Northreads Anthology by westwords6

Northreads An anthology of short writings from Northmead Creative and Performing Arts High School

Northmead Creative and Performing Arts High School 28 Campbell Street, Northmead NSW 2152 Published by WestWords Ltd PO Box 2327 North Parramatta NSW 1750 91B Grose St, North Parramatta NSW 2151 (02) 8677 4815 | admin@westwords.com.au www.westwords.com.au Copyright 2018 ÂŠ All rights reserved Without limiting the rights of under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be used without the written permission of the publisher. Illustrations by Ana and Rachael Graphic design by Luke Beeton and Christie Burmester www.sailorstudio.com.au

FOREWORD Anyone experienced in the subtleties of

of writing workshops with the Northmead

teaching creative writing to high school

cohort whose creative works make up this

students will have incorporated into the

anthology, I faced a series of shocks which

architecture of their mind a tried-and-tested

divested me of any defensive reflexes I might

spiel on the significance of writing which

have intended to rely upon. First of these

they must keep at their ever-ready – prepared

surprises was the sheer number of students

to deploy – in order to win over the hearts

who had signed up to be part of this project

and minds of a largely indifferent audience

– to find an entire classroom full of pupils

of restless teenagers. Walking down the

who had stayed after school for the sake of

decline that leads to Northmead Performing

creative writing is a rare discovery in itself

Creative and Performing Arts High School

– but more shocking still was the passion

from the shopping centre carpark, I began

and attention the Northmead students had

to rehearse my own internal monologue

for both the study and practice of all things

in defence of literary endeavour, the

literary. I found myself saying repeatedly

importance of creative writing for its own

to Miss Lee and her colleagues after our

sake, and – should all else be unpersuasive

sessions together – whatever the English

– taking it seriously at least in the hope of

department is doing, keep it up!

earning higher grades on an upcoming English exam.

Together, the students, their teachers and I went through a series of lessons on the

Being brought by Ms. Lee into the room

practice of creative writing – from the

where I’d spend the seven or so sessions

fundaments of ‘creating worlds with words’,

specificity, and revision – to looking at dream-work and the unconscious for our inspirations. The students were brilliant, responded perceptively and instinctively, and showed themselves to be willing to put in the work required to develop their technical capacities. To this end, the students and I spent the final weeks developing and revising the stories you’ll find in this collection. Writing is ultimately an art – and like any artistic skill it is something that cannot

there is no limit to what they can achieve.

Luke Carman Luke is the author of ‘An Elegant Young Man’ which won the 2015 NSW Premier’s Literary Award for New Writing and was shortlisted for the ALS Gold Medal and Queensland Premier’s Prize for short fiction; it also saw him named one of the Sydney Morning Herald Best Young Novelists of the Year in 2014. Luke’s story ‘Liverpool Boys’ is included in the SBS podcast series, True Stories - a podcast series of true stories from Australia’s best emerging and early-career writers and the ‘Sydney Review of Books: Six Degrees from the City’ series.

be given from one person to another. The capacity to write well requires endless hours of practice and perseverance before it take even begins to take root. The students of Northmead have shown they are willing to begin this long progress, and I hope they’ll continue along that path. With the guidance of their excellent teachers, Ms. Lee and her colleagues, and with the support of an outstanding organisation like WestWords,

THE EXPERIENCE In 2018, Northmead CAPA High School

like to thank English teacher, Zoe Morse,

started its first creative writing club, and

for supporting this group of students

in the second half of the year the club

by attending workshops and assisting

was fortunate enough to have acclaimed

students with their work. Thank you

author Luke Carman for an in-school

to the students who attended sessions

residency. Originally, students were

every fortnight on Tuesday afternoons

focused on the idea of place, however,

for extending themselves and taking risks.

with Lukeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s guidance, students wanted to explore other areas and write about what they are passionate about. Students developed their own personal voices using characters they created contrasting various perspectives through dialogue. Bringing an exceptional and imaginative writer really assisted in developing the studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; imagination, time management and creativity.

their continual support over the years. Michael and the team have been wonderful in meeting the needs of our students in a variety of workshops including whole year groups and Extension 1 English classes where students have found the courses useful in preparation for exams and the HSC. Each time, WestWords works hard to find a writer that aligns with our

I would like to personally thank Luke

students and meets our expectations. For

for taking time from his busy schedule

the Creative Writing Club, this has been

to work with such young aspiring

an invaluable experience particularly

writers. I loved seeing them engaged

having the opportunity to have their

and involved with the content provided.

work published. This outcome focussed

The stories turned out beautifully while

the students to achieve their goals. With

demonstrating powerful use of language

the inclusion of student artwork to

through dialogue, character development

be showcased alongside the stories to

and plot. Additionally, I would like

ensured the publication was unique to

to thank the principal of Northmead

Northmead CAPAHS.

CAPAHS, Narelle Vazquez, for supporting Creative Writing Club and believing in our young writers to be the best English students they can possibly be. I would also

I would also like to thank WestWords for

Samantha Lee, Head Teacher, English

NORTHMEAD CREATIVE AND PERFORMING ARTS HIGH SCHOOL Northmead Creative and Performing Arts High School (enrolment 1050 students) focuses on, and has a proven record of success, in the creative and performing arts, academic, vocational and sporting areas. The school has a committed, dynamic teaching, administrative and executive staff with a range of experience. Support for the school is strong in the local community. The

school

values

Respect,

of our learners are met through a broad

Responsibility, Commitment, Community

academic curriculum, strong vocational

and Tolerance underpin all programs

programs and targeted quality Creative

and practices within the school. The

and Performing Arts programs in Visual

school has developed the Principles of

Arts, Dance, Drama and Music. School

Effective Teaching which underpins all

programs are complemented by a wide

teaching practice at Northmead CAPA

range of extraâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;curricular programs. There

High School. Our teachers are passionate

is a strong focus on collaboration, critical

about teaching and embody the schoolâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

thinking, creativity and innovation, both

values. Our teachers strive to improve

in teaching and learning. Leadership is

both their professional knowledge and

actively developed for the teaching staff

practice through their personal attributes,

through targeted high quality professional

skills and knowledge, to advance a sense

learning and leadership pathways. Student

of community and tolerance in all

leadership is developed in sport, creative

members of the school community to

and performing arts, multiculturalism,

achieve excellence in learning. The needs

school service and the community.

WestWords

Western

Sydneyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

celebrated, developed in literature and

Literature Development Organisation.

shared with a wider audience.

We provide pathways of opportunity

We believe that engagement with

for the development of Western Sydney

reading and writing allows young

voices through innovative literature

people in particular to develop their

and related arts programs. We believe

imagination, gives voice to their

literacy, self-expression and creativity

stories and experiences, hones skills

changes lives and communities.

in written expression and illustration,

WestWords is committed to providing

and sets them on a trajectory for life.

an environment where the stories of

With a focus on literature, we deliver

the communities of Western Sydney

residencies, fellowships, workshops,

and the places they come from are

performances,

celebrated. The guiding philosophy

publications. Our partners include

of WestWords is a belief that the

teachers,

unique perspectives and stories of

community and arts organisations.

presentations

schools,

the Western Sydney area deserve to be

WestWords is proudly supported by

and

universities,

Watercolour illustrations by Ana & Rachael

AFTERLIFEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S ILLUSIONS By Ashu

There it stood above me, a vastness one

The placid waters of a small lake

can only imagine of what lies beyond.

surrounded the car as it rippled from

The celestial space had become pitch

side to side, as though swaying in

black, the glittering and luminous

harmony with the tune of the wind.

diamond-like stars had disappeared,

This

leaving a dome of void-black.

My body became so relaxed it felt

My body had been catapulted into the air and vigorously jolted back into my seat. My eyes grew heavy with fatigue until I could not resist its relentless nagging. I sat there slowly drifting into the silence sleep brings, thinking

moment

appeared

eternal.

weightless, it seemed like time itself had slowed down to a halt and the shrill in my ears disappeared. One by one each vision slowly subsided until I was left adrift in a moment of tranquillity.

of bygone times, recalling old scenes

Persistent pokes of the wind and the

and summoning half-forgotten faces.

irritating pecks of water at my waist

Thoughts and memories flooded my

sprang my eyelids open. I had been

mind. Bridge, dad, car, river. These

asleep for so long my sight had become

images flickered through my head in

blurry. I could just make out silhouettes

a perpetual pattern. They were the last

of objects in the distance and various

things I saw before my body tensed

shades of blue surrounding me. With

and was submerged into the icy lake.

each blink my vision cleared, until I

was left with a gut-wrenching sight. My dad

of the room that weren’t covered with fabric.

lay in the seat next to me, I could tell he was

The scent of buttered popcorn lingered even

close to death. I could see the light leaving

though there was no popcorn present and

his eyes with each breath he took. There was

the floors were spotless. My breaths grew

blood everywhere, some still oozing out of

long and fast, I ran a fair bit more before

the cut in his head and left shoulder.

reaching the front door. I would’ve stayed

One moment I was skiing with my dad for the holidays having a wonderful time and

I stepped outside, quickly closing the

the next he was gone. Just like that. No

door behind me. My eyes grew wide in

warning, no goodbyes, just a lifeless body

amazement as a whole city stood before

replacing the person I once knew. Tiny

me, skyscrapers and tall landmarks filled

waterfalls cascaded down my cheeks. The

the area. Some floating, others interlocked

car was steadily filling with a coruscant, light

but all proceeding in multiple spirals. I had

blue water. It was fairly entrancing, despite

no concept of time or space in this unearthly

the fact that my father lay dead in the beauty

world. I’d like to believe that I was dreaming,

of it. Small yelps escaped as I reached for my

but I was convinced this was real. Each

dad, but I couldn’t touch him. My hand cut

building delivered an illuminative light into

through his body like there was no one there.

the atmosphere that made the area seem

The water came up to my nose before I made

whimsical.

the decision to leave him in the cold water. As I propelled myself through the window and out of the car. I fell onto cold, glossy

“Hello?”, I hesitated.

black tiles that lined the floor of the building

The lights turned off, creating the illusion

I was now in. When I looked back the car was

that I was in an abyss, in the company of

gone and there was no lake. It was as if I had

passing spirits. It looked as if the city had

jumped out of a black hole. Confusion, fear

given into solitude and silence, with each of

and sorrow feasted on any optimism I once

my echoing footsteps disturbing the dead.

had. An eerie presence filled the room and

As I made my way down the street it was

I tried to run as far away as my feet could

uncomfortably quiet,.

take me. The building was beautiful, it mirrored the structure of a modern art gallery. There were thin, circular lines engraved throughout the ceiling and the walls were lined with a striped, velvety fabric. Beautiful selfportraits of people wearing black and white hooded robes were painted along the parts 10

longer if it wasn’t so dim-lit and creepy.

