Curious Minds

CELEBRATING • DARING • CREATIVITY Curious Minds 2023 PROJECT THE

2 “Write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you…edit to let the fire show through the smoke.” Cover Art Deeana Rapoojee | Yr11 Welcome to this year’s Curious Minds Project. We couldn’t be more delighted to share some of the wonderful work of our students. All our young writers have crafted their work with passion, with insight and with a deep love of language to produce messages they hope will impactfully connect with readers. The poems, short stories, reflective musings, fantasy landscapes, family love and future horizons have been drafted, redrafted and critiqued so that dazzling fire shines brightly from their smoky ideas. Congratulations to all who see their name here in print! We hope you enjoy reading! Congratulations to the Quill and Ink Club and all writers and illustrators. Your creativity for communicating with passion and enthusiasm is most impressive. This is a great read from cover to cover. I recommend it to all who get lost in the world of words. Pam Sanderson & Pauline Catrice Avila English Department | Quill and Ink Co-ordinators Dr Michelle Cotter Avila College Principal Arthur Plotnik

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 3 Family is…. By Torah Rentoulis | Yr 7 Art Niki Dorozhkin | Yr11, Chiara De Caro | Yr8, Maria Jose Valencia Andrade | Yr8, Gabriella Stokie | Yr8, Vivian Fan | Yr8, Bianca Rogers | Yr11, Alexandra Lewis | Yr11, Grace Kelly | Yr8, Livia Wilholt | Yr8, Lucinda Prodan | Yr11 Family is unconditional love The people that were there at your birth, The people that lavishly care for you, The people that look after you, everyday and night. A neighbour, or a close friend could be your family, For all you know. If you know them well and they are close to you They may be this precious thing. In phases of darkness Your family is always there. As with all families They will care for you forever. Loving families are the best, The ones that will help you for all time Family will help and support you And time is constant with family. Your family and friends will always be there for you Whether you see it or not. Just observe very carefully and maybe, You will just notice…

4 Curiosity is a search for more, It is in the expedition of the explorer, It is in the truth you cannot find, Curiosity is a mouse in a mousetrap. Curiosity is a hope that there is more to know, Znatiželja je ljubav prema učenju. Curiosity is a climb up the mountain towards the peak of knowledge, Η περιέργεια είναι η εκμάθηση μιας νέας γλώσσας. Curiosity is a wave of desire to find out why, La curiosità è una lunga fila di gelati, La curiosité essaie les cuisses de grenouilles. Curiosity is a hunger, a filling, an insatiability. Curiosity is the affinity of the fish to the hook, The meal of a hungry fisherman who dares to look. Curiosity is a raised eyebrow, The X on an illegible map not everyone has the bravery to pursue. Curiosity is a desire to communicate, A person on a date, Or a person on a train ride, Curiosity sits in a stranger’s unique aura. Curiosity is a question mark at the end of a poem, That leaves your mind wondering why it’s there…? Curiosity is… Group Writing Experience Vivian Fan, Natalie Tan, Torah Rentoulis, Amy Ferbezar, Monique Adolphe, Himansa De Silva, Lakshmikha Sivananda, Alana Bartlett Art Kiara Martenstyn | Yr10

6 The Dragonʼs Gem By An Ye Leong | Yr7 Art Aleia Di Scala | Yr8 It was the year 6043 and the human population was 865 billion. Humans were running out of space on earth. This resulted in humans living in peculiar living conditions such as in oceans, volcanoes and even on a sleeping dragon! This last was the case for the town of Tilidale. Among the town of 1000 living on the back of an inert dragon was Nicole and her best friend, Mary. Mary was a student whereas Nicole had dropped out of school. Instead of school Nicole helped. She helped with big things, like restarting the power, and small things, like Mrs Curren’s gardening. Nicole was known as Tilidale’s Saviour. “Beep, beep, beep.” Nicole slowly turned off her alarm. She checked her phone for any messages only to find one from the mayor. “To all residents of Tilidale, someone has stolen the Dragon’s Gem.” Nicole was stunned. Without the gem, the dragon would slowly wake up. Nicole ran to Mary’s house as fast as she could and there she found Mary controlling a drone. “What’s that for?” Nicole asked. “It’s to find out where the gem is,” said Mary. They both watched intently to see who, or even what, had taken the gem. The drone camera focused on something that looked ‘alien’. The ‘thing’ resembled a giant blue lizard with bright pink frills around its neck. “What’s that…?” Nicole questioned. “Is that…No, it can’t be,” murmured Mary. “It’s… Narcrotia from that myth, right?”

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 7 She grabbed an old book off the shelf and read aloud, “The blue beast will come for the gem to gain immortality. To defeat it, stab it through its pulsing orange heart.” Both of the girls were too stunned for words. They stood in silence, until Mary finally spoke. “This is your next mission, Tilidale Saviour.” Nicole watched as in front of her own eyes Mary shifted, transforming into a glowing box. “It is time, young one. Time to get rid of Narcrotia once and for all,” exclaimed the glowing box, which weirdly still seemed to be Mary. “Nicole Faraway,” said the glowing box. “Take this sword and pierce it through Narcrotia’s orange heart. Narcrotia is at the Mariana Trench.” Mary, Nicole and the glowing box then travelled to the lowest place on earth, finally arriving at the steep vertical drop. Down below, Nicole could only see the giant blue, one and only Narcrotia. “Just step off. Trust me with your life,” encouraged the glowing box. Nicole knew that she didn’t have time to object so she clutched her sword, took a deep breath and stepped off… She screamed as she descended. The wind whipped past as she plummeted to the floor of the trench. She shut her eyes and crossed her fingers as a wind of glitter came between her body and the dusty ground, slowing her speed and saving her from the drop. Nicole didn’t even touch the dirt, because she was cushioned by the air formed cloud of glitter. She slowly got up and stepped off. “Phew. Now time for battle,” thought Nicole. She charged at Narcrotia ready to stab her heart on the first try but she thought wrong because Narcrotia already knew what was going to happen. Narcrotia snatched Nicole out of the air from where she had lunged at her and threw Nicole’s body into the side of the canyon wall with such force that it made an echoing boom. A pile of rocks collapsed over Nicole and Narcrotia believed that the Saviour would die. “Whoosh!” The wind of gold glitter came again, and it took the form of a flying human which slapped Narcrotia to the ground. Narcrotia lay there in the dust as if she was dead. The glitter seemed to shift its attention to the rocks piled on top of Nicole and dug her out, then gave her back the sword. “You got this,” announced the glitter as it turned into the glowing box and again back into Mary. Nicole then heard the sound of Mary’s flesh tearing as one of Narcrotia’s claws ended Mary’s life. Rage filled Nicole’s body and she just snapped. Nicole stabbed Narcrotia through her bright orange, pulsing heart and the monster collapsed to the ground for good. Nicole ran to the Dragon’s Gem and journeyed back to Tilidale, arriving just as the dragon was waking. Nicole leaped on to the dragon’s tail and ran to the town hall to put the gem back in its rightful place. The dragon froze. All was well. Nicole sat on the town hall steps, knowing that she had saved the entire town, but something was missing. She gazed out into the sunset to see a wind moving with golden glitter at the edges. Mary. “The blue beast will come for the gem to gain immortality. To defeat it, stab it through its pulsing orange heart.”

8 Celebration By Erica Donaldson | Yr9 Art Alicia Dragwidge | Yr9

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 9 Small steps on the hard wooden floor, Knocks, twice, thrice till the crack widens, Vast open space waiting for me, Greetings thrusted my way, Echoing the same joyful sentiment. The doorbell rings, more visitors, Before the narrow corridor fills up, The apartment door slams open and shut. Halting the procession of snacks into mouths, Yells herd us forward. Lifted up, up, up, In view of the large wooden table, Illuminated by the soft warm glow, Murmurs of a familiar chorus, Candles, quivering, shivering then finally going out The aroma of sugary sweetness. Greeted by yawns at the end of the night, The city, meant to be slumbering, Is awake with joy, As wide eyes stare out into the sky, The cold air taunting, Bright explosions of colour, Signal the end of the year.

10 “Whoosh!” A frosty gush of wind blasted the walls of the quaint town of St.Marcus, shaking even their most robust clock towers. “Ding, dong!” It had just struck seven, signalling the start of yet another melancholy night. Inspector D’lerious sprung up from his chair. He was trying to take a break from cases but it seemed as if his plan had failed. After taking a few moments to pace himself, he sat down again at his crisp, burnt sienna desk, its delicate fine grain littered with an ocean of books and files. Inspector D’lerious gently lifted his hand, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee while staring at the stack of case files before him. His tired, sunken eyes shifted towards one particular case, one which had been infesting his thoughts for weeks - The case of the missing manuscript. This mind-numbing manuscript belonged to the renowned writer, Mark Williams. Mr Williams had been planning for the release of his new book for weeks, meticulous planning had gone into the event, when, just days before it was supposed to happen, it vanished. Mr Williams was the most famous person in town, and with all of his fans waiting, the case naturally landed on the desk of the most talented detective in the whole state; Inspector D’lerious. Knowing how much was at stake, Inspector D’lerious wasn’t The Case of the Missing Manuscript By Alysha Luttick | Yr8 Art Emmerson Traplin | Yr10

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 11 surprised when the fans started mocking him for the delay. And the case was practically telling him he couldn’t put it off anymore. So, determined to prove himself and crack the case, he set off to interview the writer. Upon arriving, Inspector D’lerious found Mr Williams anxiously pacing in his study. The room was adorned with bookshelves, filled to the brim with novels and literary treasures. As he was asking questions, he inspected the room, and noticed something peculiar - a small, ornate key lying on the floor. It seemed out of place, completely unrelated to the case, yet it still caught his attention. As the investigation unfolded, Inspector D’lerious dived into the lives of those closest to Mr Williams. He questioned his manager, editor and even his most loyal housekeeper, yet none of them had any insight into the whereabouts of the manuscript. Every single one of them claimed their innocence and even expressed their genuine admiration for Williams’ work. Days soon turned into weeks, and Inspector D’lerious’ frustration was consuming him. The case was slipping away and with all that was at stake, the pressure to perform was driving him insane. Just before he was about the lose all hope, a breakthrough anonymous tip sent him flying out the door. The tip led him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The fortified steel door seemed familiar. Inspector D’lerious couldn’t tell if it was the amber, rusted frame or pea-sized keyhole that he'd seen before, but he didn’t have time to waste. Without a flinch, he burst open the door. Inside was a whole collection of stolen artwork and precious artifacts. As he further investigated, Inspector D’lerious spotted the manuscript in the corner of his eye. It appeared as though the thief had a penchant for collecting valuable items, but the motive behind stealing Williams’ manuscript still remained unclear. With the manuscript in hand, Inspector D’lerious returned to Mr Williams’ residence to share the good news. As he entered the study, he noticed the small, ornate key he had discovered earlier was now sitting on the author's desk. Piquing his curiosity, Inspector D’lerious asked about its significance. “Ah, Inspector, it seems you've stumbled upon a plot twist of your own. You see, this whole investigation has been a ruse, a marketing ploy to hype up my novel. Everything, from the manuscript's disappearance to the tip, was all a set-up. All of this was a game and you played right into my hand." Dumbfounded by Mr Williams’s audacity to plan such a magnificent turn of events, Inspector D’lerious was taken aback. He was amazed by Mr Williams’ genius, yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang of betrayal. The case, which has consumed his every waking moment, ended up being an elaborate charade. The whole thing was a story worth being written in one of Mr Williams’ very own novels - a masterstroke of deception that left even the seasoned detective astounded. Once the manuscript was released, it became an instant sensation, reaching the top of the charts of countries worldwide. The manuscript's disappearance, the investigation and the subsequent ending, all added to the lore of Mark Williams, forever entwined with the everlasting indent on the mystery genre as a whole and the mystique surrounding the writer and his craft. As for the detective, he learnt a lifelong lesson on the art of storytelling. That in every case, easy or not, there will always be twists and turns. He would carry this lesson with him throughout his career, forever wary of an unravelling mystery. This mind-numbing manuscript belonged to the renowned writer, Mark Williams. Mr Williams had been planning for the release of his new book for weeks, meticulous planning had gone into the event, when, just days before it was supposed to happen, it vanished.

