Short Story Competition 2023 Winners Publication

SHORT STORY

WINNERS COMPETITION 2023

Townsville City Council acknowledges the Wulgurukaba of Gurambilbarra and Yunbenun, Bindal, Gugu Badhun and Nywaigi as the Traditional Owners of this land. We pay our respects to their cultures, their ancestors and their Elders, past and present - and all future generations.

SHORT STORY

WINNERS COMPETITION 2023

“Under the Water”

Fluffy Learns to Swim

First Five - Winner: Adeline Sayer 17

First Five - Winner: Hayley Harriss

18

My Mermaid Life

First Five - Winner: Denver Herrod

19

The Sea Monster and the Mermaid

First Five - Winner: Emma Mangles

20

At a Billabong

First Five - Winner: Korra Davison 21

First Five - Winner: Sophie Smith 22

First Five - Winner: Thesandi Galagedera

The Town Under the Lake

Rebecca Cali Adult - Winner

If you looked out at Lake Crentan, you would see a picturesque landscape. Gentle lapping water. Flocks of wild birds. Families picnicking happily on the shore. The setting of a perfect day out. But lurking deep below the surface is a secret. A town once stood in this very place. A thriving town of 2500 people. All wiped out in a single morning. Enough time has now passed that this town has become a forgotten story. Its lost population ghosts that haunt the shores. This is their story.

Rain fell from the sky in curtains, covering the tiled roofs in a wet blanket. This downpour had lasted 6 days so far and showed no signs of letting up. The children sat inside, staring out the windows with forlorn faces. The initial excitement of frolicking in the rain was long gone, boredom and cabin fever growing in its place. There are only so many times one can change their wet clothes before it becomes tedious.

Raindrops rolled down the glass. “Mother, surely this weather will change soon. We will soon have to row a boat to get to the end of the street!” Denise sighed deeply, her hot breath fogging the window. She traced her finger idly on the glass as the fog cleared. Her mother chuckled softly from her chair.

“A bit of rain is not going to harm us. You will be thankful for this when we have full dams in the dry season.” She turned back to her knitting, the rainbow blanket covering half her lap. She could hide her deformed leg under there and no one would know about her ailment. The horse that had thrown her as a child had left her with such an injury that she was not able to walk unassisted. Her cane leaning against the chair was the only clue now that she was any different from everyone else. The roaring fire crackled in the hearth, throwing shadowy figures around the room. Denise watched as a flock of cockatoos flew over her house, more than she had ever seen before. ‘That’s odd,’ she thought to herself. ‘I wonder if they are going with that mob of kangaroos that dashed past earlier. Probably finding somewhere dry to escape to. I wish I could go with them.’ Denise sighed loudly again and flopped onto the ground, watching the flames flicker wildly. Her eyelids grew heavy as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Far upstream from the peaceful town, a waterlogged river snaked through the land. Swollen by the recent rain, the current raged stronger than ever. Animals raced to high ground, trying to escape the wild water racing through the valley. The dam walls had been built 20 years earlier, an engineering marvel at the time. “This dam will use the latest technology all the way from Germany, it will never need maintenance! Just build and forget,” Mr. Coult, the engineer in charge of the project, had boasted. He had collected his fee and the dam had been built in record time. The construction of the town had followed in the now dried out valley. People had come from all around the country to settle on the rich, fertile soil. The occasional fish skeleton or turtle shell being unearthed was the only reminder to the town that this valley had once been underwater. The trust in the dam was such that many now forgot that it even existed. It controlled the flow of water into the town and ensured they had enough to get by during the dry summer months, but for most in the town, it was simply something that had been in place for as long as they remembered. This meant that no one had checked the dam during this prolonged downpour. No one had checked how full the dam had gotten. No one had checked if the walls were standing. No one checked. If they had, they would have seen water spilling over the dam walls in huge waterfalls. If they had, they would have heard the creaking of the concrete, as deep webs of cracks spread over the surface. If they had, they would have raised the alarm to evacuate the town, giving the people time to find safety on higher ground. But no one had checked.

The explosion of the dam wall blew chunks of concrete across the valley. The deafening boom echoed against the steep mountain slopes travelling all the way through the valley to the small town. Houses shook in their

foundations as a tremor rippled through the streets. The townspeople froze in their steps. A frantic flurry of voices erupted across the town square. Two words repeating over again. The dam.

