QV1

You can smell the native flowers and grasses immediately. The
warm air wraps around your tiny body like your mother’s arm.
The country is vast, the air is so clean and the peak of the big hill
stares at you daringly.

You race outwards, Mikey to your left, both wearing matching
red jackets. Your little legs take little strides, but they move
quickly. You know you are fast. The grasses begin to dissolve
into the earth. The ground no longer squishy beneath your feet.
No longer nurturing.
The gravel and rocks are a little scarier. Like your Dad.
Sometimes they wobble beneath your feet, but most of the time
they don’t move. The land starts to extend upwards. You and
Mikey leaping from platform to platform. Mikey always first.

You had always admired how brave Mikey way. He always did
things first. First to ride a bike with no training wheels. First to
try dad’s ‘special Brussels sprouts’. You and Mikey are the exact
same age too. Both turning 7 in August! Mum even bought
Mikey something for Christmas last year. You and Mikey are best
friends.

51

You look up towards the peak of the hill. The rocks are getting
bigger, sturdier, but there’s still that uncertainty. Mikey leaps to
the big stone to the right, then to the one above. You follow his
every move. The air is getting colder now. The sky is turning
orange. You turn backwards. You can still see home, but it’s so
far away now. You are high up. You can see the whole landscape
– all the grass, all the hills, your only two neighbours. There’s not
long to go.

The ground is really steep now and you pant lightly, checking to
see where Mikey is. He’s almost at the top now. You race to
catch him. At last you both make it.
You have never made it to the top before, only with your
mother. You feel so powerful and tall. You can see everything
from here! The air is quite cold, brushing over your exposed neck
and ears. Mikey extends his arms towards the beautiful land. You
find yourself doing the same. You feel so accomplished,
adrenaline pumping through your tiny body, taking in the image
that you would later remember for the rest of your life. But the
sun has dropped, and as it goes home, probably to its mother,
you know you must do the same.

“Come on,” you tell Mikey, “It’s getting dark.”

52

The Real Life Nightmare

By Sophia Korlatt
I’m running as fast as I can. Running through graves, dodging
roots and jumping over bones. Bones that are rising from the
ground. Then slowly connecting. I looked behind and there he
was. Chasing me with his gangrene skin and eyes as dark as night,
with thousands of razor-sharp teeth spinning, each row at
different times. Thousands of teeth ready to eat my flesh.

I whispered a prayer hoping for God to save my soul. I tripped,
I glanced to see what I tripped on and vomited from the sight. It
was my father’s grave. Then two steps away was my mother’s.
Vomit, or at least I thought that it was, emerged from my throat.
Burning, the pain was unbearable. I tried to run from the
monster and graves, but I was frozen. My muscles wouldn’t
work. My brain had stopped. It was as if I was in ice, trapped,
unable to breathe and move.

I tried to scream, the monster was in front of me, but only the
noise of which a mouse would make came out. He looked at me
with its black eyes, ready to devour my flesh. Ready to rip open

53

every organ, muscle, and bone inside my body. Its hand
twitching, eager to rip my heart out.
He stared, which felt like forever. I said in my head “let it be
over fast”. Then thinking of my parents, family, and friends.
Tears started to fall; they wouldn’t stop. Falling as fast as a
waterfall. I did one last prayer.

Before I knew it, the hand of the monster scraped the skin of
my arm. Blood oozing out. An endless supply. The marks were
the size of a bear's. I tried to screech, but nothing came out. It
was as if my voice had given up. Another swing. Down my left
thigh. My mouth opened; I was meant to scream but failed. I
could see my bone. The burning sensation returned, but worst. It
felt as if fire was alight in my throat.

I screamed; a voice came out. I looked down to see my leg and
arm. I screamed again, louder than before.

I was in bed. At home. The air was fresh. I lifted the quilt
planning to find my parents. I went to take my first step and I fell
back onto my bed. I looked down and screamed in terror. My leg
was gone. My parents came crying.

54

They hugged me. I was shocked, tears then started to fall down
my face, it felt as if they would never stop. I went to wipe them
but then my arm wouldn’t move. My arm had disappeared as
well. Only shoulder left.
Resting on my drawer a leg brace. Suddenly, I burst out with
anger and shock all making this strange noise. Mum said to me
“it’s OK”. Dad for the first time I’ve seen crying, tears dripping
from his chin.
I pinched myself hoping for it all to be a dream, no, definitely
not.

55

The ANZAC Spirit

By Morgan Taylor

In a field of poppies, one begins to bloom, something that
happens only once per year, and it creates truly quite a spectacle.
The sleeping poppies start to stir as you take your place. The ode
is recited for all to hear and that’s the deadly cue. You raise your
polished gold gun from your side where it hung and aim it at the
crowd; but in place of the bullets and screams of the past, silence
and music surrounds.

You play the first and second notes, long and proud indeed, but
as you play you look upon the armies on the bleachers. Dressed
in the school crest and bored expressions in places of camouflage
and fear; these children have no clue why they’re here or who
they represent. They have no wish to ‘do ‘em proud’ in the good
old-fashioned Aussie way.

You start to shake and tremble with nerves, so you focus on the
glistening light bouncing off the bell. You focus on each note
that resonates throughout the stands and what it represents. This
simple song played once a year holds more than loss and regret
for the past, but for you, it holds pride and respect. You know

56

you stand on this land because of their sacrifice for you. Your
freedom and education. Down into the bugle you so proudly
bear.