12 Raging River By Chloe Shields | Yr9 Art Lily Crellin | Yr8

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 13 People say their love is a bright burning flame. I don’t want our love to be made of fire, even though flames are bright and intense. The biggest, brightest flames always die. I want our passion to last a life time. Instead of a burning fire let our love be a raging river. Always churning, always moving, swirling around a single point, us. I want you to share your passions with me, And I will share mine with you. I want to laugh with you, I want to sing with you, I want to listen to you. I want to sit with you, To play, listen, live with you. Let me be inspired by you To do better, be better, to dream better, with you. I hope we travel the river together – forever entwined. However, I struggle to express my feelings. I am jealous of your passion, your humour, your confidence, your adventurous spirit …. But these words are my attempt. This is a love letter for you – As our river continues to flow Making its way to an eternal sea.

14 Human, what a strange word. Human – ‘having the qualities that distinguish humankind.’ Not divine or animal or mechanical, but having better qualities? How can a group of beings so supportive of destruction have ‘better qualities’? They seem to create only to destroy. Why? This is what plagued my final thoughts. Humans have such power, yet they use it to destroy. That was until I met a human who was different, Max. He's the one who taught me how to love. It’s a strange thing waking up after you’ve been discarded for as long as I had been. Even stranger to have a being, of the very race that discarded you, be the first thing that you see. It was a male, wearing large grey, baggy clothes. The male human had his hair cut two centimetres from his ears and it was covered in a black shiny substance called oil. “You work?” he asked, though I don’t know why. When powered down I am cold and lifeless and can’t reply. However, when working, the metal encasing me warms me as it hums to life. “You work! Oh, this is incredible. I finally got you to work!” He had retreated from his crouched position before me, to standing upright before running a hand through the strands of hair on his head. My gears and limbs were squealing due to lack of use. In a slight daze I stood and looked at the surrounding environment. Everything I saw was man-made: towers stood intimidatingly over us covering the blazing ball of fire - sending a dark shadow over where we stood; black smoke from the factories replaced the natural blue of the sky; metal and steel stood broken and thrown about in every direction. I could tell that this mechanical mess had once been a collection of beautiful creations. Littered throughout each and every pitiful pile of destruction were the remains of my kin. The remains of robots. The male had introduced himself as Max, a 21 year old human male who had once built the towering creations like the ones scattered around us. He moved us to a small box, an apartment as he called it, which seemed to be where he lived. Originally, I believed that he was just like all the other humans, selfish. However, he continually proved me incorrect. Even when I was unresponsive towards him he would still teach me about Memories By Eilish Stansfield | Yr10 Art Amelie Huppe | Yr10 It’s a strange thing waking up after you’ve been discarded for as long as I had been. Even stranger to have a being, of the very race that discarded you, be the first thing that you see.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 15 this new world. Apparently the government had caused the extinction of the robots because of their fear of losing control over them. It’s been two years since I first met the human, Max, at the ‘junkyard’ as he called it. I don’t believe that anything at the yard was junk. I raised this with Max on multiple occasions and he agreed. He explained that he was in the junkyard to make gravestones for my fallen kin when he found me - the one who wasn’t as damaged as the others. With all he’s done for me, I would say that he is now my family. I have never in the few years that I’ve known Max been treated like a machine. He has given me a name, X-roid. Yes, it’s a simple name, and not very creative because he got it from a painting on the wall. But for someone who has always been seen as a lesser being, someone not worthy of a name, this was a gift. Maybe he was what the humans called an angel. Max warned that if the government was ever to find that I was alive and working they would try to take me away from him. So for 2 years I have stayed in that little box he called home; for 2 years everything was perfect. Then it wasn’t. 22nd of June. That is today’s date. 22nd of June is when the threat we were hiding from found us. Everything was the same as it had been. The sun desperately tried to light the world, yet the smoke only allowed a few tiny streams of brightness to seep past its barrier. There was a knock on the large piece of metal called a door. We never got visitors so naturally we were cautious. I was told to go hide in the closet, which is where humans store clothes … who knew humans had so many clothes? I couldn’t hear much from the closet, the door being shut. Yes, closets have doors too. How strange. Voices were raised to shouts and I could tell now that they were looking for something. The voices escalated higher. There was crashing and loud shouts coming from Max telling the intruders to get out. BANG. Then there was nothing. No shouting or crashing. Just a silent thud. Something was wrong. Whatever the bang was, it was bad. I shouldn’t open the door, Max told me not to. But it was wrong - something was wrong. So, I did. I opened the door. Red. There was a lot of red. It was liquid and it was coming from Max so it must be bad. At the door were two female humans and a male, one of the female humans had a black object in her hands pointed at where Max had been standing before he fell. All the humans look at me. The new humans smiled, but it wasn’t like when Max smiled. No. It was cold and dark. Max. He wasn’t smiling like he normally did when he saw me. He looked afraid. Not of me. Of the other humans. “X-roid,” Max wheezed, he seemed in pain. The red liquid was definitely bad. It was hurting Max. “Run.” He wanted me to run? Why? Were these humans bad? Were they the government? “There it is.” A sickly sweet voice came from one of the females. “There’s the monster!” Monster. Yes, this was the government. They wanted to take me from Max. “How about you come with us? We won't hurt this fellow if you do.” No, they’re bad. “X-roid, No” Max called again. “Shut it!” the male human yelled. “No,” I stated. “I will not allow you to take me from Max.” “Very well then.” Maybe they will leave us alone. “We will just kill him then you,” a female said pointing the black object towards where Max was still lying. Before I could do anything, she pulled back on a small lever attached to the object… BANG! A bright flash appeared before me. Humans say life flashes before your eyes in these moments. I must say they are correct. Everything of the past few years flashed before me. Max never died that day. He lived. I made sure of it. Maybe he would have that life he said he always wanted. But I would never be a part of it. No, Max didn’t die that day. But I did. It might be strange to say that since I am a robot, but I did. In the last milliseconds when the flash went off I managed to get in front of Max, stopping whatever was sent to kill him. You might think “Oh! He will just fix you!” but no, whatever it was sent at Max destroyed my memory unit, so even if Max did fix me I wouldn’t be X-roid. I saw the other humans leave. Apparently they got what they wanted. I saw Max move over to where I was now lying. I saw his mouth moving. I couldn’t hear him. My final thoughts were wondering about humans and what I’d seen through this second chance. I’m glad I got to know Max before the end. Maybe humans aren’t all bad. “Thank you for teaching me to love.” Then there was nothing.

By Joanna Praveen | Yr8 Art Sameen Hamidy | Yr11 Step up for what’s right! Slam Poetry We all seem to be fading, Slowly degrading From our morals Our beliefs. Listen world, We need a new chief. We can’t have A scattered flock of liars Too cowardly to enquire. A proper voice is required. 16

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 17 Like how the whites killed the blacks? Through pain, Death, And misery, But not a drop of sympathy. They behaved like their tap of empathy, Just wasn’t working properly. Guess it just wasn’t in their cup of tea, To have a little mercy. But we better learn from our mistakes, Before we start a World War 3, Break all the necks of our enemies, And unleash the wrath of our Enmity. We need someone with integrity. I know that it’s hard, But if we find a person With that quality, Think how the world could improve. If we all made that same move, If we put racism in our past We’d be in a world with no outcasts, No one left to hide behind a mask! We might be free at last, So, we can’t just sit around all day, Waiting for the world to fade, We’ve gotta find our voice within, Cause as Kennedy once said, “If not us, then who? And if not now, then when?” I’m not implying An autocratic strategy, Cause all we really need Is a person that understands The basic needs of you and me. But how low will we go, Until we lose our blood flow? Until there’s no place to go? And we have no sanctuary? And we’re just history? At that moment we'll be the reason For our own extinction. Real soon we’ll reach our expiration date, We’ll all die with our hearts filled with hate. We’ll have blood on our hands, All divided into different lands, Different clans, With different plans, All waving separate flags. We’ll all turn into Brutus, Hiding the knife behind our back, Dead bodies drying on our rack, Does this ring a bell?