The screams woke her with a start. Denise sat upright, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mother was dozing in her chair, snoring softly. Screams echoed outside. Doors banged and slammed as a stampede of dozens of feet thundered past the window. Denise threw open the door. The sight she saw left her speechless. The street outside was filled with people pushing, shoving, fighting to get past, uncaring of the torrential downpour. Screaming children were being carried over shoulders. Bags of groceries were left abandoned in the street, squashed into the stones, washed away by the endless rain. Everyone was running in the same direction, towards the only exit out of town, up the hill. Denise caught a glimpse of her school friend Peter rushing towards her.

“Denise, what are you doing just standing there? You have to go!” Peter’s frantic yells were almost lost in the roar of the riot.

“What has happened?” Denise had to scream to be heard.

“The dam. It’s broken. My mother said we don’t have much time. We have to get to high ground!” With that, Peter vanished, carried along with the crowd. Denise’s heart pounded. A rhythm perfectly in time with the pounding feet streaming past her. Denise turned and raced back inside. Her mother was still asleep in her chair, blissfully unaware of the disaster bearing down upon them. Denise shook her shoulders roughly, her panicked voice adding to the noise outside.

“Mother! Mother, you must wake. We have to leave. The dam, it has broken!” Her mother’s eyes snapped open, wide with fear.

“Help me up.” She snatched her cane from next to her chair and gripped it tightly. Denise grabbed her under the arms and lifted her firmly onto her feet. A slight wobble then she was off, teetering across the small house to the front door. The stream of people had slowed to a trickle, and yet a roar as loud as 1000 feet filled the air. Her mother’s face paled.

“There is no time,” she muttered, her eyes filling with tears. The falling rain washed them away. She turned to Denise. “Listen to me. You have to leave me. I will not be able to keep up, not with this thing.” She tapped her cane on the wet ground.

“Mother, no, you can’t be serious-” Denise began to protest, but was cut off by a loud crash echoing across the valley. The townspeople froze where they stood, their eyes growing wide with terror. This lasted one second. Two. Three. Before frantic movement once again erupted across the square, more panic driven than before. “Go!” Denise’s mother gave her a strong push into the thronging crowd before vanishing behind the wall of people. Denise yelled out for her over and over but her voice was lost in the cacophony of the crowd. Her feet slipped beneath her and she slammed hard into the ground. The feet of the panicked crowd ran over her again and again, stopping her from getting up. Denise felt bruises bloom across her sides as ribs cracked under the heavy footfalls. She curled herself into a ball, arms protecting her head, praying for it to end. Her breath was forced from her lungs with each sharp kick in her side. Suddenly strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. Dazed, Denise caught the eyes of Jim Taylor, the butcher from down the road. She opened her mouth to thank him but he was gone, pulled away in the crowd of people.

Denise allowed herself to be steered by the crowd, careful to keep on her feet. Twice she found herself slipping on the wet road, but was able to right herself before falling entirely.

The noise that had begun as a distant rumble was now a deafening roar, drowning out all other sounds in the world. Denise felt it right down to her bones and into her soul. It kept her upright. It kept her running. Because running was the only way now. Running for her life. And yet the crowd was slowing. No longer running, now pushing, scrambling. They had made it to the bottom of the hill, the only way out of town. Normally a gentle green slope, the days of endless rain combined with the hundreds of people trying to climb it had turned the soft grass into a slick muddy slope. Denise watched in horror as person after person tried to climb the treacherous slope, only to find themselves slipping back down, often taking out others below them. The townspeople at the base of the hill had nowhere to go but up. The thronging crowd pushed them from behind as more and more people tried scrambling to the top. But it was no use. The entire town was trapped. And the water was coming.