It’s thanks to them – the fallen ones – and more people should
care.
Breathe in, “58 Mississippi.” Breathe out, “59 Mississippi.”
Breathe in, “60 Mississippi.” One minute has passed and you’re
calm now. You stand once more at the ready and sound the final
call.

You feel it now. Armies coming to watch – after all, they never
truly left. Just resting till they’re awakened, and the Reveille does
just that. Thousands of men and women all beyond the grave
nodding with respect for you.

You barely notice you finish, adrenaline coursing through your
veins. A sigh of relief quickly stretches to a smile and it’s not long
until a gentleman, adorned with colours of honour, approaches
with an outstretched hand. He vigorously shakes your whole arm
– a twinkle in his eyes.

57

He tells you a story of his past, a tale of loss and sadness, and a
tear escapes your eye. You can’t understand why he’s smiling still
until you hear him say, “You did ‘em proud, kid. You did ‘em
proud.”
The ANZAC spirit lives on in people like you and you know
you’ve been left to defend, not this country, but their memory
and what it represents.
Lest we forget.

58

The Koi Pond

By Naomi Taylor

Her mother kept a pond of koi
of yellow, black, white...
different shapes, different sizes,
none were the same - not quite.
Now she stands by a pond of tarmac,
that glistens in the sun's short rays,
to raise her hand and stop the bus
as she does every day.

Inside are familiar faces;
a man of shirt and tie,
gossiping students in smart attire
and tired workers who lower their eyes.
The girl's hair; dark as crow feather,
soft like strokes of ink,
her almond eyes pass over the faces,
and past bus seats, blink by blink.

59

In the back sleeps a man,
skin toned the shade of earth,
and headed the same way she is,
through suburb, and up to Perth.
Beside him is bare and empty
and crowds stand at a distance,
so the girl averts her gaze
and tells herself it's just this instance.

She looks outside the glass
to the world they drift right past,
greens to browns to soggy grey,
the scenes outside changing fast.
Stop. The door opens,
scrape and bang and screech and snap,
crane and truck and bull and grader,
the doors close with a tap.

60

Enters a woman, hair covered by scarf,
a girl of coffee-skin,
a man who smells of cumin,
and a boy who looks just like him.
The girl looks to the front
when a woman of ink black hair,
of slight eyes and paper skin,
catches passenger stares.

Her voice is fast as she speaks to the driver,
in a tongue from across the ocean
the girl does not understand,
but still finds herself drawn to the commotion.
She takes a breath, irked at the hold up,
and looks for validation,
only to notice the other passengers,
look from her to the situation.

61

She pauses a moment, somewhat bemused,
when the window draws her attention
and she watches her reflection,
and sees their point of contention.
'I am Australian',
she says soundlessly,
even if her parents were born
across the dark blue sea.

Then she looks back to the man,
hidden in the darkness,
avoided by the people
and characterised by their harshness.
'He too is Australian',
she thinks soundlessly,
and realises that it is true,
despite what is believed by society.

62

Across the scape, sun rises,
and lights the gloomy scene,
buildings jut out beside them,
and scatter the morning beams.
The bus stops one last time,
as it reaches their destination,
pulling to a halt,
at Elizabeth Quay bus station.

And the girl thinks back to the koi pond,
the colours from far and wide,
as she watches the commuters walk out,
and past the platform divide.
Yellow, brown, white...
she comes to a revelation,
they do share something in common;
this; their brand-new nation.

63

Magicians

By Sharlini Hollier

Do you ever have moments when you wish something would
happen in your life? Something exciting, something thrilling,
maybe even something dangerous… Well, just be glad that your
wishes don’t come true because the last time I was thinking
something like that it, well, was a very interesting day that’s for
sure. Okay, enough beating ‘round the bush. I’ll tell you what
happened.

“Come on class, don’t tell me you haven’t done your
homework.” Miss Zala asked. I was at the back of the class, as
always, right in the corner next to the window gazing at the rain
that was pouring down. I had one person next to me and another
in front. Next to me was my on-again, off-again bestie Cleo,
while in front of me was my definitely all of the time crush, Ash.
I found myself staring at the back of his head, trying to figure out
what shade of brown his hair was in hex code.
‘Yeah, nerd plus art kid, not going well whatsoever.’ I thought to
myself. I peered up from my staring when I heard the teacher’s
footsteps coming closer to us. I held my sheet up for her to

64

collect and was about to keep daydreaming when I heard the
teacher sigh extremely loudly.

“Cleo, could you please take your headphones out?” I turned my
head and saw Cleo take out her earphones, well, sorta.

“Miss, I hate to correct you, but these are actually earphones, not
headphones, so I’m afraid I can’t do what you are asking of me.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling. That was Cleo alright.
She put her earphones back in and then flicked her neon pink
hair out of her face. I saw her sneak a glance at the boy that was
sitting in front of her, her crush Felix. He was staring at his
unfinished homework, obviously nervous for the teacher behind
him. I knew that Cleo always acted this way when he was around,
I assume it was to prove herself, but I doubt he knows she exists.
The teacher moved away from Cleo, shaking her head. Felix let
out a sigh as she moved past him for her desk, and probably a
Panadol. Felix turned around to Cleo,

“Hey, thanks for that Cleo, I really appreciate it.” I saw a slight
blush come into Cleo’s cheeks, but she tried to ignore it. She
smiled and flicked her hair again.

