The Curious Minds Project - Avila Retrospective 2021

CELEBRATING • DARING • CREATIVITY

CuTHE rious Minds
PROJECT

2021 Avila College
Student Retrospective

Art Alicia Choul | Year 11 Cover Art Maria Papalaskaris | Year 11

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Congratulations to the “Lock up your libraries
Quill and Ink Club and all if you like; but there is no
writers and illustrators. gate, no lock, no bolt that
Your creativity for you can set upon the
communicating with freedom of my mind.”
passion and enthusiasm
is most impressive. Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
This is a great read
from cover to cover. Woolf’s words ring true on every page of this exciting
I recommend it to all who edition of The Curious Minds Project, highlighting the
get lost in the world of skills and talents of writers and artists here at Avila
words. College.
This publication offers vignettes, insights and commentary
Dr Michelle Cotter on matters of our time, in the hope that it will ignite and
agitate curiosity in complex ideas and issues.
Avila College Principal Here our young writers and artists demonstrate their
power to challenge the norms and conventions of our
world, as they assert their voice, venturing forth toward
new horizons.
As you read, let our young writers and artists lead you to
destinations only accessible to those ready to embrace the
freedom of one’s imagination and one’s mind.

Pauline Catrice & Clare Crowe

Avila English Department | Quill and Ink Co-ordinators

THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021 3

Words Caitlin Mujie | Year 8

Fine Tuning Finance

How can the Australian
education system better prepare
young people for the practical
realities of adulthood?

A significant problem facing young a focus on the stock market and small have part-time work, this opportunity
adults is a lack of financial literacy. business ownership. could lead to financial independence
by 18. It also provides an opportunity
The University of Melbourne’s At the completion of the course, the for students to experience loss and
HILDA survey found that those student will receive a $500 invest- see the consequences of unwise
under the age of 25 are half as ment account under the supervision investments, while in a protective
financially literate as those approach- of their financial advisor. Students setting.
ing retirement age. They don’t know will be required to keep a balance of
how to manage money! at least $100 in their accounts at all A significant benefit of the program
times. is that it would change the culture
Knowledge alone isn’t enough to around money by promoting conver-
improve financial health, knowledge Each student will then have an sations between students. Students
needs to be translated into behaviour; appointment with their financial will be exposed to models of success
we need the next generation to advisor who will have responsibility and failure in their friendship group.
practice saving and investing money. for the advice they give their student This would build resilience, tenacity
client. They will also give advice on and inventiveness in students making
I have a plan that will benefit any money the student receives from them better citizens with a secure
individuals by allowing them to live part-time work. They will help to set lifestyle.
full lives in adulthood; and the targets to achieve financial independ-
community, as they will not be a ence and implement the investment The Youth Financial Literacy
burden on the welfare state. plan. There will be a meeting every 6 Foundation says it is a fallacy to
months to review the students assume that people will learn about
I propose a financial literacy program progress. At the end of Year 12, money on their own. Financial
that begins with the Federal Govern- students may maintain the account education should be a continuous
ment putting out a tender for teams or withdraw their investments. process from childhood to adulthood;
of professional financial advisors to because it empowers young people;
go into high schools twice a year to This program will prepare students equips them for the future and helps
assist students with financial advice. for adulthood by teaching them to them avoid bad financial habits like
value money while giving them the gambling.
This program will begin in Year 9 skills to manage it. They will know
with a Crash Course in financial how to read financial accounting This is a powerful opportunity for the
literacy providing: an introduction to documents. It will motivate them to Australian education system to
the nature of money, examining invest wisely and save money. It will better prepare young people for the
wages, loans, credit cards, after pay, also provide seed money for students practical realities of adulthood.
even cryptocurrency. Secondly, an who want to start their own small
introduction to borrowing, interest business. Given that most students
rates and rates of return. Then finally

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Words Emma Gasper | Year 7
Art Julia Coppolino | Year 8

An
Unexpected
Adventure!

New York. The loudest city I had ever seen.
There were blinding billboards flashing, and
the sound of men working on the street with
heavy machinery that left a ringing in my ears.
Cars honking were driving me crazy.

The only thing kept me in line is laughing at
all those ridiculous billboards, and of course,
my world famous donuts. People were always
saying how fabulous they were, and how they
“travelled the seas” to try my donuts. In fact,
just as I was walking to my bakery at this very
moment, I was preparing for those remarks.

Honk! Someone’s not very happy I reflected, and
I wanted to get a closer look, but I encountered
a slight dilemma: I fell down a manhole!

My breathing picked up pace and my clothes
didn’t smell like lavender anymore. I tried
jumping, I tried screaming but nothing. Total
darkness surrounded me, until suddenly I saw
men with top hats and briefcases everywhere.
They all wore dark, boring clothes; even the
world was dark and dull.

By now I was desperate to leave this manhole
and leave this unfamiliar place.

“Help me!” I screamed into the darkness when
suddenly a black braided rope was thrown
down to me...

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Memory

Words Isabel Hooi | Year 7
Art Sareena O'Shea | Year 8

Ideas flooding through my brain
A torrential rain of inspiration
Rushing through
Barely enough time to write them down
So close…
Almost there…
Then… nothing.
All blank
All gone
Rays of emptiness shine my downpour away
I want to be mad,
But I can’t think anything.
All future gone
All past gone
Only the present remains
A peaceful frustration
A burning demand
How could I forget?

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The Seashell

Words Natasha Pamamull | Year 8
Art Sienna Portelli | Year 7

Part 1 “We’re here!”

I walk on the soft, golden sand, the waves crashing onto I woke up to see the car slowly driving into a car park.
my feet. I feel the hot, summer breeze as it blows my hair The resort was stunning. It was well designed with arched
back. The sunrise melts into the horizon and the beautiful doors and outside corridors that had a lovely view to the
pink, red hues change to deep violet as the sky darkens. beach. I walked into the reception, greeted by the friendly
The stars appear like fairy dust and the moon hangs low staff. They handed us warm, refreshing towels and gave
as it shimmers over the calm sea. I can hear my family us coconuts. I sat down on the couch, drinking the coconut.
talking and laughing from a distance. The water pulls I heard the distant sound of waves crashing onto the
back to reveal a trail of shells. I gather the shells one by shore. We went up to our hotel room, our suitcases await-
one. A glimmer sparks my eyes. I look over toward the ing. The rooms looked exactly like the pictures. High,
ocean to see a large, spiral shell. The shell was a pale vaulted timber ceilings and beautiful, sheer curtains
colour with a hint of pink. A smile stretches across my hanging gracefully from the windows.
face from one ear to another. Instant memories come
rushing back to me. My sister and I decided to go down to the beach. We
walked through the open planned corridors and as we
Part 2 turned the corner a warm breeze suddenly hit us. We ran
down the wooden steps, excited and filled with joy. I heard
It was in Goa, India 2013. I had just arrived at the airport, the ocean before I saw it. We ran through this tropical
tired and ready to sleep. We walked through the airport, landscape, hitting branches of big ferns as we passed. It
passing people abruptly. I was starving. finally opened up to the beach. I looked at my sister and
smiled; we race each other to the water. As I plunged
My stomach rumbled, “mum can we get something to eat into the water, my skin felt cool, and opening my eyes, I
please?” caught a glimpse of a shell. Swimming down towards it,
I gently scooped it up into my hands, and came out of the
“We’ll eat when we get to the hotel,” she replied. water breathless. The shell was in perfect condition.
I grasped it in my hand and ran to show my sister.
We pushed the suitcases out of the airport, the air was
humid and hot. A number of taxis were parked in front of
the airport. We got in one, and drove off to the resort, the
boot filled with suitcases. The leather car seats burned my
skin. I was finding it hard to breathe from all the heat so I
wound my window down. Roars from the motorbikes
rushed past me, leaving a lingering smell of petrol fumes.
Suddenly I find myself in a coughing fit, I wind the
window back up. I rest my head on the window and slowly
close my eyes, drifting to sleep.

