DRAGONFLY DIGEST - culdesacpress

ABRACADABRA

2014. Volume V. Edition I.

DRAGONFLY DIGEST

Dragonfly Digest, Abracadabra , Volume V, Edition I

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Contents

P. 2 Editor’s Message David Vacek F3A

P. 3 Promise Zara Denham F1A

P. 3 Seasons Changing Sho Giersztein F1A

P. 3 Zombies Veronica Bogart F5A

P. 4 Recycling Tree Nazir Ashraf F1B

P. 5 After Curfew Thea Cole L6

P. 5 Shell Helena Kwok F4A

P. 6 Why I Am Interested In Mushrooms Mira Ahmad F3B

P. 6 Tentative Reach Athena Chuang F5B

P. 7 Wrong Place, Right Time David Vacek F3A

P. 7 Recipe to Create Frankenstein’s Monster Maximilian de Saint-Exupery F1A

P. 8 The Goldfish Maisie Holland F1B

P. 8 The Jungle Sacha Lee F1B

P. 8 Dreams Zara Denham F1A

P.8 Shells Brandon Ng F4B

P. 9 Jigsaw Debasmita Bhattacharya F3A

P. 10 Wrathful World War Sana Karnik F1B

P. 10 Albatross Bethany Wong F2A

P. 10 Help Zara Denham F1A

P. 10 Mystical Creature Ahina Ip F2A

P.11 The Torturer Elias Copin F3A

P. 12 Why I Hate Moths Neha Sreekumar F3A

P. 12 The Road to Domo Nicole Evans F2B

P. 13 The Perfect Murder Héloïse Dunlop F2B

P. 13 Shells Brandon Ng F4B

P. 14 Thoughts on Tumblr. Debasmita Bhattacharya F3A

P. 14 Dolls Audrey Lai F5A

P. 15 Test Subject Alya Francis F2A

P. 15 Pieces of Three Alana Li F5A

P. 16 14 Colours of Dracula Sophia Putterill F2B

P. 16 Teddy Bear Audrey Lai F5A

P. 17 Perception Debasmita Bhattacharya F3A

P. 18 Shells Helena Kwok F4A

P. 19 Gang Tactics in the Lord of the Flies Mira Ahmad F3B

P. 20 Importance of Honesty Bertram Lau F1A

P. 20 Shells Miguel Santana F4B


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Editor’s Message

Dear Readers,

Welcome to our fourth volume of the Dragonfly Digest. This volume holds many stories, poems, and pieces of art, showcasing the great works of students from Form 1 to Upper 6. This magazine is where literature and art flourish. As you go through these works of art, the creativity and talents of the French International School will be revealed, as well as our passion for English literature and artwork.

This edition was a true adventure for the whole Dragonfly Digest team and I am certain we enjoyed every second of it. Furthermore, it is the first time that the Dragonfly Digest was printed by a professional printing company.

Overall, this was a prime learning experience and every Dragonfly worked very hard to produce this magazine. I hope that the patience and dedication of our efforts are evident within this edition.

Thank you to all the editors and congratulations. Above all, thank you to Mr. Bogart, who guided us in creating this unique magazine. We would like to especially acknowledge him for his guidance.

Readers; dig in and enjoy our collection of the most marvellous literature and artwork that FIS has to offer in 2012-13.

Yours Sincerely,

David Vacek

Editor in Chief

Editors:

David Vacek F3A, Editor in Chief.

Debasmita Bhattacharya F3A, Editor of Prose.

Neha Sreekumar F3A, Deputy Editor of Prose.

Mira Ahmad F3B, Editor of Verse.

Isabella Demaneuf F2A, Deputy Editor of Verse.

Héloïse Dunlop F2B, Editor of Art.

Charlotte Henry F3A, Deputy Editor of Art.

Mr. Jason Bogart, Staff Editor.

Cover Design: Héloïse Dunlop F2B and Charlotte Henry F3A

Front Cover Artwork: Joanna Chau F3B

Back Cover Artwork: Natalie Wong F3A

Back Inside Cover: Veronica Bogart F5A

All prose, verse and artwork are written, created and designed by French International School (HK) students and are not to be used without permission. All Rights Reserved.


5

The Silent Schoolgirl

Zara Denham F2A

The bell rang for break time,

Children poured onto the playground.

Among them was a girl

Known never to make a sound.

She had a younger brother

Whom she absolutely adored

And would do anything for,

Anything in the world.

Today she sat in the corner,

Reading her book, alone,

When all of a sudden, she heard

A laugh, a thud, a groan.

She looked up immediately

To see her brother being pounded

And doubled over with pain -

The school bully and friends had him surrounded.

The girl felt instantly furious

No one touched her brother, no one,

She stood up and made her way over,

Leaving her book on the ground, abandoned.

She pushed her way through

The bully's fierce friends

She stood in front of her brother,

Prepared to meet her end.

The bully cracked his knuckles and grinned.

He'd beat up this girl for sure!

She was only half his size -

And now a crowd was beginning to form.

The bully had his fist raised,

When all of a sudden, out of nowhere,

The girl swung her foot and kicked him,

Making everyone around them stare.

She beat the bully up that day

And gained instant schoolyard fame.

Nobody ever forgot

That little girl's name.

That day had taught them a lesson,

A lesson in so many ways.

They'd talk about her forever -

“It's always the quiet ones,” they'd say.

Hello School!

Ines Durand F2B

School starts, people are clapping and

chattering

in the clamorous playground.

Lessons begin, sounds are hushed,

as the teacher arrives with a shiny, silver

cane.

Trouble arises, and one of the pupils got

thwacked, thrashed, thwarted,

and thwacked some more.

Class ends, the whooping wickedness

begins.

School finishes, all is quiet, silent, waiting

for another devilishly, devious day.