“Oh, it was nothing.” Felix started to play with his shirt sleeves.
He took a deep breath and looked to Ash, who gave him a nod.
He turned back to Cleo, a bright red blush taking over his
cheeks.

65

“Are you free after school?” Cleo raised her eyebrows, making
Felix start to blush even more. “I-I mean like, well, I have
Basketball after, followed by helping out at the dog shelter, but if
you’re free then maybe, maybe you, we, can, uh-” He was cut off
by Cleo taking his hand.

“I’d love to Felix. Does 5:00 work for you?” I was so shocked
that I was frozen during this entire sequence of events. I saw
Felix nod enthusiastically before turning back to the front of the
class. He seemed to be as shocked as I was. Ash gave Felix a nod,
a smirk crossing his face.

“Well done mate.” I heard him say. Cleo turned to me.

“OMG tell me that just happened!” I nodded and she slumped
into her chair. She took a breath before looking at me with a
cheeky gleam in her eyes.

“Oh no, no, no.”

“We so have to get Ash to ask you out!” She exclaimed,
thankfully not loud enough for them to hear, but loud enough to
send shivers down my spine.

“It won’t happen-” I started, but then Ash turned around and
looked me in the eye. I felt my face start to heat up but put a
smile on my face. I was going through so many different ways of
saying yes that I almost missed the question.

66

“Can I borrow your sharpener?” I felt my shoulders sag but
handed him my sharpener anyway. He took it and gave me a
smile that made my heart melt.

“Thanks, you’re a good friend.” ‘Yeah, just a friend.’ I thought to
myself as he turned back around. That’s when I started to think
to myself. When I started to think that I wanted something to
actually happen in my life. And I immediately regretted it.

I saw a lightning strike and gazed out of the window again,
counting how many seconds until the thunder struck. I had
hardly counted to one when the loudest sound shook the
building. I saw one student put his hand up.

“Miss, are we going to die? Because this is how lots and lots of
horror movies start off.”

“That’s not how a lot of horror movies start!” Another piped
up. I saw Cleo roll her eyes and look outside the window.

“It’s just a bit of thunder-” She started, only to be interrupted by
another crack of lightning. Everyone rushed to the window as
one of the trees outside the classroom was on fire. We watched
as it burned to a crisp, breaking in half and falling onto our
window. Some people screamed as the glass shattered, spilling
broken glass shards into the classroom. I watched as Miss Zala’s
eyes widened before she rushed over to the phone and tried
calling someone, probably emergency services. I gazed over to

67

see if anyone was hurt, but they seemed fine. Cleo came over to
my spot in the corner of the classroom, away from the windows.

“What do you think’s going on?” I shrugged casually as Ash and
Felix came over to us. Felix’s eyes were as large as plates.

“You’re smart Cleo! What’s going on?” Cleo shrugged to herself.

“I dunno, I was just asking Nova.” I started to blush as the boys
turned to me. I gazed at the floor, then to the broken window.

“I don’t know.” I tried not to look at their crestfallen faces. “It’s
probably just a freak storm, maybe we should see if we can get
the news up?” Ash nodded thoughtfully, before pulling out his
phone. He handed it to me. I almost dropped it.

“Careful with it. If that breaks, I’m not getting another one for
ages.” I nodded before starting up the phone. I let out a gasp as I
saw that the background was a piece of artwork, a drawing of a
glowing emerald, though it looked so good I thought it was real.
I saw Ash start to blush at my gasp and I quickly passed it back
to him so he could put his pin in. He snatched it from me and
put his pin in, closing up about 10 other tabs before handing it
back to me. I opened up the browser and started to search.

I brought up the News. I was looking through the stories for
anything strange when one of them caught my eye. I tapped on
it.

68

“Freak storm reports in Kalamunda, people warned to stay
inside.” Ash read out from over my shoulder. I tried not to blush
but failed miserably. Cleo smiled.

“Sounds like our storm alright,” She took the phone and started
speed reading through it. She pointed at the phone. “It says that
they don’t know why or how there’s a storm this insane
terrorising the area. I say we go and have a closer look.” I saw
Ash’s eyes widen at the suggestion.

“Have a closer look!? That’s a crazy idea! We might get struck by
lightning, or worse!” I looked at him.

“What’s worse than being struck then lightning?” I asked
innocently. He started to mumble under his breath, but I
couldn’t hear it. Felix did though and patted him on the back.

“There, there, mate, you’ll figure it out eventually.” I was going
to ask what he meant when I felt Cleo’s hand on my shoulder.

“You coming, Nova?” I looked to the boys then back to her.

“Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?” She beamed at
me.

“That’s the spirit! Come on!” She walked over to the boys,
looping her arm with Felix’s. “First test of being my boyfriend,”
She tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the door. “Always be
up for an adventure.” I looked to Ash, who was looking at them

69

with unease. I went over and gently took his arm, carefully not
touching his hand. He flinched at my touch but calmed down
when I removed my hand. I looked at him kindly.

“I’ll go if you go.” He smiled.

“I was going to say the same thing.” We walked together,
sneaking out of the class and meeting up with Cleo and Felix on
the other side of the door. Cleo put her hand on her hips.