“Hello?” My body was so cold that it soon became fully grey. My mouth quivered as I kept screaming out hellos in the hope that someone would hear me. The street led to another building, smaller than the one before, but still very beautiful. I entered with

caution, very hesitant of my next steps. A

about that but we need to discuss your plans

man, at a large, dark oak desk turned to look

for the future”, Peter said.

at me, he stood up with a grin and came to shake my hand. “Well hello there! You must be Monty, I’ve been expecting you for quite some time now. Hope you didn’t get lost within the labyrinth we have outside”. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He was fairly handsome and youthful, looked like he was in his early twenties. It had me questioning why he was here in the first place. The stranger was wearing a black suit, not too strikingly formal but just enough to make me feel underdressed. He ushered me to the far left corner of the room where he sat in front of the desk. I sat down on one of the two

His eyes were fixated on the large ‘Apple’ computer that sat in the centre of the desk, he had to look around it just to see me. “By looking at your records, you are classified as a pure being, which means you can only choose between two of the three doors behind you.” He pointed behind me and read out the two options. I stood there revising my life. The doors were circular in shape, like a hobbit’s. They each emitted an enchanting translucent light making them look a bit like portals.

leathery white chairs in front of him. ‘Peter’,

I stood in front of the doors, fiddling with my

the polished silver plaque on his desk read.

fingers, anxiety and stress making me doubt

“Peter, where am I?”, I trembled.

my decision, until I unhesitatingly pressed the rounded blue button that was placed just

He looked at me with despair, like he felt

next to it. A stentorian screech descended

sorry for me. This room’s layout resembled

across the whole room and I was left astray,

my principal, Mr Loath’s office. The lighting

plunged into darkness once again.

was fairly bright reflecting off the various filing cabinets and shelves on each of the walls. There were documents everywhere and a large electronic scoreboard was projected onto one of the walls. This place however was much more modern than Mr Loath’s office. It looked as if it belonged on the top level of those high rise buildings business people work in. What was this place? “Look, there is no easy way to say this but, you’re...dying...well dead. I am so sorry

THE REALITY OF THE NIGHTMARE By Ashwen

The smell of poop and piss ran under

to see where the noise had come from

my nose as I took my first step into the

but the machine didn’t seem to do

tunnel. I could see a light flickering

anything.

in the distance, whispering ‘open the door... open the door…’ I unlocked the door. The bunker was dark and gloomy, it was like time had consumed the place. I rubbed my fingers against the walls, the paint crumbled away.

glowing blue substance dripping down out of one of the pipes. Moments later the monsters of my nightmare came out of it.

I could see a ginormous machine

“Ace, you realise that no one is gonna

waiting there to be explored and used.

believe that right?”

Cautiously, I walked towards it. The machine was odd in shape and had copper pipes running around it that led behind the machine, and to a lever. I pulled it and heard a beeping noise. Over my shoulder I saw the helmet. It was lying on the floor, wired to the

“OMG Sam, my nightmare monsters came to life!” “Are you high?” “Believe me, I know it sounds crazy but you gotta trust me bro.”

machine and I grabbed it. On it “Think

Sam sighed, “Look bro If you want

of a dream” was written, so I placed it

me to believe you, give me proof. If

on my head and thought of a dream.

you have evidence I will believe you.

But instead it reminded me of my

I’m outta here, I’m late for dinner.

nightmare.

Make sure your sis doesn’t get any

There was a clunk and a thud. I looked

Then machine lit up. I could see a

nightmares.”

Ace had trouble trying to find evidence to

Ace had described was flat as a pancake,

prove Sam wrong. He was puzzled. It was

covered with bricks, and had liquid running

like he had run out of ideas. His brain

out of it, oozing down the drain and into the

wasn’t working, all the neurons started to

public’s water system. The boys walked up

slow down. It was hard to process ideas. He

to the destroyed machine and then gazed up

decided it was necessary to pay another visit

towards the ceiling. Instead they looked up

to the bunker. This time, with Sam.

through a massive hole to the sky.

“Hey bro, why were you here in the first

“What kind of nightmare did you have?” Sam

place?” Sam asked.

questioned.

“Trust me you do not wanna know,” Ace

“Two monsters, both petrifying, but the

replied.

deadliest one is Shrek,” Ace said.

“Here, the bunker is straight ahead, you can

“Shrek?”

see the door from here.” “Ok, let’s go!” Sam yelled. “Shut up, they can hear and smell us from a mile away” Ace whispered. “Yeah, yeah, sure they can.” Sam whispered. The boys reached the bolted metal door.

does in the movies, he’s a killing machine with no eyeballs, but he can see where you’re hiding, and blood oozes out of where the eyes are meant to be. He has red-green coloured flesh, and lots of stuffed ear wax in his ears, and he drools constantly, and pulls out human eyeballs for a living. The

“Hey Ace do you know who built this

second monster is a giant lady’s mouth who

bunker?” Sam questioned.

goes by the name ‘She’. Her lips are red, she

“Yea totally bro, there are monsters behind that door and you want a history lesson about the freakin’ place! Are you high or something?” “Look bro, there are no monsters behind this door.” as he opened the door.

has skinny legs and hands but is capable of carrying a house, and she has a strange obsession with tying up school children and hammering them into the ground with a giant mallet, especially if she’s hitting them in a giant sandpit,” “Ace! What the hell man? You need to fix

“No! Don’t!” Ace yelled.

yourself!” Sam began.

“Woah!” Ace and Sam said together.

“Wait, Ace, if they can hear you and smell you

The boys entered the place. There were claw marks on the wall, giant craters on the ground, objects were smashed into unrecognisable pieces. And the machine 14

“Instead of Shrek becoming a king like he

a mile away, wouldn’t that mean...” He looked into Ace’s eyes. “Holy S**t!” Ace replied, realising what his

friend was saying. The boys ran out of the bunker and back up to the street to see if the monsters had caught Ace’s scent. It was too late. They stood in the middle of their street. They saw masses of people running around in the street with blood dripping out of horrific wounds, tears

hammered in her bedroom on her mattress while she was sleeping, blood stained the bed sheets, his parents half eaten, their eyes missing. Ace ran on with tears in his eyes. The monsters turned to face him, sensing his presence. Sam ran to Ace, grabbed him, “Ace, we have to go - they’re here!”

running down their eyes, some carrying

“What’s the point of living anymore? I

their limbless loved ones in their arms. Ace

created them, I caused this, I should be the

dropped to his knees and placed his hands

one to be punished not them!”

over his ears. Still he could hear the cries of the wounded:

Ace shook Sam off and ran towards the monsters while one of them seemed about

“God have mercy on us!”

kill a neighbour.

“Why God? What did we do wrong!”

“Oi! Stupid ogre!”

“Mommy, Mommy wake up mommy it hurts”

Shrek came running forward.

Ace stood slowly, feeling as though his soul

Ace dropped to his knees.

was being ripped out of his body. Sam ran toward his house calling the names of his

‘She’ passed the hammer to Shrek.

parents, hoping to hear the sound of their

The people were scared and frightened, and

voices in response, but when he got to the

hid in their burnt houses, cars, bins. They

charred remains of his home he found them

were all watching.

lifeless in the wreckage.

Sam went to help but the neighbours pulled

“Dad, Mum!” Sam cried.

him back.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Ace apologised.

Shrek raised the giant hammer.

“Don’t touch me!” Sam cried as he shoved

And...

him away. “Oh no, Lisa!” Ace yelled, “No, no, no! Please be alive Mum, Dad!” he cried, running off in the direction of his house. As he rounded the corner of his street, Ace saw the two monsters tearing apart the houses all around them. He ran on with the terrible thought of finding his sister,

MY NONNO By Bailee

The gentle wind blew the sun-stained

gaze down at the uneven concrete path

grass against my legs as I sat, sad and

that cuts through the centre of the yard. I

alone in my grandparentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; backyard. I

indulge in a peaceful memory. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m soaring

shifted my gaze towards the steep edge

over the same pathway, but back when it

of the back balcony that I used to spend

was smooth, unstained and untouched by

hours trying to climb as a child. I used

the harsh wrath of time. Flying through

to scrape the tips of my fingers trying

the air, I assume a superman position,

to wedge them in between the gaps in

landing in a messy heap on the grass and

the bricks, as I pulled my weight up the

laughing alongside my nonno. He just sits

wall. Sometimes my nonno pushed me

and watches and enjoys my wide smile

upwards. When I could grasp the silver

and crazy laugh.

railing, I would pull myself up in one swift swing, laugh heroically, and then jump back onto the soft grass, only to repeat the same process until I had tired us both.

stress-free days. The childish grin I once wore has been washed away with sorrow. No longer can we do the things we loved to

Swinging back and forth while upside

do. Nevermore will we jump over the path

down on the old persimmon tree was

together, nor can I ever again fall into his

also lots of fun. My nonno would cheer

loving arms. That is what I miss the most,

me on as he tirelessly tended to the weed-

the gentle warmth of his hugs. Now that

ridden garden. Sometimes, I would stretch

he is gone, I sit alone on the grass, longing

out my arms towards him and he would

for one more hug from my nonno.

reach up towards my hands and grab them, catching me as I fell into his loving arms, laughing hysterically, as if I had just skydived out of a plane.

One day I will sit on the same grass with my grandchildren, laughing at all the silly things weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve done, hoping that they remember my smile when I pass on, so

I pause from the happy memories. They

they can become loving grandparents

bring a jolt of tears to my eyes. Each

themselves.

memory deepens the hole in my heart and I feel as though it cannot be cured. I wipe away the tears on my long sleeve and

So much time has passed since those

THE SWIM By Bethany

Immersed in an abyss of cold yet calming nothingness, I float alone, listening to the ripples of the water that surrounds me and the serene sound of my steadily paced breath echoing in the building. I take in a deep breath and allow myself to sink to the bottom of the pool. The chlorine shoots a sharp stinging sensation through my eyes, but the reward for this slight pain is a sight that can’t be seen anywhere else. A pure display of tranquillity is flashing before me, every ray of light, perfectly reflecting off of the crystal like crests that are created from every movement within the water.