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THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021 9

Running
with Change

Words Natalie Sik | Year 7
Art Valentine Chew | Year 9

The whole world revolves around change, through time,
space and perspective. Imagine a clock. Each time the
clock ticks, the world changes; some are big changes,
some are small. New lives are brought into the world,
disasters strike, people grow and we all learn from the
experience, whether it may be a good influence, or a bad
influence. Similar to time, change waits for no one; you
just have to run with it.
People often think that they live ordinary lives, that
they are just like everyone else, ordinary; no different.
However, everyone’s lives are full of different changes
that make their world unique. It all depends on the way
you choose to see it. My name is Rin Mizuki and my life,
just like everyone else’s, has been and will always be full
of change.
When I was only seven years old, my father died of
scarlet fever and we didn’t have enough money to pay
for the small farm we owned, so we decided to move to
the city. Our kind neighbour offered to let his family in
the city, the Robertsons, know that we were moving, so
that they could help us settle in.
The sun was shining and I heard birds singing in the
distance, but my stomach churned with anxiety. With
my sister’s hand comfortingly squeezing my shoulder,
I hesitantly rang the doorbell of the Robertsons. The
moment the Robertson family opened the door, I knew
they didn’t approve of us. I mean, I couldn't blame
them; we were total strangers to them! I remember the
exact look on their faces, especially Mrs Robertson’s

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face when they saw how I was dressed; a baggy, crum- happiness as everyone else, as I was even more over-
pled shirt and shorts. Apparently in the city, it was an joyed at how our two families looked like one! It
outrage for girls to wear shorts and since I couldn’t seemed like through Jack’s illness, our families had
bear for them to judge my wonderful family by the way joined together in an attempt to cure him. The Robert-
I acted, I was forced to change. sons had finally accepted us!

From then on I secretly spent hours each night prac- The following day, I knocked on the door of Mary’s
ticing the manners of a ‘real lady.’ After long days of room. “Hi Rin,” she greeted me. She was sitting on her
reading stacks of boring books about etiquette, I think armchair, as if she had been expecting me. “Did you
I actually started to make some progress, as I saw Mrs want to tell me something?” she asked, with a quizzical
Robertson, whom I now call Mary, give me a small look on her face.
nod of approval. I brushed my hair back neatly, always
wore feminine clothes and helped to cook and clean the I looked at her, surprised. ‘How did she know?’ I won-
house. However, a week later, I was exhausted. I knew I dered. ‘Maybe she could read people’s minds! That was
wouldn’t be able to keep this up; it just wasn’t me! so cool!’ I thought, excitedly. Then, I felt the familiar
pang of guilt when I remembered what I wanted to tell
The following day, I heard my mother talking to Mary her, but I was just going to have to spit it out. “Actu-
with a worried expression on her face; they were stand- ally, I wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry, but I
ing over Mary’s son, Jack. He lay on his bed, with bags can’t act like a proper lady like you wanted me to. I
under his eyes and a tired look on his face. When I en- just can’t!” I blurted out, lowering my head, ashamed.
tered the room, I saw that his face was flushed red with I braced myself for the scolding I was about to get.
fever and he had rashes all over his arms. Right then However, to my surprise, she smiled gently, her eyes
and there, I froze; I knew what had happened. Jack had twinkling.
scarlet fever - the very same illness that took my father
away from me. “I know,” she replied.

Though Jack wasn’t our family by blood, we had lived Mary explained how she learnt to trust others more
with each other for three months and we had come to and give them a chance; ‘to not judge a book by their
grow close, almost like a real brother and sister. My cover,’ as they say. From then on, I wore shorts,
mother, sister and I were devastated at the news. On climbed trees and stopped putting my hair into ridic-
top of this, the Robertsons did not live near a hospital ulously fancy hairstyles. However, I still kept Mary’s
that they could easily contact to help him! teachings in my mind, ready to pull out whenever I
needed them!
My mother knew a lot about different herbs, from her
herb patch at our old farm, so she helped Jack as much My experience of living with the Robertsons taught
as she could. She cooked warm, home-made meals for me the most important lesson of all; the world keeps
him, gave him fragrant medical herb remedies and changing and we cannot do anything about it, but we
tended to his every need. At first, Mary was wary of can influence ourselves to change for the better. My
my mother feeding her precious son home-made herb advice to you is to embrace change and let it guide you,
remedies, but after a while, Mary began to trust my but do not let it control you.
mother’s instincts and helped her where she could.

The following week, Jack slowly, but miraculously be-
gan to recover! The red, swollen rashes on his arms be-
gan to vanish and his fever cooled down. Everyone was
so relieved about his recovery! However, I felt guilty
for not being able to share the same level of extreme

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The Beauty in Life

Creative Response to Ceridwen Dovey's
Only the Animals, in the vein of Italo Calvino.

Words Julia Grubnic | Year 12 place when the dawning stars’ luminous marriages of
Art Allannah Prossimo | Year 8 hydrogen and helium, were above me, not the other
way around. Form? I of course had one, though I
“Most entomologists agree that insects do not feel wasn’t much aware of it, not as I am now. What I mean
emotion… Their brains are too simple, missing the key to say is: I have eight legs, eight eyes, two pedipalps,
parts associated with emotion… There may be some two pinchers, one spinneret and fifty thousand hairs
level of awareness in insect consciousness but not to the smoothing my body — though I didn’t know I had
extent of feeling attraction, or empathy or happiness or them, that is, I knew they were there, but lacked the
sadness or even the ability to feel pain.” ability to describe them. All I knew was this; the world,
velvet rich, had no place for me, a patchwork of the
“Well, that’s what they say” — Qfwfq amended. “But grotesque, and my abundance of eyes told me so much.
how are humans to know? You wouldn’t, to put it
frankly, unless you yourself had ever been a spider, and It is hard to explain the beauty in terms you’d
humans by virtue of their form, know of nothing but understand. We spiders see the world in a different
behemoth bipedalism. But how well I know!” way. It is not the sort of thing that can be described
in simple sentences, where your imagination is too
It all began in this very place a millenia past, or rather, closely guided and guarded by word after word, instead
only mere seconds ago across infinite galaxies — either you must now look up and ahead — not around, you
way, the most important thing is it was a time or a cannot, as your neck bones have begun to fuse, melded
in place. Your view of your surroundings, however,
is not restricted by this, as your eyes grow in size;
vertical vision lengthening to see floor to firmament
as they round out, perspective magnified as they begin
to protrude and bulge. Your lack of mobility, you begin
to realise, is compensated for by the addition of three
beady eyes on each side of your head, widening your
field of vision. Now, panic may be your first reaction to
these changes, and as the world becomes less sharp, less

