WRITING COMPETITION RESULTS FOR APRIL – JULY
Announcing the winners and honourable mentions is something I prefer to do at assemblies. But of course we find ourselves in a position where assemblies are no longer possible. Nonetheless, the competition rolls on and the quality of writing continues. Writing is something that all subject areas are involved in, and this gives students the opportunity to submit pieces that arise from the strengths of the individual. It is fantastic that students are submitting classwork more and more as part of the writing competition. With that in mind, the winners in the month of April are:
Year 7: Kathryn Baginski.
Year 8: Elyscia Barret.
Year 9: Jeremy Sabbadin.
Year 10: Max Preet.
Year 12: Olivia Saad.
Our Honourable Mentions for students across the grades in the month of April are:
Mackenzie Jones (Year 8), Naomi Girgis (Year 9), Cooper Shield (Year 10), Ava Alley (Year 10), Alex Layoun (Year 7), Jerome Chin (Year 7).
All entries were stunningly good in April and I didn’t think it could get much better, until May rolled around. This was an even tougher month to judge and I had to share the entries with other teachers to decide on who should win in May. The winners are:
Year 7: Sharon Harry.
Year 8: Mackenzie Jones.
Year 9: Euleila Barret.
Year 10: Shaniya Lal.
Our Honourable Mentions for students across the grades in the month of May are:
Kathryn Baginski (Year 7), Abbeygale Batula (Year 7), Monica Luong (Year 7), Ada Ding (Year 8), Antoni Arshilo (Year 9), Alistair Pineda (Year 9), Ava Alley (Year 10)
June started to slow down with the holidays at the end of the month. However, across the grades the winners in June were:
Year 7: Archisha Thumma.
Year 8: Sakina Ganiwalla.
Year 9: Alyssa Guillermo.
Year 10: Keya Pandya.
Our Honourable Mentions for students across the grades in the month of June are:
Mackenzie Jones (Year 8), Amik Marok (Year 8).
July was a quiet month because of the holidays and the lockdown on the other side of them, but we have two joint winners this month, both in Year 8:
Year 8: Mackenzie Jones and Sakina Ganiwalla.
August continues the Open flavour we have adopted in 2021; therefore, students are able to enter any piece of writing they have created, on any topic, from any subject. So far Year 9 are sending me a lot of work and I hope the other year groups will follow.
Below are extracts from some of the many pieces we have received.
Jeremy Sabbadin, Year 9
An epilogue to Alice Walker’s, The Flower
Myop knocked on the old, wooden door, her feet planted on the dusty ground, yet no one answered. She gazed around to the vast open fields and old chicken coops, but nothing except the whistle of a soothing wind accompanied her. Walking around to the side of the sharecropper hoping to find either her mum or dad she hummed a song, a quiet tat-de-ta-ta-ta. The creeks of an old rusty gate played a melody as Myop searched the grounds. A gust of wind directing her attention to the old forest trail she used to walk as a kid.
Gazing into the forest she noticed a small bright, blue flower. A thought crossed her mind about the forest wondering if anything had changed. Slowly walking away from the building she strolled along the silver ferns approaching the border of trees. The path disappearing covered by earth and wildflowers, barely visible she continued using only her memory. An earthy smell filled the cavity of her nostrils as she continued deeper into the forest, untouched for years. Blue flowers covered the ground as she spotted a small rotting basket. The beige handles and weaved wood unwinded from years of neglect holding a bundle of shrivelled, dull, lifeless flowers. The rope high up in the trees now thin danced with the wind. Myop picked one of the nearby flowers full of life placing it in the basket, returning back to the old sharecropper feeling like she was ten again.
Max Preet, Year 10.
