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Tales from Trinity

Tales from Trinity

Jay Haughton Publishing

2017

STORIES AND POEMS

The tales of Trinity© 2017 Anderson Nana Kouemo

All I really love is… © 2017 Noemi Poggi

Astronaut © 2017 Saul McCormack

Athlete © 2017 Ghiles Bouaraba

Beat you © 2017 Sehrish Ahmad

The curse of the clown © 2017 Joel Bishton

The dangerous dog © 2017 Towobola Adesanya

The dark © 2017 Isla Brennan

The dark & unknown room © 2017 Abdul Mughees

Demons vs assassins © 2017 Isla Brennan

The end of the world © 2017 Ghiles Bouaraba

The fight © 2017 Ghiles Bouaraba

Food for fought © 2017 Anderson Nana Kouemo

Golden sands © 2017 Omolola Ayodeji

Gun shot © 2017 Grace West

I love you to death © 2017 Isla Brennan

Lost © 2017 Éowyn Berry

Love © 2017 Jia Huang

The man © 2017 Matthew Goldsmith

One element © 2017 Éowyn Berry

Perfect planet © 2017 Joel Bishton

The perfection of isolation © 2017 Larry F. Little

Perseverance © 2017 Jia Huang

Prologue © 2017 Lois Alatt

Red © 2017 Isla Brennan

The replacement © 2017 Isla Brennan

Rosie’s adventure © 2017 Rosie Burke

Snake © 2017 Ghiles Bouaraba

The snakes revenge © 2017 Sehrish Ahmad

The story about Mr McCoy & Mr Ramsden © 2017 Lois Alatt

The tiger & the hunter © 2017 Isla Brennan

Twosome tight © 2017 Elena Walker

Untitled: LS © 2017 Luana Soares

Untitled: RC © 2017 Rosa Colyer

A wall © 2017 Suunga Mungwala

Warrior © 2017 Nathanael Priebbenow

What next? © 2017 Jia Huang

Why I call me green © 2017 Haya Genawi

The winter horror © 2017 Nathanael Priebbenow

Words © 2017 Isla Brennan

ILLUSTRATIONS

© 2017 Winston Ado-Kofie Page 63

© 2017 Michael Ashade Pages 9, 14, 19, 36 & 71

© 2017 Éowyn Berry Page 55

© 2017 Rosie Burke Page 37

© 2017 Abena Dadzie Pages 83 & 84

© 2017 Aryan Jayara Page 74

© 2017 Pearl Rouse Pages 10, 24, 80, 86 & 97

© 2017 Grace West Pages 59, 105 & cover

This Book was written, proofread, edited and illustrated by students of

Trinity Church Of England High School.

Cover design © 2017 Trinity CofE High School

School logo used by permission of rights holder

The individual artists assert the moral right

to be identified as the authors of their work.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used

in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents

are the products of the author’s imagination and are used in a fictitious manner. Any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

First Printing: 2017

ISBN 978-0-244-63372-1

Published by Jay Haughton Publishing

[email protected]

ix

Contents

Contents ................................................................................ ix

Acknowledgements ................................................................ xi

Foreword .............................................................................. xv

The Tales Of Trinity ................................................................. 1

All I Really Love Is… ................................................................. 2

Astronaut ................................................................................ 5

Atlelete ................................................................................... 7

Beat You ................................................................................. 8

The Curse of the Clown.......................................................... 11

The Dangerous Dog ............................................................... 16

The Dark ............................................................................... 18

The Dark & Unknown Room .................................................. 20

Demons vs Assassins ............................................................. 25

The End Of The World ........................................................... 27

The Fight ............................................................................... 30

Food For Fought .................................................................... 31

Golden Sands ........................................................................ 33

Gun Shot ............................................................................... 36

I Love You To Death............................................................... 38

Lost ....................................................................................... 41

Love ...................................................................................... 44

The Man ............................................................................... 45

One Element ......................................................................... 48

Perfect Planet ....................................................................... 53

The Perfection of Isolation .................................................... 56

Perseverance ........................................................................ 60

Prologue ............................................................................... 61

Red ....................................................................................... 64

The Replacement .................................................................. 67

Rosie’s Adventure ................................................................. 70

Snake.................................................................................... 72

The Snakes Revenge.............................................................. 73

The Story About Mr McCoy & Mr Ramsden ........................... 76

The Tiger & The Hunter ......................................................... 79

Twosome Tight ..................................................................... 82

Untitled: LS ........................................................................... 83

Untitled: RC .......................................................................... 85

A Wall ................................................................................... 88

Warrior ................................................................................. 92

What Next? .......................................................................... 95

Why I Call Me Green ............................................................. 96

The Winter Horror ................................................................ 98

Words ................................................................................. 104

The teachers bit!

The grande plan

Back in July 2016 I was on a high, students at school were reading

my first novel ‘Happy As Larry’ and I was feeling very special indeed.

Kids would come up to me and ask me about my book, and I got so

much pleasure from their interest. It then occurred to me that I had an

amazing opportunity to give the children the same feeling I got when I

saw my book on the shelf in my local library. I had a few discussions

with Luke Richardson and we set in motion the schools new writing

workshop & whole school writing competitions, with the aim of using

our year 7 arts week as an opportunity to put the final book together.

At first the task seemed impossibly grande, but as you are holding

the finished product in your hands you can see we, they (the students)

accomplished it.

This book could not have been made without the amazing efforts

of the students, Luke Richardson & Gareth Shore.

My thanks to them all, and I look forward to Volume 2 next year!

Mr J Haughton

July 2017

Activities Week

Working with the talented students who helped to put this book

together reminds me of the moment when Dorothy pulls back the

curtain to reveal the reality behind the sorcery of the 'great and

powerful' Wizard of Oz. A book is indeed a magical thing, but the

students behind 'Tales From Trinity' got to create - not just experience

- that wonder, not with smoke and mirrors, but through the nuts and

bolts of 'behind the scenes' work like writing the blurb, designing the

cover, illustrating and good old editing. The unmasking of the Wizard

of Oz was a moment of disappointment for Dorothy, but for the Trinity

students who share the honour of shaping this book, seeing behind the

curtain helped them appreciate the magic all the more.

Mr G Shore

July 2017

The ‘We Write Workshop’

So much good stuff begins with writing. Think of the things you

like to read, watch, listen to and play. Books and magazines, television

series, music, journalism, computer games, theatre, stand-up comedy –

at the root of all these things, there is a writer (or writers) with an idea,

making marks on a page.

You could be inclined, as I am, to think of there being two groups

of people: Producers and Consumers. Many people are both, of course,

and that’s probably the healthiest way to be. But consuming on its own

is a passive act, a dependent one -- dependent on the Producers, who

are creating, giving life to ideas and causing ripples out there in the

world.

The participants in the We Write Workshop, and many other

Trinity students, lots of whom have submitted work to the writing

competitions we have run this year, are Producers. By writing stories

and poems and sharing them, they can enlighten, entertain and divert.

They might conjure images, clarify thoughts, change minds, spawn

ideas, even form new neural pathways, and not just in themselves but

in the minds of everyone who reads them. That’s amazing. In fact, I'm

convinced that writing is one of the most exciting opportunities you're

ever likely to have, and it's open to all of us, all the time.

The We Write Workshop meets once a week after school on a

Wednesday. If you fancy having a go at writing, and also like the idea

of seeing your work in print in a volume like the one you are holding

right now, come along and have a go. You'll find a quiet space where

you can get your thoughts in order or let your imagination run wild.

You can write whatever you like. You can choose to share it with the

group or not, ask for feedback or not. Even if you find it difficult, you

will be exercising mind-muscles that will stand you in good stead for

all sorts of heavy lifting in the future. There's really nothing to lose. We

hope to see you there.

Mr L Richardson

July 2017

xv

Foreword

I am extremely pleased to be asked to write a foreword to this

collection of short stories written by boys and girls from Trinity Church

of England High School, Manchester.

The stories you are about to read cover a wide range of children's

experiences and talents; real life, imaginary, happy, sad, creative and

stimulating. The eagerness of the students to become involved and to

write is not only a tribute to their interest and enthusiasm, but also to

the way they have been encouraged by their families, friends and staff

through the strong reading culture so apparent at Trinity and the work

of two key members of staff, Mr Richardson and Mr Haughton.

However, the key people are the writers themselves and the stories

which follow will, in various degrees, make you laugh and cry, feel

uplifted and fascinated. In all instances, they prove the power of the

pen or, more appropriately in the twenty first century, the power of the

word processor. Enjoy and appreciate these marvellous stories; I know

that I have. Happy reading!

David S Ainsworth

Head

TALES FROM TRINITY

1

The Tales Of Trinity

Anderson Nana Kouemo

Activities Week Entry

Tales of Trinity is filled with mysteries,

Magic, ghosts and crime stories.

Would you love to read an intriguing diary?

You don’t have to pay, it’s absolutely free.

Well, this Trinity book is extraordinary!

A poem perhaps talking about the afterlife,

Other tales full of trouble and strife.

Imagine reading about the end of the world,

Marvel as each tale unfurls.

The students were concentrated,

Making sure the writing was illustrated.

Stories full of excitement and fun,

Tales of Trinity is number 1!

TALES FROM TRINITY

2

All I Really Love Is…

Noemi Poggi

We Write Workshop

There I was, sitting in that same chair, in that same classroom,

teaching some kids about algebra. I really enjoy teaching (especially

algebra) and it was the thing I wanted to do the most. But then it hit

me! I didn’t want to teach anymore. I wanted to do something I really

enjoyed doing, but the problem was that I didn’t know what I really

enjoyed doing. I’ve sat in that same old chair in that same old classroom

for 16 years now. I wanted to make a change and do something different

with my life. I wanted my work to feel like it wasn’t work. I wanted to

enjoy these future years of my life. So, I decided to quit my current job

as a teacher; however, I didn’t want to quit until I decided what the

career of my dreams was going to be!