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vivid as you become more vulnerable, more afraid (after — if you ever meet Spidae in a corporeal form you’ll
all, we spiders have had all of evolution to adjust), but understand the reason for such a transparent lie. I,
it is at this moment that the hair on your body rises and also, was unable to understand the nature of my resolve
your mouth opens and and the world becomes loud as yet, it’s cause, so my original response, which I was less
you feel sound for the first time and hear colours in a able to think than simply know, had much less shape,
roaring mass, painting the world with more clarity than more of a foggy cloud in my brain, than what I am now
you ever had with clear vision. It is in this way that I able to articulate given the gift of hindsight.
experienced life, taking the saccharine sun and hearing
the silver-toned scenery. What follows is an adventure that I’m not sure I
myself even understand, and the way it went was this;
Yet I was not a part of all the beauty, You, reader, could Spidae sensed my hesitation, or my bold-faced lie, or
never understand it, how amongst all the resplendence perhaps he’d quite simply had enough of my persistent
I could feel my own form — taste my repulsiveness,
hear my undesirability, an abnormality in perfection. ...to be a spider was a
The colony, Sparras, Mygalo, evil spidae and larvae
Tulas — she was a month or so at this time — freed me punishment, Arachne had lost
from my fear at being an alarming exception, which
I would have been, had the fate of arachnid existence her buttermilk beauty so inherent
been mine alone, but did little to reassure me. Their
existence reminded me of my own. Their great stories to those in the human world —
as they looked to the mercury-silver night sky of the
first spider, Arachne. Turned to such a form for her cursed for all eternity by the wisest
hubris, not far from us, just across the peninsula, did
not reaffirm me of my purpose in the word, which old goddess, Athena.
Mygalo with her piercing sweet songs under the lime-
white sky certainly intended, but rather reaffirmed gloom. Either way, the hair on his body bristled, his
my ideals. This was impressive considering I could not pinchus, usually retracted, emerge, glinting in a bath
yet describe these ideals to myself, though I knew I had of moonlight as he seems to grow, towers to the height
them. Now of course, with all the knowledge of all the of great Arachne in the stars as the subject of his
world I can tell you that what these myths meant to vibrations turn me to the nest, calling his army of the
me was to be a spider was a punishment. Arachne had monstrous; they flooded out. The few I had mentioned
lost her buttermilk beauty so inherent to those in the were there, amongst a sea of others I hadn’t desired to
human world — cursed for all eternity by the wisest have, there were so many they formed a phalanx around
goddess, Athena. me, others were resting on the branches perched on
the bushes and gradually, as I retreated, they moved
So one night, I’m listening to old Mygalo spin her with me, Sporas on one side, young Tulas on the other.
tales, when instead of the usual despair and disgust, or Was I now their prisoner? There was a restless, excited
perhaps, because of it I feel a strange sense of resolve. chatter among them when fear gripped me, icy and
painful, death I had dreamed of yes, but that was
So I do something utterly unprecedented. surrounded by beauty, tasting the rustling of leaves
and hearing the bright forest’s light, I was able to die
I move. for beauty - or not at all. So I bunched up one leg and
another and another and another and another and
“Where are you going?” evil Spidae — the biggest of us another and another and leap, a great long, bounding
all — says (‘says’ is the best way to describe it; in truth leap, up, up and up to great Arachne and the stars?
we did not communicate through words, but instead Without thinking (which doesn’t say much, as I keep
through vibrations, a /vrrum vrrum/ that originated saying that at no point was I ever able to actually think
deep in one’s cephalothorax, head on one’s legs, in this time) I released a silk strand, which carried
thrumming from our pedipalps to our brain. me, buoyant, away away away on the gentle breeze as
the colony became smaller smaller smaller still. I was
I think of responding /vrrom vrrom/ loosely “I’ve carried for days, years, or rather, seconds, minutes,
decided I don’t like it here. It’s simply too ugly. I’m until the vibrant sun no longer rose in the east and set
going to leave and find my own place in the world — in the west. Or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all, for when
which with any luck, will put me out of this torment I landed, moon high in the sky, the strange forest was
of misery. Which, in short, most hopefully, is death in all too familiar.
some description, “ but what I end up with is a /vrroom
vrroom/, best translated as “just stretching”. (This
gives you the wrong impression of my character. I was
not, as you may be now included to believe, a coward

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Birds, creatures of feather soft, to, that was what was perfect about were confirmed. High atop a
bright beauty rush past, a blur of our relationship, I could just know creature that could have only
squeaking and preaning. her as my love, my muse, as she been his conquest, he followed
raised no objection to me. the same trail of blood as I with
“Where are you going?” I ask, or no hesitation, no shock, only
they ask me. So there we were, her glittering purpose - like he knew before he
and me repulsive, marriage a wrong arrived exactly where she was and
The response is the same, “away”. note in the harmonious world, but who she was and how she was,
unlike any other times, I found like they were speaking their own
It continues in this way with myself uncaring of this fact (she language to each other and she was
birds, lizards, mice and beetles., was unlike anything in the world to crying out to him in a way that he
them running from ‘bangs’ and induce such a feeling, or instead, could understand to come and get
booms’ and we drawn towards it, a lack of it). But I wanted to give her, rescue her from the monster
sure that this was to be the death her the beauty she gave me, instill binding her captive.
I had searched for, a death that in her the feeling she did in me,
gave meaning and beauty to a life of pure lightlessness, magnetic And when the creature he
that had more. The adventure, attraction that sparked anew each controlled reached down, eyes
truly comes to its close when I am time I crawled the expanse of her shining with solitude and fear I
stopped, suddenly, on my journey. walls. I wanted to bring beauty could well understand - I saw their
A carpet of blood, metallic and into the world with her, so from mating marks, his and hers, a red
delicious, in my path leads me on my spinneret glands, that acid print on the same side form the
a different passage, guides me to bath of proteins and hydrogen, I same source. As we were lifted up,
something in the distance, that I do secreted the finest silk, pulled from she was no longer mine, our child
not know - it is too far away. spinnerets to her cavernous inside, was suddenly just mine as I saw a
webs, intricate glittering patterns, hand reach to denote our spot of
And then I reach it. My eyes fill pools of pure moonlight the safety, to remove us forever.
with tears of emotion. Before me product of our love. I found that it
was a creature of a beauty I had did not matter so much, my looks, And in that moment I understood.
never seen before. A different my solitude, in her embrace, sat in I wanted to scream it out, “ the
sort of beauty, which couldn’t our shared lustre of argentine silk. beauty in my life is that I lived it!!”
be compared to all the forms in I wanted the world to see and hear
which I had recognised beauty and But you can, I am sure, know and feel; “the beauty in my life is
reminded me of my own feelings. the nature of love - volatile and that I lived it!” and maybe I did say
and inadequacies in a wave of insecure, or rather, that was the it, loud as it echoed throughout my
solitude that crashed over me. But nature of our love, perhaps more a lost love; “the beauty in my life is
the creature, the way it carried reflection of me and the flaws of my that I lived it;” and I didn’t want to
itself seemed to speak to me, not character as opposed to the flaws die with this newfound knowledge,
through vibrations but stance of an abstract concept. Whatever I wanted to do more, to be more;
alone, that it was okay, that we you believe to be the case, it cut “the beauty in life”.
were the same, that if anyone were short our (kind of) marital bliss.
to look from me to it, as I stood Her silence, so warm and inviting
there staring at it, they would see before, became cold and judgement,
we were identical. I understood, her rounds became less soft, her
almost intrinsically, that this was brightness dimmed ever so slightly.
to be the love of my life. I got the feeling, an irrational
worry (as you see I’m prone to) that
She was not akin to anything I’d I was not enough once again, not
ever felt before, soft in her rounds, quiet enough, not beautiful enough
but hard to touch, dazzling in the for her anymore - that she was
light but tasted of nought but a seeking something else, somewhere
dull green, a dome, a half sphere else, far from me and my clinging,
but biconcave with two ridged legs sticky webs.
and mismatching, solid feet she was
not of this world. She did not tell When he arrived, my suspicions
me her name, but she did not need