Denise looked wildly around but the high cliffs surrounding the town offered no hope for escape. Except…high up on the cliff face, Denise saw it. A small goat, leaping from rock to rock. With no other options, she tore herself away from the crowd and began to climb. The rocks were slippery under her wet fingers but her grip was firm. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her ribs, Denise pulled herself from rock to rock, forcing herself higher and higher. Her breath came out in little puffs, her lungs unable to fill completely. But she could not allow herself any time for respite. She continued pulling, her muscles screaming with protest. 5m then 10m, then 15, Denise moved methodically, following the natural ridges in the rock face, until finally she found herself reaching the peak. With aching arms, she pulled herself onto the flat muddy plateau but did not allow herself to rest. She rolled onto her stomach and peered over the edge of the cliff. She saw a dozen people attempting to climb up the same way she had come. She lay ready to help any that got close enough, but it was too late. From that height, Denise saw what was coming before the rest of the town.

The roaring noise hit its peak as a wall of water slammed into the valley. Houses with wooden frames were swept clean from their foundations, whilst more modern buildings made with stones stood firm. Windows exploded under the enormous pressure of the water. The townspeople clung to each other as they said their last prayers, their voices lost in the sound of destruction. Denise looked one last time at the people below her before the wave hit. Then they were gone.

Of a population of 2500, only 14 people had made it to safety. The grief-stricken souls could only watch as their homes, their town, their families were lost in the raging water. For weeks afterwards, debris washed up onto the edges of the newly formed lake, reminders of the town that had once stood there and the lives that were lost. For decades afterwards, there were sightings of a lone woman wandering the shores, searching for reminders of the lost town. Until eventually, even she was gone. Time passed and the town and its people slipped into memory, then legend. A town reclaimed by nature.

Refuge

Karinne

Law

Adult - Runner Up

I recall that I was drowning.

And I would have, had it not been for the thoughtful blue eyes floating above me, illuminated by the pools of sunlight spilling between the boughs of the paper bark trees. She is an Impressionist painting above the rippling surface of the creek, blurred against the brilliant blue of the sky and the grey-green leaves that shiver in the summer breeze. She has crawled out above me on a branch, her lanky arms wrapped around a powdery limb. The dark ringlets of her hair nearly touch the surface of the water. They cast shadows that flit like the fish below. Errant eucalyptus blossoms cling to her brown curls this time of year, the water acting as a magnet for both her and the crimson flowers. As I struggle against the invisible current and my lungs fight for air, I contemplate the pretty image just beyond my reach.

But her face shifts and I see the concern knitted in her brow even through the tomb of water. I remember why I need to live.

My head breaks the surface and in the spray of wine-dark droplets the image vanishes like a dream. Around me, people are yelling; someone is screaming. The violent shock of cold seawater is like a punch to the diaphragm and knocks the air from my lungs. I gulp oxygen. Adrenaline rips through every fibre of muscle - pure liquid terror threatening to drown me before the sea.

I claw at a piece of twisted metal that drifts by me and reality clarifies through the rush. We were on the dinghy - as we had been for the past three days - desperately scanning for a glimpse of friendly coastline. Then we saw the plane. It was Australian: one of ours. It was close. Someone yelled “Go get ‘em!” and I remember having the absurd thought that it was almost like watching a game of football. Us versus them. Then the explosion. The collective and palpable shock of the passengers on the dinghy as first we saw the flash and then heard the bang. The sheer volume of the boom shocked me more than the initial blast. The spiralling descent - closer and closer as the panic rose in my gut and up my throat, until my heart was pounding in my mouth. And then the sea erupted.

I cling to the scrap of plane as the roiling ocean shifts around me. I kick with a desperation I have never felt before, stinging eyes searching for the dinghy. I catch a glimpse of its orange hull through the swell, close enough to make out her face contorted in a scream. She hadn’t wanted to leave. None of us had. But when the war had made its way so close to home that there was nothing left for us to fight for, we had sought out the men from Cooktown. They had supposedly been providing safe passage out of the country for months. With eyes hidden in the dappled shade of disintegrating straw hats, humid air was sucked through teeth as they estimated with seemingly scientific accuracy that the dinghy would make the crossing. I was sick with scepticism but paralysed by a lack of options. They gave us one life jacket. I gave it to her. As I strapped it on her I called on every god I could remember and pressed prayers into the yellow plastic. I can see her wearing it now – a beacon against the iron sky of the Coral Sea.

Six months of scant rations and the harrowing fatigue of worry have weakened me, and even as I struggle towards her with everything I can muster, I feel the ocean dragging me below its surface with a force I cannot fight. I dissolve into darkness.