An unsettling feeling churns my stomach as I press my palms against the classroom door. I disregard the unusual sensations and make my way to my seat. As the roll is marked the hairs on my back stand straight, as if an umpire called “take your marks” for a freestyle race. Mr Leon calls out the announcements for the week and an anchor drops in my stomach as he reads “The school’s swim centre will be repurposed at the end of this term and turned into a futsal court, so could all students in an aquatic team please clear out their equipment from

“Mei... MEI!” The voice is familiar, yet

the lockers.” I turn to Lucy in shock at

blurred through the barrier of water

what I’ve just heard and a few other

between us, so I press my feet against

classmates murmur in confusion.

the soft pool tiles and emerge from my peaceful bubble. As my face breaks through the surface I open my eyes to see Lucy, her round face framed by black bangs and hazel, almond eyes. “We have to get to class, hurry up,” she reaches her arm towards me and I grab

a hold of her hand as she pulls me out.

The bell rings and I rush to the PDHPE staff room along with a few of the other swim team members. They all discuss their rage as I hurry along next to them in silence. We arrive at the sports block and I find there’s a line of students with familiar faces - a tall and slender girl

named Olivia who I frequently see practicing

and the sight of hope slowly fades as Mrs

water polo with the ginger next to her, Nina,

Sanchez repeats herself for the thousandth

and a quartet of broad shouldered 17-year

time. I notice the quartet quietly discussing

olds who I’ve seen practicing for relay

something between themselves, moments

medleys. I scan the group of peers around

before they shoot their arms up straight

me and see other sub-groups socialising with

into the air, as if they are preparing to dive.

one another. My heart grows colder and I

One of them mentions the annual district

realise how selfish I am, valuing this place

meet that has a grand prize of $2,500 for

as a home of comfort and refuge from stress,

whichever school has the most first places

but as I begin to lose it, I see that although

across all events. BINGO! The idea solidifies

swimming is an individual sport, I should

in all of the students’ heads and Mrs Sanchez

cherish sharing this space with others who

slightly raises her brows. “If the aquatic

value it too.

teams can continuously bring in money like

“For the last time, we don’t have enough funding for the building to continue being used for aquatics.” We all begin to sigh 20

that, then...” A hum of excitement shoots through the room and grins are printed on some of my peers faces. “But… how are we

supposed to guarantee this constant external

of emotions consumes me, as I step onto

funding?” she says with a slight smirk. A

the diving platform to compete in the 100m

sigh synchronizes across the room until the

breaststroke. “Take your marks” I take in a

harmony is broken by Olivia. “Guys, we can

deep breath and pull back on the platform I

prove to them that we are willing to work for

see my peers cheering from the corner of my

this by training hard and winning that prize

eye and the sound of the buzzer shouts me

money!” The cohort cheers and files out to

forward as I push off with all my strength. As

the swim centre.

my fingertips touch the surface of the water,

Each member of the quartet helps and everyone is improving second by second.

I feel courage and hope tingle through me. This is what it’s like to be part of a team.

As I see everyone working together and practicing hard my chest warms and I can’t help but smile. A few months pass and after weeks of nerves and anticipation, it’s D-Day. A wash

THE HUMAN CONDITION By Briar

The snowy mountain tops and clusters

My family is staying with our American

of pine trees grow closer and Colorado

relatives for a week. And the part of my soul

appears in all its glory. We land on the

that craves new experiences is getting well

tarmac, snow swirling outside the plane

fed. Apart from the ridiculously oversized

windows. My stomach overflows with

drinks in all the fast food stores, and the

excitement as I catch a glance of the slopes

snow that welcomes me every morning as

snaking down the mountainside in the

I wake, I am overly fond of venturing up to

distance.

the Beaver Creek slopes. Any weight that

The spacious van that carries us from the gargantuan Denver airport is teeming with travellers. People from opposite corners of the earth together for an hour or so until they part once again and continue their lives. I sit in the rear of the vehicle contemplating this for a while. I would most likely never see these people again. The aroma of Starbucks coffee and chocolate chip cookies infuses the space, and, as the sun dips beneath the horizon, my eyes grow heavy from jetlag. I really know I have arrived when I see my Uncleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s broad figure descending the oak staircase,

disappears once I strap into my board and carve through the snow. Ancient pine trees flank the edges of the trails, catching the snow in their leaves as it cascades down from the sky. The people around here are so friendly and warm. I am packing away my board and boots when I feel the presence of someone beside me. Being my awkward and antisocial self, I continue to undo the straps on my boots without acknowledging the strangers. When I finally finish, I look up from my gear and face them.

flanked by my silver-haired Aunty. As I

A pair of forest green eyes meet mine. A

step out of the now-empty van, the frozen

boy with curly hair and unnaturally white

parking lot cracks under my boots. Bitter

teeth sits observing me. I nod my head in

cold air gnaws away at my cheeks, turning

his direction and begin to stand, when he

them numb and rosy. I am far beyond cold.

speaks to me, his American accent coating

But also far beyond happy as I hug the

every word.

couple I havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t seen in years.

the world has placed upon my shoulders

“You’re not from here, are you.” I turn

I know it I am venturing back up the slopes

towards him and give a curt nod.

for another run with Alex. We have the most

He raises his eyebrows, expecting more of an answer.

interesting conversation about everything, ranging from music, to food, to what our aspirations in life are. And he even gives me

“I’m from Australia,” I answer. To be perfectly

some snowboarding tips. It was strangely

candid, I’m not in the mood to talk. It’s too

deep and enjoyable.

cold to waste my breath on a pointless conversation. I envision the steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting at my Uncle’s. He rises from the bench and extends a hand. “I’m Alex, pleased to meet you.” I shake his hand hesitantly, however his warm smile makes me feel at ease. I’m not exactly sure why I agreed, but before

As I retire for the day and return to the firelit lodge, I finally understand. The human condition that is. How we can bond over the simplest of things with people on the other side of the world. How we are all the same deep down. How we all feel the same things, and aren’t as alone as we think we are. Travelling does that to you. Makes you realise how small you really are.

COUNTING By Cassandra

I sit here every night and day. I look at

But there is one thing in this room that

the ceiling, I look at the walls. I count my

enables me to see beyond these grey

fingers and I count my toes. I count every

walls. A single hole in the wall under the

day and every night. I count how many

boarded-up windows that allows me to see

screws are in the metal bed frame, I count

the lush forest surrounding this place. I

how many pieces of cotton litter the floor

can count how many trees I see, I count

from my haggard, supposedly white cotton

how many birds I hear sing and I can

shirt. I count how many cracks are in the

count how many clouds are in the sky. I

walls. I count how many times I count in a

sit here until nightfall because that is my

day but the thing I try not to count is how

favourite time to count. The stars in the

many screams I hear. They’re so loud that

sky are the most beautiful things I have

I feel like the person screaming is sitting

ever seen. Some aren’t so bright, some of

right next to me. The only thing I can do

the star’s lights are so dull that they are

to distract myself from all the screaming is

hardly even noticeable. You have to really

to count. So I sit here counting how many

concentrate to be able to see them which

things are sitting sadly in front of me on

is sad because I think that all stars are

the cold metal tray; Ten green peas, one

beautiful, no matter how bright they shine.

slice of ham, four carrot sticks and one slice of bread, no butter of course. As I eat I count how many minutes it takes me to finish the food. I push the tray back under the door and count how many seconds it takes for the door to be unlocked, revealing a nurse called Jeremy who holds a tiny plastic cup with two pills inside and a glass of water; Nine seconds. I take the cup of pills and water and skull them. I open my

the dirty sheets up and hop under the covers, looking at the ceiling for one last time before darkness entraps me. I let out a long sigh as I close my eyes, shielding them from the blinding darkness in the room. I toss and turn a couple of times until finally my mind stops racing, my heartbeat slows and my breathing becomes shallow.

mouth to show Jeremy that I swallowed

My eyes shoot open in an instant as I hear

the pills. He takes the cups from my hands

a loud Bang! Bang! Bang! Suddenly a voice

and locks the door.

booms from outside the door, ‘Get up,

They rarely let me out of this room, all I ever see are these grey cracked walls.

‘’Lights out!’’, a woman’s voice calls. I pull

shower time!’. I sit up slowly stretching my limbs. I stand up, put on my white slippers and wait for the door to be unlocked. The

door opens, revealing a nurse with dark

metal door. She grabs her keys and unlocks

brown hair and a permanent scowl on

the door, revealing the same old grey,

her ageing face. She is wearing dark blue

cracked room with a boarded up window.

scrubs, white tennis shoes and a crisp

As I walk towards the bed Dorothy shuts

white lab coat with her name tag pinned

the door behind me and locks it. A few

on it, Dorothy. I’ve been here so long that

minutes later a tray is pushed through the

I know most of the nurse’s names, without

slat at the bottom of the door; One piece

even having to look at their nametag.

of semi-burnt toast, two rations of floppy

‘’Let’s go’’, she says, annoyed, probably because it’s early on this cold morning. She ushers me out the door and locks it behind me. She walks in front of me as I follow her through the never-ending hallways until finally we reach the showers.

oily hash brown. I finish eating and push the tray back under the door. Ten seconds later the door is opened, revealing Jeremy who once again is holding out my pills. I down them in three seconds. When Jeremy leaves I sit under the closed up windows

‘’You know the drill, I don’t have to tell you

and stare outside. I always wonder what

the rules’’, she says as I nod my head. She

it would be like to be free from this four-

hands me a clean white towel, a bar of soap

sided prison. I wonder how the grass would

and a new set of clothes which consists of

feel in between my toes, I wonder how the

a white linen shirt and grey shorts. There

breeze would feel blowing through my hair

are four other women in the room whom

as I breathe in the fresh clean air.

all seem to be at least in their forties. As I walk to the end of the showers, I notice the women’s faces, they seem to be in a daze. Their eyes too small, their bodies too skinny, their movements too robotic. I reach the end of the showers and start to strip. I fold my clothes and set them aside on the floor. I grab the bar of soap and start to scrub myself clean. After I wash myself I then wash my hair. When I am done I turn

Bang! Bang! Bang! That’s odd. Why are there three knocks? It’s too early for lunch yet, it’s only been four hours. I stand up from the floor as the door is opened. Jeremy is standing there next to a man that I’ve never seen before. The man is wearing black pants, a blue button up shirt with a black tie, brown leather shoes and some sort of necklace with his ID on it.

the water off and dry myself off with the

‘’This is your new psychologist Dr

towel. As I finish getting dressed Dorothy

Henderson, he’ll be talking to you from

walks in and waves me over. She takes the

now on’’, Jeremy said.

dirty clothes from my hands and puts them in the hamper. Dorothy starts walking back through the endless hallways until we reach a wide, 26

bacon, rubbery scrambled eggs and an

‘’Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I thought for our first session we should go somewhere more... inviting’’

‘’Where are we going?’’, I ask.

and the sun feels so good.

‘’Somewhere nicer.’’

‘’Come on, let’s go find a place to sit’’, Dr

I walk out of the room along with Dr

Henderson says.