18 The Diary of a Poet’s Daughter By Nadia Montenegro | Yr12 Art Joy Hua | Yr11 Denial. 14 Years Old. Ripples. I watch the curves of the wet reflective surface as they stretch out across the lake. The cause of their rippling? A mother and father duck herding their ducklings along. The ducklings do not know it yet, but their father will leave, abandon them. The difference between humans and ducks is that their father leaving is a result of his compliance to nature. Humans, however, are supposed to have the comfort of knowing that they can run into a strong pair of arms when the light is snuffed out. They are not supposed to have only a fleeting figure of the night. As I gaze upon these ripples, it dawns on me that my father’s absence may too cause a ripple effect. As I gaze upon the fleur de lys, I cannot summon a more beautiful image. They awaken a place in my mind, The place where my father left, to save us from strife. My father could not possibly keep this burden from multiplying Had he not returned to the place of the Union Jack, My mother and I may have no place to lay our back. Anger. 18 Years Old. The wind rattles the windowpane as the tears of the rain fall. There is a storm coming. I can feel it brewing in my very bones, at the essence of my being. I resent the rain. I resent how it creates a dreary painting of the world around me. I resent how it flattens the flowers and plants that perked up to reach the sun. But I do not have anymore such hatred harboured towards rain, than I do towards you. At least rain renews, you brew. You manifest absence at the centre of my being until unknowingly you have dug a grave with the piercing blade of a shovel, right through my heart. You manifest my storm. Storm. The word does not do it justice. What it is, is tree branches whipping around violently, striking down anything in the path of its wrath. It is the darkness that overshadows the light, the all consuming power of a storm. The image of my father’s face is conjured by this storm. The violence of it all. The missed birthdays, the nights of endless tears. He was supposed to be here. He should have been here. He is to o busy admiring daffodils and the extravagance of it all. All I see when I avert my gaze to the yellow fleur de lys is a broken stem, and falling petals. It appears to be damaged by this so-called wonder, nature.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 19 Bargaining. 21 Years Old. Mother Mary’s face wears a solemn expression as she holds the body of her crucified son in her arms. There is no anguish, no resentment. Pain yes, but no fear. I wonder what deals Mary discussed in her prayers with the Lord. “My loving father, I have given my life to you. I have never asked for anything. As a gift for my love for you, please return my son if it is your will!” I wonder if that is the reason for her son's return. I wonder if I pleaded to the Lord, would I get my father back? Will he grant me this mercy? My knees sink deeper into the carpet of the church floors as I send my last prayer to the heavens. Leaving the church once again, I see the fleur de lys, and, for a second, I almost feel like the Lord answers my prayers. I pluck the flower from the earth and play the game, ‘loves me, loves me not’ as I contemplate if my prayers were answered. Depression. 25 Years Old. I am back at the lake. The sun beams down and causes the water to shine and shimmer. The wind creates waves in the grass and they dance to its familiar song. To a joyous soul, this would be a magnificent sight. This would be immaculate. To me, it is nothing. The vibrant yellow of the flowers cannot console me nor can they make me feel. They are simply just there, existing with no relevant significance. They offer no purpose and, as these sleepless nights go by, I wonder if I have any purpose. I figure I clearly was not meant for my father, so what am I meant for in this world? What is any of this green, this light, this blue, this sickly bright yellow meant for at all? Maybe my father would know, but I no longer care to want to ask. Acceptance. 30 Years Old. The Simplon Pass. I recall my father had once written of it, tried to encapsulate the works of God in language, in poetry. My eyes consume all the surrounding greenery. The blends of whites in the streams of the waterfalls, the rich soil on which I stand. I think I finally understand it all. The trance nature had engulfed my father in. I think I have finally succumbed to its beauty. I no longer harbour any anger or resentment towards him. I have decided to set my heart free from the cage my grief has put me in. Instead, the blades of grass offer me consolation, the fleur de lys finally brings me joy and no longer do I need my father.

20 Hyperspace technology isn’t that revolutionary anymore. It can be quite slow, and one of the older versions is tediously so. Interplanetary journeys within five-hundred million kilometres are alright, but further than that, I had known would be rough by myself. Yet here I was. “Beta Arae…Alpha Arae…Gamma Arae…Zeta Arae… Eta Arae…” I trailed off, finger in the air, pointing at an empty space, puzzled. “Where is Delta?” I asked the group of gyrating metal, who spun around on their wheels and shook their heads frantically. “Did you see him-?” WHIRRR! A robot zipped through the mechanical doors and abruptly braked. “Ah, Delta, here you are.” I smiled as he slipped in with the others, and I nodded at the six bobbing bodies. The robots shifted back and forth, awaiting their orders. I glided to the control screen and tapped in the log-in. “Welcome, Ara Merrion. These are your tasks for today. Please make sure you check and complete the priority tasks first,” the mechanical voice notified, flashing images and data and tables across the walls. I scanned the displays in silence, beckoning for the robots to register the information. “Gamma and Zeta retrieve my space suit from the airing room,” I ordered casually without looking down. The robots hummed in response and whizzed off in the desired direction. “Beta, you inform David of our departure and wait for me in the portal.” The other robots who were without missions resumed their regular duties to help the master, and I was left alone to prepare. I drifted here and there about the controls and gathered the necessary equipment in silence. Click. Shh-woosh! My shadow wobbled in the dim light, clatter and clinks echoed through the vast basement as the limbs knocked limbs over of retired robots. Without a wasted second, I bravely made my way through the pile of disused robotic parts to retrieve the Star-Steer. As I passed, the beeps and hums silenced as if showing respect to a queen. My hair emitted a faint glow, and I knew it left a trail of light upon the dark walls. Later, down on the planet, Gamma and Zeta pushed around the rocky surface, entertaining themselves. I heaved the Star-Steer off the shuttle and started putting the pieces together. The jagged rocks underfoot did not help much with the assembling of the instrument, and my breath fogged onto the plastic in the negative eighty-five centigrade. “UgHHhh!” I groaned, startling the balls of metal, who came rushing towards me in worry. This space suit was not the best fit. It tickled the places I could never itch and weighed me down two-hundred pounds. But I had a job to do. Metallic and acrid tastes lingered in my throat, and sometimes I engaged in coughing fits just for fun to dispel the sapor. I hated when David sent me on these missions, but I love it all the same. The sun was a tiny spot in the distance, resembling a glowing coin. I reached out and closed my fist around it, wondering if I’ll ever be able to feel the warmth of the sun on Earth again. Zeta skittered around me, and Gamma chased him. I swear, robots are not as much help as they seem. Getting up from the ground was a dead struggle. The space suit felt like a thousand planets pulling me down. “Alright, well this does it. Zeta can you please start the data collecting, and Gamma, you locate the stars please.” I adjusted my gloves, and a whoosh of freezing temperature touched my exposed wrist, shocking me to the core. This planet is no joke; I should be careful from now on. Pulling my gloves back extra tight, I plodded around the area, leaving my crew to conduct the survey. The scenery was quite tranquil. Deep red and orange hues from the faraway sun varnished this exotic terrain, bringing a wave of longing into my heart. Longing for a planet I had never known yet felt an intense connection for, as if from long ago. Could Earth be merely like this exotic wasteland too, now? Star Steer By Philomena Lin | Yr10 Art Kiara Martenstyn | Yr10

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 21

22 Saybrook guided me into the arms of success. Some people love Cali, and others hate it. But I always believed that with Cali, I was living my life half cup empty. I needed my aesthetic sight to make it into the finest art school in the country, Northrop, and without an appreciation of beauty, I’d never be able to impress their application council. Northrop had always been my next ambition, so, that’s why I did it, turn off my Cali I mean. During the summer break I turned 18, and without anyone knowing, not even my dearest Tamera, I had made an appointment and flicked off the switch. I must admit, the adjustment, back to seeing for real, was intense for me. I started to notice things about Tamera, and about myself too. I didn’t quite glimmer like she did - I was rather the opposite. It was as if a lump, the size of a cherry pit had become stuck at the back of my throat, blocking the passageway for air to touch my lungs; all because of the sight of my reflection. I wasn’t the same. I began to see the loathsome acne that plastered my face and back, and the asymmetrical nature of my disproportionate mouth, nose, and cloudy eyes. I was ugly. And with Tamera’s longing to escape Cali's confinement too, held back only by her parents and age, it was only a matter of time until she would see me for what I really am … a beast. As expected, it was only a number of weeks until Tamera had booked in her own appointment. I was restless and rather apprehensive, with the fear of Tamera’s awakening. And as the kind of girl Tamera was, she caught my unsettled manner with every shaky ‘I love you’ and my inability to maintain eye contact. She knew something was wrong, but I would never tell her. As the appointment date approached rapidly, I felt gravity’s pull more than ever. It was as if I had been saturated with molten lead that was eating away at my brain, creeping through my entire nervous system. I tried everyday for two weeks straight to sway Tamera’s decision, but she wouldn’t budge. I told her of the super-stimuli that flood every social media platform and TV commercial. I told her that without Cali she would become trapped inside the machines of advertising, unable to tell left from right, but it was still no use. And I was telling her the truth, none of it was a lie, except of course my big secret. At the time I spent hours sucked into the labyrinth of commercials that were directed to my By Miah Howard | Yr12 Art Ella Musgrave | Yr11 Garrett Smith Sci-Fi Vocabulary - Caliagnosia - perception altering, controlling substance from Science Fiction that allows people to ignore the surface so that they can look deeper.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 23 phone, infatuated with the models with glass skin, edited to perfection. If Tamera did not see reason in my ruse, she would become trapped too. However, it was no use. Tamera’s mind had been made, and she would not be swayed. I knew I was going to lose her, but I would not be swayed. This left me in a state of rage, with outbursts of anger and frustration I was a mess. I knew I was going to lose her, but I would not be able to handle the embarrassment when I was so utterly depressed. I had to break up with her. In my mind it was better to make a swift disappearance from Tamera’s life, to simply replace my once fixed presence with memories and old letters that were dated from a time where I thought our love could endure anything. In some sick and twisted way I was somehow grateful. I would save myself the torture of standing before Tamera’s fresh set of eyes, in the raw, unCali-filtered and vulnerable to her judgement. I knew she would eventually uncover the truth, and that we would break up either way, so this just saved my ego from being smashed by the person I loved most. This would all become a source of artistic inspiration I thought; some sort of emotional whirlpool that would eventually settle to reflect a beautiful and poetic story of love and heartache. But when I did eventually break up with Tamera, all I felt was shame. Tamera on the other hand was rather perplexed. She was puzzled by my change of heart and demanded an explanation, but I couldn’t give her one. That same night, when I got home, I found myself in a state of delusion and hysteria. I tried to scribble down my thoughts in an old journal but it was pointless. I was moments away from self-destruction, and just like that, I snapped. In a fit of disappointment and self-hate I smashed every mirror in the house - my fists bleeding red with shards of glass stuck in between my knuckles. The next thing I knew there was banging on the door, and the entrance flung open with the police and ambulance rushing in to my home. The neighbours had called the police, stating a disturbance coming from the house next door. Before I could catch my breath they had loaded me into the back of the ambulance with sirens wailing. I tried to resist their hold, begging for them to let me go, but they didn’t care. They had jabbed me with a needle, and then I fell unconscious. I recall waking up to the rhythmic sound of a heart monitor by my side, and my mother sat within an armchair in the corner of the hospital room. Still under the effects of the sedative drugs they had injected me with, the doctors made me sign a form. They would deem me a danger to myself and others if I didn’t agree. So, with tears in my eyes I agreed, followed by several consent forms I signed off, they turned my Cali back online. When I was allowed back home I found myself curled up in my childhood bed, sobbing over Tamera. My mother, perched on the side of my mattress, handed me a letter, addressed to Garrett Smith from Northrop academy. I didn’t care to know its contents. It didn’t matter to me anymore. Cali had won, and I was nothing but a mess without it.