Extract from: Fantastic Melancholy.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. The sounds of breaking concrete, wailing sirens, hellish screams and scorching flames. Heavy, thick red smoke formed a cover over my surroundings. My body ached more than I ever thought was humanly possible. I felt like I was trapped, unable to move. I couldn’t even blink when I wanted to, it was all happening on its own. Confusion swims through my aching mind. Confusion that slowly turns to vexation. A wave of intense pain flows through my body, leaving a faint lasting pain. Glass sank into my rough, bleeding skin like teeth ripping into flesh. It felt like hell had made its way down to torment me.
I gather all my strength and willpower to try and get up on my feet. Nothing. My muscles felt like they had been kindled by the sun, and my bones wrenched out of tired limbs. I rise to my knees, which proves to be a herculean task. The strain of moving my body drowned out the shards of glass that scatter and fall atop the cracked cement floor. Collapsed buildings crowd the area around me like monoliths to a dying world, encasing me in a makeshift prison. A thick, dark cloth engulfs most of the area above me, laying about two meters above the ground. Bright strands of light pierce through the crevices in the concrete, almost blinding me. I let out a deep sigh. “I need to find a way out,” I slowly muttered.
I look at my calloused hands. A mixture of dried blood, dirt and ash rest in the flesh of my palms. My skin peels like wallpaper. Deep cuts run down my palms, showing the tender meat that rests underneath the skin. Glass scattered deep in my palms, pushing against my wrist bones every time I move my hand a certain way. I survey my enclosure. Three walls, two meters tall. A small fire crackles in one corner, enriching the air with puffs of dark smoke. A body lies on the other side of the room, swollen and bloated. A cylindrical object impales its body. My entire body twitches aggressively, and the sudden urge to empty my stomach overpowers all my other thoughts.
Elyscia Barret, Year 8.
Extract from: Before the Candle Blows Out.
The darkness looms over as the candle light seems to dull. It can’t possibly be happening now, I was so deep in thought to have not seen the instant decrease of candle wax left. I also must not interfere with the timer, it was not said aloud but there are consequences for my actions. Every single one of them. I’m being watched closely with immense pressure, pressure for that candle to go out soon. It seems the darkness cannot interfere with the timer as well considering they are waiting in their positions like hunting prey. It seems that I have become their prey.
I approach the candle with wobbly feet that can barely hold my body up. I sit horizontal to the candle and assess my situation. I have a few minutes, 8 at the least. I must think of a plan to suddenly escape before the candle light goes out. If I were to rash the candle light will also go out, so there must also be a limit as to how we escape. 5 whole minutes passed and I finally thought of a way to get us out of here. Joy overwhelms me and I am ready to be in the comfort of my own family again after so long. But this feeling doesn’t last long. The darkness seems to extend suddenly taking over the flame, slowly but surely. I still have more time to escape from here!
Foolish. I’ve been foolish. These shadows had no intention of me escaping, this was simply all for entertainment. That candle light was the one slimmer of hope I had light. Knowing this I still have relief overwhelming my entire body as the candle wax still remains at the bottom, if the candle wax forever remains there I can still live! Suddenly that relief washes over and gets violently replaced with fear. I watch as my candle light flickers and a voice looms out from the darkness,
“Enter your eternal slumber pitiful one.” My eyes widened and a soft breeze blew over, with a murderous sinister laugh... the candle light went out.
Cooper Shield, Year 10.
Flowers Poem.
They are autographs of nature, unique autographs
In Nature’s green-leaved book, in creative shades
Stolen from rainbows and the Returned in sunset skies
And written everywhere–on the waterfall reflects the shadows
Lonely growing, waiting for the time to bloom
Blooming season swiftly approaches, resulting in many effects
Providing colours to blind, Noise to the deaf ,
Even Homes to the homeless
Hidden between the meadows
They began to whisper;
Thank the world for flowers
They improve the human heart, Symbols for love
The flower that thrives today
Departs the earth the next day
Luis Lemiri, Year 9.
Sometimes I’m like Martin Luther King
A dreamer
A leader
People like to listen to the words I say
Some people think of me as nasty
But I’m a cool dude
I really don’t want anything
but someone special
Olivia Saad, Year 12.