But I couldn’t do that on my own, so, I decided to make one of my

lessons useful for both, the pupils and me! I was going to organise a

career day to give myself some ideas of what I wanted to do. I went

over to the head teacher’s office to tell her about my idea, and guess

TALES FROM TRINITY

3

what? She completely loved the idea! She even volunteered to print out

the letters for the whole school! How cool is that? Anyway, all the

letters were handed out to the children and they were all super excited:

they wanted all their parents to come. As the days passed and all the

years had their career lesson, I got loads of ideas!

Hairdressing

Cop

Lawyer

Doctor

Actress

Spa Employee

Bartender

Fireman

If I must say, fighting crime didn’t sound like the job for me, but,

I would sure like being a hairdresser and I know that Blue Highlights

are looking for someone that has had experience and I did do

hairdressing in college, so why not give it a go? I will go for an

interview and see if it will work out good.

“Hello, Blue Highlights? This is Lucy and I would like an…”

TALES FROM TRINITY

4

“I know what you want! You want to book an appointment, don’t

you?”

“No, actually I wanted an interview for the job. I have the

experience required but I am not as skilled as you or your employees!”

“Okay Lucy, come to me at 10:00am sharp tomorrow!

Unfortunately?”

The next morning, I went to the shop and we talked for about 30

minutes and then I left anxiously. I really hoped that I had got my dream

job!

The next day, the phone rang continuously. But the fifth time it did

ring, it was Mary –the hairdresser- giving me some amazing news. I

got the job! I started Monday at 9:00am sharp. I was so happy about

this that I just wanted to start straight away! I always helped others find

happiness but, finally I’ve helped myself find my own happiness!

TALES FROM TRINITY

5

Astronaut

Saul McCormack


Being an astronaut;

Isn’t a nice thought?

Fighting a hostile alien race,

Lost in the middle of deep dark space;

From inside their throats come a hideous roar,

And their spaceships? Well, their bigger than yours;

Their faces covered in tentacles like squids,

And they’ll smash you to bits as if you were just a kid;

So you might have thought it’s exciting in space,

Floating freely with no one in your face;

TALES FROM TRINITY

6

But if you’re not careful while your zooming around,

There’s a very good chance you’ll go out of bounds;

And once that happens there’s no going back,

You float into a cold, dark world of pitch black.

TALES FROM TRINITY

7

Atlelete

Ghiles Bouaraba


Marathon runnin’

Medal winnin’

Cycle sprintin’

High jumpin’

Still a human bein’

Fast runnin’

More comin’

Runnin’ fast

Doin’ laps

Celebratin’

Athlete!

TALES FROM TRINITY

8

Beat You

Sehrish Ahmad


My name is Jaqlieyn, but I don’t like that name which is why I

prefer to be called Jack even though it’s a boy’s name, I don’t care. You

see, here is this problem; the most popular girl in the schools called

Emily. She is the fastest girl in the school whereas but I am a bit slower.

You are probably wondering how is this relevant to my story? Well you

see, there is a school run for charity and Emily always wins. I never

entered because I didn’t want to lose.

A day went by and I am not happy as all my friends are saying that

I should join the school run this year. Should I join, I don’t know.

Running is the only thing I am good at in life.

Many days have passed and every night, I lay in bed thinking I

should sign up for the school run and then I decide that I should even

though the race will be held tomorrow and I am extremely nervous. I

really want to win the race and beat Emily, it would mean more than

anything in the world.

TALES FROM TRINITY

9

To participate in the school library, I had to go to the school library.

You’re not the only thinking why I must go to the school library to sign

up for a school charity race, it’s just really odd and weird. Anyway, the

teacher I have to ask to compete in the race is Mr Pringles and I know,

it’s odd having an annoying teacher named after mine and your

favourite brand of crisps.

TALES FROM TRINITY

10

Oh no, it’s nearly time for the race to start! I am so nervous, I don’t

what to eat or drink, maybe I should get something from the vile school

canteen. Only 15 minutes till the race!

I want to win the race so badly but I am shaking. All I ever want

to do is win the race and Emily’s right next to me. As the gun went off,

everybody ran as fast they could. Yes, I did follow but because I wanted

to win so badly. I ran as fast as a cheetah zooming pasts cones and lamp

posts an achieved first place. I won! I beat Emily! My dream has come

true!

Emily did look quite

frustrated as she came in at

second place but I don’t

care. I received atrophy

from Mr Pringles however

he did look quite weird.

Now, I just must wait till

next year!

TALES FROM TRINITY

11

The Curse of the Clown

Joel Bishton

2016-17 Scary Story Competition - Winner

I’m going to tell you a true story.

In 1542, when Henty VIII’s wife was Catherine Howard (though

her reign was about to come to a messy end) his court jester was a man

called Will Sommers. Will was the bearer of bad news in Henry’s court.

Usually, when anyone else came to Henry with bad news, he’d have

them executed. But will had a quick, sharp tongue and so he could

break the bad news without an undertaker. Will was a star, a high rising

star. But the higher you are, the more painful your death.

It turns out there was one bit of news that Will couldn’t break to

his superior without an executioner’s axe. The news was that Catherine

Howard was having affairs with other men. Henry got so annoyed by

this that he exiled Will from court and ordered that he be thrown into

the Tower of London until he was executed.

The day of his execution was 15 June 1542. A large crowd of

onlookers had gathered on Tower Freen over which the Tower of

TALES FROM TRINITY

12

London overshadowed. Too soon to be dead man was walking to the

executioner’s gleaming blade. It was customary for the person about to

die to make a speech before bowing to Death. He stood up and made

the following speech:

“I curse the building before me,

And I curse you!

You will feel the wrath of the blade that I shall soon feel on my

neck,

And then join me,

To haunt the building that stands before you!

And, on every anniversary eve, we shall drag another into the death

we feel!

This is my curse and heeds it well,

Or your descendants will feel my wrath!

Fire shall raze, Earth Shall crumble,

And heads will roll!!!”

And with that he lay down on the wood and accepted Death. As

the axe fell, a sudden breeze swept through bone. And their heads rolled

slowly across Tower Green.

TALES FROM TRINITY

13

On that fateful day, exactly 474 years since Will Sommers felt the

executioners blade, I was off to visit the Tower of London alone. I told

my mum I wasn’t a baby and then I could go to the Tower of London

(which was less than 15 minutes away) without supervision. Now I look

back from a more perspective point of view I can see this was stupid

and that that was the last time I saw my mother again.

By the time I got there, it was early evening, so I just managed to

get into the last group to go in. It was mainly made up of American

tourists who couldn’t see past the lenses of their cameras. We got all

the way to Traitor’s Gate before I found the trip so mundane that I had

to wander off.

I ended up in what looked like a Tudor corridor. It visibly was the

sort of passage that people who were going to have their heads chopped

off would use to get to their doom. This thought fitted in, unwelcome,

like a bird, made a small nest before flying on. Then I heard heavy

footsteps coming towards me. I turned, expecting to see some sort of

official, and froze.

TALES FROM TRINITY

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TALES FROM TRINITY

15

Instead of the official I had been expecting, I saw two Tudor guards

hauling a prisoner to the opening leading out to Tower Green. Then, as

he passed he solidified. There were two of them, one being dragged

away and the other standing beside me. He smiled friendly at me and

said in a smooth voice “Do you heed my curse?”. I wanted to run away

but my feet wouldn’t move. I automatically whispered “No”. His smile

grew less friendly. He said, in a voice that was getting croakier by the

second, “What did you say?”

“No I shouted at him. He smiled like a shark and said in a voice

that sounded like his throat had been cut all the way through,” Oh, what

a shame”. Then he touched me. I felt something nibble at my throat for

a second and then it was gone.

He took me by the hand and told me everything I’ve told you as he

led me out onto the balcony. We stood together as dead as things as fire

razed, earth crumbled and heads rolled. And it was my fault.

TALES FROM TRINITY

16

The Dangerous Dog

Towobola Adesanya

500 Words Short Story Entry

This story is about to get hot. Warning: it will scare you to death.

The last time anyone stepped into this forest was a hundred years

ago, but today it is going to change…

There were three friends called Diva, Clumsy and Roberta. They

had known each other for 4 years. Diva, Clumsy and Roberta’s real

names were Daniela, Cole and Daisy-Lee. They weren’t always a three;

they had a fourth member called Liv. She was always the boss of the

group, but one day she mysteriously went missing at a Jewish camp {as

you all know, this was the time Jews got put in a nasty camp}. It was

weird how she just went missing. The police have been looking for her

for 3 years (2007 to 2010). I kind of think that it was the camps fault

that she ran away. I will tell you why it all happened.

One day Liv went to the phone box to go and call her grandma

when a black dog appeared. She didn’t like dogs but this one was so

cute that she had to take him with her {she didn’t know that the dog

TALES FROM TRINITY

17

was on a mission to lead her to the black forest}. She just kept following

the dog; she had never been to the forest before so she thought it would

be an adventure to go into it. Not knowing where it would lead her.

Later, while she was walking, she heard a sound coming from the back

of her. She was so scared, that she just ran into the deepest, scariest part

of the forest. She didn’t know that someone was waiting for her at the

end of the forest. Later that day, she saw the dog but instead of picking

the dog up, she left the dog because she knew the dog was on a mission

to bring her to his boss. Therefore, she just ran, not knowing that the

boss had set a trap for her. She felt that something was happening but

couldn’t understand what. While she ran, she got trapped in one of the

many traps that the boss had set up. Since that day, no one had ever

walked through the forest. Till this day, no one has found the body of

Liv.