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THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021 15

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Humanity’s Words Lily Shields | Year 9
next Art Anastasia Pagiamtzis | Year 11
adventure

Humanity has been through a lot. We've gone on many have the ability to do such a thing? To break the cycle?
adventures. Peace, War, monarchs, dynasties, we've
seen civilizations rise and fall. And now we embark We’ve tried change before, the 20th century was a big
on a new adventure, how will the younger generations time for human rights activism. But even with the
change humanity? civil rights movements, the suffragist movement, the
Stonewall riots, all the progress we have made, we still
Let's be real, humanity doesn't have the greatest track live in a society rooted in hate and oppression. A society
record. For instance, the global pandemic which we where people of privilege are placed in power and
cant seem to get rid of, or how we’ve treated our planet, where people hide behind religion, intended for good,
hacking everything down and smoothing it over with to enforce systemic oppression. If all the hard work of
concrete. And our governments haven’t been much help the past didn't pay off, how can it in the future? If they
in fixing these problems. When they actually propose a couldn't do it, how can we?
solution, it's short term, a bandaid, something for the
future to deal with. We’ve got our work cut out for us, I can tell you
that. But the future isn't all bleak, the people of
But the future is coming, at an alarmingly fast rate. today have begun the process to heal humanity. The
Our generation is about to inherit this broken world, Paris agreement is more or less in place, education of
the question is, do we have what it takes to make the humanity's flaws has become so much richer, young
necessary changes to survive? people are more open minded and more aware of what's
happening in our world. We know more now than we
History has a funny habit of repeating itself. We ever have before and we are still learning. Humanity
humans aren't very good at change, we slip back into has the tools to create change. It's just a matter of
old habits quite easily. Arrogance, power hunger, and whether or not we have what it takes to actually do it.
selfishness. We’re great at that stuff, not so great
at helping others (I guess that's why capitalism is The real mystery is, where do we go from here? If we
so popular). But all this begs the question whether calculate the future based on the past it's not looking
humanity actually can change? Are we even capable of good, but who knows with this generation. We’ve had
it? a global pandemic thrown at us, we've been forced
to evolve. Maybe that’ll show in how we deal with
Throughout the centuries, we have witnessed what the future. Or maybe we’ll mess it up more than our
seems to be a loop. War and peace, death and life on parents have. There's really no telling what the future
repeat. Neither lasts very long, before something tilts will hold and there isn't much we can do other than
the balance. So what does that mean for our future? strap in and prepare ourselves for Humanity's Next
Our societies are on the brink of collapse, how long will Adventure.
the peace last? Will our generation duct tape over the
cracks in our relationships like those before us? How
much more strain can it take before collapse? Will we
find actual solutions to these problems? Does humanity

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Arthur's Last Plight

Words Catherine Barczynski | Year 7 Art Paige Stokes | Year 7

This poem is specifically about the last The battle was dying out, all but fought
battle of King Arthur, the battle of The vast landscapes scattered with the condemned
Men, women and children full out distraught
Camlann in which in some renditions Few standing, the battle yet to be damned
of the legend he is said to be slain by
Scant warriors, sparse on the battlefield
Mordred (or spelled Medrawt). The gallant Arthur must fight ‘till the end’
The kings honourable knights, ought to not yield
In the legend it is said that they are both To breathe one's last, Arthur cannot contend
killed by each other, Arthur landing his
Mordred destined to kill the noble king
final fatal blow on Mordred right after King Arthur, close to death, runs Mordred through
Mordred landed a fatal blow on Arthur. Camelot wins, although the king's passing
Arthur to rise when his presence is due
Line eleven references Arthur's victory
(thanks to Merlin) although the king has King Arthur's immortalised in legend
Will rise when Albion is most threatened
died. After those lines the rest of the
poem is talking about the Legend that
after Arthur died he was whisked away
to Avalon (legendary island) where he
recovered from his injuries, and when the
united lands of Albion (the kingdoms he
united) are in dire need he will rise again.

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Words Jade Hale | Year 7

Flora
Maroney

Monologue: "For the love of candy"
A response to Kate Hannigan's novel,
The Detective's Assistant

It’s bad enough that that witch is making me read - they were so suspicious, even from the beginning.
but a newspaper. I don’t care if this weird guy who I remember I was demanding Mama to give me
looks like a tree in clothes is running for president. If her peppermint but she was like ‘No, “It is my
anything, these newspaper people should be writing peppermint, and I will not share it.” How selfish of
articles about ME or Mama’s latest fashion dresses. her. And then Charity and Madam Imbert appeared.
I don’t get no candy for it and Mama has told me She had “the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen” and “those
to stay in my room until I finish reading. Wait! My unsightly things” she called shoes. When Mama
Papa’s in the newspaper. This is so unfair! He’s in came back from seeing Papa, that Imbert woman
jail for stealing money. That means he won’t be able was very tense. I thought that was just because she
to buy me any candy or those mules I wanted. Mama was so cranky all the time. And after Mama gave the
better make this up to me. What is this? It says here money to the book person in Papa’s letter, Madam
that a detective agency hired a woman - who in their Imbert and Charity suddenly left - apparently there
right mind would do that? was some emergency with her husband. Like that’s
true.
Hang on . . . that cranky Madam Imbert and that
numbskull girl Charity were here a while ago. I I think that they stole the money that was rightfully
remember when she went snooping into the cellar mine . . . and Mama and Papa’s I suppose. They want
and then lied about where she had been. Charity the money for themselves and everyone who meets
stuck some candy in my mouth to stop me from them should be suspicious of Charity and Madam
telling on Imbert. I’m not complaining, but it was Imbert. Ugh. Mama’s calling.
totally suspicious. And when Mama gave the canvas
bag to that unpleasant book person, it must have “Flora Maroney, if you don’t get down here right
been the money. I thought it was my candy that now, you will be deprived of candy for the rest of the
Mama was giving away - and if she had, she had month!” Mama called.
no right to take it away from me. I can’t believe
I figured this out; I’m such a genius! But yeah, Great!