Artwork by Jasmine Wong F1B


6

The Cameras

Hadrian Wong F2B

Colin opened his eyes. He was transported to a different place. Colin only remembers saving his love, after being

injected with an intoxicating virus that had clouded his brain. He wandered around the untouched and dusty room in

an abandoned infrastructure, trapped. He looked out of the mysterious building, through a window with three rigid

bars, taking in a glimpse of the cameras surrounding his community that had brought him here.

***

It was only a day before Colin was trapped; he walked towards the window in his house-hold that overlooked the city

after rushing back from his daily Life-Training. He sat there with his portable tablet; he decided to start to do his

home-assignment. He gently placed his micro-key into the socket on the side of the tablet.

‘Key accepted,’ Tablet notified, ‘Tablet now charging at 58%, please confirm fingerprint to access notes, files and

games.’

Colin gently placed his finger on the translucent and paper-thin surface on the swank screen. The young man removed

his finger from the Screen. Quite unexpectedly, a detention slip popped out of the tablet, the pixels of the note sprung

up one by one with astonishing speed and landed on his desk amongst the recycled paper. It was written: Colin3911,

You have received a detention and will be lectured during this period with other learners who have committed crime.

If our cameras have captured crime committed by offenders after three detentions, they will eventually be held

captivate in detention camp until offender is pardoned.

Colin sighed; this was his third and last chance. He thought that hacking into other learner’s Tablets was legal. Wrong

again. Something he had not put much thought into. He looked out of the window. It was for a reason. He had caught

sight of a whisper of glittering gold hair flowing across his eyes. Mesmerised and speechless. She had eyes which

shone hypnotically. Colin’s jaw dropped to the floor. He watched her float to the monorail station. He struggled to

swallow, and took a lengthy deep breath. He was lost, transfixed. Colin's mind was blank; his eyes started to blink

uncontrollably, he could now move his arms freely and looked out the window again for hope.

As he stared, a figure sprang up from the shadows. Colin’s heart skipped a beat. He raised his arm in defence, ready to

strike.

‘For pity's sake dad, don't do that!’

It was one of the annoying and irritating things his father would do once in a while to keep Colin on his toes. Father

worked for the ‘Leaders of Justice’ fixing, maintaining and inspecting the cameras. It was considered to be one of the

most important jobs in the community, respected, desired and well paid. There were many who were after his position.

‘Hi son, mother is out eliminating unidentified creatures from other dimensions and won’t be back soon, so I’ll order

dinner then.’ Father said.

Colin returned to his Tablet and was once again distracted. The girl with the glittering hair was riding on her hover-

board drifting once more in plain sight. Colin lifted his Tablet.

‘Snap Tablet!’ he yelled commandingly.

The Tablet took a picture of the hauntingly beautiful teenage girl.

He then politely asked, ‘Tablet, please identify citizen immediately.’

Tablet replied instantly, ‘Name: Candace5962, status: Learner and ... single.’

Colin smirked triumphantly. He decided to take his father’s special Tablet, which had the ability to control cameras,

and watch her video footage recorded by the community cameras. He walked to his parent’s room where his father


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was completely distracted by his task of ordering food. He crept in, turned on his father’s unique ‘camera off’ mode

on his Tablet to prevent him from being detected. The cameras all turned off, Colin accessed his father’s camera

control application.

He scrolled through the bank of monitors scattered around the community. He then smiled as he had found the right

camera and started watching. He watched intently and discovered that Candace came from the wealthy part of the

community. He continued watching and saw two male citizens, one suspicious man and one from the League of

Justice, standing outside a window. They glared at her, then paused and ran towards the back alley. He was curious; he

swiped the glass screen to view the next camera in the alley. He saw the stainless passage and the 2 men running

towards the camera. He started to zoom into their conversation, the sort of thing his mother would do in the course of

her work.

‘So here is our plan, you will return to your office, turn off the cameras surrounding that family’s rich household.

Meet up here, enter the household, I will kill the girl while you distract her parents, then we'll take the money and

leave.’ one of the men said.

‘Yes sir.’ the man from the League of Justice replied.

Drips of water started to run down Colin’s sizzling head, and panic set in. He knew had to save Candace from being

killed, so he ran to his mother’s drawer and grabbed her spare laser-pen, turned on the cameras, picked up his hover-

board and jumped out of the window of his room. The wind blew in his hair as he tracked around the community, his

confidence building the faster he went. The hover-board accelerated, making a sharp turn into the thin window next to

where Candace was standing. He bashed through the delicate material leaving parts scattered on the floor.

‘Who are you?’ shrieked Candace.

‘I am Colin3911; I came here to protect you from getting mur…’

A flash from a laser gun zinged. Colin tried to save it with his weapon but went straight to Candace’s face at the speed

of light, her arms and legs crumbled, her eyes still fully alert. It hit the solid floor with a sound of a lightning bolt.

Colin screamed, tears fell down his cold cheeks.

‘Turn on the cameras, abort the mission!’ the assassin shouted to his colleague.

The unknown citizens threw their gun and the money next to the sobbing boy and leaped out of the window as fast as

he could. Colin removed his hands from his damp, cold face and was injected with an intoxicating virus by the Guard-

Bots. Dark was the only thing he remembered. Colin was pronounced guilty and the Guard-Bots lifted his sleeping

body and teleported him to detention camp, spelling the end of Colin’s life. His eyelids slowly lifted. He looked out of

the building, through a window with three rigid bars, frustrated at the cameras and Guard-Bots that had brought him

here. He lost everything, his life, his parents and most importantly, his love.