I don’t know how they got me back in the boat, but I know I am back because of the smell. Someone has been sick again and missed the edge. I had once been hit by a car while riding my bike to school and I remember waking up in hospital, aching all over. It feels like this now but with the added stench. The blistering sun has burned off its blanket of cloud and now bakes us dry. My body feels hot and red raw.

Between the smell and the pain and the heat, I dissociate to a dim awareness – a space where I can neither feel nor think clearly. Here, memories surge forth, more real to me than the wretched, endless ocean and the lost souls of the boat.

I recall the fish.

She always loved the fish – the bounty of life sustained by the creek. An eternal trickle of water over granite boulders that had been worn smooth over thousands of years. In summer, our feet would burn on the baked rocks as we made our way to our favourite swimming spot. We would sit beneath the paper bark trees that grew greedily on the banks in search of water. Strewn amongst them, the spindly callistemon with their brilliant red blossoms found impossible homes between the rocks. When they bloomed, there was always a horde of native honeyeaters flitting from tree to tree. If you lay on a rock and were quiet and still they would forget you were there and would come so close you could almost pluck one from the sky. Their shadows skated across deep, clear pools that drank the sunlight.

I remember the underwater architecture of smooth river stones and their gentle, curious inhabitants. Tiny bait fish moved in glittering shoals in the shallows, preyed upon by the wily jungle perch and archer fish. If you dove deeper into the pools by the boulders, the eels and turtles had long since become accustomed to humans and went about their business seemingly oblivious to the intrusion. Down deeper still amongst the leaf litter and sand the catfish lurked. Once, in the silent cold of a winter’s dawn I had even seen a platypus.

I remember thoughtful blue eyes like shallow pools of water, bright and clear. This is how I like to remember them – before the war, before they dulled as we watched the emerald Daintree coastline recede in our wake. Now they just reflect the grey sea back at me, full of questions about an uncertain future that I cannot answer.

In the inky night as we drift into another oblivion she whispers that she hopes they will be kind. That she hopes they will understand what we had to leave behind. That we are desperate. That we are good. I am still a thousand miles away in a daydream of breeze in paper bark boughs and trickling water, but I murmur to her that if they have known something as beautiful as our home, then surely they will.

A Final Goodbye

Yasmin Godschall-Johnson Young Adult - Winner

I sit alone on the sand at the water’s edge at sunset, pondering. Questioning how I can leave my one TRUE friend. Ever since I was young, my friend and I were together every day. I grew up with it, and it was always with me. Providing me with comfort after a betrayal and loss, as well as happy memories in times of celebration. It was my sea, my sand, my waves. So how can I abandon it?

My life began to unravel a week ago. My parents’ solemn faces are etched in my memory as they sat my younger sister and I down and broke the devastating news. Dad got offered a job in a city, in the middle of Australia, a 3 day drive away. That is 72 hours, or 4,328 km away from my friend, my ocean. My parents were ecstatic, and so was my younger sister. No matter how I looked at it, though, it was horrible news. I would be pulling the plug on my one soothing constant.

Tomorrow, we will hop in the car and start the agonizing 3-day journey. I know I should say goodbye before I go, but I just can’t bring myself to say the words. So instead, I remove my shoes, stand, and decisively walk the few steps until my toes meet the tide. The evening sun shimmers off the gentle ripples of the waves. It is a calm, peaceful, welcoming sight. The rhythmic lapping beckons me like every time before. Humbly surrendering to the sea, I dive headlong into the warm embrace of my lifelong friend, this feeling of escape with the sense of immersion is what I’m going to miss the most.

As always, the cold, brisk nip of the water sends a shiver down my spine. The salt stings as I open my eyes. What I see once I endure the momentary pain of opening my eyes, is well worth it. The wonder of this underwater world is surely something to behold, one that I have never tired of in 17 years.

I mentally record the mesmerising array of corals, rock and fish passing beneath me as I head east out to open ocean, where with not a fish or a piece of coral in sight, it is just me and the endless sea.