To be continued…

TALES FROM TRINITY

18

The Dark

Isla Brennan

2016-17 Scary Story Competition - Third place

1 by 1 the lights go out

But slowly all I hear are the silent sounds of the night

Tick tock, tick tock,

Am I sure that is the clock?

Boom boom.

Goes my heart,

Adrenaline and blood pumping through my viens.

But wait,

What is that creaking noise?

Who is that face in the window?

Who just opened the door?

It’s him,

The man who follows me in my nightmares.

His teeth, his eyes,

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Gleaming in the moonlight.

So, bright so dark

His face is so pale,

His eyes like endless Coal-black tunnels

His hands with bright red…

BLOOD!!!

I’m in my room,

How did I get here?

It was a dream,

Oh no,

1 by 1 the lights go out!!!

TALES FROM TRINITY

20

The Dark & Unknown Room

Abdul Mugees

2016-17 Scary Story Competition - Notable entry

Somewhere in North America, near the jewel-blue stream of the

Pacific Ocean, stood on a colossal mansion. Zack, who was 13 years

old, lived with his father named Mr Richardson, who was extremely

wealthy. His dad’s occupational hazard meant that, both have to travel

several times; they lived in new houses every so often. However, there

was something unnerving about their new house and what they didn’t

know yet was that, they were going to take a turn for the worst, as it

will all start from the dark room.

On one ordinary, seeming weekend, when Zack and his father were

having some quality time, a sudden buzzing sound from Mr

Richardson’s phone interrupted them. As he picked up the phone and

answered it, a glimmer of light caught Zack’s eye. At first it was just a

beam of light, but suddenly more lights came on at once and a body

less face stared out. As he ran up to the window to see, he was shocked!

He saw his father’s workshop with the lights on, but, strangely there

TALES FROM TRINITY

21

was not meant to be any living soul stirring around the area. His father

came running up to him, panting as he said “we need to hurry, I need

to go to the workshop for something important! But aren’t there people

already there, because the lights are on” exclaimed Zack however, the

answer he got was “there isn’t supposed to be anyone there!” This sent

a never-ending shiver down his spine.

So, from that very moment, both of them, hurriedly, got to the

workshop in desperation, hoping nothing had gone wrong. After that,

when facing the warehouse, they took a sign of relief, thinking that

everything was okay. As they got in, Zack was attracted by a variety of

technology and equipment. He just couldn’t help put a close to looking

at them or using them. For him, it was a phenomenal paradise to be in,

but then, right as he was in peace, he felt it. He turned his head and

opened his eyes. He saw something, like the gate to the devil himself.

It was a decimated door. Full of deep, dark cracks. Also in every

corner, it was held by robust vines, hung upon the door by metal nails.

Out of each of the cracks, lay grime that dotted the surface of them.

Small, grotesque insects nestled into each of them for generations. The

TALES FROM TRINITY

22

smile that was laying upon Zack’s face had now concluded. A face full

of curiosity on Zack’s face had arrived.

He decided to enter it. So, when his father wasn’t looking he began

to take slow and careful steps up to the door. When coming face to face

with his destination, he took his fragile hand and, as the drops of his

filthy sweat fell, he put his hand on the circular handle and after his last

deep breaths. He twisted it.

In the interior, everything was blacked out, he couldn’t see

anything. Well, not anything, right in the far end of the room, laying in

the corner, was a sacred candle. It looked like a blazing, ball of light

extending until the very depths of the room. Every drop of earwax fell

to the floor and with each of them, the fear with Zack rose.

All that went through his mind was the word ‘alone’. Well, not

exactly as now, from what he thought, was a man? From Top to Bottom

it was dressed in pitch-black as he swiftly then fled across the room and

Zack followed him. Suddenly, somehow the man drifted through the

brick-hard wall with ease; when Zack tried, he banged his head on the

wall! All that was to be seen was a poor boy lying on the ground,

rocking side to side in pain and agony. And the wall was splattered with

TALES FROM TRINITY

23

cherry-red, oozing blood. It was as taunting as the blood clinging to his

face. The boy stood up and thought to himself ‘I can’t bear to stay here

anymore’ so he wiped the blood off his face and ran out of the door, to

go home. But little did he know, on that very night, when Zack was fast

asleep, letting him take himself away in his wonderful imagination, it

all began.

Starting from midnight, the time when witches roam, vampires

lurk and monsters assassinate. Zack was woken up from the howling

wind, briskly moving the window back and forth. Until it stopped and

the spine-chilling part, commenced.

His name was weirdly being called out many times. So, he stood

up, and with all the courage he had ever been known for, he went out

into the corridor to check. At first, everything was normal but, as he

was about to go back, he saw the sight of a severed head stumbling

down a flight of stairs! Then the lights went on and off many times,

revealing unnatural, spiders, the size of bears! It was just like; the dead

was arising from the very ground. But little did he know that this was

all just the start. So, after drying the weepy tears off his face, Zack ran

back to his bedroom, but then stopped and stared at something in awe.

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24

Something that had started all of this. The candle! In an instant, it all

changed, Zack woke up, horrified. He then checked the stairs and his

body, was relieved to discover, that this was all, just a dream! Well

that’s what he thought it was, or was it…?

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Demons vs Assassins

Isla Brennan


The target walks down the street. Absently minded chatting on his

phone. He should look where he’s going; they make it so easy for my

people. One swift movement and his life would be over, one tug of a

rope. You may think me to be a terrible person but if you knew how

much of my people that one person killed. He is not what he seems he

is a demon who has forgotten. Forgotten his life as a demon, forgotten

who he is. It is my job to kill them before they remember. I am an

assassin.

The word ‘Assassin’ is old, almost as old as the war between

demons and assassin but the tale is known to all who remembers. It all

started when the sun was new and the stars were so close you could

bring it as a gift to your loved ones. The demon king and the assassin

queen fell in love a love so deep and so true that the tress stood still and

never stopped. The Demon king was not faithful, not true his heart was

with our queen but his eye wandered far. The queen was outraged and

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26

in a fit of anger killed the king’s son but our queen was smart, careful

she made it look like a hunting accident. The king fell into a web of

depression but this pleased our queen. Rumours of the queen playing a

part in the prince’s death spread through the kingdoms like wildfire.

When word reached the king, he had the queen quartered publicly.

This is how the war between us started and it will not end until one

is dead. It is my job to make that this is the demons. I tug my rope. The

demon was dead before he hit the ground. You wonder how he could

forget. The queen had made a curse on the demons from the age of 21

and 42 the demons will become what they cannot. They become

humans. Killing them like this is easy child’s play but a demon is much

harder. Their skin is as thick as a rhino hide, their breath can knock a

grown man out, their eyes are bright red they can blind everything and

anything they look at. Now you see why their treachery must be

stopped, their tyranny put to an end. I now must run before night turns

into day. But remember soon you shall forget us and when you do, you

shall end.

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27

The End Of The World

Ghiles Bouaraba


As I was sitting in class, the teacher kept going on about, wait,

what was she going on about again? Oh well. Who cares? Anyway.

Somebody unexpectedly shouted ‘aliens!’ He also got into trouble for

that. I didn’t believe him of course; what kind of idiot would believe

that? But when I looked out of the window, sure enough, there was

some kind of weird creature outside. I couldn’t just sit there, of course.

So I asked the teacher if I could go to the toilet. She said yes, if only

she knew.

I snuck outside the class and into the playground, making sure to

stay out of the creature’s sight. Then, all of a sudden, it turned towards

me. I froze. There a million things bouncing around my head. Such as:

what was it? What would it do to me? Would I die? With all of these

things on my mind, I just legged it. It started to chase me. However, I

noted that is does not have legs. It flies. Miraculously, information

started to run to my head. I immediately knew everything I needed to

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know: what it was, how to defeat it, and what damage it would cause.

Then I knew what I had to do.

The chase was on. I didn’t know where I was going. I was just

running. In fact, it was a miracle that I

was alive! Let alone my head still on his neck. And me knowing

my own name. Anyway. The creature shot something at me. A skull? I

jumped out the way. Because of all the smoke that was created by the

shot, I decided to dive for cover into a dark, back, alley. In the back

alley, there were a bunch of thugs in there. And boy, did they look

vicious...

One of the thugs immediately walked up to him and grabbed him

by the collar. Then he pushed me over. They then started to punch me.

That was it. As I saw one of the punches coming, I rolled out of the

way and on to my knees. I checked behind me, to make sure that there

weren’t any more of them. There weren’t. I stood up. One of them tried

to kick him. I moved out of the way and caught his leg. Then I threw

him into the others. Easy. Then I ran out of the alley, not realising that

the creature was still there, it was waiting for him. I now knew I would

have to step it up and fight it.

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The gemstone

As he ran, something caught my eye. I stopped briefly to pick it

up. It was an orange gemstone. I suddenly had a brainstorm. I held up

the stone to the creature. It hissed at me then flew off. It never came

back again.

The End.

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The Fight

Ghiles Bouaraba


There I was, in terrible pain as I continued the fight. He pulled out

his most deadly weapon, trumps. I kept shouting at him but… Huh!!!!

What did he just do? He slapped me! Now he floored me. I am keeping

my anger from screaming at his SOUL. Now he has really asked for it.

He just swore! Now he has thrown them at me! I slap him back. He

swore again. He really is begging to be killed! My hand has an urge to

slap him again, but I stop myself, luckily. I retreat to my room as he

screams like a caveman running at a bomb to try to stop it, which in

reality would be a very stupid thing to do. I came up with a plan to call

for backup. I call my husband. He walked in and let him have it. While

that was happening, I snuck up behind him and made him eat his

sprouts. If you have not guessed already, the mum was fighting her son

to get him to eat his Brussel sprouts.