8

The Matrix

David Vacek F4A

On the highway, vehicles of various sizes, shapes and performance sped down the seemingly neverending road. The

consistent pace if the mass of cars flowing down flawless gravel lined road was abruptly interrupted by a menace

radiating motorbike that was fearlessly launched into the open sky from an incredibly large car carrier. An

unidentifiable woman dressed in a sleek, full-black costume intently concentrated on each and every car, through her

spy capable dark glasses, furiously dodging the plague of vehicles. A Chinese male who seemed peculiar, maybe a

specialized scientist of some sort, clung on the very edge of the aft of the motorbike, petrified for his valuable life. His

humorous facial expressions contrasted the emotionless countenance of the woman.

The roar of their engine deafened the bikers as they continued on, determined to accomplish a swift escape. A pale

grey hauler attempted to halt the riders and fiercely veered into them and slammed into the rigged concrete barricades

of the well-built highway. The intriguing women spun the bike round a brought it to a screech halt, rubbing against the

rough concrete and secrete a trail of black tyre marks. After applying a full throttle, the bike powered again to extreme

speeds, this time against the no disrupted flow of cars. Once a large force of police vehicles joined the chase, the

intensity of the thrill sky-rocketed. The fleet of agile police cars that had brightly illuminated beacons of various

colours flashing and a siren that clamoured constantly pulled up next to the bike, then unexpectedly backed off as they

attempt to concentrate their sight and scope at the escapees. One police office found himself side to side with the bike

though, he suddenly transformed into a vicious-looking being showing the similar emotionless profile and took a sharp,

precise shot.

The ultimate adrenalin pulse was a zoom through between two haulers of massive size. The stunt, like all other was

manifestly performed by the woman in an extremely professional, skilled fashion with ease. In the meantime, a well

dressed muscular man tacked hanging between the haulers like a spider grabbed the awaiting hand of the scientist. A

moment later, he was flicked and rocketed up into the air, then he plunged to a painful sounding thump on top of a

hauler.

Artwork by Jake Wong F2A


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What Is The Moon

Emilie Parlett F1B

The moon is a blanched orange,

In a black porcelain bowl.

The moon is a cream meringue,

Coated in dark scrumptious chocolate.

The moon is a white snowy pearl,

Sitting on a bed of indigo flowers.

The moon is a sallow football,

Gliding gracefully in engine oil.

The moon is a white button,

Sewed on to a black suit.

The moon is the circle,

That illuminates our dark night sky.

Seasons

Andrew Brink F1A

Winter brings cold and demise

Summer brings warmth and sunny blue

skies.

Spring brings flowers ready to blossom

Autumn brings leaves in vibrant colors.

The cold winter chill rushing up my spine

Like swimming in frigid water.

The feel of white, powdery snow

Lightens my heart and quickens my pace.

Lying on that placid beach with the sun’s

rays

Beaming through the clear blue skies.

As if you have finally found peace

Warming my being.

The flowers so colorful so full of life

Enchant me with their brightness.

The smell is as fragrant as freshly cut grass

And yet still as fragile as handcrafted glass.

Red and gold leaves show signs of a dry

death

In September they take their last breath.

The strong heat wanes, days become shorter

And the sun’s clock resets again.

Artwork by Irvin Chau F3A


10

The Night Circus

Debasmita Bhattacharya F4A

The vibrantly coloured tent stood majestically on the barren field and exited townspeople rushed in at twilight, eager

to watch the performances of the mysterious travelling circus that had appeared the precious night. A steady hum of

voices filled the tent as the spectators chattered impatiently amongst themselves, pondering when the show would

begin. Suddenly, a blindingly bright spotlight shone on the centre of the slightly elevated wooden stage and a hush fell

over the boisterous audience instantly, the air heavy with anticipation. Sharp footsteps were heard approaching the

stage, the wooden floorboards creaking in protest with every step, and a lanky figure appeared, cloaked in a satin-soft

cape that swept the bottom of his silver-tipped leather boots. He was dressed in black from head to toe and his dark,

twinkling eyes seemed to hold secrets and suggest that he knew something that his audience did not. He glanced at the

curious spectators for a moment before purposefully reaching into his cape and producing, seemingly out of thin air,

three curved, fine-tipped daggers.

The silver blades glinted menacingly under the harsh light as the cloaked man grasped them delicately around their

ebony-black handles. The audience unconsciously leaned forward in their rickety seats, wondering what they were

about to witness. As soon as he was certain that all eyes were on him, he deftly tied a silky blindfold over his eyes

with one hand and tossed the daggers up into the air with the other. The daggers spun elegantly, tips pointing down, as

they moved in perfect arcs over the man’s head and the audience watched with bated breath, aware that the most

minute of mistakes could result in catastrophe. The performer continued his extraordinary juggling act, his dexterous

finger a blur, as the daggers soared above him in a steady tempo, hardly seeming to touch his hands. A sudden intake

of breath was heard in the audience as three more knives were added to the ensemble.

The spectators were utterly spellbound as the astounding performance, all eyes wide and jaws slack. Some gasped

audibly as more and more of the shining knives were added to the ring of daggers gliding through the air yet not a

single person dared to utter a word for fear of breaking the concentration of the talented juggler. The children,

especially, seemed to be completely entranced by the magical act.

The man did not falter, even as the spectators expressed their wonder and delight in soft ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’, but

continued juggling the dangerous looking daggers without missing a beat. He could not afford to make mistakes.

Instead, he threw more glistening knives into the ring with a flourish and wielded the instrument meticulously.

Confidence oozed from his every pore as he skillfully handled twenty knives at once. The defined muscles in his

forearms began to strain and the slightest hint of beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He abruptly released all the daggers from his grasp, effectively breaking the spectators’ deep, almost hypnotic, trance.

They all glanced at each other, bewildered, before turning back to the stage, only to find that it was empty, save for the

twenty daggers lying there haphazardly, some of their fine tips sinking into the wooden floorboards. A few voiced

their confusion, frowns adorning their lined foreheads, while others waited patiently, intrigued and eager to discover

what other marvels the starry night would bring.


