Newsletter October/November Writing Competition

The St Andrews writing competition in October inspired many across the grades to enter. It seems that the Halloween theme lends itself to the creative thinking of students. Many students in Years 7-10 entered and entertained with their tales of terror or spooky stories. We also had a large number of poetic entries this month which was impressive. I like a good poem and am surprised that more students don’t tackle them because of the freedom that writing poetry affords: no rules, just inspiration and creativity. 

In October we were fortunate to have winners across each grade. The winners of the St Andrews Writing Competition in October are:

Year 7: Sakina Ganiwalla.

Year 8: Aerona Sangalang.

Year 9: Ava Alley.

Year 10: Jared Savari.

Each winner will receive a $30 teen gift voucher.

We also have winners from the November competition. Students could enter any piece of writing in November and we received some high-quality pieces that students had saved for the end of the year. We have four winners receiving $30 teen gift vouchers this month and they are:

Year 7: Amik Marok.

Year 7: Mackenzie Jones.

Year 9: John Trinh.

Year 9: Keya Pandya.

It has been a wonderful year reading the many entries from this year’s writing competition. The quality of writing from students is excellent and it is a pleasure to see their styles and imaginations flourishing over such a challenging year. Selecting winning entries is a truly difficult task, so I would like to take this opportunity to thank all the students who entered in 2020, all of the students who took the risk to leave their comfort zone, all of the students who gave up  their time to create small moments of literary joy. I hope to see you writing again in 2021.

Below are a handful of samples from the last two months of writing I would like to share to show how talented our students are:

When you have been living your entire life, having each movement and action already calculated for you gets suffocating. Being controlled like a tiny puppet on strings awaiting the commands from your master. What’s even worse is listening to those commands and executing them like a robot under control from a simple remote. My story has already been written, always from someone other than me. It’s unwise to even think that I could possibly have a say about what goes into my book. Stay quiet, listen, execute, repeat. Chapters have been on repeat. 

It has been five whole months since I last encountered them but even though I ran away with absolutely nothing than the clothes on my back and a few notes violently shoved into my pocket, I would rather risk my life on these premises than spend another second within those walls. For now, I’m still alive, surviving off the leftovers and trash thrown away. How ironic. I would be surviving off the things that were used to describe me. Bloodshed, screams, shouts, crying, house alarms, ambulance sirens sing throughout the streets every night. No one was possibly safe here, but this is the cruel and unforgiving world we live in now. Full of hatred and violence. This reality is very much like your shadow, a lurking unknown thing you cannot escape from. Paranoia must exist only for those who survive, as those who think this world can live without violence and war… are foolish. 

- Extract from an untitled story by Elyscia Barret (Year 7)

Jane gave him a grouchy look but further conversation was cut short as they approached The Woods. It gave them a menacing sight as the dense dark oak trees gave the radiance of fear and despair. So much so that local towns and villages don't dare say it's real name. But that’s not what the two adventurers cared about, it was what was inside. A flower of great healing properties that shines an aura in contrast to the bleak woods, coated with a wavy, stream like colourful pattern on its petals. A flower known as Aluvera’s Plant, though only it has been found by the person whose name is the same as the plant. It’s the only hope the two adventures had though, as their village was being consumed by a plague where the flower was the key ingredient to stop it. With no time to spare, they hardened up and entered The Woods.

The lights from the outside started to dissipate as they moved further and further in, only seeing what’s directly at them. They wondered for what felt like hours and as time moved on, it felt like the trees were surrounding them. Nearly touching them. They hear unnatural sounds from the corner of their ear. The moist air that surrounded them gave the smell of dampness, making their hands rubbery. Then Jane started kicking a tree.