Now would be the time to scream, to cry, but instead I kick my feet in a raging fury, ruining the silence and shattering the still waters. I could not care less though. I need to rid myself of all this pent-up emotion - I feel angry, sad, betrayed. Exhausted, I roll over and float on my back, staring up at the star encrusted sky. How I wish I could stay here forever, safe, supported, and free.

I close my eyes in an attempt to halt time and absorb these final precious moments, bobbing gently to the rhythm of the ocean. I am rudely disturbed by sharp splashes hitting me from above. I stare up to the sky, expecting to see stars. Instead, they have been blanketed by dark grey storm clouds. The increasing swell warns me of the need to hurry back. I scream to the sea to calm down, as I desperately endeavour to outrun the storm and head for shore, but it reacts with the fury of a rejected friend, bitterly lashing out. In its final attempt to inflict injury I am repeatedly pushed under, against my will. Diving beneath the surface seems to be my best option to escape this persistent onslaught. The black, murky abyss below me offers no comforting sights on my return journey as it did on my way out, however it allows me to preserve what little oxygen I have left - breaching the surface, gasping for air, immediately pushed under again. A sense of desperation fills me, as I realise that I might never be leaving the ocean, because the ocean may have decided that it won’t let me leave. I frantically shake my feet and flap my arms in an effort to free myself from the death grip of this wretched opponent, but I only get more tangled. I refuse to accept this vindictive change from beloved friend to bitter enemy.

Eventually the stormy swells become breaking waves, so I know I am finally approaching the shallows. Churning sand and salt water scrapes the back of my throat. My feet find the sand and I dig my toes in deep to get a firm grip. My head rises victoriously above the surface.

Greeting the air that I so desperately need I am flooded with an overwhelming sense of relief. I drag my battered, beaten body to shelter with all the strength I can muster. I sit shivering on the wet sand, reflecting on the ordeal I had just been forced to endure. For 17 years I have been blinded by my love and affection, not noticing the potential danger that is lurking beneath its surface and descending from the skies above.

Yet now I realise it for what it really is. Familiarity and friendship may change, may even end, but family is forever. Tomorrow I am ready to head west, to be where my family is, for that is where I will be safe.

With that realisation, I turn my back to the ocean and head for home. On the breeze, I can hear the faint cries of the sea, whispering to me an apology and a final goodbye.

A Siren’s Spell: The Enchanting Depths

Emily Metcalfe Young Adult - Runner Up

Freya’s eyes snapped open, jolted awake from a deep slumber. Beads of sweat adorned her forehead, and her clothes clung to her body like a second skin. Disoriented and groggy, she scanned her surroundings in a feeble attempt to regain her bearings. The expanse of dark blue sea was vast, seamless with the distant horizon. Above, a sprawling obsidian canopy enveloped the heavens, punctuated only by the twinkling beacons of distant stars.

Anxiety tightened its grip on Freya as she grappled with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. But just as worry threatened to overwhelm her, a sudden sway beneath her feet sent her tumbling onto the wooden deck of the raft she stood upon. At that moment, Freya noticed a sound resonating in her mind. It was subtle and delicate at first, like the distant echo of a memory long forgotten. But then the sound began to grow.

At first, it was barely noticeable; a whisper that could be mistaken for silence. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, it gained strength and intensity until it was utterly inescapable. It drove its hypnotic claws deep into Freya’s consciousness until her only option was to surrender to its power.

Freya watched through her own eyes as her body rose, helpless against the invisible force controlling her movements. Her body became a vessel, a conduit for the mesmerizing music that took control of her being. She felt a mix of fascination and frustration, her consciousness vividly aware while her autonomy slipped away.

Unexpectedly, the melody converted from a simple tune into a complex web of sounds and textures that coalesced and dissolved in rapid succession. Each melodic fragment seemed to tell a different story; stories that delved deep past the mundanity of this universe and questioned everything she knew. Freya, as a result of a memory not belonging to her, now knew the cause of this entire experience. She now knew the identity of the puppeteer that held the reins to her consciousness, for it was right in front of her.

Beyond the raft’s boundary, a figure emerged from the water. Veiled by the dark of the night, Freya could discern little of its appearance. Then, the moon conveniently emerged from behind a cloud, casting a luminescent spell over the ocean’s surface and revealing the figure. Its body was limber, with pale skin that appeared opalescent, and a beautiful mane of hair that cascaded down its back like a soft current; the translucent, silveryblue colour caught the light in a way that made it glow.