24 By Charlotte Daly | Yr11 Art Poppy Roberts | Yr8 The Storm Backseat. A brother on each side, Their sandy hair so unlike mine. Through the glass Is darkness interrupted by street lights, Whose orange glow Casts shadows that swim like Creatures’ shrieks in the night. And the roads are uncertain from a day of downpour, Their harsh lines made liquid And their blackness spilled ink, Oozing across the quiet, oh so timidly. And the world dares not utter a word, Heavy clouds brewing in curses above, with sailors running from their sterns, Silently proclaiming their final loves. And we watch carefully, eyes in awe of a storm symphony’s beginning, Each note growing in a buzzing crescendo While in our seats we remain singing, Safe in our car so far from The rest of the world.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 25 The radio is blaring Old smooth songs that make us drowsy: The end of each word simply beginning the next, Until entire stories are said in one breath. And our cheeks are so rosy, Ruby lips wrapped around song, And hot air rushes towards us: The heater holding the moment long. And it’s the five of us With our focus pulled taught, And I can’t help wondering, When comes the onslaught? We are all leaning towards this moment, Our senses tinkering, on the verge Of falling into whatever Turmoil lies where futures converge. Because we have never had so perfect a moment, And this feels scarily so, And there is a storm brewing, And I have no room left for hope. But maybe this is a new beginning, This moment bringing a reckoning on this house, The crashing waves of rain swallowing the past, Leaving only the here and now.

So much laughter, So many tears, So much happiness, Too many fears. So many smiles, So many grins, So many losses, So many wins. Not enough time, So much power In a small rhyme. There are so many wonderful things, That make you human and give you wings. So Many Beautiful Things By Felicity Langford | Yr8 Art Isla Barwick | Yr8

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 27 Friday after school, we stop by Taprobane — a dear little corner shop, tucked away in one of those quiet streets bursting with culture where Lankans like us chatter in our mother tongue. We travelled by car, my mother, brother and I. The uniform weighed down on me like a yoke, laden with the struggles of the week. One step in, is all it takes to enter a place of suspended reality, where the aroma of rich masala wafts freely in the air. We snaked our way through the crowd of gossiping aunties, restless toddlers and bustling waiters, piling our plate with rolls, cutlets and patties — savouries that indulged our palate. We settled into our regular corner, silver-haired uncles — the armchair critics — debated over the latest cricketing triumphs and failures. The blaring noise of the teledramas drowned out the clatter of the kitchen. A perfect place to do as you please, just my mother, brother and I. Only when the day had mellowed into dusk, did we reluctantly call for the bill — a small price to pay for a few hours of oblivion. Our thick jackets enveloped us as we trudged to our car. The ding of the store bell sang our goodbyes. Our smiles shone with the mirth and merriment of our time. Nothing - not the chill evening air, nor the slight stench of mudcould dampen the contentment of this Friday evening. Tales from Tapbrobane By Amber Shums | Yr9 Art Addison Carslake | Yr8

28 The Chair By Ursula Vonguyen | Yr8 Art Chiara Strang | Yr8 RING!!! The noisy clang of the first period bell echoes through the school and the students start filing in, filling all the other seats. The stream of children soon trickles to a stop and the door shuts with a quiet click. I wait with bated breath as the teacher marks the roll. Give it a couple minutes. See if he comes. Several minutes pass. Three, two, one. WOOHOO! If there are higher beings out there I thank you dearly, because this chair does not have to deal with stinky, grubby kids today. I tune out as the teacher starts droning on about blah, carry the one and blah, decimal point. I don’t care. It’s not like I have to memorise all the factors of seven-hundred and fifty-eight. Nope, all I have to do is sit here, basking in the warmth of artificial heating (Mrs Maryland is the best, old hag doesn’t believe in global warming), relaxing, no obnoxious child weighing me down, doing absolutely nothing. The door slams open, a kid with a ruffled collar and hair plastered to his face with sweat stands in the frame, chest heaving. It’s him. “Sorry m’late Miss. Got lost and forgot when class started.” Bobby. He is always late and he always sits here because no one else wants a rickety, old chair, with half melted God-knows-what on it. How on Earth do you get lost when your homeroom is next door and forget when class starts when there is a literal bell to remind you, you absolute twit. “That’s fine, Bobby. Just take a seat.” Mrs Maryland has cemented the fakest looking smile anyone’s ever seen to her face and is very nearly growling at Bobby through gritted teeth. I’m scared she’ll give herself an aneurysm with the amount of effort it’s taking her to control her twitching left-eye. Bobby grins (ignorant little piece of trash) and lumbers towards me, proceeding to trip on air and just about juggle his two possessions. He seats himself on top of me and takes a millenia to get his stuff (literally two things) together. This is going to be a long lesson. It’s been five minutes and Mrs Maryland is already putting kids to sleep. Shockingly, though, Bobby still hasn’t moved his awful, little butt around this chair. Yes! Maybe I’ll get a peaceful lesson after all; maybe I - spoke too soon. He’s wriggling around in his seat like someone’s tickling him from all sides. Ugh, may as well pour a vat of spiders on me, disgusting little...Oh no. He’s started it. The dreaded rocking. It’s very slow, an occasional tilt backwards and a small drop forwards. It’s annoying, sure, but it’s just teetering on bearable. But then he picks up pace, until there’s enough momentum to send him thumping to the ground. Thud! Thud! Thud! Now I’m going to have an aneurysm. Seriously, why won’t he just stop?! Why can’t he get it through his funsized, child brain that I’m saving him. I put all my energy

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 29 Revenge for the rocking and the standing and the kicking and the subsequent laughing and teasing I received from my supposed friends and kin. And revenge for the gum. So. Much. Gum. into making sure he doesn’t crack his skull open, or dislocate his spine, or both! I’m so sick of it, and clearly Mrs Maryland is too, because she screeches, “BOBBY! Stop that infernal racket!” And goes back to teaching Pythagorean theorems, like she normally goes full pterodactyl mode on students (I mean, she does, with Bobby anyway, but still, pretty impressive). Surprisingly, Bobby does stop. For five. Seconds. Then he starts up again. Back and forth, with more push than last time. I feel like a tiny yacht in a storm. My legs want to give out under me, but I can’t let that happen. Can I? You could. I could. Huh. An idea strikes me, lightning to a tree. What if I got revenge? Revenge for all the frustration, discomfort, humiliation, he’s caused me. Revenge for that time he spilt lemonade on me. Revenge for the googly eyes he stuck on me because he thought they ‘made me look funny’. Revenge for the rocking and the standing and the kicking and the subsequent laughing and teasing I received from my supposed friends and kin. And revenge for the gum. So. Much. Gum. Mountains, all hanging from underneath my seat like stalactites. Or is it stalagmites? I can never remember, they need to make a song or- Agh, whatever! Pure, unbridled fury was coursing through my veins. Yes! I’d make him pay, regret all his decisions, teach him a lesson. I’d make him fall. I just need to wait for the right time. Wait. Wait. Wait. Now! On a particularly forceful push off, I relax, letting gravity do the work and watch as the joy slips off his face and is replaced with terror. “Bobby, I told you to stop, you ungrateful little - !” CRASH!!! Next thing I know he’s on the ground bawling, his wrist swollen to an angry red and knee gushing crimson paint (kay, I know you shouldn’t hurt kids but maybe that wouldn’t have happened or at least been as bad if he’d worn pants in the middle of winter instead of freaking shorts!). Mrs Maryland is giving him a lecture but adrenaline is still pumping through my plastic, buzzing and making it difficult to take pride in my work or focus on her words. As Bobby limps off to the nurse’s office, a couple of the more responsible kids help pack up some of the mess (couldn’t have had one of them, could I?). Looking serene as a vacation to Bali (and weirdly joyful considering what happened less than five minutes ago), Mrs Maryland takes a deep breath and sighs, “Now, class, that’s why you don-” The second period bell rings and the students sprint off, leaving a disgruntled Mrs Maryland and a redstained carpet. Next period’s class starts filing in, same procedure as before. “Hi, Professor!” Oh no. I’d know that voice from anywhere, that highpitched squeak of a mouse. It’s Bobby’s twin sister.

30 The Most Beautiful Gift By Bhavana Anand | Yr7 Art Lexie Trainer | Yr9

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 31 The following piece is inspired by ideas in the novel, The Detective's Assistant. The protagonist, Nell, is given a beautiful, Southern Belle's dress to wear. She is overcome with happiness at the gift. The students were asked to write a piece on the most beautiful gift they had received... it could be imaginary or a real experience. The most beautiful gift I was ever given was my sister. I had always wanted a little sister. I longed so much for one that I used to think that my favourite aunt was my sister! My best friends would talk about their sisters and how they would play together at home. I was always alone at home – no-one to play with but my parents; but, of course, they had responsibilities that they had to handle. I would always ask my parents: “Can I have a sister?” “Can I have a sister?” “Can I have a sister?” Then one day, when I was in the car, I asked again, “Please, can I have a sister?” and my parents replied, “YES! You are going to have a sister!” I remember when we were in the hospital in India. My mother was in a room and the rest of the family were waiting outside in a really grand waiting room. There was a red velvet sofa which was lined with gold; a polished wooden floor; walls that were painted pearly white. As I sat admiring them, we were called into a room. I lay on the bed next to my mother. She seemed to be asleep – though later she told me she wasn’t. A nurse came to me and said, “This is your little sister.” She gave her into my arms. There are photos the nurse took of me seeing my dream sister for the first time. It was such a special moment. Now my little sister has grown. She is six, about to turn seven. She is the same age I was when she was born. She has grown to be a kind, loving, humour-filled little sister who is especially cheeky. She is the most beautiful gift I have been given in my whole life – nothing else can compare to her!

