been late!” David yelled furiously. Jake lifted his head up for the first time and noticed that everyone around him was as nervous as David. He frowned again. “Maybe there were technical problems...,” he whispered, trying to convince himself rather than his friend, but there was something annoying him, a strange feeling in his stomach. A sudden crash interrupted his thoughts. It felt as if a whole structure had fallen down. The earth shook. Then chaos ruled. People sprinted in every direction, terror filling their eyes. Others looked confused, as if they were just running because others were. Jake glanced at David and they both ran to the staircase that led to the underground... and stopped, their feet glued to the concrete floor. Through the opening, they could see buildings falling apart, shaking the ground, everything covered in dust and debris... and flames. Trees on fire, posts on fire, people on fire. Those poor people who had been outside ran horrified, trying to stop the fire consuming their bodies. One of them tripped and fell down the stairs. The clothes were carbonized, turned into ashes. Its face and skin too, red and black and fleshy. Like a melting wax doll in horror movies. David shut his eyes tight and threw up. Jake stared wide-eyed, until he felt the intense heat coming from the entrance, burning his skin. He grabbed David’s arm and ran in the opposite direction. They kept on running through the tunnels until David’s legs wouldn’t take it anymore. He freed his arm from Jake’s claw and placed one hand on the wall to steady himself. Jake stopped and turned to look at him, both catching their breaths again. They sat down without speaking. The screams and cries a constant reminder of the horror they had just seen, of the horror that was probably taking place above them. Every now and then, someone flew past them. An hour passed, and the air felt hotter than ever. Jake stood once again, his throat croaky and burning. He coughed and swallowed, wishing for a glass of water, and helped his friend to stand up. They walked the tunnels until they found another staircase leading to the upper world. “Staircase to Hell,” David muttered. They approached slowly. When they were sure that they would not become a human barbecue, they walked upstairs. Both covered their eyes from the blinding rays and used their school bags as hats. The sun burned their skin, but not as much as the bodies scattered around them, filling the air with a stinking odour – smell of burnt flesh, lying among the debris. Small fires were still lit, sending huge clouds of smoke and dust. Jake swallowed hard again and saw David shut his eyes, trying not to watch the mutilated bodies and destroyed houses. He opened his eyes again and took a look around. 10

“Jake...,” David whispered, “we’re not really that far from my place, you know? Mom and Dad were there, maybe we can...” “No,” Jake interrupted. He softened his voice and replied: “If they really were in the house... then, well...,” he could not finish, so he glanced around at the bodies. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’d want to see that,” he croaked. He remembered his own parents, also at home. And his school friends, and Melanie. Tears stung his eyes and he clenched his fists. He cleared his throat while tears streamed down David’s face, who nodded in comprehension. They started walking again, in silence. A week later, they were living in an underground military base. They had been found by soldiers who were looking for survivors. Now they lived in that base with hundreds of other people. Some were injured, some were missing an arm or a leg, some were blind. But they were all alive. Apparently, this secret base had had contact with other parts of the World. Every country had been proved powerless under Nature’s power: enormous waves had covered Japan and other islands, earthquakes and volcanoes had destroyed entire cities, tornadoes had flown away buildings and skyscrapers, sun flares had made northern areas a scorch while the south lived in the Ice Age. There had been no answer from Central America and other areas near the Equator. Presumably because nobody had survived, being so close the intensity of the sun’s death rays. “Just like in ‘The Day After Tomorrow’,” David joked. At least he tried to joke around, but Jake could sometimes hear him sob at night. He tried to be strong too, but he could not take his parents and friends out of his mind. It did not matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, the memories still came back. The last time he had spoken to any of them lingered in his mind. Hopefully, some would still be alive, just like him. Hopefully, this would just be a horrible nightmare. He returned his attention to David, trying to smile. “Or ‘The Maze Runner’,” he added, thinking about how he had never actually considered being the character of any of those movies. They were just that. Movies. It would have been better if they had stayed like that. David opened his eyes wide. “I’ll never know the ending now! I couldn’t watch the last ‘Maze Runner’ movie!” he shouted. Jake chuckled. At least he still had his friend. He pushed him gently, fooling around. “You should have read the books!” he teased. David turned serious again, lowering his voice. “Do you think we’ll have a happy ending?” Jake stared at him for some time, not sure what to answer. “Who knows,” he whispered. “We have seen better days than these, obviously,” he raised his voice, more confident, hopeful, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t good 11

days ahead of us! It’s just like in those movies! We can only hope for the best! We can have our happy ending, Dave!” he put his hands on his friends’ shoulders and smiled. “We’ll make our own ending. As long as we’re here, together, we’ll be safe.” David stared into Jake’s eyes. He smiled truly for the first time in a week. “Let’s do it, Gangster.”