- Extract from ‘Aluvera’s Plant’ by Jared Savari (Year 10)

I couldn’t stay here anymore, this is terrifying me. This is all a dream, right? I came back to reality and continued sprinting to the door. When I got to the door, I’ve never been happier. As I was about to open it, I felt something on my leg. I slowly looked down and saw a black figure. AHHHHH! I tried shaking it off but it wouldn't budge. I tried going through the door but the figure weighed a ton. I used every bit of strength left in me and tried pushing through. Half my body got through except my legs, I started pulling my leg while trying to attack it with my other leg and finally, it let me go. When I ran through the door, the figure yanked my leg but then it dissolved in thin air. “What just happened”, I said to myself.

I looked around and found myself in a white room. I was very confused but prepared myself for what was going to come after escaping that last room. I looked around to find something but couldn’t. I sighed and looked up and found a vent on the ceiling. 

“Add in the bugs,” said the woman. 

- Extract from The Test by ‘Aerona Sangalang’ (Year 8)

The city was isolated. Abandoned cars scattered the roads and silence littered the streets. The smell of decay lifted off the ruins. Bitterly cold, the girl walked through the streets as the storm approached. The dark sky lit up with lightning providing her with a view of what she once called home. In between the sound of thunder, the pitter patter of paws could be heard from beside her. The girl’s canine trotted alongside her, unaffected by the loud noises coming from around them. Looking to her side, the girl watched as a swarm of flies crowded around what seemed to be a dead animal carcass, like moths to a flame. 

The girl stood, her canine beside her, and observed her previous home until night fell and the moon struggled to break the canopy of clouds. There was a sudden coldness that followed the sunset. The sounds of hidden creatures and the lingering dead chilled the girl to the bone. She breathed in the air, the dark mustiness filling her nostrils. Night had finally set in now, only waning moon and occasional lightning strike providing any source of light. 

- Extract from ‘Lost in Ruins’ by Ava Alley (Year 9)

Drip.

Creak.

A sudden sound caught my immediate attention. I turned my head towards the source to be greeted with the sight of a door, hanging open, an endless void of black on the other side. I thought I saw something dash out of sight, but I didn’t care. I was too desperate to care at all at that point, and rushed in as if the mysterious room was calling for me to come, luring me to embrace it. I shut the door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief as I laid my hand on the cold floor. The dusty concrete walls in the enclosed space provided a beautiful melancholic feeling of safety. I had no food but this was enough. When was the last time I was so relieved and happy? I can’t remember at all. It doesn’t matter now. What does matter, however, is that next to me is a long staircase, looming to the depths below me. I had no idea where this stairwell came from. I’m sure it wasn’t there before. Do I go down it? What will await me?

- Extract from ‘A Decent of 87 Floors’ by Ada Ding (Year 7)

I looked at the children playing in the only patch of green grass in the park. Presuming they were siblings. The girl was wearing a pink dress and her hair was in pigtails, adorned with ribbons. She was lying on her back, looking at the sky. The boy was wearing a blue shirt, messily tucked into his pants. He was holding a ball and looking back and forth from the ball and the girl. Probably debating whether he should throw the ball or not. I watched as his eyes switched emotions between concern and mischief. 

A second later, he threw the ball at her. The girl stood up in disbelief and began chasing after him as he ran away. I guess mischief had won. It always wins. 

Letting out a low, inaudible chuckle, I got up from the cold, wooden, red bench I was sitting on. I observed the narrow concrete path I was walking on as the siblings behind me screamed, one in joy, one in playful fear. The path was made carelessly. It didn’t have straight edges or strategically placed stones for aesthetic reasons like my old park did. I lifted my head and from my peripheral vision saw bare trees. My old park had trees full of life. Tilting my head slightly upwards, I took note of the clouds darkening by every second. My old park always had the sun blessing it. I walked over the bridge leading to the exit of the park and saw the muddy, dark water that flowed under it. My old park had a bridge. The water under it was clear and blue. Almost fictional. 

- Extract from an untitled story by Keya Pandya (Year 9)

Duncan Dewar

Leader of Learning Literacy