“Bout time you two showed up. Hurry up, the storm might
disappear if you don’t!” She started to jog down the corridor, her
sneakers squeaking slightly on the wooden corridor. Felix let out
a sigh.

“Isn’t she awesome?” He asked, before running after her. Ash
and I shared a look, before jogging after them, trying to keep our
footsteps quiet as to not alert the teachers. I couldn’t help myself
from wondering why the teachers sucked so much at their job,
but the thought was thrust from my mind as I saw the storm
outside.

“Holy Fire Opal.” It was like a cyclone. The sky was covered in
purple clouds, all of them swirling in a mesmerising spiral. No-
one else was outside, it was just us four. We all shared a look
before Cleo walked out from under the veranda. Felix ran after
her and grabbed her hand.

70

“Cleo, are you alright? We should probably get out of here
before something-” He was cut off by Cleo being struck by
lightning. Ash and I leaped out from the veranda, watching as the
lightning raced down Cleo’s body. Where Felix was holding on to
her, the lightning zoomed up his hand, then his arm, until he and
Cleo were both covered in live electricity. Ash took my hand and
squeezed it tight, and even though it was starting to hurt, I didn’t
tell him off.

“What’s happening!?” He had to shout to be heard over the
storm now, the clouds seemed to know what was happening and
seemed to be excited. I stared at the couple. I knew in the back
of my mind that the lightning should have dissipated, but they
were still covered in the lightning. Then, suddenly, without
warning it disappeared, leaving two very confused teens. Ash and
I ran up to them, grabbing on to them to check if they were
okay, only for them to turn to us, the lightning returning on their
arms, then crossing over to me and Ash. I let out a scream,
before realising that the lightning didn’t hurt. I could feel a little
heat, but other than that I felt the same. Ash looked at me and
his face showed the same confusion. We both looked at Cleo and
Felix, but their eyes were glazed over as if they were being
pumped full of an unknown power. I felt something, and out of
pure reflexes, I pushed my arms out. The lightning crackled and
fizzed around my body but was quickly extinguished. I saw Ash

71

out of the corner of my eye do the same action as me, followed
by Felix then Cleo. Cleo and Felix shook their heads, then looked
at each other in shock. Literally.

“You, we, we just had lightning on us!” Felix shouted out. But
when I saw his face, I noticed something different.

“Felix,” I started. “You have something on your face. It, it looks
like a tattoo.” He shook his head but put his hand to his cheek.
On his cheek, there was a perfect little branding of a dog’s paw.
Cleo turned to me.

“Nova, you should take a look at yourself. You also have a
marking and it looks like a Star.” I put my hand to my cheek and
realised she was right. She turned to Ash. “You have a Diamond
shape, and it feels like I have Heart.” We all looked at each other
before immediately running into the school, rushing into our
classroom and throwing ourselves into our chairs, checking to
see if our disappearance was noticed.

“Cleo, Felix, Ash, Nova, could I ask where you four were? And
why your clothes are smoking.” I looked down and noticed that
my clothes were indeed slightly smoking. I looked at others and
noticed the same thing. Miss Zala let out a sigh. “I have a feeling
that you four were outside. I am afraid I will have to give you
detention.” She was looking at Cleo as she said the word

72

‘detention’, a slight, very slight, smile crossing her face for a split
second. Cleo looked dead in the teacher’s eyes.

“Oh, but Miss, we’re best friends! You would never give us
detention!” And then the weirdest thing happened. Miss Zala
blinked a few times before looking at Cleo, but with something
different in her eyes.

"Why would I give you detention Cleo? You're my best student!"
The entire class went silent as they looked between Cleo and
Miss Zala, their mouths open in shock. Miss Zala came over to
us with her special tin of cookies, the ones that we would see
only once a term. She opened it and offered each of us one.

“Wait, really? Like, this isn’t a joke or anything?” Cleo asked, her
face showing she was just as surprised as the rest of us. Miss Zala
laughed.

“Of course not, Cleo! As I said, you are my best student.” She
looked all four of us up and down. She shook her head with a
smile. “Oh dear, you four look terrible. Why don’t you pop down
to the gym and look in the lost property? We might have some
clothes there.” The four of us exchanged another look before
grabbing our bags and leaving. As soon as we were out of the
classroom, we started to walk down to the gym. Felix grabbed
Cleo’s hand.

73

“What the heck was that about?!” He exclaimed. Cleo touched
the mark on her face.

“If I am mistaken, and I definitely hope that I am, I’d think you
have, like, magical powers or something,” Ash spoke up. I
looked at my hands before looking up at a light above us, the one
that was always broken and would cast shadows on everything. I
tried to think of otherworldly things, of magic and powers, while
holding my hand up to the light. I felt something coursing
through my veins, a kind of warmth and before I knew it the
light above us was shining like a star. The others were looking at
me, more shocked faces, but mixed with curiosity this time as
well.

“How did you do that Nova?” Ash asked me. I shrugged before
explaining how I had tried to focus on magic and sort of
summon it. Ash looked at Felix before both of them put their
arms out, eyes closed. I gave Cleo a look before stepping back as
an emerald appeared from under my feet. It flew into Ash’s
outstretched hand, but he let it go in surprise. Instead of falling,
it hovered below his hand, as if it was caught in a web. Ash
looked down at the stone.