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22 THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021

Birds

Words Isabella Filomena | Year 7
Art Teah Di Teodoro | Year 11

Birds chirped loudly, jumping branches outside while a tall centaur fiddled with the
buttons on his jacket. He had long brown hair that went down to his shoulders, curling
at the ends. There was some slight stubble on his chin and his eyes were a bright emerald
green. He picked up some hoop earrings and quietly told himself, “Zero, you got this.”

Taking a deep breath, Zero stared into the mirror, repeating those words to himself and
turned around, walking to the door, his hooves clicking against the cold wooden floor.
Suddenly he stopped and chuckled to himself, “Oh right! My staff!”

He turned to grab his staff.

It wasn’t there.

Confused, Zero waltzed around his room, searching every nook and cranny, stressing even
more by the second, muttering, “this isn’t good”. He walked back into a wall, hiding his
head in his hands and slumping down to the floor.

Almost sobbing, Zero remembered a small piece of advice he was once given: pause and
take a deep breath.

Zero inhaled shakily and exhaled slowly. Soon enough, Zero stood up, his mind clearer as
he resolved to find his staff.

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Words Monique Adolphe | Year 9
Art Mia Timothy | Year 10

A small tomorrow, not seeing tomorrow tomorrow
matter of which could actually be possible according to
protons… Einstein’s theory of relativity. To time travel
all we have to do is travel at the speed of light
Imagine a world where you could bend time which is 299 792 458 metres per second. While
and space at your will, travelling to and from that does sound just a wee bit difficult it could
different decades with ease… Well, you may not actually be done when humanity has already
have to imagine that for much longer because developed a particle accelerator that has protons
the possibility of time travel could turn from in it travelling at 99.9999991% of the speed
science fiction into science fact. While the laws of light. How impressive is that? If we can find
of physics prove that we can’t ever go back a way to apply that technology to how fast we
in time, I mean, we haven’t seen any tourists travel, just think of all the possibilities for
from 2030 yet, have we? We can instead travel humanity and all the adventures we could have.
forward into the future and explore all of its
possibilities. Don’t believe me? Well, you’re Secondly, if that doesn’t work, we could
about to find out how time travel could be attempt to time travel by manipulating light,
humanity’s next adventure. as suggested by Ron Mallet, an American
Firstly, the most logical and somewhat obvious physicist. His idea was that we could use a
way for us to time travel is by going extremely rotating cylinder of light to twist time-space
fast. Currently, we are already travelling which could theoretically allow anything
through time at the impressive rate of one hour dropped inside it to time travel. Although it’s
per hour but I’m talking about seeing 2050 not as cool as using a DMC DeLorean like in
Back To The Future or a TARDIS from Doctor
24 THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021 Who, this technology could still open endless
opportunities for time travel.

Despite all the speculation and doubts
surrounding the possibilities of time travel, it
is certainly theoretically possible, at least for
matter as small as protons since they can travel
at speeds that make eleven months appear to
be a mere second. But regardless, time still
continues to move forward, allowing humanity
to go on all sorts of adventures regardless of the
decade. And as you now see, after reading this,
you just time travelled a few minutes into the
future.

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Creative Response to Kim Scott’s novel,
That Deadman Dance

The Uncolonised

Words Heidi Prendergast Kruger | Year 11
Art Angie Burdeu | Year 7

26 THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021

No matter how many times I hurt you,
clawing and picking your skin raw,
you return upon my request
The rejected,
The uncolonised,
The lonely
centred around on thing -
the need to be seen.

Yet you keep your distance
prying your heavy eyes open,
not daring to show any signs of weakness,
remaining close enough to receive affection,
with one foot out the door -
jumping upon any movement
I begin to wonder,
were you ever even here?

He on the other hand,
with an inflated sense of worth,
takes everything he desires -
no matter the impacts
told his worth his entire life,
he began to believe these lies,
stealing to come,
only to steal some more,
I begin to wonder,
why must you take so much?

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Midnight Stars

Words Jessica Dabrowski | Year 11
Art Keeley Schmitt | Year 7

Creative The midnight stars ever-constant
Response to as they grow like flowers in the dark,
screaming into the gaping maw of silence,
Kim Scott’s not for change but the sheer act of being heard.
novel, That As the shining echo of their wails begins to fade,
the ache of our people goes with it.
Deadman
Dance This is the lull between battle
where the tide has combed the beaches smooth again
And left the sea caves empty
Drooling like the mouths of sleeping serpents.

Where the smouldering trees ignite
in their slow chromatic death
A finale to rival the opening number;
where wilted petals fall,
blown by the final breath of those surrounding.

The hours of the afternoon
drain away like the ebbing sun.
Here begins the frenzy, an episode of loss,
for only the stars shine as brightly
as the darkness rolls across.

Why has this perception of me been altered?
Why by the opinions of others before I even knew my own?

They don’t know the compassion
I hold within the chapters of my life
Hidden because I know
If I let the words reach their ears
They will twist and alter again.

And of all the places for time to slow
It decides this is right
Time takes moments to pity us
While I remember the charred coda of our collapse.

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The Fisherman

Words Angie Burdeu | Year 7
Art Charlotte O'Shea | Year 10

As I walked, staggering across the warm deck boards,
fishing gear in hand, an enormous overwhelming pool
of glimmering blue water shone beneath me; I glared
aimlessly into its depthful pools. The water is a place
I feel safe, loved and free. The foam is white and the
waves are grey. The echoes of the waves crashing against
the sharp rocks fills the salty air. Life as a fisherman is
simple, but joyous, as I lived out my days spearing fish
and gathering my thoughts by the bay.

Generally, I would catch fish like herring or salmon to
take home and eat as food, although today started like
any other, life took a very unexpected turn. I set up my
fishing gear as usual, and just like the waves, my mind
was meandering endlessly for some reason. It was then
that I heard a sweet voice call out. ‘Where are the fish’?
I turned my head to see a sweet young girl with innocent
brown eyes and curly blonde locks. The girl stood by a
wooden post, her eyes glistened like the sun; bright and
curious.

Soon the sun began to set, the golden light shone gently
across the horizon. As I, a humble fisherman, filled
the curious young girl's head with tales of fishing and
journeys I have taken, places I have been. For such a
young girl she was so intrigued which only made our
conversations more delightful. She was truly a bright
girl, just like the flower of which she’s named. ‘Delilah’
a faint call blew in the evening breeze like a bird to its
flock.

‘Delilah’

A name I will never forget.