The creature turned, before abruptly diving beneath the waves and disappearing. A moment of anticipation lingered in the air before the siren re-emerged directly before Freya’s raft and up close, Freya realized the creature was utterly enchanting. The whispers of the melody began unnerving Freya as it urged her to forsake the safety of her raft and immerse herself in the secrets of the sea.

Now raging with an intensity that couldn’t be quelled, the melody ignored Freya’s apprehension, and after one final crescendo, the siren’s song flung her into the unknown.

Freya collided with the ocean in a splash that shocked her system and enveloped her in a cocoon of liquid embrace. As she frantically fought to resurface, she found herself facing the siren. Surprisingly, it spoke, “Follow me.” The siren’s voice pulsed with a mesmerizing cadence that mirrored her melody. Freya nodded in compliance. Then, without warning, the siren leant forward and brushed her lips against Freya’s with a delicate touch. In that fleeting moment, Freya was momentarily suspended between confusion and curiosity. Unbeknownst to her, it was a gift from the siren: a kiss that granted Freya the ability to breathe and exist within the watery depths. Past the initial uncertainty, Freya now felt as if during that single moment, she had been infused with the essence of the very ocean itself.

So, when the siren dove beneath the waves, Freya didn’t hesitate to follow. With her senses heightened in the cloak of water, she could hear the symphony of bubbles, the distant whispers of marine life, and the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat synchronized with the pulse of the ocean. But only after she opened her eyes could she truly experience this hidden realm.

A boundless expanse of translucent depths, penetrated by the iridescent glow of sunlight, created an illusion of countless liquid diamonds suspended all around. Vibrant coral gardens, colourful marine life, and hidden caves adorned with bioluminescent organisms revealed themselves. Freya slowly realised, however, that this was a place where reality and fantasy intertwined. Mermaids and merfolk swam alongside seahorses, fish, and sharks, while kelpies galloped like stallions through underwater meadows. Water sprites and nymphs fluttered like liquid stardust, converting the water into a celestial tapestry.

Freya marvelled at her surroundings before she realized the siren, her guide, had vanished. But suddenly, a trail of effulgent jellyfish appeared, creating a radiant path with their graceful movements. Intrigued, Freya followed the luminous trail, unveiling more hidden wonders as the journey continued.

The path led her to an enchanting underwater cavern adorned with rocks, seaweed, and shimmering tendrils. A soft, ethereal light emanated from vibrant bioluminescent plants that decorated every surface. It was a mesmerizing sight, but at the centre of the cavern loomed a primordial presence—an ancient leviathan. Perched atop the leviathan was the siren, her essence resonating with the grandeur of the beast. Her tail gleamed like liquid gold, contrasting the leviathan’s lustrous ruby-red scales strikingly. It was a spectacular sight, where the siren and the leviathan seemed connected by an ancient and unbreakable bond.

Whether due to the sirens’ spell or the captivating influence of the enchanting depths, Freya felt a deep and beckoning pull in her soul. She envisioned a path woven with magic, danger, and the promise of untold wonders. As she drew nearer, the siren’s captivating gaze locked with hers, and in that instant, Freya knew her fate was irrevocably entwined with theirs.

Penguey’s First Fish

Archer Love Children’s - Winner

It was 6:00 am and in a little igloo, a little penguin’s father, Pablo, was waking his son up in his bed.

“Aw, Dad,” the penguin complained. “It’s 6am. Do I have to get up?”

Penguey sat on his bed, rubbing his flippers on his head, along his half-asleep eyes.

“Come on now, squirt,” Pablo encouraged. “You’re going to learn how to fish.”

“Really Dad?” the young penguin whinged.

“Let’s go, Penguey,” Pablo carried on. “Fishing is a really important life skill and you won’t last being an adult without it.”

As if an electric shock went through his body, Penguey hopped out of his bed, “I’ll do it!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go Dad.”

“O.K. Penguey,” Pablo called out. “I’ll slide into the water first and you’ll go in afterwards.”

Penguey was looking nervous.

They slid down into the water and Pablo stuck his head out to call Penguey in.