“An emerald,” He whispered in surprise. He looked up at me.
“This is roughly worth $5000 based on its clarity and colour.” I
let out a gasp when I realised just how much $5000 was. I turned

74

to Felix, wondering what his powers were. He had made a sharp
turn away from the Gym to the direction of the science block.
Cleo came over to us.

“Felix said that he heard voices coming from the science block.
He told me that they’re not human voices, but animal voices.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really care about them, but
Felix said that he has to help them or else he’ll never feel the
same now that he knows how the reptiles and insects feel about
being trapped.” She looked at the gem in Ash’s hand and raised
an eyebrow. I gave her a smile.

“We’ve discovered that Ash has a power of gemstones or
something like that,” I explained. “I have some sort of light
power and you have a power over emotions, right?” She nodded.
Ash looked at the stone in his hand.

“With this stone, I could buy myself so much Gemology
equipment!” He exclaimed. I laughed at his enthusiasm and
watched as he summoned another stone from the ground, this
time a gorgeous ruby. He took a breath before holding it out to
me. I saw Cleo out of the corner of my eye start to squeal slightly
before catching my look and running after her boyfriend.

“Um, Nova?” Ash asked, his voice shaking me out of my
imagination.

75

“Y-yes?” I squeaked back, my voice shaking. He passed the stone
to me.
“I want you to have this, as payment for some art lessons?” I let
out a laugh before pocketing the stone.
“Of course, I’ll give you lessons. Not that you need them when it
comes to drawing gems.” He started to blush, but I grabbed his
arm, not his hand.
“Come on. We have some magicians to check on.” He turned to
me, his eyes burying into mine.
“Is that what we are now? Magicians?” I gazed back to the
science room, a smile on my face.
“Well, it certainly is a change, isn’t it?” We walked to the science
room, wondering what was in store for us next.

76

A Modern Australian Identity

By Shelly Dewrance

Slowly I am sown
From the hands of my mother
The teachings of our ancestors
The remnants of a past
Woven in my patches
Precise is the red between
Soaked with the smells of the markets
Remember the values of family
Respect the things you take life from
The monkey on my left
Burning joss papers
Cool like snow
The hybrid language of their past
Etched in gold
Spoken in hushed memories
I struggle to understand
Dulling is my gold
Fraying of my seams
A side I only felt so often
Smooth and soft
I fly on the twin towers

77

Shakily I am knitted
Made to the beat in her soul
The one I hear in silence
To the stories my father tells
Blue between my patches
Messy course and thick
The clearing from the passenger fleet
Rough and unironed
The scales on my right
Etched in white
Midnight art, dresses, dots
Warm like the cottage
The pins from the biscuit jar
Holding my sides together
The value of independence
A family I barely know
Only a few familiar faces
Coming undone is my blue
Splitting is my white
A side I only feel every now and again
I rest on Uluru

78

But I am whole
Carefully folded
2 sides next to each other
Entwined in the middle
Peace in the ocean
Segregated
Thrown into the washing machine of politics
Scrubbed from society
Ripped away
Pick a side
The left is taking our jobs
The right is dirtying us
The left is helping the right
And yet it slowly drifts away
The right is twisted
The left is not strong enough
My seams are ruined

79

It stops
My isolated patches
I’m lifeless and frayed
Lost
Slowly the monkey holds the scales
Aching my red and blue are braided
Hopeful my patches are together
Mixed and matched
Not one without the other
Not 2 sides
Stronger than ever
Always growing
A patchwork quilt

80

The Day We Met Him

By Olivia Trimboli
We’re on our way to meet him for the first time. It feels like
we’ve been sitting in the car for hours – 100 at least! Every town
that we pass brings us closer and with every second that goes by
I get more excited. I can barely breathe just thinking about it. I’ve
been waiting for this moment for so long and now, with just 62
minutes – that’s 3, 720 seconds – to go, I can’t bear to wait any
longer.

***

I went to bed last night at 9.00pm sharp, but didn’t really fall
asleep until 11. I kept rolling around, thinking about him. What
will he look like? Will he be happy with us? I knew I would love
him, there was no way that I couldn’t, but would he like me?
“Dad, do you think he’ll like us?”
My dad shifts his vision from the road and into the rear vision
mirror – “Why wouldn’t he?” he says, “I like us!”
“But dad, I mean do you think he’ll like it better with us?”
“He will, Olivia. Don’t worry.”

81

I’m not convinced.

***

This morning was crazy. As soon as the sun rose I was out of
bed, pacing around the house. I’d showered, dressed and eaten
before my parents had even woken up.
“C’mon guys – no time to sleep – we have places to be!” I yelled
into my parents’ bedroom at 7am, 4 hours before we had to
leave. You’d think I was George Calombaris and this was the
MasterChef grand finale.
“Chop chop, just 14, 440 seconds until we need to hit the road”
“Olivia, please sto –”
“14, 436 seconds”
God knows how they put up with me.

***

All the while we’ve been driving we’ve been brainstorming
names.
“How about Apollo,” my dad suggests. I don’t like it.

82

“Nah, I think he’ll be more of a Rocky”
“I thought we chose Leo!” my brother says.
It’s true, technically we had. The fact is that we’d been through
every decision making method in the book; we’d tossed a coin,
we’d pulled names from a hat, we even devised a fully functional
preferential voting system. And every time, without fail, the name
Leo won out. Yet none of us were really sure about it.