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2021

Words Heidi Chang | Year 7 Art Queeny van Rest | Year 12

This COVID-19 pandemic is like none of us could ever Looking back, we can see that many of these methods
have expected. Or is it? Our current situation feels new saved lives and helped Melbournians get through the
and strange as we have never dealt with anything like Spanish flu pandemic.
this before in our lifetime, but the truth is COVID-19
isn’t the first pandemic to sweep the world. In the However, not all of the methods tried in the past were
middle ages, the plague (otherwise known as the Black effective. During the plague era, some believed that
Death) killed almost a third of the people living on rubbing their sores with dead pigeons would cure them!
Earth, mostly in Europe. More recently, in the early Others tried bathing in, and drinking urine! Leeches
1900s, a pandemic of the Spanish Flu killed tens of were used in an attempt to draw out the “bad blood”.
millions of people worldwide, and infected more than Several hundred years after this, during the Spanish
40% of the population right here in Australia. flu, Arnotts claimed their biscuits would keep families
safe from illness. Some people resorted to eating raw
So doesn’t it make sense for us to look to the past and liver, and one salesman even recommended drinking
learn about what worked in fighting the spread of turpentine as a preventative. Thankfully, science has
other diseases so that we can best manage our current come a long way and we now know these methods are
situation? The concepts of social distancing and useless! Well, most people do! Sadly, as recently as
quarantining might seem like new ideas to us, but in 2020, US president Donald Trump suggested injecting
reality the importance of these methods was discovered disinfectant as a method of preventing a COVID
hundreds of years ago! When England was battling the infection. And it is reported that 1 in 5 Australians are
plague in 1666, the town of Eyam was closed off for a sceptical of the COVID vaccines, in spite of their proven
full year in an effort to contain the spread of infection! power to save lives. These are living examples of why we
When the Spanish flu reached Melbourne in 1919, the need to learn from history!
government acted quickly to close schools, theatres,
pubs, and shops. People were directed to stay home and The philosopher George Santayana once said, “Those
to wear masks when out in public on essential business. who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
They even printed instructions in a newspaper on how It is through looking to the past that we can learn about
to sew your own mask! There were groups who offered what works and what doesn’t. If we know the mistakes
a clean laundry service, and who delivered food to that have already been made, we can avoid making
infected people living in isolation. Most people willingly them again. Likewise, being informed about previous
adhered to these regulations, although it was hard successes empowers us to build on wisdom gained in the
for them, just as it is for us in our current situation. past to pave the way for a better future.

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Creative Response (excerpt) to
Ceriwden Dovey’s Only the Animals,
in the vein of Dostoevsky’s Crime
and Punishment.

A year in Siberia

Words Niamh Gallagher | Year 12
Art Keira Antonello | Year 7

Poor Folk Crime & Punishment

Not too long into the cold season, my convict fell ill; I When a human grows weary of his labour in Siberia,
noticed one morning during his visit to my stable as he the men in charge take a sadistic joy in enforcing any
filled my trough with the daily warm mush I was fed in one of the many brutal punishments they employ on
winter that his eyes were suspiciously bright with what I a regular basis —simple lashing being more common
recognised as feverishness. His frame racked constantly or a flogging squad in which the offending convict is
with rasping coughs, and I found myself reminded the forced to walk through a row of men, all lashing their
way I was more and more as my year in Siberia stretched whips and sticks across his back until he reaches the
out — of my old village and master; the physician. In end. Other, less bloody punishments are also common
my youth, before I had been taken from him, I had — men are forced to work the least desirable jobs, or
transported him all over the small town during the those the soldiers viewed the least desirable; cleaning
winter months, visiting his patients in the draughty the privvies is a much sought after job amongst the
houses; the stench of fever and infection creeping convicts — one which is never disturbed by soldiers
through the cracks as they lay coughing weakly in their who find the stench too unbearable to bother with
beds I would stand outside keeping watch as my master and giving those who work those precious hours of
entered the house, armed with medicines and gentle, freedom, often used to smoke. Unfortunately, as a
soothing words. If I pricked my ears (which I often horse, I was incapable of taking up menial labour and
did), I could make out the low tones of his comforting thus, on the rare occasion (usually only the hottest
voice as he went about his work — I always envied the of summer days) that I found myself over tired or
patients who took up so much of his attention then; in distracted, the soldiers took it upon themselves to
my eyes they were only peasants and didn’t deserve so employ the first punishment — the fact that I was
much of his time and care as I, his beloved companion. technically an employee of the camp and not a prisoner
Now, my time in Siberia has taught me to see differently like the men I worked amongst never seemed to deter
— amongst the harsh cold and often exhausting work, them from lashing me if I struggled to haul a cart
the warmth and companionship of the convicts is more full of supplies up the steep hill leading to the camp
valuable than ever — at some point I believe I began entrance. This event was less common in my first few
seeing these men as my master did and not merely as years — my muscles were strong and healthy still —
common criminals. Perhaps it was simply my old age but increased steadily over the time as some days I
making me sentimental but the twinging feeling in my found it impossible to carry a full load and had to make
flank every time my convict struggled to suck in a breath multiple trips — a fact that would have embarrassed
was a surprise to me and I realised it was concern for his me had I had the energy to worry about those sorts of
wellbeing that began to distract me from my day. things any more.

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A Gentle Creature

I had not expected a journey so long as this — it had been
almost two years since our departure from the prison I
had been taken to after leaving my mother behind and yet
the day continued to grow steadily colder and we showed
no sign of nearing our destination — whatever it might
be. I had been placed in charge of escorting criminals —
vile traitors, the soldiers called them — and each day I,
along with several other horses, was forced to shackle
ourselves to a wooden carriage of sorts and struggle our
way over hills and plains. Secretly I wondered how much
longer it would take for the incessant rattling of the
chains to drive me to madness — the soldiers refused to
remove the bandages of even the most hapless of the men
and each time a single one of them moved, the clanking
of the harsh metal filled the air. The one upside to the
never ending journey, however, was listening to the
stories the men shared with one another — many were
detailed, retellings of tales from their pasts, before they
had committed whatever crime had landed them here, but
one man — who judging merely from the way he spoke,
had been a nobleman’s son — shared fictitious stories he
had read as a younger man. Despite his ex-noble status,
the particular criminal seemed well-liked among the other
convicts — whether it was because of his storytelling
abilities or simply the generosity and genuine kindness
he showed to the other men, I could not say but certainly
this popularity was unexpected to me, given the majority
of the convicts had previously been serfs under noble rule
and thus blatantly despised the rest of the ex-nobles. His
crimes were similar to several other in our group, although
the convicts themselves never seemed to discuss why they
were there, the soldiers often did, and I came to learn this
particular man had been exiled for crimes of treason —
his involvement in a particular anti-government group
receiving the classification of a ‘dangerous’ convict — a
fact I considered absurdly amusing, given his docile nature
The journey wore on through hard days and nights and
even the companionship of the others could not distract
from the dwindling supplies in the final carriage and never
in my life had I felt more relief than I did when the soldier
in charge announced we were but a few days from our final
destination. (Note: excerpt from full student piece)

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36 THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021