11

The Road

Cloe Cheung F2A

Along the crooked, winding road at night,

A dark starless December

night,

The wind blows,

Rustling the

whispering trees

Who are murmuring secrets long forgotten

Crooked branches,

Leaning over the empty road,

Claws and scratches at the unfortunate

pebbles

Moonlight leaks through,

Dancing and quivering,

On the stony, frozen

ground

Crystallized grass and dead flowers

Curl up, waiting for warmth.

But all hope has abandoned this road

Empty and deserted, it stretches on

and on.

Secret Garden

Georgina Yeo F1A

I know of a place where the rivers taste

sweet,

And the paths are paved with

golden marguerites,

Some trees have bells that jingle when

blown,

And others have beautiful gem stones,

The wind that blows feels warm and soft.

It has ponds of clear blue and doves of pure

white,

And the sun’s glare that is tremendously

bright,

The evergreen grass covered in dew,

Shining like sapphires of blue hue,

And the colourful flowers that welcome

you.

It has a turquoise sky,

And it shines like a cat’s eye,

This place is my secret garden that no one

will ever find,

For there is only one entrance and that is in

my mind,

But secret gardens aren’t hard to discover if

you try.

Artwork by Jasmine Wong

F1B and Sarah Page F2B

http://www.rhymezone.com/r/d=golden_marguerite


12

A Brave Sacrifice

Hugo Wong F2A

It was two months since the Richard had saved them all. They had appeared, right in front of the arcade. Richard was

terrified. He immediately ran away from the simulator, but they appeared in front of him. More of them came from the

other side. There was no escape. Richard stared at their slimy, grotesque tentacles and their green, scaly skin as the

leader took a gun and shot him in the chest.

Richard woke up in a prison. The prison bars shimmered with dark energy, sucking the light away from the barred

windows. Suddenly, the prison bars vanished and light flooded the room. Aliens like the ones he had seen before

walked in the room. Richard scanned them from head to toe. They had one eye, two green horns, and a huge mouth. A

transparent helmet covered their heads, probably because they were used to breathing carbon dioxide, not oxygen.

Cities with advanced technology always had huge amounts of Co2 in the air, like Earth. Without special suits, your

skin would turn green. Since the year 2040, when humans were forced away Earth because of too much greenhouse

gases, humans were all aware of the effect of them.

The alien’s spears crackled with electricity. They forced Richard out of the prison and led him to the centre of the

square. As soon as he came out, he noticed something was wrong. It was hotter than usual, and it was never hot on

Kappa. Many people had already gathered below the stage. The alien behind him pushed him into the crowd, and

Richard stumbled into his friend, John. He did not speak or move, as he was still shocked by what had happened. It

was as if he had been possessed by a spirit.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker boomed overhead. The alien above shouted a few words and stopped. The crowd of

humans laughed as the alien shouted at his assistant to bring him a universal translator. He cursed as he spoke into his

microphone once again. “This is Blorg speaking! We have captured and colonised this asteroid and made an

impenetrable dome around it! From now on, everybody in this community will be our slaves! You will now be led

back to your cell. Do you understand?”

Artwork by Dylan Stroud F1A


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Two weeks later, Richard sat down in his cell, thinking about the future. In the past two weeks, he had gotten used to

the harsh time schedule given to him from the aliens. He was assigned to working in the mines, where the slaves had

to use low-tech equipment to mine for resources, as there were many rare resources found on asteroids like Kappa.

Then they would push the resources back to the heavily guarded warehouse, where he had seen many different doors.

One, he remembered, said Lunarium. There was also a very large spaceship in the shed.

An hour later, Richard made his way to his mining spot. Beside him, he saw an alien whipping a slave. “Faster!” the

alien shouted. But it was no use. The slave fell down on the rocky floor, making no movement as the alien scooped

him up and threw the slave onto a cart. Richard watched in horror as he realised it was his friend, John. Another alien

threw him down a pit. Richard was so shocked that he did not move until the same alien started whipping and shouting

at him.

After a day of hard work, Richard pushed his cart back to the warehouse. He could not help but realise that there were

fewer people working than the day before. Richard heard aliens talking to each other at the conference room. In the

past two weeks, Richard had picked up some of the alien’s language. He leaned closer to the door and heard the aliens

talking about a meeting somewhere that was to be held tomorrow morning.

Richard walked back to his cell to rest. He could not bear to see humans treated like this and he tried to come up with

an escape plan. Suddenly, a thought came to him. Wasn’t lunarium the most radioactive element known to mankind?

And could the big spaceship in the warehouse be of any use? The plan gradually formed into his mind. He told

everyone his plan and told them to tell it to everybody else.

The day after, when the aliens had all gone, everyone boarded the spaceship, except Richard. “Why are you still not

on the ship?” a slave asked.

“I’m not going,” Richard said. “Don’t mind me.”

Richard knew he would be spotted anytime, but he rushed to the door marked Lunarium. Richard took a deep breath,

opened the door, and hit the container with a metal pole as hard as he could.

Just before he died, Richard glanced up at the sky and saw the tiny spaceship preparing for its jump to light speed. As

he had expected, the impenetrable dome could be shut down by the spaceship. Richard knew he had done the right

thing as he shut his eyes, knowing that the evil aliens would never keep humans as slaves ever again.

Artwork by Silvana Menarin F3A


14

Griffin

Georgina Yeo F1A

Be heedful of the immortal griffin

It lurks inside a cave

It will devour you for its tiffin

And even if you fight it, it will send you to

your grave.

Its soul is black and vile

It strikes fear into man’s heart

Shrieks will be heard for many a mile

As villages are torn apart.

Go slay the griffin if you dare

But it’ll catch you in a flash

It’ll grab your legs and yank your hair

Then down its gullet you will go, splash!