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Food For Fought

Anderson Nana Kouemo


I was alone on the battlefield. I held my weapons in my hands. Aliens,

aliens, there were everywhere. Different shapes, sizes and colour, they

attacked like rainbow. They had everything like an army: generals,

soldiers, guards and a captain. The creator started this war, she was my

evil relative and she gave me no other option but to fight. The generals

were orange like a sunset with their green long hair that swayed down

like a horse’s tail. The captain was as stout as a tree and had a big afro

as green as grass. The soldiers swarmed towards me as yellow as

mustard, like golden teeth.

I used my weapons - my trident and sword - to fight back. I speared,

stabbed and sliced them ALL in one go, and then I carried them to my

crocodile-like smasher. Ignoring their cries of pain, I crunched them up

with no mercy! After that, a toilet-like tsunami finished them up, and

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32

they all slid down the dark tunnel, never to be seen again (well, not for

a few hours anyway) .

The creator’s dark spirits dissolved like ink, she became exultant again!

To show she was sorry for putting me through this ordeal, she offered

me a coin-coloured award. My mission was successful. I had emerged

victorious!

I looked down on the empty battlefield with satisfaction – there were

no survivors. My plate was empty; I had earned my donut reward. It

tasted as sweet as victory.

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Golden Sands

Omolola Ayodeji

2016-17 Poetry Competition - Second place

I run,

Baby in arms,

Down people packed streets,

On a mission to be free

From this City of Guns.

I’m a refugee

On I dash. I stare. Look back.

No. I should go on.

Facing us – the Life or Death challenge

Of the sea.

I’m a refugee

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Waves crash towards us.

I lose grasp of my daughter;

She floats away.

I watch her disappear, helpless.

She is gone.

Gone forever.

I’m a refugee.

As if thrown by a huge gust of wind,

I find myself strewn in a heap on the sand

Of a foreign land.

I’m a refugee.

I walk on with feet that sink in sand

Heavy like my heart

I cannot risk anything;

One life lost already;

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I cannot afford to lose another

I’m a refugee

After endless hours stooping through darkness,

A light glimmers in the distance like welcoming arms.

This is my home now.

I’m a refugee

And proud to be.

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Gun Shot

Grace West


I ran for my life

Scared of what would happen next

As soon as I heard it

I was out of there

The whole herd was running

At the sound of their guns

Bang, bang, bang

Bullets flying through the air

There were four of them

Eleven of us

Man is destructive

We were easily out numbered

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We didn’t all survive

That evil ivory hunt

They rounded a herd of eleven

All the way down to eight

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I Love You To Death

Isla Brennan

We Write Workshop

Have you ever met someone, at the wrong place, at the wrong time

and it felt, right? That’s how it felt when I met him, so wrong but so

right? His hair is as black as night, in a messy and handsome, kind of

way. Green eyes, which can pierce your very soul, and at the same time,

melt you like butter on a frying pan. His name was Ryder.

Ryder is one of those boys that your parents tell you to stay away

from. He rides a motorcycle and he leaves a trail of broken hearts with

him whether he goes. I met Ryder at a bowling alley. I turned and

smiled at him and he melted me and but i think that I might have melted

him a bit as well but, I guess I will never know.

We started hanging together and it was magical even now I can

feel his lips upon mine. Whenever I saw him he looked nervous but as

soon as my hand was in his all the other distractions simply

disappeared. He gave me excitement, hope and love.

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39

Soon afterwards, my parents found out. While they were lecturing

me all I could imagine were Ryders green eyes staring into me. Tears

ran down my cheek and I could see them regretting being so harsh. My

Mum had said with a firm voice “Never see Ryder again.” I looked at

my Dad, but he avoided my eyes.

I stayed away from Ryder all week. He stopped by my house a few

times, but no one ever answered. Soon he stopped. I knew that I would

have to tell him soon but I dreaded the moment. I didn’t leave my room

so I pictured Ryder’s lips. His lips were so soft and gentle. I didn’t

know it then, but I know it now, I loved Ryder but did he love me?

The day I decided to break up with him, it rained all day. I saw this

as a warning that today was going to be a dark day. I guess that I was

right. I knew that I had to tell him in person but it would have been

easier to call or text. I owed Ryder to tell him face to face. I told Ryder

to meet me outside the bowling alley. There was hope in his voice and

I was about to take it all away, little did I know that his heart wasn’t the

only thing that I would break.

Tears ran down my face. I told him that it was over between us;

soon I wasn’t the only one crying. The green eyes that had once wooed

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40

me were gone and all I could see was sadness. All that Ryder said to

me was “Okay.” He went on his motorcycle driving away from me.

He didn’t see the truck that swerved; I don’t think that he heard my

scream. Goodbye Ryder. I loved you.

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Lost

Eowyn Berry


Lost. I always got lost. Supermarkets, parks and even in my

siblings’ houses. But this time I couldn’t be found. It started like this,

ten hours before.

I was talking with my friend like a normal teenager and out of the

corner of my eye I saw him: a man, tall, mysterious man. I looked away

and looked back he was gone! Nowhere to be found! I was scared but

I didn’t say anything, thinking it wasn’t real. I should’ve told somebody

at lunch because he was there again. Same place, exactly two hours

later. At this point I was freaked and asked my friend if she thought I

was crazy. Obviously, she said yes in a joking way but I pointed to him

and she couldn’t see him even though I was staring right at him four

hours passed but I saw nothing of this mysterious figure. I started to

think it must be an illusion. I fell asleep only to wake an hour later. I

decided to take a walk through the park, when I arrived at the swings I

sat and rested. I thought about what he might have wanted? Was he

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42

looking at me? Why was he here? Just as I got up a bag was put around

my head and I was picked up. I tried to scream but I had no voice; I

tried to move but I was paralyzed. I was being kidnapped.

Here I am now writing this in a plain white room. I’m writing this

on paper with my blood. I’m being tortured. I don’t know why, but they

keep saying ‘Where is it Who has it’. I don’t know what to do I just

want to die but they keep bandaging me up and keeping me alive. This

time I’ll run. I have to or I’m dead. Two minutes, that’s all I need, just

two minutes of distraction, and I can run I’ve ran. I made it I can hear

shouting and loud footsteps. I’m running down a hall towards the exit.

20 minutes later. I’m in a forest now I keep listening for them or a car.

I’m lost. I keep crying knowing I shouldn’t because they might hear

me. Its night now I’m hiding behind a bush freezing with only a plain

white jumpsuit which more of a light brown now.

Its day, I didn’t sleep much since I could hear twigs cracking. I’m

dying of thirst and hunger and I don’t know what to do except walk

until I’m dead. I feel dizzy. I think I might faint. I fall to the ground,

my eyes barely open. I hear voices; people shouting “over hear”. I try

to speak but my mouth is dry.

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43

I’ve woken up in a hospital. My eyes flutter open and I see my

mum crying and my dad comforting her. I ask what happened and they

say I was lost for 2 weeks and keep asking where I was. I’m so tired

that I cannot answer and decide to tell them later. There is only one

thing that matters to me now.

I’ve been found.

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Love

Jai Huang


Love, so dominant,

It creates an everlasting bond.

Love, the reason for life,

The reason to survive.

But love can inflict pain,

Used as a weapon against those with hearts.

Without love, hatred takes over the world.

Love is wildfire, spreading emotion all over,

Like the sun and rain,

Nourishing hearts.

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The Man

Matthew Goldsmith

2016-17 Scary Story Competition - Notable entry

Josh and Ethan were going camping in the woods. When they set

off in the van, it was clean. ‘Do you think that we’re being followed?’

said Josh.

‘No, why would you say that?’ Ethan said. When they got to the

forest they set up camp. After, they used a big rock to make a blazing

fire. They got out a pan and cooked sausage and beans in it, after they

had eaten they crawled into their tents then got into their sleeping bags.

Then, they slowly fell asleep. After a few hours passed by, Ethan had a

nightmare and needed the toilet. So, he went out in search of one. When

he was outside, he saw a mysterious figure trying to blend in with the

dark. In a flash, he went back into the tent with his heart beating at the

speed of sound. As the minutes passed by, he slowly dosed asleep.

When they got up for breakfast, they created another fire. Josh

asked Ethan ‘Did you call me?’.

‘No’ replied Josh.

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‘Hey, were you outside your tent?’. Later that day, they went for a

hike through the forest, after 10 minutes of walking they saw these

dirty, old, men. ‘Who are you?’ Ethan asked. They replied in a crooked

voice, ‘None of your business’. Then they left. When they smelt a

rancid smell, they knew that those men were up to something.

When they got back to the camp they decided to go home. They

packed everything, got into the van and set off for home. Then a big

tree fell down in front of them, making a loud thump. They crashed.

When they got out the van they saw the stump. It looked like it had

been chopped down and just 30 metres away there were the same men

they saw before. One of them said ‘Where do you think you are going?’

Then one of them came up to us and made a thump sound, then Josh

was on the floor. He had been knocked out. Then, he knocked out

Ethan.

Ethan woke up in a dirty cabin, but the smell was horrendous, it

smelt like rotting meat. Then, he knew where he was, but the worst part

of it was Josh had been killed when one of the men came in. Ethan

quickly got a bit of broken wood and wrenched it in his leg and he ran

out the door and bolted it to the van. He went around the tree and kept

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47

driving until he found the main road. He found a petrol station and

called the police. Only one of the men got away. And even today, Ethan

says he misses Josh.

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48

One Element

Eowyn Berry


New school, new me. That’s what I told myself but no matter how

hard I tried to make friends and ’socialise’ my brain said no. I was

always the shy loner girl in all of my schools but this school was the

weirdest.