***

We’re so close now. Just 9 minutes – 540 seconds – out. I’m
starting to sweat a little and I’m finding it hard to prevent my leg
from doing that annoying nervous shake. I don’t know why I’m
stressing. I guess I’m just good at it.
“I think this is the one,” my dad says as well pull up next to a
small broken letterbox with the number ‘14’ painted on it.
“What! You told me we’d be there in 9 minutes – that was 3
minutes ago!”
“Well, it seems I was wrong. We’re here.”
The gate is closed, and I see a figure emerge from behind the
small rundown house in the distance. The house sits right in the
centre of the block, surrounded by a vast expanse of dry

83

farmland on which cows graze freely. As the figure nears us he
waves and smiles. He’s a large bloke with a big, greying beard.
“How you going guys!,” he says, opening the gate, “come right
in”.
My dad chats to him for a second before we enter the property.
0 seconds out.
That’s when I see them.
7 tiny puppies with snow-white coloured fur, each as perfect and
precious as the next.
***
We named our boy Sonny.

84

Hangman’s tree

By Sophie Catchpole

The cool breeze of the night rustled the leaves around him, as he
sat precariously, legs dangling from the gnarled tree branch. He
felt the leaves tickle his skin and his copper hair be spun wildly in
hypnotic patterns. Watching the houses below him, he sat, until
one by one, the lights in the windows slowly went out. But the
moon was full tonight, and it sent shadows to dance across the
ground, including his, which playfully crept down the tree and
through an open window on the empty street, one that was still
alive with a flickering light.
He heard it calling his name as if beckoning him.
“Peter”
“Peeeter”
Curious, he leapt from his tree-top retreat to follow it. His pupils
widened as he adjusted to the moonlight glow, following his
shadow to the lonely windowsill. He saw what he expected upon
peering through the window, a warm, dimly lit room, baby blue
walls glowing, and a young figure crouched next to two occupied
beds. She was the most fascinating sight he’d laid his eyes on.
Her rich, chocolate hair was tied wispily behind her and her

85

movements were soft and comforting, but of course, it wasn’t
the first time he’d seen her, he’d been here before.

It appeared as if she were going to read, a large book rested in
her delicate hands. Leaning forward through the window, he
strained to hear her words.

“Which Story would you like tonight?” she cooed.

“The one about pirates, please Wendy!” the smallest lump in the
bed responded. “Oh please!” the other joined.

“Ok” she laughed at their excitement.

Adjusting his weight onto the windowsill Peter sat, leaning in
closer, listening in to the story.

“Once upon a time…” Her words were honey, sweet and warm,
falling from her mouth and tiptoeing into his waiting ears.

As the story went on, Peter couldn’t help but feel more and more
enchanted by her words, every syllable sounding like the voice of
an angel.

“The wicked pirates pulled out their swords, the hero was
surrounded!” Wendy read, sending the small figures in the beds
into whirs of anticipation, as well as Peter, who excitedly leaned
closer through the window.

She’d obviously read this story many times before, Peter thought,
as she knew exactly how to make the story sound even more

86

exciting than it was. She lowered her voice to a whisper, imitating
the scene she was reading, struggling to hear her, Peter leaned
even closer through the window, now half his body was
stretching into the room. His hearing pricked as he tuned back
into the story.

“The hero waited, as quiet as a mouse, while the pirates searched
for him,” her lowered tone sent shivers down his spine, sending
the room into hushed whispers of excitement

“He kept ever so quiet until…

…BAM!”

Both the children in the beds jumped in fright at the sudden
outburst, as did Peter. The scare sent his legs in the air and his
body tumbling through the window, it was something like a trick
you’d see at the circus, only less graceful.

Wendy whipped around at the commotion, to see a familiar, but
now red-faced boy in a heap on the floor.

“Peter?!” she gasped, “What are you doing here?!” she clutched
the book to her chest.

“Uh-I-um it’s not what it looks like I was uh- I was…” He
quickly stood and fumbled his words, trying to think of an
acceptable excuse, but was quickly put off upon looking into her
blueberry eyes, that looked back at him in confusion.

87

A gruff voice shook from further in the house, “Wendy? What
was that noise!?” This awakened him from his trance.

“You have to go!” Wendy blushed, as she dropped the book and
began to push Peter towards the window. Peter was stunned at
the sudden change in events and began baffling as any teenage
boy would.

“I’m sorry, it was a mistake, I-I…Ow” He squawked as Wendy
shoved him in the back.

She stopped the excessive budging as Peter lifted his legs over
the windowsill, ready to stroll into the awaiting darkness.

“Peter.” She said softly as he placed his feet on the ground
outside. He turned his head, still sitting on the ledge, to see a
small grin on her rosy cheeks, “We’ll pretend this didn’t happen,
see you at school you lunatic.” She ruffled his hair and turned
away, disappearing into the house as a smug and slightly shocked
Peter disappeared into the night.

Walking into his home that night left Peter’s mood drastically
different from what it had been minutes earlier. When he flicked
the latch of his front door open, he was greeted by the silhouette
of a tall, blocky man, who in one hand held a bent metal rod, and
with the other curled his fingers into a hook, his father was not
happy with his disobedience it appeared, and with a single swipe,

88

grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and led him deep into the
house.