Henderson. As we turn the corner I see

We walk towards a set of benches behind

Jeremy take his keys out of the lock and

the water fountain. Dr Henderson takes

stuff them into his lab coat.

out a pen and a notebook and sits down,

‘’So is there anywhere you specifically like to go?’’ ‘’I don’t know’’ ‘’And why is that?’’ ‘’I only ever stay in that room’’ ‘’You never go out?’’ ‘’Only to shower’’ ‘’They never let you out?’’ ‘’No’’. That seems to end the conversation. Dr Henderson continues walking until we come to a room filled with people. Some people are playing cards, quietly chatting or reading. They seem to be the sane ones. We walk past an elderly man, probably in his seventies, who was staring at the TV. From far away I thought he was watching

but I can’t sit. I run over to the water fountain and swirl my hand in it. Behind me there is a loud ‘’Ahem’’. I turn around and see Dr Henderson looking at me with a smile on his face. I walk back over and sit down opposite him. ‘’I see you like the fountain’’ ‘’Yes, very much’’ ‘’If you cooperate with me today, I’ll ask if we can sit out here every week in our sessions’’ ‘’A-are you serious?’’ ‘’Very much so’’ ‘’ I want to know a bit about you’’ ‘’Okay’’ ‘’So, first question, do you have many friends here?’’

it, but he was just staring. What was even

I look down at my hands before answering,

more odd is that his lips were moving,

‘’No’’

like he was silently chanting something. That’s when he noticed me. He turns his head and looks directly at me, his lips still moving. I decide in that moment to catch up to Dr Henderson. He opens the door and I step outside. My eyes widen as I take everything in. The flowers in the gardens are so colourful and the clouds are so white

‘’Why not? Do you not get along with the other patients here?’’ ‘’I already told you why, they don’t let me out’’ ‘’I, I thought you just meant outside not out of that room. Would you like to be let out more?’’

‘’Yes’’

came knocking on my door.

‘’Okay, I’ll talk to the boss later’’

‘’Sorry I’m a bit late today. I thought today we could go walk through the gardens’’

‘’W-what? Really?’’ ‘’Yeah. I’m here to observe your behaviour, prescribe any necessary medication and, to talk’’

and passed the front desk. We passed the fountain and the benches where we sat last lesson.

‘’I’ve never talked to someone like this before’’

‘’So how have you been since I last saw you?’’

‘’What about your parents?’’

‘’Fine I guess, what about you?’’

‘’They died’’

‘’Fine thank you, but today I want to talk

‘’Ahh yes the accident. I’m so very sorry. Do you have any memories of them speaking to you or anything?’’ ‘’I just remember the accidents. Can I ask

all about you’’ ‘’Okay’’ ‘’Oh I’ve got some good news for you’’

you a question?’’

‘’What is it?’’

‘’That’s not really how this is suppose to

‘’I asked if you could be let out more and

go, but sure go ahead’’

starting from tomorrow you will be able to leave that room of yours for a bit, but

‘’What’s your name?’’ ‘’My

name

only with a nurse though’’ Arthur

Nicholas

Henderson, if you want you can call me Arthur’’ I spend the rest of the day talking to Dr Hender- I mean Arthur. He takes me back to my room and bids his farewell. I fall asleep that night not counting the stars for the first time. The week seems to fly by so fast, well as fast as it could possibly go. I ate all my meals, I counted the screws, looked through the hole and counted all the clouds, trees and the rocks. I showered and slept and counted my toes until Arthur 28

‘’Okay’’. Arthur led me through the lobby

‘’T-thank you so much Arthur’’ ‘’No problem. So how are you sleeping at night?’’ ‘’Fine I guess’’ ‘’Are you sure? Your report stated that you have nightmares. Is that not true?’’ ‘’Well yeah it is true but I haven’t got them in a while’’ ‘’Because of your medication?’’ ‘’Yeah, they’re helping’’ ‘’Okay that’s good’’

‘’Could you tell me what those nightmares were about?’’ ‘’T-the a-accident’’ ‘’The one with your parents?’’

‘’No’’ ‘’This is the cafeteria’’ ‘’What’s that?’’ ‘’A place where all the patients come and

‘’No, the one with my brother’’

eat’’

‘’Your brother? I wasn’t aware you had a

‘’Oh’’

brother’’ ‘’He’s the reason I’m in here.’’ Arthur took me back inside and into a room filled with people. There were many

‘’Where do you normally eat your food?’’ ‘’In my room” ‘’They let you?’’

people, men and women, all eating from

‘’They give me a tray and slide it under

silver trays.

my door’’

‘’Where are we?’’

‘’O-oh. Come on let’s get you some lunch’’.

‘’You don’t know? Are you telling me you’ve never been here before?’’

I followed Arthur to a table filled with food inside metal containers. He picked up a plate and started putting food on it. He 29

grabbed a plastic fork and a napkin and

just remember sirens and blue and red

walked to an empty table.

lights and cold metal handcuffs. The next

‘’Here’’

van and they tell me I’m going to a place

‘’What about you?’’

to help me.’’

‘’I packed a sandwich.’’

‘’H-how old were you?’’

Arthur said as he opened his satchel and

‘’I was eight’’

brought out a sandwich wrapped in plastic. I picked up the fork and poked the food around on my plate. I stabbed a piece of

‘’Okay I think we’re done for the day, let me walk you back to your room’’.

sloppy meatloaf and went to take a bite but

The mood seems to change as we were

it slipped off as I held the fork up. Instead

walking back to the grey room. Arthur

I just grabbed the bread roll and the slice

is unusually quiet on the walk back. I

of cheese and started taking small bites of

finished counting for the day. Today there

my own sandwich.

are forty-two trees, twenty one clouds and

‘’You mentioned you were here because of your brother, why’s that?’’

three birds. I recount that two more times and each time I get a different answer. Behind me I hear a something slide on the

‘’I ahh, umm. I didn’t know what was going

floor; the metal tray. I walk over to the tray

on. He was annoying me. He was teasing

and pick it up, examining what’s on it as I

me and mocking me and making fun of

sit down on my bed.

me. I wanted to scare him. I wanted to inflict pain and fear in him like he did to me. I grabbed my mum’s sleeping pills and put them in his beer. When he woke up later he walked into the kitchen and saw blood everywhere. I just wanted to give him a good scare that’s all. He walked into the kitchen and screamed. I stabbed mum with a pair of scissors and told her to act like she was dead to scare him. Dad woke

thing I knew I’m in the back of a car, or

For dinner I have the leftover sloppy meatloaf, ten green peas, four carrot sticks, one slice of cheese and a small bread roll. I eat everything on the tray except the meatloaf. After I push the tray back Jeremy comes in and hands me my pills and water. After he leaves I look back through the hole for a while and count the stars until lights out.

up and came into the kitchen. He grabbed

It’s been six days since I last saw Arthur.

me and locked me in the basement. I don’t

I’ve been let out twice since then, with

know what happened next but there was

a nurse of course. It’s a nurse that I’ve

a lot of shouting and yelling and crying.

never seen before. He said that he was

I don’t know why? Nothing happened. I

new here and that his name is Holland.

don’t know what really happened next. I

He walked me through the entire building.

I saw so many rooms, for the first time

the security guard who was roaming

ever, I couldn’t count everything. Doors

through the cafeteria tables, leaving the

seemed to be everywhere I looked. On

room unguarded.

every wall in every hallway in this place. We walked through gardens and visited some of the places where all the other patients go, like the cafeteria, and I even watched tv. I counted how many security guards and how many cars were parked

‘’Hey Holland, could you get me some food please?’’ ‘’Sure, anything in particular’’ ‘’Make sure to get a bread roll’’.

in the car park. At one point Holland lost

Holland nodded and smiled and went

me and I ended up behind the building.

over to grab a tray. I ran. I ran through

I walked towards the fence and noticed

the cafeteria into the hallway outside. I

that the woods looked familiar. I turned

ran passed the familiar rooms and passed

around and realised that behind me all

the exact amount of doors and hallways

the windows were boarded up. The grey

it takes to make it to the front desk. I hid

room must be there. I continued to walk

around the corner and counted how many

towards the fence and realised that there

people were here; two security guards

was a creek. This whole time there was a

standing right outside, a young looking

creek under the trees and not once did I

man with a crazed look in his eyes and a

realise. I also didn’t realise the hole in the

lady standing behind the desk.

fence until Holland came running around the corner yelling my name. We walked back inside and he led me to my room where I stayed until three days later.

I looked at the plant and grabbed a stone from inside the pot. I threw it down the hallway where the boy is sitting. I grabbed another one and threw it down the same

‘’Where do you wanna go today?’’ Holland

hallway. The boy’s head snaps up and he

asked me.

looks around. He stands up from his seat

‘’Ahh, can we go to the cafeteria?’’ ‘’Sure.’’ Holland and I walked through the hallways and into the cafeteria, passing only one security guard who was watching everyone at the entrance with a piercing gaze. Suddenly a man who was watching tv in the other room started to scream. His scream started a chain reaction and three more screams joined him, alerting

and starts to run down the hallway. The lady at the front desk alerts the guards outside and they start to chase him down the hall. The guards were fast but they were no match for the boy. The lady at the desk turned around and picked up a phone. She dials a number in and starts to walk down the hall saying something about ‘’guards chasing’’ and ‘’needs to be sedated’’. I took this opportunity and ran straight out the front door. I ran past the fountain and carpark, through the side

gate and headed straight for the hole in

‘’Stop!’’ I turned around and saw four

the fence. The last of the sun’s rays lighted

guards, Holland and Jeremy coming to a

my way as I ran.

stop.

‘’Where is she?’’

‘’Get back inside.’’

‘’I don’t know!’’

‘’No! I’m sick of this place.’’

‘’Let me get my flashlight!’’

‘’If you don’t come inside right now we have

‘’Ok let’s go!’’ ‘’I don’t see her!’’

I ran as fast as my scrawny legs could take me. I heard the guards running after me,

‘’Shut your trap and keep running! I don’t

yelling and shouting. I make it to the hole

care if we have to look all night. We must

and quickly crawled through. As I am

find her come on’’

crawling through I feel a sharp pain on my

‘’There she is!’’, a guard exclaimed as I reached the fence.

no choice but to use fo…’’.

left shoulder. The edge of the wire cut into the soft flesh of my left shoulder. I didn’t

look behind and kept running. I could see

‘’No don’t be. Don’t say sorry when you

the creek in front of me and was almost

don’t mean it’’

there when I tripped and fell awkwardly on my hand. I stood up and held my wrist as I ran but because of the fall the guards were closer now. I reached the bank and was about to cross when I heard a noise that I never wanted to hear again. The familiar crack and blue light shook me down to my bones, but I couldn’t stop here, not now. I ran forward and felt the sand become

‘’No Arthur real-’’ ‘’Sedate her’’ ‘’No Arthur no please!’’ ‘’Do it NOW!’’ The third guard bent down and pushed the syringe against my neck.

wetter and wetter. My feet slowly started to

‘’A..thur’’. My eyesight started to go fuzzy as

sink further into the ground. That’s when it

I felt the cold liquid being injected into me.

hit me. One now two. I sank to my knees as my body uncontrollably spazzed. My body continuously spazzed. Suddenly there was a harsh kick to my side and my body fell to the floor, still shaking from the after shock. Sand and dirt was flying everywhere as the shouting and yelling died down.