“Jump in, Mate and lay on your tummy!” he called. “Use your flippers to propel and swim!”

“Ok Dad,” Penguey said. “Got it! Lay on tummy, propel flippers.”

Penguey swam around under the water joyfully, enjoying himself.

“Open your mouth!” he called out. “Target a fish and dive to it. Propel feet!”

“GUAAAAAA!!!!” Penguey yelled. (the sound penguins make)

As if he was a rocket, Penguey jet-propelled his feet to aim for a fish. He was just about to open his moth to catch it, but he heard a very disturbing sound.

“AURRERRRRUUUUUUUUAAAERRR!!!”

Out swam up a leopard seal! It was beautifully terrifying! Penguey nearly fainted! He’d never seen one before.

“Hit the cover! Hit the cover!” Pablo yelled at the top of his penguin lungs! “Hit the cover!”

The leopard seal shot straight through the ice, leaving ice shards everywhere.

Pablo jumped out of the bay. “Emergency!”

“Evacuate the fishing bay! Leopard seals attacking!!!” shouted Pablo.

“Penguey, climb up out of the water using your limbs; flippers, feet, legs and neck. Make footholds and jump high and out!” Pablo taught-under-attack. Penguey did as instructed. The cranky seal shot eyes at Penguey, eyeing his breakfast. He dived up for Penguey, beady eyes staring.

Penguey could be penguin on toast!

He only just dodged the seal’s attack and he climbed out and waddled out to shore as fast as he could. Thankfully no-one had died. They made it to the cafe and exchanged penguin-hugs and chilled for a bit.

It was 8:30am and the penguins were at the café drinking delightful fishuccinos. Penguey had a chickuccino (baby-chino).

Penguey’s mum, Penguina was there drinking an ice decaf latte.

“So, that was unexpected.” Penguina mused. “A leopard seal attacked you underwater and you were forced out of the bay.”

“Yep,” Penguey recalled. “And Dad helped evacuate us.”

“I don’t get all the acknowledgements,” Pablo replied, flattered.

“I mean, Penguey learnt to fish.”

Penguey decided to (wait for it) break the ice and say, “Three cheers for Dad!”

“Fish, Fish, Hooray!” cheered everyone.

Lost at Sea

Sebastian Sayer Children’s - Runner Up

Once upon a time, in a very hot and sunny place called Townsville, there were three smart friends named Sebastian, Ryan, and Joe. Sebastian was smart, strong, kind and friendly. Ryan was helpful, kind, brave and handsome. Joe was silly, forgetful, kind and fast.

One day, the three friends were sitting around in their house in Burdell and Joe mentioned that he wanted to go scuba diving near Magnetic Island. The friends agreed and jumped onto the next ferry to start their scuba diving adventure. As they were diving, Joe spotted a tiny sparkle in the water. So then, Ryan led them down deeper so they could investigate what the sparkle was. As they dove deeper and deeper, they thought it was a treasure chest.

As they got closer, Ryan shouted “I think this isn’t a treasure chest”. Sebastian nodded and agreed, “What could it be?” The three friends had found something way better than a treasure chest… It was a magic portal!

“This looks like a magic portal… I wonder what it could lead to?” wondered Ryan. Sebastian and Ryan were carefully and slowly approaching the portal. However, Joe, who was fast and sometimes a bit silly, swam too fast and got sucked into the magic portal! He suddenly disappeared in front of his two friends.

Sebastian and Ryan took one look at each other in shock, and then both shouted, “We’re coming for you Joe!” They held hands and bravely swam into the magic portal together, to try to find their friend.

The magic portal led them to another world which was beautiful and awesome. When they looked around, they saw the biggest underwater castle ever. Not only that, but they noticed that everything in this world was giant. They saw giant crabs, the size of a house! They saw giant sharks, the size of a skyscraper! They saw giant fish, the size of Castle Hill! The two friends were feeling both shocked and amazed at how big everything was. But they were also feeling a bit scared and worried that a giant crab would squish them. They also couldn’t see Joe anywhere.