32 By Himansa De Silva | Year 11 Art Lucinda Prodan | Year 11 You can wander the entire world through the confines of the tightrope. It’s better this way. Safer. Some other person might say the thin wire line that shakes beneath your feet restricts you, that you’re not truly exploring if you remain glued to one spot. But they’re not you. They haven’t been through what you’ve been through. While some call it dangerous, you disagree; is it really any more lethal than real life? When you’re up there, you forget that anything beyond the clear path, you now tread, ever existed at all. There’s always the risk of falling, but it’s better than the world outside - your safety line. When I was younger, I was taught that curiosity was a gift. People found treasure and secrets if they searched for it. Then she left and took my balance with her. I discovered how unsteady the world was without my sister. She knew me so well. I had been drawing elephants in her textbook, hoping she’d scold me and send me outside. She did, knowing full well it was exactly what I wanted all along. I climbed up a tree because I wanted to see everything. I was high enough to see the tiny black ball cowering in the bushes. My first thought: the hissing mass was a monster. But instead of running, I got closer. I’d never seen a real one before. I wanted to know why such a supposedly scary thing would be shivering in the rain. That’s how I found ‘Cat’, the stray I ran home with, hidden in the folds of my jumper. She told me she was glad that I was looking for monsters instead of fearing them. “You’d be surprised by what really lurks in dark places … they’re not always as scary as we think,” she said with a smile. The Circus Master approached in his signature suit, red wherever he isn’t gilded. “Good morning,” he said to my sister. “Your performance was exemplary as always. The audience numbers have gone up since you joined our circus.” Circus Freak

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 33 The circus is always a kaleidoscope of vivid colours and odd people. As whimsical as a dream. A magician is searching for his rabbit, getting a group of clowns to empty their massive pockets. An elephant winks at you, the rabbit riding its trunk. One day I came home to a catastrophe. The sky was too black to play in. I didn’t know at the time that it was smoke. My sister had gone to some other circus earlier that day. She should be back by now. ‘Cat’ went in first, sniffing for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She should be back by now. My parents were home for once. Already, the air was thick with wrongness. She should be back by now. Where was my sister? I recalled the ashen sky outside and how the smoky breaths caught in my throat. Slowly, a realisation swept over me like the heat of a flame. Why was I asking what I didn’t want to know? My father looked up, as though he was surprised to learn he had a second child. “Dead.” Even my mother’s normally detached voice was uneven when she said, “She perished when the circus caught on fire.” The circus is always a kaleidoscope of vivid colours and odd people. As whimsical as a dream. A magician is searching for his rabbit, getting a group of clowns to empty their massive pockets. An elephant winks at you, the rabbit riding its trunk. So much magic, joy, fun that the real world would never hold. And then the noise starts… Audience members flee by the dozen. Amid the clamour, the magician spots his rabbit on the elephant's trunk, and jabs a wand in its leg. It loses its balance and a parade of clowns dash out, toppling it over. Why does disaster strike, even when you try to escape? The elephant falls against the tent poles andThe. Entire. Tent. Falls. Down. Your safe space, stolen, gone once more, lost with your sister. It seems there is never a choice in your fate. I ran for our tree. I climbed its branches, so high nothing can reach me. I curled up within scratchy leaves and slept. Reality is a nightmare. Unpredictable, terrifying, changeable. What is the point of searching for answers if they only bring pain? Better to sleep in a blissful blanket of ignorance. I wouldn’t endure it any longer. I would dream forever instead and I slip towards an escape… I walk towards the eerie keening noise and find a strange fanged thing huddled beneath a tree. A monster? “What are you?” “Neglected,” it sighs. I am confused. Why wouldn’t anyone ignore a monster? “By whom?” “You. I’m everything you’re avoiding.” “What do you want from me? What else would you do when you see a monster but run?” “Just because you ignore something doesn’t mean it’s not there. Is it really survival, or playing pretend?” I turn to go. Everything in me screams to run away again. But what it said pulls me towards it. I need to know more about this lonely beast. I’m curious. I stir from my dream and wake up, tangled in branches with a small black cat on my stomach. The sky is full of stars and I’m glad I woke up. I return to the tent with a monster tailing mere steps away. There would always be problems, but I would face them. Maybe I’d make a new friend. “I think I’m ready to go back home,” I say to the Circus Master who elevates an eyebrow. ‘“Oh? What happened to escaping your troubles? What happened to fearing the truth?” “I think there’s no use avoiding reality. I’ve learnt the importance of having a curious mind. Like my sister always said.” I smile. “Well,” quips the Circus Master. “You know what they say. Revelations make the world go round.” “I think you mean revolutions.” “Oh, indeed.”

34 Red Feathered Friend? By Jordan Kharbat | Yr10 Art Aneekah Messina | Yr9 out of her room while she was reading. She’d named him Flappy. The bird was the only one she said more than four words to in one sentence. She had never liked the kids at school. Frankly she thought speaking to them was a waste of oxygen and energy. That’s why she stuck with Flappy. Besides, he could follow her anywhere she liked. During the next school day, Julia noticed that she hadn’t seen him all morning. He hadn’t paid her the daily visit like he usually did. That was odd. She went through the day without contributing to class and, though this wasn’t abnormal, she had a reason this time because her focus was on her friend. When the final bell rang, she took off before the ringing was even silent and didn’t care about all the conversations being whispered about her odd behaviour. At home the dominant noise was the odd whirring of a power drill from her room. “Dad? What are you doing?” asked a confused Julia of the man sitting on her desk and working on her window. “Hey, Julia! A little flying rat was trying to get into your room this morning. Gotta be careful with these little thugs. They’re really dangerous,” he said darkly. “But no worries though. I’ve locked this little one out now.” “His name is Flappy and he’s not a rat.” “They all are. Stay away from these things.” He’d switched again, doing an awful job at concealing what he was like behind closed doors. “Listen to me. I’m doing this for your own good. You keep away or you’ll have no idea what hit you.” “That doesn’t make sense!” Julia had switched too this time. Why was he taking away her only friend? What on earth could explain his hatred for Flappy? Julia’s hands balled into fists, her neutral gaze forming one of rage and confusion at her father’s response. “No, Tommy. You keep up that attitude and you are fired. You got that?” The booming sound of her father’s voice crept through the gap in the thick wooden door of his office. Julia found herself there often in the alcove near the door. Sitting, observing, listening. When you’re never the centre of attention, you find other ways to keep yourself occupied. “No, I don’t care. You know what? Call me back once you realise, I’m right.” The slam of the landline hitting the receiver gave Julia a fright. The contrast between this aggression and his usual behaviour confused her. The rustling of papers and patter of footsteps gave Julia a five second warning to make it look like she was doing anything but eavesdropping. “Hey there, Jules. How was school?” She received this question with a smile and a tight squeeze of the face. He’d switched again. “Good,” she gave back neutrally, responding with enough of an answer to be acceptable, but not so much that more questions followed. Under the radar, that was the way. “Great to hear. That’s my girl. Now, I’m going out for a bit. You keep that up, alright?” and with that he left, with no indication of where he was going or what he was doing. Pleased with escaping attention once again, Julia went to find her only companion, the red bird that flew in and

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 35 He stomped off down the hall to make an ‘important’ call. Julia followed feeling that there was something deeper going on. “I just need to reason with him. He doesn’t know who Flappy is,” whispered Julia in her internal self-talk. But his scary and aggressive tone from behind the door gave her pause. “Are you even listening to me? They work. The best part is no one will expect it. They’re too captivated by these things to underst – I don’t care! We’re putting it out tomorrow. That’s final.” He laughed before continuing. “Julia? No, she’ll be fine. I’ve only ever seen her with it once. If she does? Then that’s better for me. No, she just needs to listen!” What was going on? This wasn’t the man who raised her. These were the words of a complete sociopath. The absolute betrayal she was feeling blinded her. She grabbed a few things and walked straight out of the front door, not turning back when her name was yelled after her. She found an isolated Flappy sitting in a tree in the nearby park, her red-feathered friend who apparently was the only one who cared. “Come on, Flappy. We’re getting out of here,” she said decisively, knowing exactly where she was going to go, her safe place - the library. Finding a hiding spot in the Young Adult section, with Flappy perched by her side, she buried herself in a brand-new world. No one bothered her or even noticed her there. She let seconds pass, minutes, hours. The only time she looked up was when the lights were shut off and the door to the public was locked. “The number of times I would have killed for 5 minutes of this place to myself. Now I have all the time in the wor…” Julia’s book-filled peace was disturbed by the sound of a door being forced open. The sound of hurried footsteps and blinding lights of industrial strength flashlights brought her back to reality. “We traced the signal here, sir. She’s nearby,” an unfamiliar voice called out. “Well done. That’s Julia alright,” a much more familiar one replied. How had he known she was here? She wasn’t followed. The word ‘signal’ circled in Julia’s brain. Her phone? Was that it? She needed to get away from her phone. She could feel them getting closer and she ran, managing to make it through one of the emergency doors. But they all moved in synchronised pursuit even though she’d left her phone behind. “Fine. Go. Fly away. Good luck, Julia,” her father shouted out of the dim light of the library and into the night. He was too calm to be trusted and she was only concerned about Flappy. Once she had found a place several blocks away to hide, she began to cool off and she let Flappy out of her protective pocket, placing the red bundle on the ground in front of her. “Flappy, are you OK?” she cried in concern. A repetitive whirring sound was the response and she saw his little beak moving. “Oh, my goodness! I thought you were hurt!” The familiar chirp left his beak and Julia smiled and let out a relieved laugh. He chirped again, but this time it was different from usual. The short, adorable sound he usually made was replaced with a creepy extended version. A natural bird sound shifted to a more robotic error noise. His whole movement had been corrupted in the same way. The repeated sort of glitch in his wings, combined with the odd sound he was making was impossible to ignore. “Flappy?” No response. “Flappy, what are you – What’s going on?” Julia asked in a desperate tone, looking closer at the body of the bird. Oh no. How had she not noticed before? On the inside of his right wing, the single letter ‘V’ marked clearly on what looked to be stainless steel painted bright red. It all began to make sense. Her dad’s hostility towards him, trying to lock him out, his words ‘for your own good’ and ‘signal’. These words all circled in her brain along with the newest, ‘fly away’. “No,” she whispered. Droplets of heartbreak and betrayal slipped from her eyes. ‘V’ her dad’s company. This is what he’d been working on. Flappy. Her only friend wasn’t real. She was all alone again.

36 Vengeance and Truth By Alexandra Michell | Yr8 Art Bethany Juospaitis | Yr10 It was a monster. Chaos liquefied. It loomed over the royal boat, a mighty wave, and nobody had time to scream. Every subject and servant sent prayers to their loved ones while clamping their eyes shut and waiting for the water to claim them. But when it came, that once-violent arc of rushing tides fell over the deck as softly and cleanly as flour through the net of a sieve. Fingers of salt and froth caressed every corner of the ship and, when the water sank back, every citizen remained, stunned but unharmed, firmly on the darkened deck. Or so they thought. The next moment, only cries of terror were heard. The sea slowed. Their panic spiked. Queen Maj was lost to the roiling waters. Her Majesty had no control. Not over her racing pace or racing pulse. All she could do was hold her head above the spindrift that seared her skin and throat and allow the claws of the ocean to lead her down its hostile path. It truly was a beast, and it left her stranded in a hollow cave of crumbling granite. The queen stumbled back as the water stilled eerily at the cave’s mouth. Then there was the sound, like the collection of a thousand eels. Queen Maj blinked. A woman was there, waist deep in gleaming waters, and never had Queen Maj laid eyes on one so regal as she. It wasn’t just the strange, serpentine beauty, cold in her liquid-amber eyes, nor the sapphire selendang draped over her willowy form that alerted the queen to her identity; it was the power that positively radiated from her gaze. Dewi Kadita, the Queen of the Southern Sea. Queen Maj knelt in reverence for a moment before speaking humbly. “Great Queen Dewi, what have I done to deserve such treatment from your waters?” Maj dared not glance upwards, but noticed by a lump in the deity’s shadow on the ground that the woman had a tiny monkey perched on her shoulder. “Wait for me here,” Dewi Kadita told her, and stepped under the water. As Maj waited, the tide fell back, forming a clear path of sand between the cave and sea. Within a moment, weak calls and shuffles travelled slowly down the sand path towards the queen, until a young woman emerged weakly from the cave’s mouth. She was bent over, her skin thick with bursting sores, her eyes wet and weary behind frail strands of hair, beneath which huddled a mangy scrap of a tail-less monkey. The woman approached Maj, crippled with agony, the thin folds of her rags fluttering feebly against her withered figure. Queen Maj tumbled gracelessly back from the newcomer, disgust staining her gaze even as the girl knelt to her. “Please, Majesty,” the woman murmured. “I only wish to rest in shelter for a moment. I won’t disturb you.” And then the ocean itself rose to her, thrusting itself over her hunched form with the power of a tsunami, and suddenly she wasn’t bent anymore...