When I awoke my wrists, ankles, neck and waist were strapped down to the med frame. I noticed my surroundings. I was in a grey room but not my grey room. There was no window, boarded or boarded up. The walls were stained a weird brownish red colour and the sheets of the bed

The guards pulled away as the third one

were torn. I screamed. I screamed and

came closer with a syringe filled with clear

screamed and screamed. I screamed until

liquid.

late at night and early dawn. The only thing

‘’You should have come back inside’’

I could seem to count these days were how many times I scream in a day.

‘’A-arthur?’’ ‘’You fooled me. You fooled me once but I’ll be damned if you fool me again. You acted so innocent, now naive but in reality it was all an act. The way you would scan everything, and everyone, when we walked through the halls and the gardens, you were really memorising the hallways and doors and rooms you had to pass in order to escape.’’ ‘’I’m...I’m sorry’’

THROUGH THE DARK By Isabella

Marian’s eyes snapped open. The

smelling the fear rolling off her in

room was dark. Ropes tightly bound

waves. Marian now realised she was

her wrists and ankles to the wooden

in a cell, its darkness coiling around

chair beneath her, restraining each

her like a snake. Her skin became

frantic attempt she made to free

slick with oil as if the obsidian abyss

herself.

was made of it. She couldn’t help the

Something had gone terribly wrong.

lips as her eyes slid closed, her entire

Thunderous footsteps sounded in

body felt cold as if all the warmth

a distant hallway bouncing off the

had been sucked from the inside out.

walls confining Marian. Her heart began to beat fiercely against her chest. The ropes strained against her fervent thrashing but held strong as the friction burnt her skin, red welts blooming instantaneously.

She felt the mysterious darkness release her from its grasp, slowly inching away from her trembling figure. The iron door shut with a sickening thud. Only after her heart stopped racing and her body stilled

The iron door swung open with

did Marian open her eyes. Even

such force it collided with the stone

as the warmth returned to her icy

wall, a splintering crack sounding

skin nothing could thaw the fear

throughout the room. She expected

encasing her heart. She became

to see a mountain of flesh and bone

all too aware of the tears streaming

standing before the doorway but was

down her cheeks in torrents as she

instead met with a towering skeletal

choked on the sobs causing her body

figure shrouded in smoky darkness.

to shudder. Marian didn’t know how

The creature began sniffing the air

long it was before she fell into an

between them, a murderous grin

exhausted unconsciousness.

sliding across its too-thin face as if

whimper that escaped her trembling

I was still bound to the chair, the oily

Marian awoke with a fierce new

darkness still consuming me, but

determination, clinging to this new

where that skeletal figure had once

found hope. She knew what she

stood, the iron door was open. The

had to do. Pushing down the doubt

abundance of light speared toward

forming in the pit of her stomach

me, beckoning me outside the cell,

Marian held onto the image of the

promising a future. Promising that

light that had beckoned her from

this would not be how it needed to

the cell and the promises of a future,

end. Finally, a shred of hope in the

with that thought in mind she began

darkness. That fear ensnaring my

freeing herself from the chair.

heart in its icy grip began to thaw. I would fight and I would survive.

CONNECTION By Elise

I stand on the line to shoot. As I clip the

on that day. Right down the opposite end of

piercing arrow into the D loop on the rigid

the judges table, away from everyone who

string, I feel my fingers brush through the

seemed experienced. The weather was warm

vibrant fletchers. The feathered texture

as the sun rose from behind the trees beyond

glides along my fingertips as it sits perfectly

the valley. It was a rich honeycomb shade

within the prongs of the rest. It is a reminder

which quickly turned into a ferocious muggy

of a place so tranquil as the charcoal Willie

heat melting me like ice. The look of fear

Wagtails open their narrow throats to whistle

and determination smeared across my face

and glide around the blue target legs in an

alongside the sweat which dripped down my

effortless manner. I re-focus to a mind-space

fried cheeks and tip of my nose.

of nothingness. As I inhale a big breath of air my heartbeats gradually become louder thumping in my chest. I breathe in again, this

on my left, critiquing my every shot.

time slower, calming the nerves beginning to

“Grasp the bow in the web of your hand and

creep up my body. Memories of my grandad

go over the six step process,“ rang through

flood in. I’m startled by the sound of the

my mind.

timer buzzing as it counts down the very few seconds left to shoot. Frantically I rub my itchy eyes for clarity. The wind begins to pick up now blowing at a fast pace commanding the canary coloured flag above the target to wave in a westerly direction. The target face slowly manipulated by my vision becomes a blur at 60m. I draw back 42 pounds on my bow, holding the tension and aligning my peep sight to the target. Squinting my left eye shut. I hold, gradually expanding my grip until it goes off.

Admitting when he was wrong and staying open minded made him a wise man. Serving in the army for multiple years taught him patience and discipline. Knowledge engraved in the creases of his forehead. Although with a tough shell and bravado covered in an old navy-blue tracksuit, he was similar to an egg, broken, stubborn and cracked at times, yet strong. His heart was pure and intentions always for the good of others. He was there the whole time, pulling me back into the game when I lost my touch and grinned as

I remember my first time. The rush of

he casually nodded his head when I pulled

adrenaline pumping vigorously through

off a surprise shot.

my body, clueless as to what I was actually doing, yet everyone was astounded by my capabilities. Eighteen was the target I shot 36

Grandad watched closely that day as he stood

He bought me my first bow, a camo green colour that I picked out of all the neon. To

me it was perfect, I could never fathom the

quiver and load it into the fingers of the

idea of magenta or electric purple. The bow

bow I dust my hands along the sides of

adjusted and tuned with hunting sites and a

my pant legs. As the buzzer rings to start

basic trigger which sufficed its purpose until

official scoring I focus on the target. The

I grew out of it. When the final buzzer rang

breeze still blowing against my dry skin I

that day, grandad walked over and placed

take a deep breath in and shift my head to

his rough hand on my right shoulder. His

the right. This time, looking up I see grandad

eyes shimmering from the reflection of the

standing on the line beside me in his usual

sun, radiating endless amounts of love which

navy tracksuit. This time he is holding a

consumed him entirely. He stared at me and

camo green bow similar to what mine was.

embraced me into his warm comforting

With poise yet a firm stance he looks down at

arms, I looked up into the eyes of a proud

me with a quirky smile that wrinkles his face

man. As his slim smile beamed down upon

making a small dent between his brows and

me he opened his mouth to say, “you are a

pushes his glasses further down his nose.

natural.”

In a competitive tone he says, “good luck.”

Now, as I stand on the shooting line of target number 18, I grab the 4th arrow from my

MEMOIRS OF BLUE AND GREY By Giovanni

As a child, my father and I would spend every

the times I had with my father, at the beach,

summer sitting on ancient boulders carved

looking for old pieces of shellfish as fragile

by the never-ending waves. Gazing upon

as chalk, serving as a reminder that life itself

the glittering oasis of the ocean, sitting so

never ends.

calmly with the intention of catching ‘the one’, we held our fishing rods ever-so-slightly, so that not even a passing breeze would notice. Catching a fish, or none at all, never really mattered. The joy had come from the sight of clouds flowing back and forth in the sky, hit by slight winds, sculpting them into unforeseen shapes our imaginations would name. He taught me so much about fishing, from the invigorating feel of the moment a fish caught onto the lure, to the little knots and tricks where part of a hook had to be gently yet firmly tied to the end of the line or else it would break. These memorable days had seemed as if they would continue on forever, with cloudrich skies and the mysterious ocean, as if it was a never-ending loop. These are the last memories that I hold of my late father before his ‘accident’, but it holds an indelible time in my mind where I can really remember the joys and blisses of life. Never-ending waves, day or night, whether it is rainy or sunny… it reminds me of my life. My memories I hold within my heart of

Now, nearly twenty years later, as I look through the soiled window of my unwelcoming and ill-lit office, as the sun deepens in colour, further and further along the horizon the city, filled with grey monoliths, starts to appear. As a young man, work within this city sprawl wasn’t so depressing. No, it was an idyllic time full of joyous moments that really kept me sane… but slowly, assimilating into the politics, the money and the greed of this opaque city made me a man of bitter taste, the ideal that work was what kept me alive made me insane. The array of colours, the brightest colours giving a fresh atmosphere to life, the brightest blues contrasted by all the distinct colours of the sun, never came back. Standing beneath the same sky and sun, feeling the same illuminating and warm rays of light hugging the softest parts of my cheeks, I cannot seem to feel nor sense the halcyon days of fishing with my late father. Maybe it was the feeling of catching a fish, feeling each fibre of the rod stretch to

the point of breaking, or,

the spring morning, but I

maybe, it was the feeling of

had promised little Pepper

accomplishment when I had

months and months before

beaten my father in finding

that this day would happen.

the most beautiful little

There was a moment of

shells residing on the frothy

internal conflict, and then

edges of the sands which

I made my decision.

had been chiseled by the gentle ocean waves, that had really made me reminisce

glimpse of light within

occasions with my father

my life. With the death

was not just a memory

of her mother, our hearts

but becoming more so a

had

started

thoughtful lesson as I grew

but

her

older, occasionally telling

showing

me to enjoy such joys in life

love,

when I had the chance.

her small dimples, had

with its pollen-filled dews, escaped

through

the

crevices of the old window in the night. “Papa. Why are you dressing up? You know we’re going fishing right?”

walls of our eyes with the

the beach. Peppa loved it,

that I had felt on numerous

breezes of the early spring,

brushed against the dry

forget such a thing?”

had always been the little

the day. The unwelcoming

edge, the soft grazing wind

gust echoing throughout

in life. The euphoric feeling

to perch, getting ready for

rocks beside the shoal’s

hallowing sound of the

My little daughter, Pepper,

body autonomously started

Walking at the wake of the

“Of course! Who could

those unforgettable times

Slamming the alarm, my

“Papa that’s the beach!”

break,

gentle

smile,

her

innocent

complimented

given me hope... hope that life can continue no matter

what.