Giulia A. (S5A)

Mariano G. (S5A)

It´s All in Your Head

s soon as she turned off the lights, she sprinted to her bed. Her hair, dark as coal, swayed from side to side as she ran away from her biggest fear. Emma had always been afraid of the dark, constantly fearing something might come out of it and hurt her. Her sheets, completely covering her body, acting as a shield, left nothing but her eyes and the top of her head to be seen. Soon enough, she drifted to sleep, leaving her worries behind. But that was about to change. The creaking of the door woke her up, and her eyes shot open. She lay still, observing how the door in front of her slowly opened. But nothing was on the other side of it. Her body relaxed, but she kept staring at the door. After a minute, she gave up and tried to sleep again in the hope that this time, nothing would disturb her. But just for her luck, the loud roar of thunder was heard, bringing with it a rainstorm. The little girl whimpered and was now shaking. A bolt of lightning illuminated the whole room and she took a glimpse of a shadow beside her. She shot up and turned to see what was in her room, but nothing was there. What could be causing those scratching noises over the foot of her bed, then? Emma was now petrified. Sitting up on her bed, grabbing her sheets tightly, she struggled to breathe properly. The window from the other side of the room slammed open allowing the cold wind to enter the room and make the crimson curtains sway with it. Quick, Emma covered herself completely with her bed covers, hoping to protect herself. “Mom!” she screeched. She was certain now: something was in her room. What she had feared the most her whole life was now happening. She heard slow footsteps coming towards her. Her eyes shut; maybe if she couldn´t see it, it wouldn´t see her. Her whole body was trembling now, and as the steps kept coming closer she held her breath, hoping it wouldn´t hear her.

Brenda B. (M2B)

She felt how her covers were taken away from her abruptly, and she screeched as loud as her lungs allowed. “Shhh honey, it’s me,” a woman´s voice hushed her. Emma slowly opened her eyes and at the sight of her mother, she flung her arms around her and her mother responded to the hug trying to calm her daughter. “The-there was something in my bedroom,” the child stuttered. “It´s all in your head darling, it´s all in your head,” her mother answered soothingly.

Carolina P. (S4A)

Morena V.U. (M3B)

Martina J. (S5B)

Octavio L. (S5A)

Meteor

eople call me nigga, Negro, nigga-boy, lonely boy, chocolate. People say I am just a piece of nothing and that I have no purpose in life, but I do. That lonely flashlight in the sky is what I love the most. Nobody, neither astronauts nor scientists, have discovered what that star is or where it comes from. It is just a number, like I am. Why do I love this insignificant point in the sky, one in a million? Well, I just feel recognised. I am lonely, I have no family. I am a number, one in a million, as the star is. I am discriminated against for being black and I wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t accept it. What do I want? I want to make my voice be heard. How will I do it? I am going to discover what this light is and show it to the world, so people will know who I am and what the little star in the sky is. I have been studying it since I was six. Now I am fifteen and I got to know everything. Fear and excitement do not let me think. My theory is that it is a meteor. I have been looking through a telescope and taking down notes of its movement and I could notice that every nine days, the star changes position. It looks as tiny as a mouse, but once magnified it is as big as an elephant. I have investigated and there is no register of any study of this meteor in the NASA from other investigators. Nobody knows about it, it is just our secret, the starâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and mine.

JazmĂn Ch. (M3B)

Today is the day. I’m trespassing the fences of the giant building of this group of astronauts that make themselves be called NASA and I am leaving successfully. They gave me a cold welcome when I entered, without knowing, that that 15-year-old boy would change the world a few minutes later. I showed my studies to the head of the building and he was impressed, shocked. He could not believe how I discovered something that the best astronomers had never seen before. A crowd of passionate scientists, astronomers, astronauts and workers clapped at me as if I was a hero, as if I was superman. Now I, the Negro called Lundy, have a job in the NASA, working on what I love, the dark sky of the night. Paparazzi and television crews received me at home, and now I am no longer the same boy people laughed at, but I am Lundy Fraites, the boy who changed the world. The little light, the one I love the most, will now be mine. I discovered that point in the sky, and I own it. How will I call it? I will call it Negro. Jazmín Ch. (M3B)

Máximo T. (M3A)