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 37 But Maj, appalled by the weathered face of the girl before her, only cringed further back. “Leave me,” she hissed, “I have no space for such a vulgar presence.” And, noting the loathing in Queen Maj’s eyes, the woman trudged unsteadily down to the water, as the monkey under her hair whimpered and cheeped. For a moment, Maj allowed herself to settle back with relief. Then her whole spine tensed, for the girl took one pained step into the sea. Then another. And then the ocean itself rose to her, thrusting itself over her hunched form with the power of a tsunami, and suddenly she wasn’t bent anymore, but a straight, willowy figure in drapes of sapphire blue with liquidamber eyes and a tiny monkey on her shoulder. Dewi Kadita, Queen of the Southern Sea. And now Maj stared down Queen Dewi Kadita with eyes pooling with cold fury. Maj made to kneel again, but was trapped in the deity’s glare like a fly in honey. “Do not speak.” Queen Dewi Kadita told her quietly. Even the sea froze at her ice-plated rage. “I am your stepdaughter. I am the girl you dismissed mere moments ago for being unsavoury in appearance. Yet you kneel to me as I stand before you as a queen. A goddess.” And again, Maj had no time to scream as the water snatched her from the shore. They were brutal waves that drove her into uncharted territory. Waves that weren’t just water but raw power that flung her onto unyielding stone that served no purpose but to mar her skin. It was an island of rock, as unforgiving as wildfire, with only two cracks from which protruded two trees. Their evil fruits were bananas, each one so sour even in smell that tears clawed at her delicate eyes. Why was the sun so hard? Queen Maj struggled to her feet and let her eyes drift. There was water. Clean, fresh, unsalted water in a scant little pool. She ran to it; fell to her knees beside it. But, though her own eyes gazed hopelessly back at her, it was Queen Dewi Kadita’s voice that met her ears, soft and cold. “You will become your own monster, here.” Maj lived forever, stranded on a woeful rock, and, as she grew uglier with each day that passed, she did exactly as the goddess bid. The Queen Maj did indeed become her own monster.

38 By Lexie Demaio | Yr7 Art Bianca Rogers | Yr11 She arrived at her grandparents’ house and greeted them kindly, They replied by saying, “My oh my, how much skin you show!” “My oh my, what a big nose you have (that’s not from our side of the family).” Is pointing out the girl’s biggest insecurity funny to them? “My oh my, are you even eating? Gosh you’re skinny.” Little do they know she’s not eating much. So, the girl goes back home covering her red face and contours her nose, Covers her flat body with baggy clothes, And goes to school the next day. A girl walked through the city with a basket of red velvet muffins, Red Riding Home

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 39 She greets her classmates kindly and they reply with, “My oh my, what bad grades you have (even though she was up until 3am studying).” “My oh my, how few friends you have.” “My oh my, what ugly clothes you have.” So, she goes home and stays up until 5am studying, just to be drained at school the next day and fail her next test. She goes online and makes friends on there, to make up for the lack she has in real life, Spends all her money on new clothes that look good, but cover her body and hide the fact that she is flat and scrawny. And the clothes must not be ugly. Not fitted enough to show her bony ribs and arms. As she stays home the girl cries and cries and cries, unsure of what she has become, The girl goes to her family and greets them kindly, And they reply with “My oh my, what has happened?” “My oh my, why are you crying?” “My oh my, why have you changed?” So, the girl stays with her parents, She is comforted in their arms, They whisper sweet affirmations in her ear as she closes her teary eyes. Finally, the girl goes to her mirror and greets the unfamiliar face kindly, She replies with, “My oh my, you are beautiful.” “My oh my, you don’t need to change.” “My oh my, you are perfect just the way you are.” So, the girl accepts herself. She goes to her grandparents’ house wearing the clothes she used to love so much (no matter how much skin they show). Goes to school and makes friends with the people who will appreciate her for who she is, Hangs out with boys who like her for her personality instead of the way she looks. My oh my, you are better than you ever would have thought.

40 A Christmas Nightmare By Olivia De Rose | Yr8 Art Tori Liatos | Yr10 “Ahh!” A high pitched scream echoed from the white marble kitchen, alerting the guests dining in the living room. A shaken woman stumbled out into the living room, her face pigmented white, she stuttered, “Mallory… Mallory is dead!” Gasps erupted in the room, and an older woman dropped her wine glass, leaving a maroon splotch on her cashmere coat. “I’m not lying! Shame on John! Shame!” People quickly started to huddle in the kitchen, whispering and gossiping as they did so. “I wonder if it was..” “Surely not!” A crowd surrounded Mallory’s cold and lifeless body, her mouth agape, her fingers frosted due to the open back door letting in the winter's air. Her eyes had a look of pure horror. Her fair hair was tangled. The woman who found her, Mia, was sent into a panic, and she reached for the telephone, with one person in mind. Detective Dubboi stepped onto the snow covered pavement. He was a man known for his work on the Burkewood case. Dubboi was unquestionably intelligent, and carried his fierce knowledge with great pride. Women swooned, men were eager to be him, and the world praised him, as if he were some almighty spirit, which heavily boosted his abnormally large ego. He lit his cigar, and a puff of smoke lingered near his mouth. His assistant waddled out of the car behind him, wearing his dishevelled and crushed coat, and a coffee stained button up shirt. Mr Toidi was not as intelligent as his boss, but he tried to remain put together, though it almost always backfired for him. “Devilishly cold out here, innit?” Mr Toidi shivered. “Yes..” Dubboi answered coldly, his French accent so thick, it made you wonder if he was faking it. “A shame we have to come here at Christmas!” Toidi whinged. A crowd surrounded Mallory’s cold and lifeless body, her mouth agape, her fingers frosted due to the open back door letting in the winter's air.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 41 “This won't take long.” A police presence surrounded Mr Fickle’s mansion, with sirens blaring. Mr and Mrs Fickle were extremely wealthy, and seemed a picture-perfect couple. “Guests report that Mr and Mrs Fickle had a bit of an outburst in the kitchen before the incident, practically screaming in each other’s faces!” A young police officer told Dubboi. “Hmm,” Dubboi pondered. He now had his prime suspect. Mr Fickle burst into the room. His pulse fast and his knees trembling erratically. “Please, it was a suicide! My wife had mental issues. They got so awful, that it started to get physical. I tried to get her help, but she would never listen to me! You have to believe me!” Mr Fickle’s voice was wobbly and his face was painted a harsh red. It was clear that he was intoxicated. Dubboi furrowed his brows, his lips twitched. “I think you might want to see this, sir,” Toidi called from the kitchen, pointing to the body. Mallory’s white palms were stained blood red, and no murder weapon was found, only blood spilling out of her stomach, where a gash lay in the middle of her gut. The detectives knelt down on the white marble surface, inspecting the body. Toidi noticed something peculiar in Mallory’s mouth, something shiny, something gold. “Don’t do that! Filthy pervert!” Dubboi lectured, but Toidi insisted, digging his fingers into her mouth, and pulling out a copper key. Dubboi seemed embarrassed that something so obvious had slipped his mind. He snapped his fingers, alerting one of the many maids to make him a cup of warm coffee. He and his assistant decided to head to the balcony located directly outside the kitchen to confer and make a plan. The two detectives decided that their next mission was to find out where the key led. “May I suggest we search her bedroom?” Toidi asked. “No, it is too obvious,” Doobi pondered, brushing his thick moustache, and taking a sip of his coffee, spitting it onto the floor. “Disgusting!” Dubboi shouted. Just then, a drop of freezing water plopped into the coffee cup. Toidi looked up to see a row of icicles hanging from the frosted roof. Toidi thought, it seemed as if a few wires were connected in his brain, as he had just made a miraculous discovery. Toidi snapped the icicle from the roof and frantically ran into the kitchen, unveiling the white sheets covering Mallory. The gash matched perfectly with the tip of the icicle, it made perfect sense! The icicle was the murder weapon, it had simply melted to display no evidence! Toidi ran into Mallory’s bedroom with the key buried deep in his pocket, checking every nook and cranny. He then found a wooden box covered in dust with a lock attached to it. He tried the key, it was the perfect fit. Inside was a brown journal with a leather covering. “Aha!” Toidi couldn’t help but smirk. He quickly wiped the thick layer of dust off the journal and began to read. As he skimmed through the journal, he discovered that Mallory’s husband was seeing another woman. Mallory was an angry woman and had written detailed passages of the perfect crime, and how she would set her husband up for her murder. It was clear what happened. Toidi also found disturbing passages, revealing that she was certainly a bit of a lunatic, writing that before she was going to die, she wanted to make her husband's life a living hell. Mallory had stabbed herself with the icicle, making it seem like her husband had stabbed her during their loud argument in the kitchen. Clearly she had not thought this crime through, as she had panicked at the last minute, forgotten all about the journal and attempted to swallow the key, which explains the look of pure distress on her face. Toidi smiled, he had finally proven himself! Toidi dashed into the living room, seeing several people were unbothered by Mallory’s gruesome demise. “I’ve done it! I’ve figured it out!” Toidi shoved the journal into Dubboi’s hands. Dubboi was obviously distracted, as he was flirting with one of Mallory’s sisters. Dubboi smiled, an evil, horrible cunning smile. “Thank you my friend!” He winked and aggressively shoved Toidi out of the way, snapping his fingers to alert the exhausted police officers. “I have done it! I have solved the case!” Hoorah! Hooray! Your dear Johnny is innocent! Why don’t we pour some champagne to celebrate this? Aren’t I just so magnificent?” “What? But I-” Toidi stood there, paralysed. His fists scrunched up, and his cheeks burning red. “A toast to Dubboi!” Mia exclaimed! “He truly is the world's greatest detective!” Toidi stood still and full of anger for the world’s greatest fraud.