This

day

that I had promised many months before had started to

become

significant,

but it was strange. During the walk from one rock to another a small reef with creatures had appeared, a rock pool. With colours of majestic purple contrasted by the green of the seaweed, it created a palette of hues, colours I hadn’t seen for decades. Observing such wondrous

sights,

unnoticeable

sounds

the of

the bleached driftwood on the surface of the water hitting the boulder’s edge captivated me.

important for showing the

“Pepper, this here is called

growing relationship I had

a paternoster rig, it’s useful

with Pepper.

when there’s a lot of rocks.”

Opening the dusty garage

Teaching my little daughter

door, years of memories

things that my father had

started to flood my mind;

once taught me and had not

seeing the silhouette of

faded from my memories

The thought of going on a

the aged fishing rod that

brought me great joy. If I

fishing trip with my daughter

my father and I had once

could pass such memories

hadn’t crossed my mind that

used to catch dozens of fish

to my daughter, maybe she

morning, presumably due

became darker and darker,

would pass them on to hers.

to the unwelcoming cold of

its once gifted tenor gone.

“Dad! Papa! I’ve caught a fish!” “My, my, my! That’s a monster flatty,” I answered, still bewildered as to how a little girl could catch something so monolithic in size and so beautifully symmetrical in pattern. Seeing little Peppa’s reaction sparked something in my mind from many years ago... Sitting on the esky, with the singlular intention of catching ‘the one’ for hours upon hours, intently gaping at the never-ending horizon of the shore, with no signs of any life to speak of, my father had started to pack all the miniscule cuts of phillies. We had caught nothing that day. All but within an instant, with great precision, through a little nibble on the bait, by a gentle flick of the wrist, a stubby minnow caught onto the hook. A recollection of a day’s work was put into this meagre minnow, a lifetime for a child. This moment I had shared with Pepper now had been something so cyclical, it had once happened to me, the perplexed reaction of catching something so insignificant had suddenly become a life’s work, a precious collection our arduous efforts captured within the form of a fish. Little Pepper caught a fish every single time she cast her line into the oasis of the shore.

lesson, that empathy really does become the

Seeing a younger image of myself within

gateway to one’s new perspective in life.

her, I couldn’t but think of my father at that point… our memories and his experiences…

“Pepper you caught another one!”

it all became surreal. Putting myself into his

Seeing Pepper catch fish after fish, showing

position, putting the very experiences he

such joyous emotions within her eyes, had

must’ve had into my relationship with my

showed me another image of myself... I

daughter… it had instilled another significant

guess I had truly become a dad. 41

MY GRANDMA’S DEATH By Kevin

Beneath the wrinkly skin, there is the

losing consciousness. Before my eyes

sense of a sweet and caring heart.

closed then, I saw a faint white light

She was there for me when I was

glowing in the darkness, and a figure

upset, and being with her felt like I

steadily approaching.

was with God in heaven. The world stopped spinning and time itself froze as I looked at her deathbed. My eyes watered as I stood still watching her body. When I turned around, I saw my beloved mother shedding tears. It was painful to see. I couldn’t shed one tear, because I held onto a strange hope that there was still life in her, and she would rise from her deathbed. I closed my eyes hoped that when I opened them she would be standing in front of me, opening her arms for a hug. But when I opened my eyes, everyone in the room had disappeared, and in front of me was only the deathbed. I walked toward it and looked inside.

Water was sprinkled across my face, triggering me awake. There was a shadowy figure standing above me, covering the light. My vision came slowly back into focus. The figure was my dad, kneeling on the ground, surrounded by my family and friends. Dad was checking on me, asking if I was alright and asking the others to give me space so I could catch a breath. They left the room to give me a minute, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the dream or vision I’d had. I sat up, still dazed. A pat on the shoulder made my mind come back to the present. It was my cousin.

It was me, my body, but soulless and

“Bro, you look like you came back

already rotting. I froze in shock. My

to life because God is like ‘you’re too

vision blurred, I couldn’t make out my

young to die,’ or something like that.

surroundings, just a vague, black space

But I understand how you feel losing

around me. I dropped to the ground

your grandma who was there for you

and my eyes closed tight, I was slowly

all the time. She would have wanted

you to move on and follow your dreams”.

reached the end of the staircase but before I

He said empathetically.

laid a foot on the floor, I heard a loud voice

As he was about to step outside of the room, he slowly turned around and said take care with fondness. I rose slowly and left the room to join the rest of my family, turning off the light behind me. One foot outside the room, I heard a gentle voice crying for something. I looked around to see who it was but there was complete dark behind me. But there was a shadow shape moving in the darkness. I turned the light back on because it could

from before. The voice was loud, destroying my ears as it continued to amplify my name. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the voice closer to me, like it was right next to me. I opened my eyes, it was my brother shouting at me. He had muddy coloured eyes, burned black hair and nerd looking glasses. He was a complete geek and I always questioned how I could be related him.

have been my imagination acting up on me.

My brother was shouting at me about

The room was entirely empty and the dim

something but I couldn’t hear what he was

light only showed my shadow.

saying. My ears were focusing on the eerie

My hands gripped onto the handrails as I walked down the stairs. Every creak of the staircase I heard that exact same voice, but it seemed to be shrieking. Like it wanted me and my attention, like it was calling me. As I

calling my name, but it wasn’t the eerie voice

voice from earlier. I could hear him saying that I was depressed and should sort myself out. But I wasn’t in the mood for insults or any comebacks. His voice faded as I walked towards the kitchen to grab a sip of water. I needed to get my mind off of the strange

voices I had been hearing lately. I turned on

dad’s face, terrified and crying as I collapsed

the tap, the water was running freely like

at last into his arms. I could hear him saying

it was creating a rhythm which was taking

“Kevin, what’s wrong? What’s happening!”

my mind to heaven. I searched for a cup to complete the heavenly transition. I saw a letter-opener on the kitchen bench and the

The vision was fading as my eyes closed and I saw nothing but darkness.

feeling of entering heaven became hell. I

The beams of light forced me to wake up.

stared at the light on the surface of the blade

“Am I in heaven” I said in my head as I

and I could hear the same eerie voice. The

rose up slowly like a zombie. I was not in

voice was calling out to me so clearly that it

heaven but a medical centre. I heard the door

gave me goosebumps.

creaking and loud footsteps approaching me

“Kevin, just give in. Just surrender your will to live and come to us in heaven” the voice repeated, over and over until I snapped and the world around me began to spin. I clutched the kitchen bench to steady myself. I was paralysed as the scene swirled around me, and I felt like something else

from behind. I turned my head slowly and saw a man in a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. “Hi, my name is Maaran and I want to help you but I need to know what happened to you, Kevin. What is the last thing you remember?” He asked pleasantly.

had taken over my body and mind. I slowly

I told him I didn’t know what had happened,

lost balance, collapsing to the floor. I saw my

only that I had seemed to lose control of

myself. “Are you depressed because of your grandma’s death?” he asked.

more chance to join us.

the room in shock as I sat

Jump out of the car at this

there in grief. I could hear

very moment!” The voice

the doctor talking to my dad,

was commanding me, its

saying that I was depressed

words entering my mind.

His face then began to

and he couldn’t trust anyone

I saw my father looked

change its tone, and he

and, in his opinion, was

regretful, like he had failed

turned suddenly angry. His

having hallucinations. He

me, but it was me who made

skin turned astonishingly

concluded that I might

his life hard and stressful.

red, like a ripe tomato,

become mentally unstable.

and his eyebrows warped

Tears sprang from my eyes.

into a cruel cross. He was

I felt useless and saw that

clenching his jaws and

I could trust no one to

grinding his teeth like a

understand what I was going

vicious dog trying to bite

through.

me.

As I took off my seatbelt, my father panicked and asked what was I doing. I said to him in a calm voice, “Take care”. Without any delay, I opened the car door and

On my ride home from the

jumped

“Why didn’t you give in and

hospital, my dad tried to

into a street pole and into

join us, Kevin? You had one

comfort me with questions

immediate and delirious

job and you failed!” he said

like “Are you okay?” and

daze.

furiously. He repeated that

“You can talk to me, you

sentence, again and again,

know?” I didn’t want to

trying to manipulate my

hear him, I was in distress

mind.

and misery. I turned on the

I had enough of his torture, I closed my eyes tight and screeched “Get out of my head!”

radio so the music could heal my pain and grief. My father was offended and unhappy that I was ignoring him and wouldn’t talk about

When my eyes opened,

my problems like any other

the doctor’s angry face

son would do. The channel

had turned to normal. “Are

of the radio buzzed and

you okay, Kevin?” I looked

changed to an unknown

at him, but his expression

FM channel. The person

was confused and startled,

speaking for this unknown

his left eyebrow arched.

FM channel was the same

I responded in pain “No, please leave me alone”.

The doctor walked out of

eerie voice in my head. It said “I will give you one

out,

crashing

I found myself struggling to get up from the ground, vision blurred once again. I was bleeding badly, and as I looked around my surroundings, I saw people gathering around me. I thought, this is really my last moment I would have alive. I took my last laugh knowing that perhaps this was at least a cure for my problems. I was losing air, slowly passing back out into a pulsing darkness. I saw my father running out of the car towards me. I opened my eyes with a

sense of relief, and realised I was back in

weakening death itself as death disappeared

that same room I visited when I passed out

into thin air.

during my grandma’s funeral. That same deathbed was in front of me but there was

“Am I going to Heaven, GOD?”

something else inside of it. It was dark but

A response of ‘no’ fired back to me, but the

not empty. Then

suddenly a dark misty

voice was so familiar. I looked up to see who

smoke beam curled out of the deathbed and

it was. Its face was covered by the darkness

a figure emerging from the smoke.

but it walked into the light, I couldn’t believe

“Ahh, I see you have completed your mission” I looked startled and confused as I noticed that the voice of this thing was the same eerie voice that called me to join it. Things started to unfold as I realised that this thing with the eerie voice was nothing but DEATH itself. A drop of sweat hit onto the floor as my heart started to pump faster. Without a second of thought, I ran for my life as DEATH chased me like a hurricane. It said in great pleasure “Where are you running? There is no place to hide. Welcome to Hell, my home!”

my eyes, it was my Grandma. She smiled and said with prudence “You are too young to die! Don’t let my death slow down your happiness and joy because that will make the both of us miserable!” My grandma gave me a hug and said “I will always be in your heart, and with you.” Her voice soothed me as the hole of my heart healed. Her words were my cure, I didn’t want to let go of her. She slowly faded away into the thin air and I cried to her,“Please don’t leave me.” A countershock from the defibrillator recharged my heart which started pumping my blood in my dying, soulless body. My

It was right, I was cornered and had nowhere

eyes opened suddenly, with relief as I knew

else to run. The misty smoke covered me

I was still alive. My grandma was the cure,

making my vision dark.

not Death.