So if you go walking near a cliff

Don’t stop to catch your breath

The griffin’s a real monster not just a myth,

The air will turn foul with the stench of

death.

The Giant

Mayumi Wong F1

Beware the fearsome giant

That always hunts its food.

It likes eating awful goblins

And is always in a foul mood.

His face is fat and black

And is full of massive spots.

He has a cat that’s evil and wicked

That likes to be tickled a lot.

He’ll catch you and put you on his plate,

He munches and you’ll go crunch.

He likes to eat with his mate

And have you for his lunch.

Coolest Language Rappin’ (of all time)!

Ines Durand F2B

You… can… use:

A little bit of onomatopoeia and similes,

Yo grab your keys and unlock the next set

of words…

BOOM, BANG, HISS like a snake.

Metaphors and rhyming,

They work well you see,

But you have to get the timing,

Or else you won’t do good.

Confusions are mazes,

Merits are praises,

But adjectives are crucial

for stories you’re makin’.

Don’t like Edges textbooks,

You don’t need to worry,

Instead just try a coupl’a poems,

Do some work for real.

Start from scratch,

No idea,

What to do,

I am stuck!

Frustrated

But adamant,

Scribbling,

Useless words.

Workin’ hard,

In your brain,

In the yard,

Feelin’ drained.

Finally,

I am done,

That took long,

Several weeks!

…

So grab your pen and write your heart out,

Do not hesitate,

Then send it to a publisher,

Get those sold away!


15

The Storm

Debasmita Bhattacharya F4A

I trudge tiredly along the worn pavement, scuffing the toes of my favourite leather shoes against cracks in the concrete.

Glancing nonchalantly at the surrounding, rather decrepit buildings that seem to huddle together, I suddenly notice

dark, angry-looking clouds rapidly approaching the crowded neighbourhood. They swirl languidly in the all at once

gloomy sky, rumbling ominously as a fierce storm gathers. Nonplussed, I scrunch my eyebrows together in a half-

hearted attempt at a frown but continue to drag my feet along the pavement.

A biting wind flows between derelict buildings and nips at my exposed face and fingers. It buffets my hair in all

direction, several strands lashing my face, leaving behind thin, red lines. The stinging sensation galvanizes me into

action and apprehension spreads through my being as I begin to search for shelter but to no avail. The street is

deserted and there are no signs of shelter, not even a jutting out awning or a clump of trees. Disheartened, I continue

my search but hasten along the sidewalk.

The grumbling clouds move closer and I can almost feel my hair being to frizz unattractively with the rapid rise in

humidity. Almost all daylight has disappeared as the bruised sky crackles with wicked fingers of intense light. With a

deafening crash of thunder, rain begins to fall heavily, large droplets splattering on my clothes and viciously attacking

my hair. It seems like all the water in the world has been released at once and within seconds, I am completely soaked

from head to toe, cold to the bone. Glancing at my squelching leather shoes, I realize, horrified, that the puddles of

water had been working relentlessly to blanket the street and soon the rising level of rainwater would collect around

my ankles. Frantically, I run, desperation flashing in my eyes, hoping to find refuge.

I slip and slide on the slick pavement but do not pause to catch my breath, terrified that if I linger in any spot for a

moment too long, I may be struck down by a fearsome bolt of lightning. I stumble forward blindly as the sheet of rain

clouds my vision. Finally, an enormous wave of relief seeps through my body as I catch sight of an elevated, covered

bus stop and I rush to shelter at last. Panting and shivering violently, I stand bedraggled with a steady stream of water

dripping down the bridge of my nose and my shoulders and sleeves. My drenched clothes cling to every curve of my

body and I feel as though I may never be dry and warm again. I pensively observe the raging tempest before me and

marvel at its intimidating beauty and power, waiting for it all to be over.


16

The Disappearance of the Mavis-Lemay

Kayleigh Bogart F1A

There he was again, Barton the local fisherman, sitting alone in his canoe fishing for white perch near the point of

Day's Island at the mouth of the channel. He was preparing his lures and his long colossal wooden umber fishing rod

and his limited bait for the day.

Barton started the engine and headed toward his favourite fishing hole. It was always difficult to get through the

channel because of the underwater rocks that were near the surface. When the water gets low the top of the rocks

becomes dangerous. He was confident that he knew exactly where he was and started to maneuver through the

channel.

However, this trip would be different and his confidence short lived. As he was going through the channel he

mistakenly crashed into a rock. The canoe flipped over with a thud. When he came to his senses he heard a voice.

"I'll help you. I am captain Zack,” he mumbled.

Captain Zack went out to the bow and threw a safety ring which landed near Barton. He grabbed and clung onto it

with all his might. The captain pulled him towards the boat and hauled him onto deck. Barton was cold and shivering,

his fingers all numb. He was relieved that someone was there to save him.

Once aboard the Mavis-Lemay, Barton saw the awe-inspiring run-about. The deck was teak and glistened in the

sun. Barton had not seen anything like this before but he was scared and relieved to be alive.

The captain started up the engine and threw Barton a towel to keep warm. He headed back to the pier leaving the

canoe and all of Barton's gear at the bottom of the channel.

Once at the pier Barton thanked Zack for saving him.

As Barton walked down the pier, he turned around and waved to say his final goodbyes but the boat and the Captain

were not there any more.

Tennel, Barton’s friend, by chance happened to be on the pier preparing to go fishing himself. When he saw Barton

sogging wet, Tennel ran towards him and gave him a hand. Barton was horrified and barely able to speak because of

the shock of the disappearance. He finally muttered. "Tennel, Tennel," shouted Barton. "I just met a captain called

Zack on a boat called the Mavis-Lemay,” said Barton. "He just saved my life! Did you see his boat, the Mavis-

Lemay, at the end of the pier?"

Tennel stared at Barton with fear. “That boat sank 20 years ago, in a crash in Deadman's Channel," said Tennel.