No words could explain what had happened to Peter that night,
the punishment for him getting home late was, that of the
highest degree, not only was he left physically maimed, his back
raw with cuts, his mind was left terrified of what else this man he
once called his father could do. But at that moment, after his
punishment, and after he heard his father wander off to bed, he
decided to write. He wrote a letter, a letter about how he truly
felt, addressed to Wendy. After putting it in an envelope and
sealing it shut, he stuffed it in his jacket pocket and fell into a
troubled sleep.

The next morning, he left for school as early as he could, hoping
it could distract his worried mind. He winced in pain as the fabric
on his shirt shifted and slid along his back, it burned with fear
and uncertainty at what was to come of him. He couldn’t come
home late again, after last night, the anger that dripped from his
father’s face, the father he once looked up to so much, he
couldn’t go through that again. It felt like millions of sharpened
nails were being dragged through his skin, but he tried his best to
keep a straight face. When he saw Wendy walking through the
school gates, all thoughts of last night momentarily faded away,
he couldn’t help but let his lips curl into a smile.

89

She returned the favour, her strawberry grin emerging once
more, the grin that sent surges of strange emotions pooling in his
skull.
He saw her walking towards him, in her delicate, balletic steps,
and was entranced by her movements, he’d never met anyone so
interesting.
“Hey, Peter.” She chimed merrily, looking up at his fern-green
eyes.
“Morning.” He nodded down at her, thinking of anything to say
to distract from last night’s awkward encounter.
“Are you doing anything this afternoon Peter? I was wondering if
you’d want to, hang out or something.”
Peter looked down at her in shock. Her inviting him to hang out?
Maybe she did like him after all.
“That sounds amazing!” He grinned back, “We should go to
hangman’s tree in the woods, I’ve heard that apparently, a tribe
of lost boys lives there, maybe we can investigate.” This was his
attempt at cool conversation.
She laughed, her cheeks flushing red “sounds like a date, I’ll meet
you and we can walk there after school!” she danced away into
the crowds of school children, disappearing amongst them. Peter

90

was the happiest boy alive at that moment, and he too strutted
away, off to class.

When the final bell chimed. Peter and Wendy chatted and walked
away from the school grounds, towards the woods, following the
path until they met the magnificent landmark.
Its weathered bark was haunted as it flaked away from its body.
Its trunk was as tall as it was wide, and it housed a large hollow in
its centre. Whether it was dead or alive, no one truly knew, all
they did know was the extravagant and fantastical stories it
carried with it. Stories of Adventure, stories of love, stories of
tragedy.
Peter scraped his hand along its surface, peeling off flakes of
paper-like bark as he went.
“One day I’ll climb it”, he thought aloud, “I’ll climb the whole
thing.” His voice began to grow more powerful, as if unaware of
what he was saying “I’ll stand on the highest branch and throw
my arms out, I’ll fly away from this stupid world and these stupid
people.”
Wendy looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes “Oh but
this world is magical, Peter!” She lifted up her hand and traced
along the pattern of the bark with her fingers. “Aren’t you

91

excited to grow up! To be free, to live your life how you please,
to see all the wonders of the world.” She looked off at the
curiously shaped clouds in the sky.

“No.” Peter barked back stalely, “I wish It could stay this way
forever, I wish I never had to grow up.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that Peter” she replied, walking in
front of him, arms akimbo. “You sound more and more like a
child every day!” she let out a squeal as peter playfully chased
after her.

Together they played in and around Hangman’s tree for hours,
watching the clouds, kicking up leaves, playing hide and seek, and
acting like children. They were blissful, frozen in time, and hours
felt like mere seconds as they danced in the arms of the woods.

As the sun began to set on the two unsuspecting teens, a surge of
panic and fright encompassed Peter. He knew he had to go home
now, it was probably too late. He imagined his father, the manic
look on his eyes as he held his rod firm, his hands curled into
dastardly hooks, ready to punish him for his ignorance.

“Wendy…” His words were tinged with concern, looking up into
the pinkened sky “I think we better get going… before it gets
dark”

She frowned, but an acceptant look soon replaced it.

92

“Yeah, you’re right, don’t want to get the folks worried.”
He placed his hands in his pockets as they began to head back
and felt the crumple of paper around his fingers. He remembered
the letter he’d written for Wendy, he cringed at the thought. Was
it really the right time, it was so stupid why did he ever think of
giving it to her? He argued with himself internally fingering the
letter in his pocket until he decided.
“Wendy, I know this might seem weird and stupid but, I um- I
wrote this for you.” He removed the crinkled envelope from his
pocket and saw her face light up. Feeling his own face grow
hotter he handed the letter to her.
She grasped the paper in her porcelain hands and began to
carefully unpeel it, ready to reveal its magic.
“Wait!” Peter added grasping her hands to prevent her from
seeing any further. “You have to promise me you won’t open it
until I’m gone ok.”
She nodded her head, and Peter saw her own cheeks turn a rosy
shade of pink before she quickly turned her face towards the
ground. He was glad he did it in the end, given her the letter that
is, he felt a warmth within him he’d never felt before, something
told him it was right.

93

After he’d seen Wendy home, the rest of that night could only be
described as a nightmare for Peter, for after his return, as he
predicted, his father, was waiting for his prey once again. His
eyes looked cold and glazy as he sat in his old creaky rocking
chair, listening to the repetitive chimes that the clock sent, every
tick, angered him more, and the sound of the latch flicking open
on the door, made him feel like a child on Christmas. All his
pent-up rage was satisfied with every hit, every cry, every plea, it
sent his heart rate beating faster and faster with adrenalin. He felt
so powerful, seeing the fear in that boys’ eyes, it’s the way it had
to be.