“It is my fault you are dying, and I am going to take the life out of you so I can become stronger and convince others like yourself to join me in hell. Don’t take it personal, it is just what I do,” It said It slowly consumed me and my life with it as I cried in pain, slowly dying like he was ripping my heart out completely. I saw the same light from before, but brighter. The figure approached from the light, and I began to believe it was God saving me from hell and taking me to heaven. The figure was

THE OLDEN DAYS By Pravien

The sun sets, painting the sky an orange

wall and then to the smooth, brittle

and black hue. The stars twinkle one by

window sill. On the window sill, I

one, decorating the dull dark sky into

lay my arms parallel to each other,

a precious masterpiece. The brightly

lean forward, crouching my back

lit buildings tower towards the moon,

as my muscles relax throughout my

reaching into the darkened indistinct

body. I look curiously as droplets of

clouds, restricting some moonlight

rain now stream down the window,

in its path. Moonlight beams into the

overlapping

stained window pane, reflecting off

eventually dripping down into the

each glass object as the entire room

centre of the earth. On the window,

illuminates, transforming it into a

moisture builds slowly from the

faintly white version of heaven. In

middle, illuminating, spreading to

the corner of my eyes, I see sprinkles

each of the four corners, turning the

of rain trickle down the glass, moving

divine cityscape into a blurry vision. I

in every direction. I lay back on an old

softly brush the window with the edge

wooden chair gravity the only thing

of my fingertips as the collection of

holding it together. I leisurely stand

water absorbs into my skin, memories

up, the weight of my muscular body

of water passing through every neuron

dragging the chair back. The leg

in my body, processing it over and

scrapes the wooden timbered floor

over again until one strikes out the

creating an eerie sound that echoes

most, with fine detail, the memory of

throughout the room. I head towards

Cockatoo Island.

the window, gently moving my warm hands across the rough surface of the

each

otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

paths,

The waves crash into the big bulky rocks as we sit by each other. A couple

of layers above, the salt of the unblemished

is Giovani (we call him Gio). He is the most

water corrode the rock, bit by bit over time.

trustworthy and supportive friend who I’ve

The blazing sun glistens on the water and

relied on for many years. He was the first

reflects off it, our young eyes absorb the sea’s

person I met at Orientation Day. Gio wears

true colours. I glance over my shoulder and

Levi’s brand dark blue jumper and black tight

see my friends with wide smiles on their

jeans as he isn’t just smart, he is built, an

faces, enjoying the adventure we are having.

athlete, the god of our group and a parent

A small Burmese teen named Min, sitting far left of the group, wearing a classy smooth

I hear yelling. Two figures on my far right

jacket, tight jeans, sneakers as brightly white

argue over who’s better at a certain game.

as fresh snow, with a cap on his head to top it

Pailo, a stereotypical Indian wearing a dark

off, and a fresh gold and black watch. He is,

blue and grey jumper with brown pants,

cracking up with laughter. He is the richest,

contrasts with Thomas, half Aussie and

the most curious and weirdest person we

half Lebanese, casually wearing a shirt and

know.

shorts. These guys are the antisocial ones in

Boom, a tall Burmese with excellent posture, wearing a casual grey jumper and black jeans, faces Min. He is the most hardworking member in our group. Next to me on the left

of our family.

this family, they are gamers. But their minds are capable of working, they just perceive things differently to others. Next to me sits Mike holding a delicious

Persian meat sandwich, staying pure in his

precious memory is absorbed back through

culture except he has an awful sense of style,

my neurons back to my brain.

wearing a polo short-sleeve shirt, exposing his biceps and shorts that extend below his knee. He is the most annoying person in our group but we still love him, while gently teasing him from time to time. I stare into the distance, relaxing my muscles, resting my hands behind my back. The waves collide with each other again and again as the sun sets, trailing down through the Harbour Bridge, past the Opera House and into the horizon. The

sunrays

Once again water droplets stream down the window. The moon sinks behind the enormous building. Darkness fills the room, then into my body. It seeps into my skin invading my blood and travelling along each of my limbs. It devours everything except the memories of friendship, like an antivirus to this darkness. I look at the glass, seeing the rain drop and be absorbed into the ground. This is friendship, how friendship starts to take place, escalating, and then eventually,

reflect

into

the

water

transforming it into a sublime apricot

ending somewhere, disappearing without a connection.

colour. The waves settle down. The sky becomes darker and darker as we all sit in a row, staring at the most beautiful view you will ever see. Black envelopes the sky. The

A SINGLE PETAL By Ruzaik

The harsh Australian sun beat across the

lifeless. I tried to pick one up, but it

eroded landscape. The flora withered and

disintegrated in my hand. I opened my

the fauna suffered. The leaves and flowers

hands and the arid air carried the dead

lost their hue, turning into a light, mental

flowers away with it.

asylum grey. The lapis lazuli water lost its opacity and shimmer.

sobbed almost as if its soul had vacated its

The surface of the water transformed

body. The air tasted foul, leaving behind a

from lifeless existence into a silhouette of

grotesque tang. The smell reminded me

a petite, old woman. I knew immediately

of the humid, suffocating Sri Lankan air.

who it was. A slim figure with a walking

My grandma constantly told me to take a

stick and hair tied in a bun. I remember

deep breath in and enjoy the fresh air, but

her always wearing a light-coloured dress

I would never listen to her.

and silver jewelry, which twinkled in the light. Knowing my grandma, she would explain why she dressed the way she did.

In the heart of Sri Lanka, when the stars shone the sky turned from a monochromatic grey to van Gogh’s

“In the old days, you had to appreciate

masterpiece. Now, the sun was furiously

what you have and be grateful. Back then,

shone upon the night-chilled soil. It

I had nothing.”

would soon become a yellow inferno.

I would always respond the same. “Yes, I know. Remember good words, good actions and good deeds.”

People dancing on the street in sarees and jingling bells, as if Christmas was fast approaching. The morning was bright and scorching. I

She would smile and give me a kiss.

got off the bed and was greeted by multiple

Nowadays, I barely keep her in my

mosquito bites and a sunburn, the sun’s

memory.

salutation. From outside, the smell of

The water rippled, distorting the image. The dying flowers shriveled. The limp

I walked away as the grey God raucously

chicken cooked in a myriad of beautiful spices wafted into my room.

petals fell like confetti for their own

I opened the door. The floor glistened like

funeral. The stalks were brittle and

a carpet of crushed diamonds in the early

morning sunshine. I sat down and began

like Bollywood dancers, or how to ride mini

devouring the food, bite by bite. Creamy soup

elephants.

with white wisps etched into the cold air, stretched to my nostrils. A fish dish paired with an array of sauces oozing along the side. The two dishes were harmoniously singing songs of joy and bliss, creating a perfect synergy between salty and sweet. Another dish was contrasted with a beautiful red pepper sauce, and topped with a thin layer of rice. I looked up, my mouth stuffed with delectable delicacies, and noticed my family all properly eating, like civilised individuals.

me. Immediately, I could feel the refreshing breeze blowing on my face. I stared at the scorching sun spread out across the city. The flora and fauna were able to handle the temperature. The trees were tall enough to provide shade. The sun caused the ground to be adorned with multiple miniature rainbows, frantically bouncing everywhere, resembling a light show.

We were like peanut butter and jam.

“We’re here,” Amma said.

“Hey Amma?”

My heart beat quicker. I helped her down as

“What is it?” she replied. “What are we doing?” “It’s a surprise, but it’s something our family has done for a while.” My mind was puzzled as I tried to figure out what it was. She started grinning and almost burst into laughter. I was even more confused than before, but anything with family was still acceptable.

I got in a tuk tuk, my grandma sitting next to

we made our way along a narrow pathway. Along the path stood a myriad of trees, acting as watchful sentinels. The smell of sweat from my face disappeared, replaced by the smell of the entire forest. I squeezed my grandma’s hand tighter and gave her a smile. It was heaven. The field was an array of blooming flowers in different hues, shades and tones, the melodious twitters of birds hummed a tune in unison with the whistling wind. Every flower was unique, having

Going out of the house, the air was incredibly

specific appearances and colours. My jaw

thick and humid. It tasted bland. Everywhere

dropped as my grandma dragged me to the

I looked, I saw culture. The street was filled

centre of the field. She was shedding tears.

with people demonstrating how to dance

It took all of her power to say, “This entire

area is ours. It belongs to our family.” I turned to her about to cry with excitement. She bent down and grabbed a flower. “This is something you must treasure. If any petal drops, you must cherish it forever.” She picked one off, kept it in her hand, and gave me the rest of the flower. I brought it close to my nose. It smelt like a sweeter,

hand. Immediately, I thought of the slim silhouette and the array of colours. I wanted the old days to come back, so with ounces of courage, I picked up my phone and started dialing. “Hey Amma,” I said gently. I was admiring the mesmerising flower, when she magically read my mind.

more delectable honey.

“Did you pick up the flower petal?”

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

I smiled.

I shook my head.

“Yes Amma. Good words, good actions and

“This was given to me by a friend, but I want

good deeds.”

you to remember something.” “What is it?” “Always treasure something as small as a petal, cause one day, it might be gone.” She started crying more, and I knew what she meant. Soon enough, Australia was completely covered in rain and misery. The sun began to appear from behind the grey clouds. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of colour. It was a stunning pink flower with a sweet scent. Most of the petals were intact and healthy. I bent down and picked up the missing petal, kept it in my

JACK THE RIPPER’S NIGHTMARE By Sam

I’m walking down the platform of the train

We circle around one another, his two

station at midnight, completely alone. It

dogs growling. One of the dogs leaps at my

begins raining heavily from the toxic brown

face like a spider and will not let go. I spin

sky of 18th century London, and there’s

around, throwing the dog on the railroad

nothing above to shelter me. My dark brown

tracks, just as another train comes roaring

clothes become soggy and wet.

by, ploughing over the dog’s skull causing

I continue walking down the platform when three bullmastiffs behind a fence across platform begin barking at me intensely. It startles me, and I spin around. I see a man in dark clothes behind me. I shout “Can I help you?” But he just stares at me. I look around and see a puddle. I do not recognize the man I see in the reflection.

the man swings the crowbar at my face and all begins to turn pitch black…. The train lands and all the light bulbs on the platform explode as the train hits the tracks, still at full throttle. The carriages pass and in the burst of light from the platform, I find myself holding the crowbar inches from my face as we stare at each other, wondering who has

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the dogs start

the upper hand. He knees me in the balls.

clawing their way up the fence. The man pulls

Out of pain I grab them. He elbows me in the

out a crowbar and begins charging towards

face. As I pretend to fall I grab his coat and

me. The dogs get to me first, pouncing on

drag him down with me. I use his body to

me as a train passes by at full speed. With

break my fall as his final dog bites my ankle.

rumbling, thumping and pounding noises

I use whatever will, energy and life left inside

the dogs bite, tear, and rip at my face.

of me to get up. I grab the dog by the tail and

Terror pumps through my veins at light speed. Seizing the moment, I get up, grab one of the dogs by the neck and throw him

bash the man over the head with it. With the dog unconscious, I throw it on the far side of the platform.

against the speeding train. I grab another

“Who are you anyway?” I breathe heavily.

one, but the man rams me like a bull. I

He grabs the crowbar and hitches it around

drop the dog, my hands swinging loose

my neck, pulls me close and cries “I’M YOUR

like ragdoll, and I say to him “I’ll give you a

WIFE, YOU BLOODTHIRSTY MONSTER!”

beating right proper!” 56

the train to levitate. Leaping into mid-air

We share a kiss, then with her off-guard I

your heart. You still love me which means

kick her away, sending her sliding across the

you still have some humanity, some mercy,

platform. We are both on our feet.

some SANITY left in you!”