"You mean the one out by Day's island? Barton asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Oh my God, is that why they call it that? demanded Barton. "That's where I was!"

Tennel gave him a hug and told him he would explain everything to him over a cup of hot chocolate at Margaret's

diner.


17

The Menace

David Vacek F4A

I was marching, frustrated, home from school and still noticed the sun gleaming on down on the mosaic pavement

beneath me. Only a handful of miniature clouds tinted grey were present in the atmosphere, hovering with the calm

and steady breeze. that I could sense slightly tickling the back of my neck. The positive ambiance brought energy to

my tiresome day. Gradually, ice-cold droplets began to plummet straight onto me cheeks and rolled down sending

shivers through my spine. I felt miserable again.

The drizzle intensified further. I glanced at a heavy mist forming, in the distance of the alley, before my eyes. The

sun’s force of light was shielded by the vast mass of menacing looking clouds swirling in rapidly from all directions

above the abandoned neighbourhood streets. Only colourful curtains swung side to side as the townsmen observed the

developing storm. I sensed an ominous rush of adrenalin invading my body, my reaction to the furious scale of

terrorizing thunder in the distant cloud’s darkness. The wind formed a melodic crescendo of the rustling of the leaves

on nearby trees and now began to sting my exposed neck and skin. The rain was, in contrast noticeably different and

the enormous drops pounding my hair drenched it in an instant. I felt so bitterly cold. Never before had I experienced

such vulnerability.

I commenced to scavenge for shelter but time elapsed sluggishly and the storm never terminates tits increasing might

and presence. The black cluster of cloud, unleashing rain and lightning, covered my full view of the free sky. I could

only observe the shades of grey of the furious clouds that were spinning uncontrollably., forming a dark eye in the

precise centre. In pitch-black darkness, I could slightly distinguish a weathercock confused on the chaotic situation. I

stared at it, feeling quite amused. Immediately, however, a shocking zap of brilliant-white struck it with point-

precision and it was accompanied by an awesome explosion of thunder that caused my suffering ears to vibrate

tremendously until sharp pain aroused. I stood still, shocked, unable to process the overwhelming incident. I began to

sprint.

Encompassing me, the lightning never stopped striking bricked chimneys, antennae or trees causing ranging degrees

of destruction. The earth was continually illuminated by flickering lights and I ran to no clear secure destination.

Petrified, I didn’t even care that I was drenched to the skin. The sharp pain from my ear made me terrified of the

storm’s attack.

Artwork by Lisa Jane Sequeira F3A


18

Failure

Estelle Tang F4A

All in the city was engulfed in darkness except for one lone place: the performance hall from which dim light shone

out from the cracks of the grand doors. Behind the doors and in the front row sat an old, elegant-looking woman, well

into her fifties. Anxiously, she stared up on the matt-black stage with its velvet-red curtains on the sides, where a

young ballerina stood waiting, patiently.

Daria looked down at herself and at what she was wearing. Her costume was a romantic tutu: a long, beautifully-made

net skirt of at least seven layers and covered with a layer of white satin and rose embroidery. Glittery silver wings

seemed to grow out from her back, showering light gold sparkles onto her pointed shoes. In her hands she held a

matching flowery tiara which she delicately fastened onto her usual ballerina bun. She was la Sylphide, but in no way

did she feel like a fairy.

“The ballet is approaching, young child. You must show me that you have the potential to be the prima ballerina,” the

old lady croaked, “are you ready?”

Daria lifted her worried eyes and nodded. Staring into the pitch-black audience, her voice trembled as she said,

“Madame Allegra, I am ready.” Then the music arose.

Daria started her slow and graceful steps across the floor with a performing smile on her face, soundlessly lifting

herself for a leap, and then she proceeded to her fouettés. The steps were simple for such a talented, well-trained

dancer, but her blank mind had other ideas. Anxiety caused her to think too much on her steps, and soon she found

herself more tired than she had even been in her life.

Daria, it’s just an audition. You can do it, she thought. But suddenly as she rose into a relevé, her eyes caught onto

Madame Allegra’s glare, and the horrified adolescent tumbled from her position, her smile quickly disappearing. The

show must go on, she thought, and forced herself through every next step, enduring every nagging pain and pushing

further past her limits.

Pain seared up her lean legs and for a fraction of a second she looked down at her feet. Numb from being en pointe,

she didn't know the condition of her feet. Seeing the blood emerge from the satin, she knew it was bad, but there was

only one step left, and Daria knew she had to be the sylph for this last balance. This last step could save her from guilt

and embarrassment.

She lifted onto an arabesque position, stretching her arms out and letting them float in the air. The pain shot up to her

chest, and from that moment, her heart abruptly stopped. All she could feel now was the pulsing headache in her

forehead. Suddenly, she lost all her senses. Her steady ankle twisted the wrong way and Daria felt helplessly, the side

of her head to the floor first with her arms twisted awkwardly beneath her. Her vision blurred and she could see the

misty shadows of ambulance staff coming to her aid, but her eyes were fixed on Madame Allegra’s face.

The old lady gave a disappointed look and Daria, like la Sylphide, shuddered and lay lifeless.


19

Artwork by Justine Fung F3B


20

What Once Was

Maggie Newell F2B

As they gazed across the gloomy border all Claudia was reasoning and debating about with herself was the causes and

capabilities of this world and the changes that most of the human race have suffered from. However, they still pushed

through the regrets and depression. Now, she knew she was going to cause a change in this world forever and unite the

human race, she knew they would pay.

It all began 18 years ago, when a meteor struck the earth. Everyone thought that damage was caused in cities it

destroyed and tens of thousands of people it killed, this was nothing in comparison to millions of children globally that

would die on their fifteenth birthday years later.