My family was always moving due to the fact my dad was in the

Royal Airforce he’s the Commander Jack Morrison and he controls

everyone when I mean everyone I mean to a higher rank than him, other

than the Queen. You would think that would earn me a load of brownie

points in the popular factor, but my dad said I’m not allowed to tell

anyone because then I’d be ‘too popular’. Anyway this school is

strange, my mum said this school would be different, I thought she

meant different because now I’m in year 10 and there’s GCSE’s. But

when I got there my life changed; people shooting frosty icicles from

their hands and building giant mounds of earth, breathing scolding hot

fire and soaring through the air.

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A hand tapped me lightly on the shoulder I turned around to notice

a guy pointing me to a large group of students, who looked new like

me. I strode there confused and scared. They led us all into a giant hall,

a man stood at the other end hands on his hips with a whistle dangling

round his neck. He blew the whistle and a loud ear deafening screech

filled the hall echoing down the corridors. He stepped towards us

gesturing us aside we all stepped aside like a group of penguins.

Suddenly, a platform raised and a few steps folded down. He bellowed

“I am your PE teacher Mr Davidson and here you will show me

your element”

At first I didn’t know what on earth he was saying until I realised

all these other teens could control an element: water, fire, earth or air.

I felt dazed thought this must be a dream I looked around and realised

I was the only one baffled, then a guy whispered to me

“Hi I’m Josh. I guess you don’t know the element world, do you

know what element you control?”

“Um no I-I-I don’t understand?”

“Oh, basically each of us control an element wat-”

“I KNOW THAT BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CONTROL.”

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“O-O-h um you could find out by asking your parents.”

Then we both finally looked up to find out sir was putting us in

order of our surnames I said to Josh

“Well nice meeting you Josh”

“U-U-Uh what’s your surname?”

“Morrison”

“Mine’s Murphy!”

“Oh, nice we’ll be next to each other”

The first kid came up and Mr Davidson said to show your element,

the list went more or less like this: water, earth, air, air, fire, water, earth

and earth. And so on; finally, it was me, I gradually made my way up

the wobble stairs and stood silently like a stone statue until sir said.

“WELL THEN SHOW US YOUR ELEMENT!”

“I-I-I don’t know m-m-mine.”

“Ugh! NEXT!”

It was now Josh’s turn, he strode up with pride and rapidly shot his

hands up and a pillar of obsidian raised him up. I was in awe he slowly

made his way down and back next to me, a bunch of people were staring

and giggling.

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“Why are they laughing you were astonishing!”

“Their laughing because I control earth”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s considered a peace and wimpy element”

“Well I guess water people are stuck-up, fire strong, earth peace

and air smart?”

“That’s about right.”

*Riiiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggg*

“It’s the lunch bell let’s eat”

I was so angry I could feel heat radiating through my body and my

fingers itching.

Next day.

I was walking and then a bunch of stuck-up water brats came

towards me and pushed me telling me to fight back but I refused so they

said you’re just like your earth boyfriend hahahaha.

Right when I got home I took a bath and relaxed in the warm

soothing water my mum came upstairs knocked on the door and said

“Honey how do you work the new TV”

“Push the on button and maybe clear the funnel glass?”

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At that very moment I figured out I’m smart I get angry easily keep

peace and I’m a really good swimmer. Suddenly I started to glow a

burst of radiant red, blue, green and misty grey came out of my hands.

I can control every element.

To be continued…

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Perfect Planet

Joel Bishton

We Write Workshop

A perfect planet. Just imagine that for a moment. A perfect planet

out there somewhere, just beyond our reach. A planet where no evil

exists in any form. Until now. There’s a reason you haven’t found it.

It’s because it can’t exist. It does exist but it can’t. It violates the oldest

rule in the universe: from darkness comes light and light from darkness.

This is a planet that defies that rule and the universe won’t, can’t, be

defied. The scales have tipped and balance must be restored. It’s not

going to be pretty.

I live above them and watch them scurry about like ants. The

patterns they take, obvious to me but invisible to them. They’re ants

below me. When I sleep I lie awake and manipulate them.

Then, one day, it came. The people woke and there was a storm in

the air, a rumbling and a sour taste in the population’s mouth. When it

came, it came from the sky. People gawped and stared in shock and

awe. It came, black as darkness, and never seen before by the citizens.

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It crashed needlessly into the city’s biggest skyscraper, razing it to the

ground, and buried itself into the soft earth. People swarmed the crash

site. I sighed. They swarmed over it, desperate to reach it. The workmen

dug into the surrounding ground creating space to capture their quarry

and bring it to the surface. They managed it and the great monster

squatted unpleasantly in the middle under the previously scraped sky.

Citizens crowded it, touched it, and flew back. But still their curiosity

brought them back. I sighed again and thought about their patterns.

The door slid open, shredding nerves and bursting eardrums, and

out came pure evil. Fingernail like knives and teeth like daggers, they

let out a bloodcurdling roar. People ran, pursued by the beasts, apart

from those who had changed when they touched the ship. They joined

in the chase. A dance of death would soon follow.

They ran and so did the monsters. They relentlessly pursued the

people. I watched as one of them was torn to shreds below me and the

monster moved onto his next victim. I watched as the population was

murdered. Then I watched as the monsters turned on each other in a

fight to the death. When just corpses littered the ground and only the

sound was my breath on the sky, I descended. The ship melted away, I

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55

breathed a sigh of relief. I had almost doubted my plan would work. I

thought about my next move. As the ruler of the universe, it was my

duty to do something. I said to myself, ‘this can never, will never and

has never happened’.

I worked methodically, going back into the planet’s time to wipe

everything before allowing the walls of the universe to crush it. I

relaxed. Universal rule breaking dealt with. Now, time for my cup of

tea.

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The Perfection of Isolation

Larry F. Little

2016-17 Poetry Competition - Third place

As I sit in my room

Dampened with cloud

Gazing out over a pale sky

Darkening

With Nostalgia

I think

Of those long, hot summers,

Blue skies watered down with an Irish glow

And the perfection

Of isolation

I would stare

From that window,

Overlooking those lush fields,

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The dew of which would mingle

With the unique sounds and smells

Of a buoyant blue

Or a mysterious grey sea

Never would the alien have thought

Of the blaring box- now my saviour-

Break free,

Apart from those cold, misty nights,

But even those were dominated by wood smoke,

Or gazing at the mysterious starlit sky

Those milky mornings, cloudless skies,

I would wake but still lie

Contently as the sunlight streamed in

And the morning atmosphere would be harshly broken

By a familiar sharp bark from below

We could walk for miles,

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Lost in vague familiarity,

The shock of a crab claw clasping your eye’s attention

And we’d collect wood for a fire

That seemed to crackle and glow

For eternity

Occasionally, on the busier days,

We’d revisit cracks and potholes

Before the greeting of a garden I felt I knew

We’d scamper excitedly around the back,

The unique smells of tobacco,

Flower and cake- smells which could

Mean just one thing for us

Family and friends

Would fill everyday

Not already crammed with

The joy of nothingness

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The characteristic old farmhouse,

In that sea- salted village,

Still clinging on to the old Ireland,

It is not my home

But it is my childhood.

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Perseverance

Jia Huang


Someday,

A fierce opponent will stand in your way,

Stalking you, haunting you,

Staring you down.

All will face such devastation,

Tragic moments forcing despair.

Everyone will face a daunting mountain,

Down in the foothills, looking up in dread,

But one day, you’ll stand at the peak,

Gazing down at where you once stood.

All those steps you took to overcome,

Have led you up here into the clear air.

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Prologue

Lois Allatt

2016-17 Winter Story Competition - Second Place

I passed out the night before, I was dying. The cold was consuming

me, slowly but surely. The crisp winter nights were like a death trap

nowadays. Especially when you live outdoors. The foxes ran past;

startled by a twig that one fox pup stood on. Their ears pricked up in

danger and they scuttled off into the distance. They were the only

creatures for miles. I pulled my jumper over my legs as I settled behind

a bush to shelter from the strong winds. I looked at my boots; they were

torn on the side from when I caught my foot on a branch whilst I was

running from wolves.

I closed my eyes.

When I woke up my fingers were a tint of blue. Edging towards a

baby blue, I thought. I only had a few fingers left, most of them bitten

off by wolves and foxes, others lost to frostbite. I was about to lose

another…

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The morning sky was difficult to tell from the night. The weather

was persistent. I looked around, looking for a new place to shelter- this

bush wasn’t going to last long and my legs have cramp.

There was a rock further north but I didn’t know how much further.

I don’t have any food so I keep on fainting.

I want to die now.

I fell asleep huddled up in my torn jumper, I dreamt about my

hometown in Poland. The cosy winter evenings we spent layered in

thick blankets that protected us from the harsh outdoors. My mum

drank hot tea mixed with rum; I tried it once, it tasted like gone off

milk. Mum read to me each night as I drifted off into a deep sleep. I

remember waking up with mum rushing out the door. ‘Come quick’

she said in a hushed voice. I could smell burnt toast, I walked outside;

it seemed like a normal day. My mum screamed. I ran towards the

direction of the scream. Ice filled the room. It was cold, freezing cold.

I heard mum scream again, but it didn’t come from the ice pool; it came

from upstairs ‘GET UP HERE NOW’ I heard her again shout. I ran up

and I saw her shove ice down the stairs. It made me drop to the floor.

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I always questioned why she did this. That was the last I saw of

my mum. I was rescued by a mountain rescue team. They asked me

questions but my mind was frozen. I can’t remember what was next;

after all, my mind was frozen.

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Red

Isla Brennan


Red. It was always my favourite colour. I always wore red gowns.

My mother always put little red bows in my blonde curls; she said I

looked like a picture. That was before the accident. The only red I have

now is a worn down red cardigan I found on the floor. I hug it to my

body, feeling it give up against the battle of cold. Since the accident, I

made my own way in life. Hunting for scraps to put meat on my bones.