42 The frigid wind nips at my skin, ruthlessly gnawing at my bones as hard sheets of icy rain bucket down. Goosebumps erupt over my skin which is now tinged purple and numb from the unforgiving autumn weather. Frost covers the fallen amber leaves that once clung to now bare trees. The silvery moon, a waxing crescent, beams down at me as I weave through the snow engulfed streets towards the local supermarket; craving an inkling of warmth and shelter. The automatic doors open and I am immediately enveloped by the sweet relief of heating, sending me into a flurry of gratitude. Scavenging for my favourite drink, peach tea, I am jolted from my thoughts when a shrill giggle echoes through the store, slowly creeping its way around my body like a vine and constricting me python-like as it inches its way towards my chest. The vine rips open the wound in my heart as the tsunami of childhood memories tucked far away bursts through the flimsy dam I built to keep them locked away. Swivelling in the direction of that laugh, one that I recognise all too well, I catch glimpse of an old friend scooping a child up into her arms. Another chortle from her permeates the air and suddenly I’m looking into the window of my childhood home and two young girls are playing scrabble together, squealing mischievously; the whispers of promised friendship stagnant in the air. Waves of grief ravage my body, melancholy, red and hot, pulsing through my veins. The grip on my basket tightens, along with my heart where the ache of nostalgia now oozes out. The anguish burns a hollow into my chest and my throat throbs in pain, as I suppress the urge to cry. When did being seventeen and swaying to the tune of Dancing Queen, with fingers interlaced, and promising one another that we would be the maids of honour at each others wedding, when did that turn into twenty-seven and strangers, merely connected by a fraction of time, frozen forever? Despair bites its way through my flesh as I recall summers spent together planning an elaborate bucket list to be checked off with age, now just a list of activities I recycle with my new friends. The night before university, we holed up in my bedroom, pinkies interlocked, the promise of forever friendship on her lips. We sipped peach tea and pondered our future lives over a game of scrabble while watching ‘Gilmore Girls’. When I

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 43 was with her, winter always felt so warm. University came and suddenly we no longer texted every night, but a sole birthday message was sent every year. Then, there was silence. My bruised heart split open inch by inch as the years snuck by. Like a rust that grows between bridges, and new friendships that fill the shoes of old, years of secrets, laughter and tears collapsed and were replaced. I hesitated to tell people the secrets I told her, because what is it, if not a betrayal of our thousand lives spent together? Yet, despite the ache of my loss, my unspent love for her is bittersweet. Was it not just last week when I was doubled over cackling with the girls I have built new friendships with, cheeks burning from smiling so much? Was it not just a few days ago when I played scrabble with them as the sun wrapped us in its tender embrace and an episode of ‘Gilmore Girls’ aired in the background? ‘Gilmore Girls’, scrabble and peach tea; elements of my past, fragments of my childhood, still ever present in my current life. Etched into my bones are the adopted habits of all of the people I have loved before and from it I water the seeds of blooming relationships. The love I once had for her, so raw, now I pour into other people and it feels just as good. I used to wake up with things to tell her and now I wake up elated to tell my friend my news. So grief braids with acceptance. Retracting from my musings, I glance up at her again. I want to ask her if she’s living in a house that overlooks the coast and if her husband proposed to her with a peridot ring just like she wanted as a child. I wonder if her bedroom walls are still pink and if her mother still bakes pumpkin bread every winter. I yearn to tell her that I hope she is doing okay and that I wore a wedding dress similar to the ones we cooed over during our adolescence. Yet when we lock eyes, I offer a mere smile. Not one of pain but rather, of realisation. Alas, the waxing crescent must go through many phases before it is full again. Leaves will become frail and fall as the months get colder but they will eventually bloom again in spring. Similarly, people will cycle through different journeys, losing and gaining people along the way, but what is that, if not testimony of growth. With that I begin my trek home filled with acceptance, bracing myself because soon I will be thirty-seven. By Soniya Rajendra | Yr12 Art Niki Dorozhkin | Yr11 The night before university, we holed up in my bedroom, pinkies interlocked, the promise of forever friendship on her lips. Growing pains

44 “How?” Lila asked in a trembling voice. “You use the sword, obviously,” Mina replied. “I have a very important question though; do you accept the challenge?” With a shaky voice Lila replied, “Yes, I do.” Everything happened so quickly. Mina told Lila the spell which would allow her to enter the Demon Realm and warned, “If you lose the sword, then your chance of getting out of the Demon Realm disappears, too.” As Lila spoke the spell aloud, she saw the world rip open in front of her. Hesitantly, she stepped through the hole, and it felt like she was being burned, drowned and pulled all at once. She instantly felt weakened and out of breath, and her almost translucent skin started to glow. As she walked around the realm, with her sword raised, Lila was shocked to the core. This realm appeared to be the exact same as the normal world except everything was a shadow and the whole world was dark. When Lila touched the things in the Demon Realm, they felt squishy, and her hand sank into them. Every now and then she would hear a screech, like crying babies, the screeching of brakes on asphalt, and nails on a chalkboard, all competing to be the loudest. Lila gagged with the putrid smell, like rotting eggs and vomit. Then Lila entered a house, and she heard a thump from upstairs, so she decided to investigate. Upstairs she saw a The Unseen World By Zoe Foukis | Yr7 Art Erin Woods | Yr10 ...Lila entered a house, and she heard a thump from upstairs, so she decided to investigate. “What brings you in today, Lila?” Mina, asked in a concerned voice, with the professional tones of a therapist. As Lila explained her nightmare, Mina’s eye began to twitch, whether from stress or excitement Lila didn’t know. When Lila finished explaining, Mina turned away and picked up something heavy from the untidy table behind her. “Lila, I have been waiting quite a while for someone like you to tell me this,” Mina said in a low, ominous voice. Mina turned around and put the thing she was holding onto the table with a clank. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in a woven cloth. As Lila began to unwrap it, light started to seep out through the parting cloth. When it was fully unwrapped, Lila looked at it in shock, horror and awe. “It’s a sword,” Mina said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Those aren’t nightmares you are having, those are prophecies.” Lila started to shake. Mina put a supportive hand on her shoulder and placed the sword in Lila’s hands. “This sword’s blade is made of angel light and the hilt is made of angel bones. This sword is used to kill demons,” Mina explained. “You have been chosen to defeat the Great Ancient Ruler Demon.”

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 45 big, black orb floating in front of her. Then suddenly, just like lighting, it turned into a monster with black scaly skin, rotting talons, black blood dripping from its razor-sharp teeth, with eyes that looked and felt like you were looking into the depths of hell. Lila was overcome with ice cold fear. The monster lunged at her, and she quickly swung her sword. The sword hit the monster’s rib and black gooey blood came gushing out. The monster pounced again but Lila was too slow, and it knocked her to the ground. Pain erupted in her back as she hit the hard floor. The monster came at her for a killing strike, but Lila stabbed it in its chest just in time. A screech erupted from its mouth, just like she had previously been hearing, but only louder. Lila dropped to the ground and covered her ears. That was when she realised her mistake, Lila had left her sword stuck in the monster. She looked up and watched as her sword fell to the floor with a ‘clang!’ But instead of just lying on the ground, the sword broke in half. “How could this happen?” Lila yelled as the monster above her disintegrated in a puff of smoke. “You killed the wrong Demon,” a voice behind Lila replied. As Lila looked up, she was shocked by what she saw. A girl around her age was standing at the doorway. She had black endless pit eyes, ghost white skin with bones jutting out and white cracked lips. Her hair was grey, and all greasy and knotted. ‘Who are you?” Lila asked in shock. “I am Allie. Who are you?” Allie replied. “Well, I am Lila, and I was chosen to destroy the Great Ruler Demon,” Lila said proudly. “Your sword is broken; you can’t defeat El Diablos now,” Allie responded. Lila felt like she had been punched in the stomach. “El what?” Lila asked in confusion. “El Diablos, the Great Ruler Demon. The one you just killed is called the El Diablas,” Allie told her. As Lila got up, Allie came closer and closer until she was right next to Lila. Allie bent down and picked up both halves of the sword. “Hey, hey put that down!” Lila yelled. “Sorry, but do you want it fixed or not?” Allie asked. Slowly Lila nodded her head. Allie held both sides of the sword and dipped it in the demon blood that was on the floor. When she finished, the sword looked nearly brand new, apart from a black band around the middle. “Thank you. How did you know that?” Lila asked. “I was sent here two years ago. When you’ve been here that long, you learn lots,” Allie replied. “Come with me.” As Lila and Allie walked around, Lila told Allie everything and all Allie did was listen. “Tell me about you.” Lila asked. “Look we are here now.” Allie replied, avoiding Lila’s question. Lila looked around and saw a big arena in front of her. “Uhh, what is this?” Lila asked. “El Diablos’ home, I guess,” Allie replied. “You know the plan?” Lila asked Allie. “Yep!” Allie responded. As the two girls walked onto the arena, the floor started to rumble and shake. “What’s going on!” Lila shouted. “It’s time to fight!” Allie responded. Both girls ran at the black orb floating in the air. Lila sliced it before it turned into the demon. Both the girls were flung back as the orb turned into the El Diablos. The El Diablos looked like the El Diablas except it had weathered wings and looked very ancient. Both girls ran at the demon. Instead of fighting back, the El Diablos ran straight for Allie and went inside her. “Allie!” Lila screamed as Allie fell to the floor. Lila picked Allie up and ran, holding her as she looked for safety. When Lila went into a house, she lay Allie on the floor. “Allie, wake up!” Lila sobbed. “Huh, what’s going on?” Allie said groggily. “Allie, you’re alive!” Lila shouted. “Lil, you have a choice.” Allie said quickly. “Either save me and stay here or go back home.” Lila and Allie stood together as Lila opened the portal. “I need you here but the choice is yours,” Allie announced heroically. Lila looked through the portal and saw her family and therapist standing there, hopeful. Lila said farewell to her friend and stepped through the portal. On the other side Lila was smothered in hugs and shouts of grateful words, but all she could think about was Allie. The look of betrayal on her face as Lila stepped through the portal. Lila felt guilt take its place in the pit of her stomach. Nothing could get rid of it, not her family celebrating or the relieved look on her mentor’s face when she returned. Lila felt something warm fill her up from the inside, but the feeling of guilt stayed, unlike the other negative emotions of sadness and horror. Suddenly the realisation of what she had done and the warm feeling from her stomach changed her frown into a smile. That night at home Lila told her mum about her adventure. Lila still had two secrets though, her first secret was that she could still see weird shadows. She didn’t have nightmares, so she knew it was her imagination. The second secret was that sometimes she could still hear Allie’s voice calling out to her from the Demon Realm.