At first, nobody could understand what was going on. The deaths appeared random incidents upsetting to close family

and no more. That was until a scientist in a laboratory connected the dots one day. She was investigating the sudden

rise in adolescent mortality and realized that the increase in deaths coincided with the day a meteor struck the earth. A

team of 100 scientists then worked for months to discover that when the meteor struck it released a virus that infected

women the world over. This virus changed the DNA of children born from that point onwards and caused a permanent,

indelible change to the human race and life as they knew it.

Claudia was a mother who had twins who were victims of this devastating disease. Like millions of others she was

fearful and depressed by the thought of losing her children. As any other loving and caring mother would do she was

in search for a cure, and would stop at nothing to keep her children breathing.

‘Claudia, you do know that there is nothing on earth that will stop this,’ exclaimed Jennifer Claudia’s close friend and

sister, ‘End your suffering now, surrender to what is inevitable or I will not be there to comfort you when your

beloved ones die. ‘

’‘They will not die!’ yelled Claudia on the verge of tears, ‘I know they won’t, I am certain of this. I thought you

admired my enthusiasm for life but rather than helping your beloved you just sit and watch! I am truly appalled

Jennifer, the least of things you could do is help me please, help me please.’

Her sister sighed,’ I have recently heard there is a cure. I am sure it is just a useless rumor but apparently the riches

have something they use on their own young ones”

Claudia lived in a society where the rich and the poor lived separately. The Riches, as they were called lived, in gated

compounds that were guarded by ferocious dogs and large men carrying weapons. All the government officials and

professionals lived inside these compounds. Yet Claudia didn’t know of anyone who had been inside them.

Occasionally she had walked past and heard children laughing and dogs barking. Their life at a distance sounded

similar to hers.

Claudia had no choice but to investigate the rumor and see if she could find the cure. It was the only chance her

children had. She struggled breathlessly up hill, found an entrance to the compound and saw a world she would never

forget. It was in fact a world very different from hers. It was a world where the buildings glimmered like gold in the

sunshine and where flowers bloomed. Yet her world was grey and dusty. However, more than the beauty of the

buildings, it was obvious that this was a world where there was no grief, sorrow nor signs of regret. She knew there

was an antidote here. It was definite, and so she began her path towards the place of the government officials.

Whilst she discerned the guard standing awkwardly in front of the firm steel door she approached slowly and

anxiously towards him. After a few words with the guard she entered the Green room eagerly yet petrified and began

her discussion with the government officials and debated over the sample for her children. However, they both knew

who was going to win this argument. She exited the green room feeling as if she had failed in some way and wiped

away the tears before re-entering the green room with more promise and confidence than she had started with. She

made a promise and devoted herself and her life as soon as the event occurred and would have to gain the courage to

retry her previous task to get the antidote.

Whilst she re-entered the room once again and stared in awe for a few moments still debating with herself if she

should carry on gaining towards the exit. Suddenly, a mysterious guard began to question Claudia on the object

rapidly shaking in her hand. ‘I know what you have, and I know what this has caused this and what you are suffering

from. I never saw you and you are free to go. Do not say anything because you do not have to. Just leave, you are have

truly inspired me and that’s enough. I thank you.’ Calmly exclaimed the gentle guard.


21

Claudia was utterly shocked recounting what she had just beheld before her. She knew she would have to tell her

society of their luxuries that they have not been aware of or notified. They would have to know.

As they gazed across the gloomy border all Claudia was reasoning and debating about with herself was the causes and

capabilities of this world and the changes that most of the human race have suffered from necessary? However, she

still pushed through the regrets and depression. Now, she knew she was going to cause a change in this world forever

and unite the human race, she knew the riches would pay.

Artwork by Katherine Cheung F2B


22

The Pathetic Wage

Tanya Deshpande F1A

The theme park, now deserted

Was as messy as can be.

The night was soundless and starless

With many cockroaches and fleas.

There was a nasty smell about,

Like old rotten food.

One could almost taste it –

Disgusting, inedible, crude.

Confetti was draped over everything,

The stalls, the benches, the rides.

Empty popcorn buckets

Had been discarded to the side.

The Ferris wheel was creaking softly

In the gentle midnight breeze.

The stalls were covered with litter

And the wind crept in with ease.

Somewhere in the shadows,

Bob the cleaner man stood.

With trusty broom and cloth in hand

Clean everything, he could.

He started at the Ferris wheel

And climbed to the very top.

He scraped and wiped each seat

Until it sparkled and showed no rot.

As he made his way down,

He swayed and almost fell.

But just in time he clutched a pole

And ended safe and well.

He moved on to the filthy ground

The smell would make one gag.

Bob piled the apples cores, popcorn

And rubbish into his bag.

He cleaned all the snack counters

And swept up all the litter.

Soon the ground was spotless,

And it shone, it glowed, it glittered.

And once each ride and each stall

Was clean and shining bright.

Tired Bob went to receive

His wages for cleaning the rides.

He strolled up to the owner’s house

When it was almost day.

And held his hand out confidently,

For his pathetic $1 pay.


23

Frozen Heart

Cloe Cheung F2A

Raven was sick of this. She sat in her cell, thinking carefully. The plain walls and barred windows didn’t help. Sunlight

leaked through, blinding her. On the outside, Raven may seem like an ordinary girl, but actually, she was an experiment

and she hated herself for that. She didn’t know what scientists did to her. She just knew she was different. She was

faster, stronger and smarter than a normal human. But there was one side effect: shape shifting. She could turn into any

living thing she wanted. The scientists created her to destroy their enemies on ‘missions’ they sent her on.

Raven paced around, frustrated. She needed to get out. She didn’t want to be imprisoned like some rabid animal. She

was planning on escaping, to leave the prison and start a new life. But first, she needed to get out of the cell.