I remember what I used to look like and then I remember what I

look like now. My eyes seem dull and colourless; my hair may have

once been beautiful but now is not. Skin and bone is all that is here, my

perfect figure has gone and will probably never return. Sometimes I

close my eyes and wish, wish for all the things that death and

destruction stole from me. Then I open my eyes. I barely remember that

day, but from what I remember it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.

I think that I was supposed to die as well. It looked like an accident but

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65

it wasn’t, I know it wasn’t. It all started with that smell, that horrid,

horrid smell.

The authorities said it was a gas leak. That a pipe must have burst.

I knew that it couldn’t have; the car was my father’s pride and joy as if

he wouldn’t notice a burst pipe. That was my first clue. The second was

the man. The man who follows me but I always escape, I hope. His eyes

were black like a sky with no stars. His skin pale like freshly fallen

snow. Not a single hair lies upon his head. His muscles popping out of

his pure black tuxedo. He follows me wherever I go. But I no longer

stand out. This makes escaping him easy.

I was the only one who survived the accident. The first person who

came was the man. I could hear the joy in his voice as he told his

mysterious companions that the Mathews were terminated. As soon as

I heard this I ran away from the crash. I sold my gown and jewellery

for money. I made a living for myself by becoming a factory worker.

Then, the man found me. I took as much as I could carry and ran to the

country.

I stayed in the country for 3 months. Taking small jobs with

famers. I never stayed with any of them for more than a week. Then,

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the man found me again. The last time I ran was the worst. I ran to the

life I am living right now. I work as a chimney sweep. Risking my life

day in and day out for a tiny salary. I was so sick of running. Wondering

if today was the day I died. I went to the place I went without hope and

in despair. I mean a small tree I slept in. It wasn’t much but it was the

closest thing to home I had.

As I count the stars I try to remember their names. My father once

told them to me. As I look up to the sky I wonder why they were killed.

Why I am being endlessly chased back and forth across the country.

The most dominant question upon my mind is will I ever be safe?

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The Replacement

Isla Brennan

We Write Workshop

My eyes were blurry. The bright operating theatre lights blinding

me. My skin cold against the harsh metal table. I was strapped to the

table but I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, I was paralyzed with fear.

Then unconsciousness took me in its grasp.

This won’t make much sense to you know but when I’m finished

it will. At first it was only darkness. Nothingness. Blank. Then I was

born. The air freezing me as I step out of the pod my umbilical cord

kept me trapped. All I knew was I wasn’t real. I was made. Made to

live as a copy. I was a clone.

The people who created me came to me they gave me clothes, food

and a shower. They then told me who I was. “You are agent 152. You

are going to replace the president’s daughter.” I tried to speak but my

lips couldn’t form words. “Don’t try to speak, you get that ability in a

few days,” The woman speaking to me gave me a coy smile it told me

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I was completely under their control “If we want you to.” I was trapped.

I nodded. Knowing this was my only option.

The next few weeks were simple. Learn who to listen to, how to

treat people in the White House and how to speak. By now I could say

most thing but I couldn’t grasp the ‘th’ sound. So similar to the ‘f’

sound but such a difference. It took weeks for me to understand how to

speak. The most frustrating part was knowing what to say but not how

to. Soon after weeks and weeks of ongoing training the plan was put

into action. It was time for me to replace the president’s daughter.

It was a foggy day. The perfect setting for this unnerving event that

will ever end my life or start. As the plan is set into motion doubts race

across my mind. Is this really who you are? What you want to be? Do

you want to always be a copy? Until that small voice in my head says

would you rather be dead? My part is simple go through the doors first

left, second right and into the pink bed. I knew this plan better than

myself. It had been drilled into my head for 5 weeks. Suddenly I

stopped. Looked into the corner of my eye and saw a mirror but as I

drew closer it was me, the other me, the real me.

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As soon as I saw her I screamed. I screamed till my voice ran dry

then I fell to the floor in a tangled heap and cried. The last thing I

remembered were tall men in black suits lifting me up. I knew that I

wouldn’t have to replace anyone. So, I smiled.

When I woke, I was in a room with a big mirror and a small metal

table. I guessed it was an integration room. A woman with a pencil skirt

and a white blouse entered the room clutching a red note pad closely to

her chest. All she said was “Spill” only that word and suddenly it all

came into the open. Everything I knew, everything I had learnt all came

out. The woman looked at me with a mixture of emotions fear,

anticipation and excitement.

Suddenly after the woman left the room. A fog or a gas came

through the doors. Sending me into slumber. I heard the words “Let’s

see what makes you tick” and I fell deeper into the land of sleep.

Now you know my story. Tell everyone you can find give them

this letter and don’t let anyone else follow me into the fate. If the

woman delivered my letter like I instructed her to do so you will believe

me. Thank you Thank you.

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Rosie’s Adventure

Rosie Burke


One day there was a girl named Rosie. As she made her way to

school it seemed like it was going to be just another ordinary day. But

as she turned the corner that leads to her school, suddenly she stopped

dead in her tracks.

Rosie couldn’t believe her eyes…

Just a few feet ahead of her an enormous hole had appeared where

the path used to be. The sight of it terrified her to the core and made

her stomach turn - but at the same time made her curious too. Creeping

cautiously to the edge of the hole, Rosie leaned over and peered over

the edge. As she gazed into the impossibly dark and seemingly

bottomless abyss she felt a rumble, and then heard an ear-torturing,

head-splitting, loud, crack. Then she heard a noise like thunder. All of

a sudden, Rosie lost her footing and slipped. She began to tumble down

the sharp, jagged, slope of the hole. As she fell, she twisted and turned

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trying to grab onto something to stop her tumbling – but there was

nothing for her to grab onto.

When she hit the bottom of the hole she was knocked out…

to be continued.

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Snake

Ghiles Bouaraba


Snake

Biting people,

Slithering away,

Poisoning animals,

Giving them decay,

Their venomous teeth,

Beware.

Beating a high score,

Dying from snake bites,

They rule New Zealand

No one dares step in their way,

Or they DIE,

Collecting little blobs along the way

Snakes KILL.

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The Snakes Revenge

Sehrish Ahmad

2016-17 Scary Story Competition - Second place

It all started on my 11th birthday. Every year I have a massive

party on my birthday. All my friends come to my house, except for my

one enemy, Buddy. My mum pressurizes me to invite him. The reason

why I hate Buddy is that he shows off every single time he can.

Although this can be annoying, my Aunt Noemi always attends my

birthday parties and always brings the best presents ever.

Still this year was going to be epic, she was going to bring me a

gift from Australia, and I just couldn’t wait to see what it was! The

doorbell rang - ‘ding dong’ - and I was sure it was Aunt Noemi.

“Mary hello!” shouted Aunt Noemi. “I have brought a present for

you before I go to Paris.”

The present Aunt Noemi was going to give me was a megalithic

snake. Of course, Buddy had to be annoying - he came to me and

shouted, “What an ugly snake!”

I was irate with him; didn’t I tell you Buddy was annoying?

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I was confused.

“Mary, don’t feed the snake any meat before…” Aunt Noemi

warned me while her taxi to go to Paris honked.

Of course, she did not finish her sentence leaving me confused. A

day went by and I was playing in the garden with the snake when Buddy

came with a hot dog. Who knew what he was going to do?

“Hey Mary! I got a hot dog! I think your snake looks hungry,”

Buddy said.

“No! DON’T!

PLEASE! I WILL DO

ANYTHING! JUST

DON’T!” I shouted at the

top of my lungs.

Too late… Buddy had

fed the snake, which before

my very eyes, grew and

grew and grew like a hot air

balloon. Why is Buddy such

an idiot?

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Within minutes, the snake had become enormous - as big as the

tentacle of an enormous squid. The snake sat up straight and looked

into my eyes, its head darting back and forward, its fangs bared, about

to attack…

I feared for my life. Then suddenly the strangest thing happened.

Just as I thought I had drawn my last breath, the snake went stiff and

slithered behind a huge tree. Seconds later, there was a gurgling noise

that seemed to be coming through the snake’s belly. It sounded like

water running down a plug hole. What was going on? The next thing I

knew, the snake let out the most enormous burp and then promptly…

fell asleep!

I looked at Buddy in amazement; he looked at me. Neither of us

could quite believe what we had just seen…

As we stared, the snake began to shrink. It went from a tentacle to

a pipe, then back to normal size again. I couldn’t believe what I was

seeing!

“Are you going to keep it?” asked Buddy.

“You know what?” I answered, looking at the snake, smiling. “I

think I will.”

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The Story About Mr McCoy & Mr Ramsden

Lois Alatt

We Write Workshop

It was a Friday afternoon in Mr McCoy’s office, where he and Mr

Ramsden were enjoying a hot cuppa tea with pink wafers. When a

student knocked fiercely on his door, so fierce that Mr McCoy spilt his

tea over his new Trinity High tracksuit! “COME IN!” he bellowed

“LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY NEW TRACKSUIT!”

“Errrmmmm. . . Mr McCoy, I really couldn’t care less, there is a

much bigger issue in school right now.” Said an ignorant student, who

was extremely familiar to Mr McCoy’s office and not the right reasons

either.

“Zombies have invaded our school and are going to eat us if we

don’t act fast!”

“On a Friday as well?! You’re making this up!” Exclaimed Mr

McCoy.

Come on Mr McCoy give him a chance, maybe we can have some

Friday afternoon excitement instead of being stuffed up in this office

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eating pink wafer biscuits!” Mr Ramsden cried with excitement,

“HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! QUICKLY! MY TIME TO SHINE!”

Errmmmm. . . Sir, are you coming?” The student said impatiently.

“Yes! Yes child! Hurry Mr McCoy, we’ve got a school to save!”

Mr Ramsden enthusiastically

Spoke and left and Mr McCoy followed – not as spritely as Mr

Ramsden.