Extract from: Through Monochrome Eyes.
Banters and friendly uproars in the village of Windel grew. The people that inhabited such a place were of great calibre, possessing unique talents and areas of expertise. Quaint artists and musicians who would create bizarre pieces of work and perspicacious builders and powerful warriors were greatly celebrated. Children would frolic in the lush, emerald-looking grass and the birds would soar gracefully in the dusty pink sky. Every building was idiosyncratic in its wake, just like the people who appeared as distinctive as they come. Windel was a whimsical place of difference. A peculiar, eccentric dream, that celebrated competition of all dexterity. Their home was a place of vibrancy, thousands of wondrous colours that were placed everywhere as if a child had coloured them to life and inspiration of difference spread across the whole country. But, truthfully nothing perfect can last forever.
A young man had climbed the gracious mountains that held lily white snow on its tips. He slid down it, challenging the furious wind that stung his eyes. The soft smell of lemon-grass filling his nose, his body feeling like it had landed on a soft cloud of evergreen sheets. He dusted his plain, dark clothes, which matched his colourless skin, eyes meeting the silver sky, while the tinted grass tickled his ankles.
Kathryn Baginski, Year 7.
The Giant and the Crab.
Kelp stared at the giant with two, beady grey eyes. Cowering beneath the dip in the sand, the crab knew that she was cornered. All that was left of her new hole was a pile of stamped down sand.
Kelp raised her good claw defensively. The other claw had been ripped out in the frantic struggle to evade her attacker. It would grow back.
The behemoth also took on an aggressive stance, it’s blunt, soft claws splayed out in a cup around Kelp. The giant’s lips curved into an unnatural, toothy grin, as Kelp squashed her overwhelming mountain of fear and forced her legs to move.
She darted across the beast’s claws before it could even react. Kelp heard it squawk in surprise as she made for the foaming waves of the ocean. Spindrift danced above the tongues of water which she yearned with her whole heart to reach, but she knew the hulking feet of the monster behind her would catch her first.
Kelp’s dreams of the sea vanished long before it’s shadow crossed her body and the giant scooped her up in it’s strange claws. She was rolled around in the sand which the creature had accidentally taken along with Kelp. For a few sickening moments she let herself topple wildly, until she figured out she was being taken somewhere.
Somewhere far…
Abbygale Batula, Year 7.
Artificial intelligence:
Fear, panic is all we feel when the thought of artificial intelligence soon outreaching the human brain, the idea that our brains will not be able to keep up with advancement, development and affect our future society in an extended amount of ways. Everyday technology advances, changing our world as it improves. Artificial intelligence may have a good impact for our future but it also could make a negative impact for example, economic inequality causing for people to have less jobs, autonomous weapons which are AI systems that can be dangerous in the wrong hands, lack of privacy etc, these are some negative impacts. Therefore it is dangerous to our society as we won't be able to control outcomes and some decisions.
Archisha Thumma, Year 7.
Extract from: Are all truths equally valid?
There are two different types of truth. Objective and Subjective truth. An objective truth may be true or false; and there is not in between. An objective truth does not include any personal references. A subjective truth is based on what is true about your experience of the world.
So, what is the difference between the 2? Well subjective truth is when people have different beliefs and opinions, and it is all about your point of view. People perceive situations differently based on their point of view. It is like what happens when three people see an accident. All three may give different descriptions of what happened. That is because each is seeing the situation from their own perspective. Each has his/her own unique set of perceptions and those perceptions are true for an individual.
Likewise, if a truth is objective, it has correspondence with reality. Objective truth is something that is true for everyone, whether they agree with it or not. At one time this was simply called “truth. “Objective truth means there has to be one answer for both meanings of the question. An objective statement is factual; it has a definite correspondence to reality, independent of anyone’s feelings or biases. For instance, the simple statement “God exists” was, in the past, recognized as an objective statement. People might agree or disagree, but everyone considered it an objective statement regarding external reality. Most people agreed with the statement, but even atheists (people who do not believe in god) who disagreed treated it objectively—the statement was either true or false.