We charge at one another. She screams. I

“In case you haven’t realized, you’re running

howl. We slam into each other with no mercy.

on fumes, and how you’re not dead yet is

She falls back on her bottom and I firmly

beyond me!” I gently reply.

say, like I still have energy left, “You forgot

She laughs. and says “I am not dead, and

to say a keyword in that sentence…. WAS!”

you cannot kill me, because I am your

“Maybe so, she responds, “but I never left

conscience!”

WINDY CITY By Tasmyn

It was in the windy city of Chicago where I first saw snow fall from the sky. The air was crisp and clear and it turned the end of my nose to ice. On the busy street we walked down there was a litter of homeless people. Our conversations, interrupted by the noisy clatter of the old subway passing above us. I looked around at the passers-by. There was no shock on any of their faces. They must be locals. We made our way down the crowded street to the Starbucks on the corner. Just the sight of the warm little shop made my heart happy. A dark skinned woman pushed open the door and I gave her a grateful smile. I nodded at my dad when he asked me â&#x20AC;&#x153;The usual?â&#x20AC;? We waited for what felt like an eternity. Then the brown eyed woman from behind the counter called out my name. I leaped over to the counter and accepted the drink with a grin. When we exited the shop the icy air hit me like a brick wall. My hot chocolate kept me warm.

THE TORTURE OF WEDNESDAY’S GUNFIRE By Tessaria

Cut deep, all emotions changed by

around. I realize that I am talking to

one song, one sound, just me and

nobody but myself.

my imagination swirling around the one room. Swaying on my bed to my favourite song, headphones in, I catch a glance of something familiar,

up in a ball and close my eyes in the grief that today is Wednesday.

a face I recognize. I turn to find myself

I restrict myself from the memory of

looking in my bedroom mirror. I stop

that awful day two years ago, when

hesitantly, turn off the music and sit. I

my sister, best friend, even second

look at my blue eyes my red curly hair

mother, left me because of her stupid

and freckled face: I just sit.

idea and her idiotic thought that she

The only sound is the rusty fan hovering over my head, chugging away like a steam train. I stare at myself sitting on the edge of my bed. I fall back, arms spread across my haven of comfort. ‘Wednesdays are the worst day of the week,’ I say to myself as I watch the fan revolve around and

‘Wednesdays,’ I repeat in a sigh. I curl

had to keep me safe. But the main problem that I had, was that imbecile police trainee got scared and shot her. I saw it all. The face he made when he saw her, the regret after he pulled the trigger. Then, her face when the torchlight caught a glance of the 5mm bullet. I could see her mind ticking, her heart pounding out of her chest,

then the bullet shot through where her heart stopped pounding.

Meridia: She told me to hide when she saw

HEADLINING REPORT

the police.

POLICEMAN IN TRAINING KILLS 17-YEAR-

Policeman: She jumped out on me, I wasn’t

OLD GIRL IN NEWTOWN CEMETERY 2015

expecting to find anyone. I’m a police officer

Interviewer: Was the killing an accident, did you know the girl? Policeman (Caleb Valac): Trust me, it wasn’t on purpose. Interviewer: Why didn’t she hide with you? Victim’s Friend (Meridia Ardira): She was trying to protect me, she felt as if she had to, she is like a sister to me.

Policeman: It was all an accident!

aren’t I? I acted on instinct. Meridia: Shut up! Okay, I blame myself anyway, you don’t have to make me feel even worse than I already do! Interviewer: Are you aware that you will be getting fined for trespassing? Meridia: I know I am getting a fine. Yes I’m aware of that. Don’t you have something better to do?

Moments later my Mum shouts ‘dinner time’,

The detective replies with a sympathetic

from the kitchen. I rush down the stairs and

tone and says that it will all be okay, that

sit at the dinner table.

the policeman is going to get fined either

“It’s meat and three veg’, says my Dad as he takes a sip from his beer and gets ready to eat. Then the home phone rings.” “It’s the detective,” my Mum says as she looks at me with concern, and hands me the phone. I nod as I take it from her. ‘Hello,’ I say, with a worried tone. ‘Is this

way, guilty or innocent. I smile with triumph when I hear the news, I don’t know what to say. My Mum shouts “dinner time”, from the kitchen. I say “thank you”, then hang up. I rush down the stairs and sit at the dinner table. “It’s meat and three veg”, says my Dad again as he takes another sip from his beer and gets ready to eat.

call concerning the death of my close friend Abigail?’

GUNPOWDER WINTER By Yuden

Peeking out at the dawn fading

the courage to shelter people like

before the grey sky of a gunpowder

myself in basements and attics. I

winter keeps me occupied while

was lucky to find a way out, even

I’m crammed in this cutout

if it meant being sandwiched in a

mattress on the tray of a dilapidated

mattress at least I got a window of

Japanese truck.

tattered fabric.

“Hey buddy, you good back there?”

Peering out, the skeletal remains

“Yeah, a bit stuffy” I reply. I honestly don’t think he hears me through three inches of mattress.

jagged

skyline

viewing

pictures in a film reel. The skyline is decorated by thick curls of

“Yeah yeah, whatever, we got nine

smoke. You can just make out a

miles to the checkpoint so just kick

few blue tarps from abandoned

back.

aid camps. The city is a grotesque

“I didn’t exactly choose first class, but it sure felt like it for 200USD.

of spruce trees flash by the city’s

site of death and monument to the endless appetite of war. Mostly things stay remarkably still, with

A depraved battle cry of death and

the occasional crack of gunfire

genocide was ringing throughout

and a few scavengers; mostly

the countryside. The militia was

kids whose parents think they

moving in town by town. Few paths

won’t get mistaken for soldiers.

out of the nation were still open.

What life remains is a vestige

Those lucky enough to be exempt

of humanity’s thirst for survival

from the persecution complied

and self-preservation. Peering

with silent appreciation. Few had

further towards the edge I can

just make out the side of the road where

deeper into the countryside. The foliage blurs

the asphalt slumps down into the dirt. The

into a uniform shade of green with scattered

road stretches further down like a smooth

bits of light glittering through with a youthful

flow of ink towards the horizon, in which a

exuberance. Outside, the branches sway

featureless argent sky is framed by the tree

gently in response to a faraway gust of brisk

line. The destination in reality is a bleak hell

wind. The burning heat swells in contrast.

of uncertainty like the one behind us. It is into this we drive, one of us for profit and the other for hope.

“Yeah alright.”

The quiet rumbling of wheels on weathered

A dull pain pulsates behind my eyes. Signing

asphalt grows steadily as we venture

up to be in a mattress is starting to seem like

forward, further and further into the anxiety

a rash decision. We must have another few

which, I hope, precedes triumph. The sound

hours to the checkpoint. The heat is building

of bumping over fissures in the asphalt

up within the foam.

reverberate throughout the truck, steadily building to a rapid beat. In conjunction with

“Oi, can we stop for a minute...Hello?”

the constant rattling of ratchet straps on the

My voice is getting muffled through the

tray and the stuttering of a poorly serviced

mattress. That or he can’t hear me over the

engine, it is like being in the middle of a

engine.

god-awful choir. With every laboured breath, the rushing of humid air seeping through the foam masks a layer of heat all over my face. The city skyline is starting to disappear from view, and at this speed we’ll most likely reach the checkpoint before dark. Looking out again, the spaces between the trees become denser and denser as we travel

“We got about six miles left.”

“Oi!” I really need a few more air holes or something. I give a few kicks, maybe I can make some noise by shaking the tray. It is really getting hopeless with the ratchet straps tightened stiff. Plunging my leg through the foam, a few clanks of the ratchet straps end up fading perfectly into the racket. A few more kicks. Maybe I can get a little bit of the foam out of

the way. Trying to bite through the filling, the

Pulling the damn thing off to the side, I got

dry foam rubs vigorously against my teeth,

two wheels off the asphalt before it stopped.

soaks up my saliva, leaving my mouth dry

Looking through the rear view, I could see

and numb. Defeated, I lay back, labouring in

the pinkish mattress standing silent, with

short breaths. A hollow whining whirs from

the straps holding it down like string over a

my throat, as the humid air scratches its way

piece of ham. With the engine off, the only

down. A dull pulsating pain behind my eye

sound was the leaves rustling in the wind.

throbs rhythmically. ***

“Hey buddy you still there?” Pulling myself out, I nearly collapsed. My

We were about three miles from the border

legs had gone all fuzzy. The white glow of the

and I was burning on fumes. At this rate

winter sun behind pale clouds was beginning

we wouldn’t make it without a quick fill up.

to set. It was roughly about three o’clock.

The passenger hadn’t made a noise since

Walking to and back from the closest service

we hit the countryside and I was seriously

station would take me till dark. After dark, a

regretting not cutting a few more air holes.

truck with bulky cargo is pretty suspicious.

The cool breeze whistled through the

On foot I’d reach the checkpoint before

cracked windshield. Down the road, the

sunset. Flipping my jacket on, I took one

shrinking parallel tree-lines vectored down

last look at the truck, as it sat there with the

to the horizon. The road was a seemingly

few hundred other cars on the roadside. The

infinite path with the destination just out of

day was starting to fade behind the greying

sight. On the dashboard, covering the broken

sky. At least all I had to walk was the last

fuel gauge, was a piece of paper scribbled

three miles.

with numbers of mileage of the last refuel and when I would need the next. I should have brought an extra jerry can or so. A few stutters of engine and it was out. I was just rolling.