“. . . and that’s why we always put x when we

don’t know the. . . ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” bellowed

an anonymous teacher. The class cracked up and then were quite

concerned as to why the teacher screamed.

“ANTS IN YOU PANTS!” A STUDENT.

Then Mr Ramsden sensibly opened the door. “What seems to be

the problem, anonymous teacher? Sargent Ramsden at your service!”

“Oh, perfect timing Mr Ramsden, I saw a ZOMBIE!” Again, the

whole class burst out laughing but instead of lightly giggling the class

was howling, although some people completely overreacted

“SHUT UP! THE LAST THINGS THIS ANONYMOUS

TEACHER NEED IS A CLASS OF WOLVES!” Mr Ramsden

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bellowed with all might and fury, he put so much fury into this ‘small’

speech that he had to take a very deep breath afterwards. “Now if you’ll

excuse me, Anonymous teacher and I have to attend to a very important

meeting.” The Anonymous teacher scurried out of the class room

followed by a stern looking Mr Ramsden. As soon as the door shut it

was madness.

“SHUT UP IDIOTS!” Bellowed Mr McCoy as he kicked own the

extremely flimsy door causing every child in the room (even the

naughty kids!) to stare at Mr McCoy in complete utter silence. “NOW

ARE YOU GOING TO BE QUIT?!” The whole class stared in

disbelief and nodded immediately. The bell rang for lunch and the

flabbergasted students left silently row by row. ‘LUNCH FINALLY!’

thought Mr McCoy as eh happily strolled out of the class room. ‘What

have I signed up to?’ he silently asked, ‘but at least I have a bit of peace

and quiet.’ Then out of the blue there was a loud bang. It was Mr

Ramsden, back again!

“There weren’t any zombies after all; it was all just my

imagination!” Said Mr Ramsden.

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The Tiger & The Hunter

Isla Brennan

We Write Workshop

The Tiger ran as fast as her limbs could take her, the creature was

catching up on her. She knew she couldn’t keep it up for long, but every

instinct in her body screeched at her to run, simply run. The creature

shot his long weapon at the Tiger. The Tiger wondered how the long

weapon could shoot stars, but now wasn’t the time to wonder, now was

the time to run.

The Tiger started to lose the creature and more importantly his long

weapon. The Tiger slowed to a jog, and she decided it was safe enough

to find her cubs. She had hidden them well, but was it well enough?

The Tiger sped up, fears frosty fingers touched her spine and its breath

blew away the all warmth that she felt. Doubts raced across the Tigers

mind and questions that she was afraid to answer.

The first thing she saw was blood and the smell of the fallen stars

that only the creature could capture. Suddenly, she felt death and she

knew what had happened, her cubs had been killed, killed by the

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creature that they had never even met. He was like a vulture everywhere

he went, death was always close behind. Her claws came out and teeth

were bared. She roared a roar that was so powerful that every animal

looked up and felt the Tigers pain.

The Tiger did not know what to do, so she did what her instincts

told her to, she ran. This time she ran towards the hunter, not away. She

knew that this was her time to die, but she wanted to bring that evil

creature with her. The scent was hard to pick up, so she thought of what

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her father had told her since she was a cub ‘You can never catch a sent

on an empty stomach’ Her father was funny like that he was one of the

biggest tigers she had ever saw and he told her it was because of all the

food he ate unfortunately that was the death of him, the memory of that

terrible day brought tears to her eye. She shook it off.

The Tiger stayed low and pounced on a small gazelle before she

ate she said sorry, sorry for what will happen next. With one swift bite,

it was over for the gazelle. She had killed innocents but it was the only

way she could survive so she hoped she would be forgiven. She had

gotten used to the stench of blood, since the creature came that was all

anyone smelt.

Suddenly, she smelt the scent of the creature so she ran towards it.

Before she knew what had happened. She jumped onto the monster and

as she was about to bite the creature said “I am the hunter and you are

my prey” A sharp pain went into her leg, and suddenly, everything went

pitch black but she knew that she was alive.

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Twosome Tight

Elena Walker

2016-17 Poetry Competition - Notable entry

Tied together with rubber bands,

It’s like they only have two hands.

Between the two of them they share

Brains and facts everywhere.

Many thought they weren’t that smart;

They didn’t seem so much apart.

My friends and I will always know:

those two were smart as smart could go.

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Untitled: LS

Luana Soares


I am inimitable, glowing, mad.

I wonder about the world, the sky, the elements and elsewhere,

I hear emotions,

I see the galaxy, full yet empty,

I want to live to its fullest.

I feel walls,

I touch space, nothingness,

I worry about the future, the

unknown.

I am dusky, mad.

I understand things with my eyes

But sometimes they are stolen by the wind.

I say words

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I make sounds

I see blank,

I am clueless, lost.

I try mountains

climb trees on the way

eat the smells of nature,

I let my soul travel in the water,

I swim in the sky.

Things are too fast to be

understood

I am breathless, wordless.

I am

Unique, Breathless, Wordless, Glowing, Dusky, Clueless, Lost

Mad

Who am i?

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Untitled: RC

Rosa Colyer

2016-17 Poetry Competition - Winner

I met him first on a cold winter’s night

When the sun sank low and the fire burned bright

Under the weeping willow tree

It was where he first played to me.

On a crisp spring morn, before the sun dared dance

I would find him under the willow, entranced

By the songs of the birds, no matter how small

He taught me their names, taught me their calls

On a fine summer’s day, when the swallows would fly

We would lie under the willow, side by side

He took comfort from me, and I from him

And soon he would play and I would sing.

On an autumn eve, when the leaves turned gold

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I would sneak down to the willow, and his hand I would hold

We would dance together, a dance to no tune

Until the stars came out, and the sun became moon.

When the winter came, and with it the snow

It also brought evil, brought war, brought foes

I was kept inside – he couldn’t sing me my song

But he still lived, and he still played on.

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When other cities, the armies took

It was time to defend our humble brook

He swapped his wood pipes for a steel sword

And under the willow, I saw him fall.

He lay on the ground, wounds gushing from all sides

In raggedy breaths, he begged for his pipes

His last breath was music, not a cry, not a shout

As under the willow, the light in his eyes went out.

I met him on a cold winter’s night

When the sun sank low and the fire burned bright

Beneath the weeping willows bough

My best friend and beloved, he lies there now.

And they say that at night, when the sky turns dark

You hear the echoes of his song; you can still hear his mark

The only change a cairn on the earth, newly tilled

But our weeping willow, it weeps for him still.

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A Wall

Suunga Mungwala


Unpredictable

A wall. The only thing that stands between me and you. Trying and

trying to destroy the bound. Trapped and isolated in this cell, that will

be my home for 2 years of my life. Waiting, listening to the noises the

clock makes beside me “tick tock, tick tock”

My hands are shaking; my heart is going as fast as a cheetah. Every

time I think about my daughter being cut by that dirty blade, it makes

me dishearten. Olivia (my 9-year-old daughter) who has dark black hair

and soft skin as white as snow. She is at any minute going to be

throbbing with pain and it’s all going to be my entire fault. I desperately

need to get out of this hell and save her.

Unusually, I could hear voices in my head saying “You’re a

terrible mother! Save her before it’s too late!” But how could I escape?

At that moment, I realised I needed take any risk to save her. Suddenly

I remembered my appointment with Dr Shawn Smith, who was my

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psychiatrist. I forcefully banged on the cold metal door, but to my

surprise there was a tall, dark haired man. I stared deep into his big

hazel eyes and he stared back, it was like I could see my future in his

eyes.

The first thing he said to me with his soft Irish voice “um…what

do you need Miss?” then I replied with a flirty voice “The names

Sophie and I need to go to my psychiatrist.” After that we walked on

we found out we had a lot in common and he was 2 years older than

me. However, I started thinking about my husband, who was called

Jake, he is the whole reason why I had to do what I did. I guess now

you’re wondering why I’m in this place, well since your begging me

I’ll tell you. I got convicted of Murder. I know what you’re thinking

why would I of all people commit murder and why?

Well it was all for my daughter Olivia. So, I discovered that Jake’s

mother wanted to hire a doctor to commit FGM, which means female

genital mutilation, it’s a horrible thing to go through. Unfortunately,

Jake was manipulated by his mother to think it would make Olivia

“pure” but Jake didn’t know the serious consequences on her life and

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leave a life lasting scar on her body. Being the anxious mother I am, I

went to confront Jake’s mother.

Later that night, I went to Jake’s mother’s house to talk some sense

into her. When I got there, I told her how I felt about what she was

planning to do and she certainly didn’t take it well. She got a stick and

battered me then quickly I ran up the stairs to protect myself. I really

had no intention of killing her I just wanted to talk to her about what

was going on and how uncomfortable it made me feel. When I was on

the 3rd step, I was trying to escape, but suddenly she came with a knife

ready to kill me. So, I pushed her and the knife stabbed her so it looked

like she committed suicide. Then I drove home and I felt guilty and I

had the burden that I killed someone on my shoulder for the rest of my

life. Eventually the police discovered that I pushed her, so at first I

was convicted of murder but I told my story and the charged me with

manslaughter also after I get out of jail I have to serve 1 year in

community service.

Slowly I close the door behind me, Lewis the Irish guard was

outside, which gave me amass comfort. When I looked forward there

he was…

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I was astonished. There they were my husband and my daughter.

Quickly I gave Olivia a hug, then I looked to Lewis (the person I

unfortunately call my husband).