“Look there’s another portal!” said Sebastian. They swam to the portal feeling hopeless about ever finding their friend again. As they went into the portal, they magically travelled back in time to earlier that day when they were sitting in their house in Burdell and Joe was there! Joe said, “Maybe we should go scuba diving near Magnetic Island today”. When Sebastian and Ryan heard that, they both shouted, “NO!” They decided to go to the movies instead and had a great day with their silly friend Joe.

Stewart Wheadon First Five - Winner

Under the Sea

Portia Walsh

First Five - Winner

Did you know that when I go to the beach with my family, I sometimes see jellyfish on the beach while I’m walking with my Daddy?

Last time I went to the beach with my Grammy, Mummy and brother and sisters, I went for a walk out into the sea with Grammy. While I was walking, I saw crabs! One was blue, one was red, and the rest of them were white. The crabs let us walk past them and didn’t hurt us.

My favourite thing to do when I go to the beach is to collect the shells. The shells all come from under the sea, in their home, under the waves.

I have never seen fish under the sea, but I know they live there. The fish hide under the waves!

I love going to the beach and picking up the things that come from under the sea!

Fluffy Learns to Swim

Adeline Sayer

First Five - Winner

Once upon a time there was a dog named fluffy, fluffy wanted to go to the strand and swim in the ocean. But fluffy didn’t know how to swim, at the beach fluffy saw a girl named Adeline who was swimming. Fluffy said to the girl, ‘can you help me swim?’ Adeline said ‘ok I can do that.’

Fluffy started on his tummy and tried to dog paddle, then fluffy tried to kick, it worked! Now fluffy could swim and he swam out to get a ball that someone threw. The ball went under water so fluffy had to hold his breath, but he couldn’t get it because it fell down into the ocean. But Adeline could swim, so she swam fast down and got the ball and swam back as fast as she could to fluffy. When she reached fluffy, she gave him the ball, fluffy said thank you and barked to say he wanted to play fetch.

Adeline threw the ball as far as she could and fluffy got it, he wanted to play one more time but Adeline had to go home because it was getting dark.

Harriss First Five - Winner

Hayley

My Mermaid Life

Denver Herrod First Five - Winner

I am a mermaid. My name is Layla. I have purple hair and my mermaid tail is rainbow. Living under water I stay up and I eat everything. I eat strawberries, grapes and bananas. I eat the whole house. When I wake up I play with my brother. We play snap. I always win. I like to swim. I can see turtles and seahorse and starfish friends. I see lots of rainbow colours under the water. I work at the shops under the water. When I grow up I want to keep swimming in the water. I am sad that people throw their rubbish in the ocean. We should put a camera in the sky to stop them throwing their rubbish there.

The Sea Monster and the Mermaid

Emma Mangles

First Five - Winner

Queen Pearl and her seahorse friend, Flower, were out looking for treasure. While treasure hunting they found a giant sea monster named Bunny. Bunny had lots of tentacles and a shark head with spiky teeth!

Queen Pearl and Flower ran away from Bunny, hiding in a cave. Bunny tried to follow but was too big and got stuck and couldn’t follow anymore.

Queen Pearl and Flower explored their cave and found a treasure chest. When they opened the chest they found lots of diamonds!

They took the treasure home and had a big party with their friends. The End.

At a Billabong

Korra Davison First Five - Winner

Sophie Smith

First Five - Winner

Under the Water

Thesandi Galagedera

First Five - Winner

Under the Sea

Octavia Walsh

First Five - Winner

Once upon a time, there was a mermaid and a dolphin and their names were Rosie and Flower. They lived in the Ocean. Rosie, the mermaid, had a green head, red hair, purple eyes, purple mouth and purple fins and tail. Flower, the dolphin, was blue and didn’t think it was fair that she was only blue when Rosie was so beautiful. Flower the dolphin had a special power though - she could talk!

One day, Rosie and Flower went on an adventure to find some seaweed to eat, but there was no seaweed left in the ocean. They were so sad! There was none left! They both cried! A man had taken all of the seaweed and it was awful!

Rosie and Flower went up to the surface and tried to find the man who had taken all of the seaweed so that they could give it back to the ocean. Luckily, they spotted the man’s boat and were able to sneak up quietly and find some of the seaweed to give back to the ocean.

Because Rosie and Flower were so brave, the ocean was able to grow more seaweed so that everyone could live happily again.