Words Mika Ono | Year 9 Art Madeline Oddy | Year 8

Let Me Ask You A Question

Before I lose you to a daydream or you wander off to problem”, yet when it becomes a reality for all, everyone
the pantry to grab a snack let me ask you a question…. who ignored it right up to the point where it’s too late
when you think of humanity's next adventure what do will understand. Humanity needs saving, not tomorrow,
you think of? Do you think of a world with flying cars today.
and drones delivering food to your houses, or living on
Mars? Or do you think of a place where humans can live What does perfect humanity look like to you? Perfect
up to their values and what we imagine to be a world of might seem distant and impossible, but I assure you
peace and unity becomes a reality? that if we try our hardest to make a difference, even in
the smallest way, it can help. A lot of people (and my
What is humanity? Humanity refers to the entire included) can just sit back sometimes and think that it
human race and the characteristics that belong to will be okay and it can be fixed. But what exactly needs
human beings. Now what are humans? They are people, to be fixed, if you don’t have an idea of what exactly is
mortals and mankind. But being human is so much wrong in the world then you can’t do much. We need to
more than that. Being human means you are capable educate ourselves and spread awareness for things that
of compassion, love, kindness and mercy. It is in the may not be literally affecting us, but the world we live
interest of all of us to act more like humans and live in. As Gandhi said, “You must be the change you wish to
up to our values and rights, in order to ensure that the see in the world.” We as individuals can make a change
future of humanity isn’t lost in today's definition of even if it is small because small things can make the
humanity, being hate, war, conflict and cruelty. Yes, biggest difference. It is everybody's world and how we
there are many great people in the world, demonstrating treat each other will affect humanity's future.
the good of humanity, but it is hard to focus on that,
when there are lots of bad examples of humanity that Today I want you to remember that the future of
overpower the good. Let's take the time to think about humanity doesn’t have to be complicated, humanity
how humanity is affecting the world we live in. Imagine refers to humans, us. The future could be peace and
being the reason someone believes in the goodness in unity of all humans. Yes that may sound difficult, but
people. it really doesn’t have to be....We just make it difficult
for ourselves. Sometimes it’s hard to be optimistic in
The world can be an unspeakable place, yes it has its a world full of negativity. But with a positive mindset
good moments that we remember, yet the bad moments we can remember that with small gestures of love,
leave the biggest impact. There are an extreme amount compassion, kindness and mercy, we can save humanity.
of people in the world who experience racism, gender As JK Rowling stated “We’re all humans, aren't we?
inequality and not being treated with their rights. Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”
According to Nelson Mandala, “To deny people their
human rights is to challenge their very humanity.”
Some people can’t even leave their homes without
feeling scared, or walk home alone, without feeling on
edge…What kind of world is this? Would the suffering
of those experiencing this right now finally make sense
to you if you were in this situation? Who wants to live
in a world with hatred, war, racism and inequality?...
I know I don’t. Sometimes we are too distracted by
the fact that, “it isn't happening to me, so it's not a

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The Crimson Scarf

Words Mahta Moradiamani | Year 8

Part 1: from the automatic sliding doors. direction.The Busker isn’t there.
The only things that remain are
Maneuvering my way past the The cold air slaps me in the a worn-out dog mat covered with
darting shoppers, I try to make my face. All the warmth of the shop nauseating stains, and a piece of
way to the checkouts. I don’t mind disappears. I wrap my brown suede dull crimson fabric to its left. The
being jostled around at this mad jacket tighter around my waist scarf sits motionless despite the
scramble hour. Apologetic smiles and walk towards where my car is vigorous winds. It looks so lifeless,
indicate to me that everyone is keen parked. The bitter icy fingers of the and grim.
to retreat to the warm embrace frigid Melbourne gusts try to get
of their homes. I too don’t mind past my jacket and tickle down my
sagging in my leather armchair, spine. Out of habit, I glance to my
next to the fireplace, sipping a right, but my neck freezes in that
lukewarm cup of chamomile tea. I
pay for my groceries and step out

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Part 2: like Max was the single thing that Canon in D, the classic. He always
mattered most. started his day with it. I would
The bright crimson scarf fluttered crane my neck out from behind a
in whichever direction the wind Although his hands were thin and corner and peek at him, my pigtails
blew. The spirited piece of fabric his body frail, the busker was able drooping down from my head. As
was wrapped in a delicate spiral to produce the most euphonious soon as his bow started to strike
around the Busker’s neck. He was melodies with his violin. He would the infamous tune of love, I could
a hoary fellow with an abundant take the fragile wooden instrument do nothing but listen. The celestial
amount of wispy white hair. out of its red velvet case with sounds from his violin captivated
The crimson scarf was the only utmost care. Then he would place me. It was utterly intoxicating. I
shipshape piece of clothing he ever a mucky cloth on his left shoulder, never had the guts to step out from
wore. Most of his well-kept clothes and situate the violin onto the behind the corner, to go and talk to
were carefully draped over his cloth. When his rosined bow first him. I only watched from a distance
trusty companion, Max. Max was glided across the strings, a trail as his music cast a spell of felicity
always slumped down on his mat, of mellifluous music, as smooth over the neighbourhood, with his
his chin rested on his two paws, as honey, would float through the crimson scarf gently wavering in
wearing an inscrutable expression. air and into my ears. I always gave the wind.
His eyes never opened more than into the sound without a moment’s
a sliver. The Busker looked at his hesitation.
dog with the most loving mien,

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40 THE CURIOUS MINDS PROJECT | AVILA RETROSPECTIVE 2021

The
Ice Cream
Truck

Words Jayda Tram | Year 8
Art Amelie Huppe | Year 8

Part 1: Trigger Part 2: Childhood Memory
(present tense) (past tense)

The ceiling fan stares down at me from above, the I remembered the feel of the coarse sand beneath
blades not spinning around despite the incessant my feet, getting between each of my toes. The
heat swamping me. I lie before my laptop screen, colour of the crystal waves that lapped onto
which illuminates my room in a dull and hazy the shore, topped with steamy white froth. I
blue. Sweat beads form across my forehead and remembered how the sky had been painted with an
trickle down my sweaty face - there is no electricity explosion of reds, purples and oranges, and how
down here anymore, due to the heavy overusage. the sun had melted like butter into the endless
Yet this is only the beginning of the heatwaves horizon. How night had swept us up in it’s warm
that are rapidly sweeping the country. I slump a embrace and welcomed us to the darkness under
little, alone and in silence here now. Desperately the pearly moon. Lila and I ran down the length
needing an escape, I reach to peel open my window of the shore over and over, until our lungs ached
in front of me, where golden rays of sunlight bathe and screeched, till our hearts thumped out of
outside, sparkling iridescently like tiny diamonds. their chests. We laughed and splashed and danced
A breeze hits the wind prickling my skin, yet it’s infinitely. As the sun had finally sunk beneath
dry and sticky. I purse my lips at the relentless the waves, a melodious jingle had played, one we
heat, thinking about slamming the window shut, both had known instantly. Together we raced up
when I hear a sound that makes me pause. It’s a the burning sand to the colourful ice-cream truck,
high-pitched melody, one that is so familiar… I and put our coins together to buy the largest treat
stick my head out the window catching a glimpse there. We had gone back down to the beach, bathed
of the colourful ice-cream truck. in the crisp and pale moonlight. The moments like
these were the ones that I would cherish forever.
How we collapsed onto the sand, under the stars
that twinkled and glimmered, and promised that
night would forever, and forever be ours. Little
had we known of what was to come after, but none
of it mattered on this magical night. We shared the
dessert in silence, listening to the waves lap onto
the shore, the creak of the nearby pier, the squawk
of seagulls, the distant sound of chatter, and the
ice-cream truck playing in the background.