He didn’t look happy. “I hate you Sophie, I really do. You got

Olivia in social care, until you get out. They think I’m dangerous!” he

yelled. I replied “Of course you are dangerous, you and your mother

tried to cut my daughter. Do you know what that called? It’s FGM and

it is really horrifying to a girl of Olivia’s age!” Lewis got out of his

chair and exclaimed at me “WHAT SO BAD ABOUT IT!” I then got

angry at him and screamed at the top of my voice “IT HURTS TO

BLEED EVER MONTH, TO GO TO THE TOLIET, TO RUN OR DO

ANY SPORT AND YOU COULD DIE BECAUSE OF IT. I’TS

ONLY BY LUCK THAT YOU SURVIVE!!”

He was silent, then the door opened…

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Warrior

Nathanael Priebbenow


Edwin urged his dogs onward through as he almost waded through

the deep snow as endless snowflakes fell, their white surface contrasted

against the black night sky. Although he was wearing multiple layers,

he was shivering as he pressed on through the snow.

By now, he had lost all remaining sense of direction and he was

blindly stumbling to where he guessed his hut was. Snowstorms were

common up in the mountains where he lived, but such a blizzard as this

was seldom. It was as if the wind was trying to snatch him into the air.

Suddenly, his dogs barked and rushed to a point in the deep snow,

and began to dig rapidly. Edwin ran forward and gasped when he saw

what the dogs had uncovered. It was an unconscious man, frozen cold

but still breathing.

“Good dogs!” he said, hauling the man out of the snow. “Let’s get

this man to shelter!”

*

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There was a small cave that led into the face of a sheer cliff, and if

you walked out of the cave, you would come to the top of another cliff.

Edwin’s dogs had found the cave, and now Edwin was attending the

stranger, who had woken up.

“Water,”he croaked, his eyes half shut. “Please.”

Edwin took a thermos from his pack and gave it to the stranger. He

took it gratefully with shaky hands and drained it. He wore a firm tunic

and a magnificent sheathed sword hung from his belt, which caught

Edwin’s eye.

“Who are you?” asked Edwin.

The stranger wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“I used to be known as Brandon the warrior,” replied the stranger.

“Brandon?” gasped Edwin. “Surely not the legendary Brandon?

But he was killed years ago!”

Brandon bowed his bearded head.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Brandon the warrior is no more. In my last

battle, as I slew one of my foes, before he died, I saw him weeping and

clutching a carving of what was clearly his wife and son as he lay on

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the ground. After that, I knew I could never hurt anyone again. But I

kept my sword, since it was my father’s.”

“So, you gave up fighting?” gasped Edwin. “How could you? You

are marvelled of in stories and tales, and yet you say you cannot even

slay your foes? So, you would willingly stand by while women and

children are killed?”

Brandon opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Edwin stood up.

“I’m going now,” said Edwin. “I don’t know how you could give

up defending innocent people. So, it is true- Brandon the warrior really

is no more.”

Brandon felt forlorn. He opened his mouth to speak but Edwin had

gone.

It had stopped snowing. Edwin stepped outside and was shocked

to see a mob of bandits glaring at him.

“Hey you!” shouted one. “Give us your money or you’re a dead

man!”

It was then that Brandon the warrior rushed out with his sword. He

had returned.

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What Next?

Jia Huang


One day, we will hand over our lives,

Our path must come to a halt.

Dear treasure, we must let go,

Elsewhere, the next chapter awaits us.

Those precious, unbreakable moments,

Preserved deep down in our hearts.

Will live on even after our bodies fail.

We shall never let go

and they will never fade,

but live on like our spirits.

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Why I Call Me Green

Haya Genawi


Why I call me green

You deepened and strengthened me from

when I was a seed, when I was small and tight

with hundreds of others just like me.

You buried me in your world, taught me

About the creatures that roam the largest forests,

And the one plant which makes your heart jump

With joy.

You guided me through my own world and gave me

The binoculars to find the thing I know I want to

Succeed in. When I’d ask you, “Who gave us all this?”

You pointed to the one above; you told me that

This was all created - by Him, spoken to - by Him,

Loved - by Him, treasured - by Him.

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I couldn’t hold the racket, but now I compete!

My roots, friendships and talks are because of

the sunshine He gifted me, and because of your

pure being.

I was not bigger than a centimetre,

Today I am strong, green and the luckiest tree in all my land.

So… I thank you Papa.

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The Winter Horror

Nathanael Priebbenow

2016-17 Winter Story Competition - First Place

Five hundred years ago,

“It’s been a cold winter this year, Arthur,” remarked his father. “A

harsh, cold winter.”

Arthur couldn’t agree more. Blizzards had constantly attacked

their little hut that winter and the village was continuously swamped by

snow. Not only that, but many residents of the nearby village had

mysteriously disappeared into the forest. Arthur had never liked the

cold, but this nightmare of a winter couldn’t be further away from a

Winter Wonderland.

Mournful howls rang through the air, long and sad like the cold,

dead wind.

“You know, Arthur,” said Arthur’s father. “That’s the Winter

Ghost.”

A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine.

“The Winter Ghost?” he exclaimed. “What’s that?”

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Arthur’s father chuckled.

“Oh, it’s just an old fable,” Arthur’s father said as another howl

rang through the air. “A story to keep children from running out alone

in the deep snow. It’s nothing, Arthur; just a myth.”

As the sinister howls rang out again, Arthur wasn’t so sure.

Arthur had been alone for more than he had expected, let alone

more than he had wanted. His father, the lumberjack, had trudged into

the pine forest with his axe hanging lazily over his shoulder. Since then,

snow had fallen, followed by the darkness of night. No matter how

much Arthur tapped his feet nervously on the wooden hut floor, still no

single sign of his father stood anywhere, at least from Arthur’s point of

view.

An icy hand tickled his spine as another of those sudden howls,

haunting and ear-splitting ran through the air. It was not the first-time

Arthur had heard it that night since the snow had fallen and he had a

horrible feeling that it wasn’t the wind. It seemed too purposeful, too

intended. A sudden surge of anxiousness struck Arthur so that he seized

a flaming torch and burst bravely out of the hut and into the dark forest.

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The trees were pine trees, “Christmas Trees”, you might call them,

but much more towering and imposing and they had not nearly

anywhere of the same warmness as the genuine Yule Pines. Arthur’s

feet scrunched heavily on the snow as he walked, when suddenly, his

skin froze as another blood curdling howl broke through the air. What

could be causing it? Although Arthur feared to face the scary reality,

he knew it was caused by something living; something evil. Sure

enough, as he came into a snowy clearing, he gave a shout of terror as

he saw his father, utterly confined in a mighty, rocky prison of ice, a

look of total horror etched on his face.

“Father!” gasped Arthur, rushing to his father’s side. “Are you

alright?” Hopeful, he waited for a reply but his heart sank as no reply

came.

What was going on? It was utterly impossible that the ice had just

naturally formed, and the look on his father’s face hinted certain

danger. Arthur pondered the matter worrying, but the soft but somehow

menacing sound of slow wind brushing leaves and debris disturbed his

thoughts. The boy turned around, and as he did he gave a shout of terror

for he was staring into the eyes of what was surely a monster!

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101

No legs touched the ground- instead it floated hauntingly about a

foot from the ground. Its cloak was as pale and white as snow, and it

was torn and cut in many places. Its hands were like ice, for they were

a grey-blue colour as was its head. It did not have any eyes- only voids

of darkness.

It was surely a ghost; the Winter Ghost.

Arthur yelled with fright, sure that this was the source of the long

winter, his frozen father and the awful moans. Inevitably, he spun

around and fled but at once, the ghost waved its arm, sending Arthur

flying into the blanket of snow. Arthur was thrown into the snow and

instantly, the freezing temperature struck him. The torch had landed in

the deep snow, its flame pointing upwards. Was it possible to thaw his

foe with the torch? Glancing back at the ghost, he saw it was beginning

to stream forwards with its hands ready to seize its prey into its power.

Instantly, Arthur sprang up and half ran, half stumbled through the

snow towards the torch. Down he dived, seizing the torch in his hand

in mid-air, and he landed straight in the snow. He glanced behind him

and his shock and terror could not be greater. As if in slow motion, the

TALES FROM TRINITY

102

ghost reached out towards him, less than a foot away from Arthur.

Desperately, Arthur flung the torch at the ghost.

The torch sailed straight through the Winter Ghost, causing it to

leap back, moments before it would have made Arthur its next victim.

Ready for the next attack, Arthur pulled himself to his feet, but his

flight was drawn to a halt. As he risked a glance backwards, he saw

with great astonishment that the ghost was melting! It moaned its

terrible cry and clutched its chest, where a gaping hole was ballooning.

Then, with one final cry, the ghost returned to the snow from which it

had come from.

Arthur heard footsteps behind him and as he turned around he

beamed happily as his father, no longer frozen, came to him and

embraced him happily.

“What was that thing?” inquired Arthur as he and his father

trudged back.

“A ghost”, replied his father, fearfully. “It is surely the source of

the so-called fables.”

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103

“So, it wasn’t a myth after all…” murmured Arthur, realising that

it was beginning to get warmer. “But here it was, alive and real. Oh,

father will you be alright?”

“I will, my son,” reassured the father, “But can you get something

for me?”

“Anything,” granted Arthur.

“Then please boil the kettle when you get home,” said his father.

“I would do anything for a warm mug of hot chocolate.”

Arthur laughed. And as the cottage came in sight, a bright green

shoot peeked out from the snow, silently heralding the coming of

spring.

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104

Words

Isla Brennan

We Write Workshop

Words

Define us, bind us

Divide us.

They can emote goodbye

Say hello

Help love grow

Fire hatred.

The words can be harsh,

The words can be true.

The words can be friends

They can be enemies.

These words are so human

Do these words help?

Or do they destroy

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105

Are these words not the word society gives us?

The words that create images

Stereotypes

These words instil pain

Fear

Why is it that we are defined by this word?

That is why words can be simple

Sharp

Powerful

Eternal

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