Tornado

he news had already reached everyone in the city. People had a strange feeling of sadness and discomfort. All the shops were closed and there was nobody walking on the hot pavement. The news bulletin announced it would be the biggest tornado striking the city. It was then that I realized the seriousness of the situation. But I could not do anything to stop this immense mass of power and destruction. In our poor city, there was no place where we could go for shelter and protection, so I stayed at home, with my family, keeping hope and faith. It then occurred to me to take the situation as a game. “The last house that remains standing will win,” I said with a fake smile on my face, but trying to give some comfort to my distressed family. The tornado was coming from the south and it had already passed through two neighbouring villages, but I did not have the courage even to think how many people had been affected. My mind was blinded by panic and sadness. Every member of my family was sitting calmly on the sofa, waiting and praying, and listening attentively to the news. For a moment, I thought it was the calm before the storm, but it wasn’t, there was no calm, our minds and hearts were going too fast. Nobody had the nerve to say a word. Even nature was silent. No birds singing, or bees buzzing. The tornado finally reached the city. It was massive. It ripped the town bringing cars and roofs with it. It was then when I said “I love you” to my parents, thinking those would be my last words. I cried. I cried as a newly born baby. I cried as I saw the fast moving spinning mass of air sweeping through the street towards my house. We did not have any chance to stay alive since the tornado had pulled all the houses on its way as if they had been made of paper. Hopeless, I hugged my parents, closed my eyes, and waited. The whirling, wailing sound of the wind was becoming more and more intense. Was that the end? I wondered. But the tornado did not blow my house away. It remained standing, as strong as a mountain would stand. That day somebody, somewhere was trying to help me. It was probably God´s hand or my family´s faith that gave my house another column. My house was the last to remain standing. It had won the game. Kadir Ch. (M2A)

Luciano S. (M1A)

Tornado

eter was a tornado hunter. He loved the feeling of adrenaline, of the wind strongly hitting him like a wild animal, like a demon trying to take him to hell. He took pictures, filmed videos and published them on the Internet, or sold them to the weather forecast. His brother had enjoyed tornado hunting too, but they had rarely gone together. Peter had been to his farewell ceremony. He had had to quit halfway through. He couldn’t handle it. Nobody had been able to find his body; it had been thrown god knows where by the tornado that had taken his life away. Peter liked to believe he was alive, somewhere. After Carl’s death he went tornado hunting much more often; it helped him clear his mind from the dark thoughts that came each time he heard his brother’s name. That morning, he saw in the news that there was a tornado just outside his city. He packed his equipment, and rushed there; it had happened to him more than once that the tornado had gone away by the time he got there. His car was painted white, but the dust blown by the tornados often made it look light brown. It was very heavy and fast, which was great for his job. When he arrived, the tornado had not dissipated, and was still going strong. He took out his camera, and a deep, relaxing, breath. As he placed the camera on its stand, he noticed the tornado inching closer. “Just one quick picture,” he thought. The camera clicked as he took the photo. The tornado got closer and closer, so he went back inside his car. He’d move a little and take more pictures, but the tornado seemed to follow him, as if it had a mind of its own. He suddenly remembered his brother. He cranked up the engine. The tornado accelerated towards him. He was suddenly scared. He let out a small curse, looked back, and saw the hurricane rip light posts and trees off the ground. He had a friend who worked at the news station. He clumsily looked for his phone number, and called him. “Peter? I am work-…, “he mumbled. “I am getting chased by a tornado, it’s going straight towards the city!” He hung up and focused on driving. He had the luck of being alone on the road. He could see the city ahead. It rained fiercely. “What a disaster,” he thought. He realized he was low on fuel. His friend called him: “An F5 tornado!” he shouted “WHAT?!” The F5 was the strongest type of tornado he had seen. There were cars abandoned in the city streets, and the siren was ringing loudly. He avoided the cars, and had to turn to a less jammed area to go on. The city had 23

slowed the tornado down, but he could see how it tore the cement and sidewalks off the ground. He heard a loud cracking noise. He looked back, and saw a whole apartment falling down. He stared in shock as the tornado ripped it apart as it fell. The building across also fell when hit by the rocks. “That’d be a great picture…” He silently said to himself. He couldn’t start up the engine: it had run out of fuel. He ran, now outside, with the camera bumping on his chest. He heard a cry. A sob.“Help!” He looked through a car window and saw a child strapped to a baby seat. “Who could have done this to their child?!” He easily opened the door and took the child out. “Hold on tightly,” he told her as he placed her on his back. She was trembling, maybe because of the fear, or the cold. He noticed the sirens had stopped ringing, in fact even the rain had stopped. The city’s electricity had been cut off. He saw a helicopter in the sky. “A news chopper!” He flailed his arms shouting for rescue. He decided to go into an apartment, ignoring what had happened earlier to the other ones. He ran up the 30 floors, almost knocking the child off his back. He went onto the roof and shouted. He saw movement inside the helicopter, and it started to get close. The sound of the helicopter made him deaf, but it didn’t matter. A ladder was thrown down, and he started climbing up. The wind shook the ladder and moved it around, and the child fell. He could barely see where she was, but he stretched his arms and caught her just in time. They went inside and left. The next morning, he saw in the news the destruction the tornado had caused. The part of the city it had hit had turned into piles of rubble. He appeared in the newspaper, to his surprise. It was an exaggerated story about how Peter had rescued the child. She had been taken to the police to find her parents; “And hopefully put them in jail for abandoning her,” he thought angrily. Everything was silent. “So,” he thought,“when’s the next one?”

Santiago V. (M1B)

2016