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A Note To Freedom

Words Rosha Ghassemieh | Year 8
Art Natalie Sik | Year 7

The leaves are crackling and screeching in pain as I walk “ Where d..did that come from..m?” I whisper under
on them. My boots have started to moan and groan as my breath, full of fright and spooked out. My eyes
I try to fit them in small and compacted fox dens. My widen as I read the words the note holds.
pants are starting to peel; my skin and my jacket is
covered in pieces of mold in different shapes and sizes. “I am coming…run...”
My hair is a jungle itself, with the twigs and mud stuck
in it, not willing to let go; and my bag, which is holding The sound of the leaves crackling and the feeling of
onto my back tightly, is shaking non-stop as I walk. The my pants as tight as a rubberband on my legs didn’t
only thing lighting up the dark and unfamiliar place is seem to matter anymore. I was a 15 year old who was
the torch in my hand, which glows and sparkles in the petrified of the woods. And as any other wise person
misty night air. That is when a strange and unsettling would do, I ran for my life. Tears were now streaming
scent touches my nose. It isn’t the pink jam doughnuts down my cheeks uncontrollably and I couldn't stop
with sprinkles on top from baker's delight, it’s the myself from screaming, so I started to scream my lungs
smell of trouble... out until there was no air left.

The trees are recognisably large here and the All of the sudden, I stopped for a second, took a deep
extraordinary plants that are in the surrounding areas breath in and checked behind me to see if the “thing”
are leaning in on me. They are huge; going all the way was following me. But when I turned, I was not shocked
up into the sky, out of my sight. I’m an ant compared and scared, but I was surprised and more confused than
to their size. Just as I am about to clean the lens of my ever before.
torch, I hear a sudden, fast and ghostly whoosh against
my back, which makes my bag fly up high into the “There’s no longer any horrifying trees or any type of
atmosphere. creature following me. There’s no longer a forest!” I
exclaimed, confused.
“What was that?” I turn around, wondering what went
past me, making my bag land a meter away from where There was only one thing in the whole view...a house.
I'm standing. I’m petrified…
“But...how? I..I was just… in the forest. How am I
I slowly look around me, with my heart pounding out of home… wait… Is that mum… and..and is that Sandy?”
my chest. The forest remains in deep silence.
I could see mum baking sweet pink doughnuts and
“Okay... Alex, it's nothing to be scared of…Just go and my dog, Sandy, sitting on the old leathery armchair,
pick the bag up…” staring at me right through the foggy living room
window. I could feel a gentle smile form on my face.
But before I do that, I grab my left hand, and pinch
my skin as hard as I can, just double checking if this is “Phew! That was wild! But how did it happen anyway…”
a nightmare or not. Unfortunately, my surroundings
remain the same. “Alex!” called out mum. “ Come back inside sweetie! I
need help with the dishes!”
“Okay..y then, this..is.. is real.” my hands start to
shake, so does my voice. Joyfully, I walk into the house. I only realise later that I
probably should have pinched myself before going in...
I steadily walk up to my bag, trying to find positivity
in the whole situation, but when I come to stand right
above it, I see a note.

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Mulan

Words Anabelle Humphries | Year 7
Art Faith Chung | Year 12

Desolate, eerie, still. The silence was quiet, and yet
deafening. The water, like a sheet of glass, untouched by
the wind. A lonely boat sliced through the silence.

A singular woman stood triumphant, her jet black hair
billowing in the wind. She was beautiful: porcelain skin,
fierce brown eyes, blushing cheeks with pronounced
cheekbones. Her name, beautiful and renowned: Mulan.

Suddenly, a sound split through the quiet. A song,
sweet and enchanting pulled Mulan in like a rope,
dragging her through the night. Mulan awoke to
discover a thick fog, blocking out her surroundings.

The source of the song slowly came into view. It was
the famous siren, sitting majestically on a rock with a
sinister gleam in her eyes, her mouth twisted into an
ugly smirk. Mulan swerved as suddenly sharp rocks
came towards her, one step ahead of the creature. This
action angered the siren, causing her to uncap a long
deathly sword, as Mulan raised her own weapon into the
air. A terrible sound rang out as metal struck metal,
sword matched sword. Hit after hit, the fighters clashed
showing incredible swordsmanship and skill, Mulan
pushed harder, spinning and leaping through the air,
her hair flying behind her.

As the women continued on, the siren grew weary, her
movements slower, and Mulan then easily defeated her.
The siren cried out in frustration. She had never been
defeated before.

Mulan really was magnificent, with her movement
effortless as her power rose and she defeated the siren in
one final blow. With that, Mulan capped her sword and
disappeared into the night.

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Cold

Words Philomena Lin | Year 8
Art Angeline Paterra | Year 8

It's cold and dazzling. The world shines ever so Winter I’ve ever experienced, and the snow just fell,
brighter in Winter. I gaze off into the distance, the silvery flakes danced in the stillness, despite the
admiring the white velutinous clouds that lined the commotion of tourists and large crowds. Excited by it
horizon. The glass fogs up as I press my face against all, I weaved through the crowds in search of piles of
its frigidness. I draw back, bringing both hands to snow to jump into. Along with my sister, we sunk into
my cheeks. It is cold, and wonderful, just how I liked thigh-deep snow, stumbled and tripped in the bed of
it. The car grunts and stops and I let myself out. white. The frost crawled through from the tips of my
Exposed to the wilderness and everything beyond fingers and toes, and began to make its way inwards.
it, I take deep breaths in, every part of my body I shivered and tightened the scarf around my neck,
tingling in the bitter coolness of the air. My breath jogged on the spot to save that last bit of warmth.
fogs up around me, and I rub my hands together to We shuffled indoors, and were greeted by a rush of
keep warm. I come out often to hike, adults don’t warm air. The older ones lectured us not to run off in
like it when we young ones stick to the screen too new environments, and to stay firmly close to large
much. So they force me out here. I grumble about groups at all times. But I ignored them and enjoyed
it all the time, but I do rather enjoy it, especially the warmth that surged through me, and couldn’t
now, in the midst of winter. The sun leaks through have helped but gazed longingly towards the snowy
the thick morning fog, enhancing the environment, landscape outside, towards the dull gray sky and the
playing tricks with my eyes. I see it, I definitely see white coated houses. I wanted to be out there, in the
it. The glimpse of white lumps on the otherwise dull flurry of it all, lay on the ice and stare upwards, into
green background. Could it be possible? Snow in the infinity of it all, the vastness, and dwell in that
Australia? A freezing draft blew strongly through suspended moment. Forever.
the gaps between trees, unearthing buried memories
from the past.

Hokkaido proudly displayed its beauty and left me
frozen on the spot. Glimmering colours pulsated
through the glistening ice sculpted statues,
catching thin rays of light from every direction,
putting on an incredible wintery exhibit. I was
a wee little thing then, and at that moment, the
sight of it was too big and beautiful for my little
head to wrap around. So I captured only segments
of it, to keep. The ice beneath crunched as people
tred across it, damp prints etched into the hard
muddy snow. It was freezing, way colder than any

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Fate Up. Up. Up.
to the Then up even more.
Sky We’ve reached our destination.
Slowly, anxiously, nauseously
Words Chloe Goncalves | Year 7 I hang my legs out into
Art Eryn Lawrence | Year 8 the open air of nothing.

Then for all I know
We’re flying. Falling
Down. Down. Down.
Stomach turning like a blender
Ears pierced with gushing air
Trying to focus on the marshmallow clouds.
But all I can think about,
Is the parachute that has my life in its hands.

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Decisions

Words Presha Khandpur | Year 10
Art Eleanor McCann | Year 9

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