Aleina Hartono, Year 9.
Monica Luong, Year 7.
A Whole New World
Elaynah entered the school bathroom corridor, no one was there. She opened the door to the toilet but unintentionally found herself stepping into an ethereal like world. The smell of sweet strawberries and fresh vanilla scented candles comforted Elaynah. With a rollercoaster ride of emotions, she opened her eyes and began to explore. Surrounded by trees, the cherry blossoms blew with a majestic gust of wind across the land. The sounds of birds chirping around her while looking at the clear crystal lake gave her a sense of belonging, something Elaynah hadn’t experienced in a while. The flowers bloomed like there was no rush while rubbing against Elaynah’s face which gave her nostalgia of her mother touching her face gently. She ran back faster than the speed of light to the entrance but the portal closed just as she returned.
Sharon Harry, Year 7.
I Am From
I am from paint,
From the world of art.
I am from the swimming pool,
From an underwater universe
Where the water shines like crystals.
I am from plush toys,
From my bunny, Peter.
I am from a basketball team,
That wins and loses.
From the tip of a paint brush,
That moves smoothly along the white canvas.
I am from Sydney Australia,
From a diverse nation.
I am from stories,
From fantasy, fiction, and nonfiction,
I am from memories.
From creamy frozen ice cream,
I am from the cold winter season,
Where soft snow falls on the highest peaks.
I am from school,
From a wonderful place.
I am from many people,
From my friends, family, and teachers.
I see all the people I know around me,
They make up my most precious moments and memories and who I am.
Euleila Barret, Year 9.
Extract from: Life’s Reality.
She now feels ready to move on and calls everyone inside the room to spend the last moments together to be with him. Everyone entered and sat around his bed. They were all tired of spending seemingly hours of crying and their tears were all dried up. The emotion of the room and the people in it, felt almost depressing and this was not the last moment he wanted to remember. In that quiet room moments passed and he decided to speak to lighten the mood, “you know what I realised, what’s the point of saying good things about me during my funeral, if I myself won’t get to hear it.”. Everyone in the room had a small giggle and a smile instantly appeared on their faces. “So please let us talk about the good old times, before I was diagnosed, the happy times.”. At first the room was silent, everyone was afraid to be the first to talk, knowing the fact he was in a position to die any time soon. Then his best friend began talking, about the memories and dumb times they spent together in high school. Then followed on by the next person and the next person. Within 10 minutes everyone started hearing and sharing precious stories about him and their time with him, they all began laughing and joking around. He lay there with a bright smile on his face, faintly listening to the stories of what he called happiness. The story telling continues as he senses the end is coming near, he gently says “I love you all so very much” holds his mother’s hand with his right and his wife’s hand with his left. He takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out, passing away in a calm being. His vision becomes a blurry fantasy of all colours, he mind rewinds to all the good momentos like a short film recounting a movie, but in this case it was a short film about his life. Quick flashes of moments to when he first rode his bike, his friends in primary school, his favourite school camp, the first time he met his best friend, the memorable events he spent in high school, the reunion of family at christmas, the very first time he met his wife, the time where he proposed, the memories of the wedding and the time where he found out his wife was pregnant and then it all ended. It turned pitch black and this moment stood quiet for what seemed like hours.
He then hears a latch on the back of his head click and a VR set detaches from his face and falls to the padded white ground. He feels the silky white garment on his body and looks around to view the surroundings of white cushions organised out covering every inch of the ground and the four walls around him. He stares up at bright white lights and a stopwatch of red numbers, that express 28 years, 58 days, 21 hours, 45 mins and 37 seconds. Then an unnoticeable door opens to a man standing outside wearing an all white suit. He calmly says “so how was it?”, he answers with one tear falling down his face
“beautiful”.