46 From a broadcast of TechNews: By Jax Molaeb | Yr12 Art Madison Cusdin | Yr10 Newly released by Autism Speaks Foundation, is a new technological ‘cure for neurovariance’ by the name of ‘Neurolosia’. It studies the neurological signaling of a neurotypical person’s brain, replicates such signaling in a neurodiverse individual’s body and adapts to the way their body works. It has been distributed among Autism Speaks sites for public use. The microchip has been studied by a range of technological and IT specialists, and has been reported to overwrite the body's neurodiverse functions, replacing them with neurotypicality with a 100% success rate, leaving no possibility of malfunctioning or causing permanent damage to the individual. Jacob Ringley - 2nd year university student with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder When I first saw the repost, I was just, completely shocked. I’m talking jaw dropped, eyes wide, and just staring at my computer screen. I felt like a kid on Christmas day, it was a miracle! I’ve lived my whole life with OCD, and it’s been a real struggle to be honest. Nothing really helped, I mean like, I’ve tried therapists, CBT, medicine - three types actually! None worked on me for whatever reason. I remember when I was a kid I would watch my mum spend hours on the phone calling up doctors and clinics and GPs, just trying to find a way to help me, and they all said the same thing - that I was incurable. So for me I guess, this Neurolosia is like a dream come true! Anne Grayson - Neurolosia Specialist for Autism Speaks Foundation Neurolosia isn’t only the tech of the future, it is the future. This little microchip is the glue we need for our society. We’ve all lived for so long with so many struggles, having to sacrifice our lives, our autonomy, to take care of others. It’s debilitating honestly. Individuals with neurodiversity themselves experience higher rates of depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts and actions, to the extent where those with Autism Spectrum Disorder are thirteen times more likely to have died from suicide than the average person. This stops now. These people, they need help, they need support. We need to stop the cycle of sadness and anxiety and death. Neurolosia is out for installation at your local Autism Speaks site - go now, and help what doctors cannot. Jacob Ringley I did it. I walked right into the clinic and I got Neurolosia. It wasn’t even that hard! It took like, ten minutes max! It feels so weird, but in a good way I guess. I think it’ll take a while to get used to, but I’m excited to be able to function like a normal person for once! Illham Ahmed - Human Rights activist This isn’t right. None of it is right. Neurolosia is a band-aid solution that we’re using to excuse our blatant ableism. Rather than educating ourselves on how to cater for those with neurodiversity we’re what, suppressing them? Re-

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 47 writing their biology just to make them more ‘normal’? Are you kidding me? You know, I would think that after all we’ve been through, we would have learnt by now that forcing minorities to conform to the majority does nothing but result in a society unwilling to cater to anyone but those like themselves. I would have thought that we learned to let people just live, not to implant a literal chip in their brain to force them to be more like us. I’m disappointed. Truly and honestly. We should have moved past this. We should know better. Yet we’re still regressing into past ways so normalised we don’t even blink an eye at the horrific injustice we’re forcing others to endure. Thomas Willson - 3rd year university student with ASD and ADHD on TikTok I’m starting a petition to get Neurolosia banned. That speech by Illham spoke to me, and we need to protest against bigotry. If this is what we want for anyone with anything different from us, simply to slap them into a mould of what we think people should fit in, then we're never actually going to get better. I’ve linked the petition in my bio. Let’s fight against discrimination together. Karen McCens This is ridiculous. Does anyone know how hard my life has been since I had an autistic kid? As a proud Autism mum, we need a break. I had to sell my life away to take care of my child. The constant temper tantrums, the screaming when she doesn’t get her way. I’m trying my best to manage it, but I can only keep trying for so long! When do us mothers get a break? When do we get to enjoy life worry free? Alfred McHall - Anti-Ableism Speaker Look at this. Look at what the world has come to. Is this what we want to teach our children? To run away from what’s different from them until someone comes along with a magic fix? I think we’ve all lost sight of the real facts here: we will never get better until we teach better. The only good this tech will do is give a short, temporary solution that will disable actual willingness to learn, creating an endless cycle of discrimination. If you want to stop the cycle, for all that is holy, don’t support Neurolosia. Al Grayson - News reporter for 9News Coming to you live from outside Autism Speaks Foundation: rioters are swarming the streets in protest against the newly released Neurolosia, the microchip that ‘cures’ neurodiversity. Ever since its launch, a steady uprising of protesters overtook the internet, with thousands from all over the world signing petitions for its ban. The main circulating petition now has over 800,000 signatures, and has gained worldwide traction. Jacob Ringley I think I’m going to get Neurolosia removed. I’ve been hearing these speeches about how ableist the tech is and seeing people rioting against it - heck, my closest friends were a part of those riots! But, it’s all got me rethinking my choices. I think I was so overjoyed by the fact that my struggles could finally be over, that I forgot to consider the ethical aspect of things, and what Neurolosia means for society. I don’t want to support a clearly ableist company, with clearly ableist intentions. I think I’ll get it removed tonight. Autism Speaks Foundation In light of the public protesting for the ban of Neurolosia, we have realised that our tech may have taken the wrong approach to aiding those with neurovariances. We realise the harm our product must have done and we deeply apologise. The Australian Government has prohibited the use and distribution of Neurolosia, and as such, we have taken it down from public markets, and have discontinued its use. We hope that you can accept our apology, and trust that we have taken your opinion into deep consideration. Thomas Willson This is kind of laughable to be honest. Autism Speaks literally highlighted that the government banned Neurolosia, and that’s why they discontinued its use. This isn’t an improvement. It just shows that if not for the government ban, they would’ve happily continued making Neurolosia. It really makes me think about how deep our society really is in its ableism - where the only reason we won’t genetically modify someone to make them more like us is because it’s illegal. This is only the tip of the iceberg - we need to keep fighting, and keep pushing for equality together.

48 The Dream Writer By Cynthia Castaneda Moreno | Yr11 Art Isobelle Kite | Yr8 The light above me illuminated its beams so brightly I had to cover my face with my fingers, and yet my skin was not enough to protect me from its painful glow. I don’t know how long I was there, seconds? Perhaps even aeons? My body was floating in a timeless abyss, with no clue as to what day it could be. My movements were either too fast or too slow, my body completely weightless. In the burning rays, I wondered if I should just lower my hands and let the light melt me into ashes, maybe then I could escape the withering pain, of my loss. But I heard a click and, like a flick of a light switch, the bright white I could see through my eyelids snapped into sudden darkness. I lowered my arms, slowly, but I refused to open my eyes. I shouldn’t. But, as if there were fingers trying to pry my eyes wide open, I had to fight to squeeze them shut. Then the voice at the back of my head grew louder and I could finally hear it, open your eyes child, and face it. For a second, I stood still waiting for the ringing in my eyes to cease, but it kept vibrating. Resonating inside my entire skull, unrelenting. I had to make it stop. I removed my hands from my face, whether my movements were quick or steady, I did not know. I forced my eyes open to witness what was in front of me, evidence of my frenzied writing and my mouth widened in a silent howl of terror. Scribbles flooded every page before my eyes and my My body was floating in a timeless abyss, with no clue as to what day it could be.

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA COLLEGE 2023 49 wrist was already aching, my desk light was weakly flickering, struggling to repel the darkness of my room. I may have heard my mother’s cries for dinner but even she fell deathly silent after the third. She knew not to bother me, not now. Not like my body craved food anyway, it wasn’t hungry for the mundane things, it was hungry for answers. With the force of my hand, I made my final mark, a dot that concluded my string of thought. Writing was all I could do. Writing kept the darkness at bay, the pain of him not being here anymore. But even it was now failing me. This is no good, I don't understand - why? I ripped up the pages of my writing and flung what was left of it at the wall. The flickering lamp suddenly decided it was going to take its last breath and the entire room went black. My breaths were quick, as I stared out into the dark, aghast. I waited for something, for my mind to continue to torture me. My door started rattling, my mother behind it asking me when I was ever going to leave the room, if I was ever going to embrace her again, that I had to face reality. I didn't hear her descending footsteps as I sat frozen, not a single thought in my mind. My head was pounding, my heart pumping loudly and my cheeks wet. Wait, why was I crying? My stomach dropped and I looked out the window, dark clouds hovering in the sky as it wept. I knew someone who loved the rain, who would smile at me when dark clouds started looming on the horizon. In the darkness of the room, I drowned into the softness of my bed and closed my eyes. I could hear a soft ticking echoing in the background. And I would not stand around and let the abyss defeat me. I couldn’t - not this time. I willed myself, took one step in my mind; this one small decisive step and suddenly in the distance, I could see something nearing, a beam of white pure light against the thick darkness that pushed forward in my direction. I faltered, watching as the light neared. A shadow led the beam, a ring of light illuminating its figure but disguising its face. I didn't have to look any closer to realise who it was, I seemed to recognise the limp in its gait, the symptom of his crippling illness. "Wow, Remy. I never thought you would have the guts to face life again," he called out, a mischievous edge to his fleeting voice. I couldn’t formulate the words I wanted to say. I simply stared, silent. He appeared to be exactly the same; the gap in his teeth, the slight dimples in his cheeks and that nest of hair he could never find a way to tame. I held my breath, scared that if I made any sudden movements, he would disappear from my sight, and I would never see him again. He seemed to gently bring his arm up to my face to wipe away a tear that had escaped from my eyes. His touch seemed too light, cold. The eyebags that plagued him in the last years of his sickness weren’t there, the lump in his leg was absent and most importantly, he didn’t have that bittersweet smile he would always wear, a strong mask trying to prove to my family that he was okay. This wasn’t real. I gave myself a last chance to see him, the older brother I would never trade for any other. My eyes now completely dry, I took a step forward and took him in an embrace. He was weightless, devoid of his blood life force beneath his skin and lacking the comforting rhythm of his rising chest. “Welcome home.” And the touch turned warm, the body I was holding had weight, a beating heart behind it. I took a step back and stared into a pair of warm eyes, glazed with tears. They were the same eyes my brother inherited from my mother. I stared into the fearful eyes, noticing the desperation for consolidation and connection. I lifted my hand up, and lightly wiped my mother’s tears away.

50 I was sitting on the hospital bed fidgeting with my hands as I eagerly waited for Dr Alex to return. My headaches had been getting bad but this one was unbearable. I had been training for my track competition at the gym, when suddenly it felt like my head had exploded. The school rushed me to the hospital and a million tests were performed. Both my parents were working so I was left alone in the cold hospital room to worry, with the smell of disinfectant filling my nose. I scrunched up my face in disgust as I looked at the clock. An hour had passed with only the sound of people talking and children wailing so loud in my ears. I had always heard acutely; in an enhanced way but I didn’t know why. Then again, I didn’t know much about myself actually. I started to get lost in my thoughts when suddenly the door burst open and a redhaired girl came rushing in. “Quick!” she demanded. “We don’t have much time!’ “Who are you?” I yelled, picking up on her fear. She had freckles to go with the fiery hair and bright blue eyes which seemed like they were glowing when she answered intensely, “No time for questions”. She ran towards me announcing, “We have to leave”. I backed away from her mumbling, “Stay away from me”. She paused, saying “It’s OK. Calm down”. She stared at me and all of a sudden my worries disappeared and my head cleared. I stumbled back towards the bed and before I could process, I drifted off to sleep. The Hidden Cities By Anyaa Perera | Yr7 Art Tara Gerace | Yr9 I had always heard acutely; in an enhanced way but I didn’t know why. Then again, I didn’t know much about myself actually.