Peter didn’t sleep that night after his scars had been reopened all
he could do was lay on his stomach and cry. Just like the little
boy he was. When he heard the sound of his father’s bedroom
door closing, he knew it was time. He crawled over the
windowsill, into the blissful night, and ran.

His heart was pounding with adrenaline and his feet felt heavy
and sluggish, he looked up at hangman’s tree, a figure of beauty,
it’s silhouette dangerous and tall in the dim moonlight. Running
his fingers along the bark like he always did, he lifted his other
hand towards the lowest branch and began to climb. Branch after
branch, he swung. It took many a-minute and all the strength he
had left to pull himself higher and higher up the tree, but in the

94

end, he did what he had always dreamed, he had made it to the
top. He poked his head out of the gnarled twigs and looked out
on the world, the city looked beautiful in the distance, and he
could see the forest canopy go for miles, it’s colours magnificent,
it’s leaves dancing. The cool night's air rustled his hair and sent
goosebumps spreading like a wave through his body, he finally
felt free. He felt like he could’ve stayed there forever, but his
mind had just caught up with how weak he was, he felt his eyes
begin to roll into the back of his skull, and his legs began to
buckle, he was ready to crawl into a ball and sleep, but he stood,
until his legs gave in, and his eyes finally closed.

He flew. His arms stretched out wide beside him, his eyes closed,
he flew. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but to him, it felt like
an eternity, his hair was pushed behind him by the fast-flowing
wind and all his wounds were healed. There was no fear, only
peace. A new strength raged through his body and he felt free.
For a second, he thought of Wendy, her beauty and her
curiousness, she felt like a distant memory, a guiding light.

She saw him in her stories of adventure, she heard him in the
words of small children, she felt him sitting at her windowsill at
night, and she knew he would never leave her. News of Peter

95

reached the town but flew by just as fast as it had arrived, his
body found, torn apart at the bottom of hangman’s tree. Seeing
the crumpled envelope on her desk, signed in his ugly
handwriting, sent twinges of pain through her chest, and stings
into the back of her throat. She thought about him every day,
and every day she missed him more and more, she decided it was
time, she carefully peeled at the sealed envelope, and pulled out a
sheet of paper, to see a few short sentences scrawled onto the
page;

Wendy,
I know this sounds stupid but, it’s been playing on my mind,

You are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met,
and I think about you all the time, I just wanted you to know

that,
If I had you with me, growing up wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I’d even consider growing old with you, it would be the greatest

adventure,
Don’t you think?

Peter Pan.

96

A salty droplet landed onto the sheet as Wendy folded it back up,
and placed it into the envelope, tucking it carefully into her big
red storybook.

...

She heard the familiar crackle of dead leaves on the ground as
she made her way to hangman’s tree, something was especially
curious about it today, a single green leaf, curled and young, had
sprouted from the lowest branch. Wendy smiled and sat on the
ground beneath it, opening up her blank sketchbook, and
beginning to write.
She visited the tree constantly after Peter had left, and she never
stopped, even into her old age, and with every visit, more leaves
appeared, until it was lush with the most amazing shade of green
she’d ever seen in her life. She wrote stories on her visits, under
the shade of its boughs, fantasy stories about pirates and
mermaids, fairies and lost boys, spectacular lands with mischief
and magic. But every story had one thing in common, they all
told the adventures of one magical boy. A boy who’d go on
adventures, a boy that could fly, and who’d never grow up, a boy
called Peter Pan.

97

Misconception

By Lucie Stirk-Wasley

There's a boy I like, I've liked him for as long as I've known him.
So, I guess I love him.

There's a boy I like, I see him almost every day. He lights up my
life.

There's a boy I like, he likes sport. But he also sleeps a lot.

There's a boy I like, his hair is dark and curly. His eyes are a
beautiful brown.

There's a boy I like, I never see him at school. I wonder what he
does during the day.

There's a boy I like, he gives the best hugs. He is so cute.

There's a boy I like, he always sits with me. He never has an
umbrella when it rains.

98

There's a boy I like, he loves going to the park. He's definitely an
extrovert.

There's a boy I like, I think he likes me too. But I would never
date him.

There's a boy I like, I've known him since I was eight. He's like a
brother to me.

There's a boy I like, he's family to me. I even share a bedroom
with him.

There's a boy I like, I will like him forever. Because he's man's
best friend.

There's a boy I like, he is a good boy.

He is my dog.

99

Ghostly

By Sophie Ries

When a child is born, you would expect only for the parents,
doctor, and nurses to be present. This wasn’t the case for little
Ophelia Hickman, when she was born- at approximately fourteen
minutes past the twenty-second hour, there were quite a few
unexpected visitors. These visitors went unnoticed by all except
the baby, who had the most peculiar expression on her face as
she looked up at them. As four wisp-like figures floated wearing
expectant expressions. She began to wail.
‘oh dear’ cooed Mrs. Hickman as she cradled her baby in her
arms. But still, little Ophelia cried into the night.
Only in the morning did she quieten once more.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Darling please don’t be upset, how could we have known?’ cried
Mr. Johnson, as he, his wife and two children floated their way
back to the graveyard.

100