She placed her hand on the door, calculating how much energy she needed to break it. Then, she walked to the back of

the room, muscles tensing up, ready to charge. She ran at full speed towards the door, flinging herself onto it. Her

momentum also helped in breaking the door. One of the hinges ripped off and the door tumbled down. It fell to the

ground with a thud. Her shoulder ached from the trauma, but she didn’t care at all.

Raven ran down the hallway, before stopping. She just realized her tracker was still in her arm. Looking down, Raven

could see the faint blue glow of the tracker. Grimacing, Raven knew there was only one thing to do. She walked

towards an empty operation room (not before checking if there were any cameras) and searched for the tool she needed.

She saw a gun and slipped it into her pocket, knowing it might come in handy. She finally found what she needed and

picked it up. There in her hand, lay the Laserium.

Shakily, she placed the Laserium on top of her wrist. She knew this was going to hurt a lot, so she jabbed a syringe

filled with painkillers hoping it would ease the pain. Before she changed her mind, she pressed the button. A green laser

beam shot out and sliced through her skin, revealing her flesh and tracker underneath. She bit her tongue hard, muffling

her scream. Even with painkillers, the pain was still there. She stuffed the Laserium into her back pocket. Feeling

slightly better, Raven pulled the tracker out and threw it across the hallway, smashing into the wall. She stood up and

made her way to the exit.

But she was quickly stopped. A scientist stepped out of nowhere. Raven watched as the scientist quickly realised who

she was.

“Raven, what’s going on? What do you think you’re doing?” the scientist demanded. Raven didn’t answer, but instead,

pulled out the stolen gun, aiming it towards the scientist’s chest.

“I think I’m leaving.” She said sarcastically and pulled the trigger before she changed her mind. The bullet slammed

into the scientist’s stomach. Blood blossomed as he fell back, not moving. Raven flinched, knowing it was wrong to kill

someone. She has killed someone before, but it was still wrong. But she forced the thought out of her mind. They hurt

you. They’re the enemy. She thought to herself.

She picked up the scientist’s lab coat, remembering her shape shifting ability. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes

and concentrated. She felt the change ripple through her; she felt a light tugging in her gut. When she opened her eyes,

she was the scientist. Straightening her posture, she approached the doorways. “Good day, Dr Lerange. Where are you

going?” one of the guards asked.

“You know, to get a fresh breath of air, the patients are really tough these days.” Raven responded, hoping they

wouldn’t see through her lies. They nodded as they unlocked the door for her. She stepped out into the garden, feeling

triumphant.

Now, she had to change disguises. She pulled out a bracelet her best friend Semira made for her and focused. When

Raven opened her eyes, she was Semira. Raven chose to change into her because she was an Aberration. They were

experiments that went wrong. They were allowed more freedom: to go out into the garden that surrounded the prison.

She began to walk towards the edge of the garden. She trudged for a long time, before noticing something was wrong.

The garden seemed as if stretched on forever. She felt a sense of hopelessness rush over head. It was too late to turn

back now. She had sealed her fate.

***


24

Raven paused, catching her breath. Then, something caught her eye. She blinked again, not sure what she saw. But there

it was again! Then, it clicked. It was just an illusion, a hologram! Stupid! She thought. There was something off about

the landscape: it was too vivid, too fake. Looking closer, she could see the pixels, the waver in the air just above the

trees. No wonder no one could escape, they never found the exit! Thought Raven, but now, she had. Excitement flooded

through her veins, and adrenaline spilled into her body.

Now she had to deactivate the illusion. Raven looked around and it suddenly clicked. She walked up to a tree and

placed her hand on the trunk. That section slid up, revealing a touch-screen keypad. Raven’s eyes skimmed over the

numbers. She knew she couldn’t figure out the code in time, so there was only one choice: to disable it.

She carefully wrenched off the glass covering of the panel, leaving just the number pads. She aimed the Laserium

towards the middle. The beam sliced through the keypad, then fell apart, revealing the wires underneath. Raven saw

wires of all colours: red, yellow and green. Pulling the green wire, she tied them in a knot around the red wires, but not

before stripping the protective covering off. The electric current crossed; then burnt out with a small flame. The

hologram shimmered, the fake grassland and trees flashed. Raven watched in awe as the hexagonal pixels flickered,

before falling away. The grassland disappeared, revealing a gate and a large rocky road that stretched out towards

civilization.

But her excitement was short lived. In the distance, loud alarms started blaring. Raven froze, heart pounding. They

knew she escaped. Now, it was a race against time.

“Stop right there!” yelled a guard. Raven hesitated, and then sprang forwards; there was no time to lose. She felt a bullet

whip through her thigh, drawing blood. But Raven didn’t have time to feel the pain. Her mind was focused on one thing:

Run.

Suddenly, Raven felt a horrible feeling in her gut, her instincts screamed for her to dive out of the way. But it was too

late. The bullet embedded into her chest, burying into her lungs. The air was blasted out of her, pain exploding in her

chest. Raven fell down, choking on her own blood that was bubbling up her throat. The pain was unbearable, to the

point of being numbing. She knew she wasn’t going to make it: the bullet lodged in her lungs was specially designed to

show no mercy. They were spiked, bullets, ensuring no one could live. Sounds were slowly fading; all she could hear

was her own shallow breathing and the fading beat from her heart. Raven was dying, but she felt proud of herself. At

least I tried. She thought. At least I succeeded, in a way. The last thing Raven saw before she gave up to the darkness

was the pale colours of the dusk sky.

The Mudskipper

Emilie Parlett F1B

Leaping up and down,

The mudskipper’s body trembles,

A mob of them,

Swim rapidly by,

Leaving a churn of waves,

Lingering.

Prospecting for quarry,

Unbelievably hard to find,

They fluttered,

Out of view.


25

Artwork by Celia Yeung F1B


26

Artwork by Camille Do F3B


27


28

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