Beach

I clamber upon,
In a never ending way,
Lost in a magical world.
With rocky, grey cliffs.
Sea green waves whisper, gossip and wave.
Sun bright sand sings a whispery tone.
The sweet pungent smell of saltiness floats around,
Wafting through my nose.
The altitudinous, leafy towers sway in the warming breeze.
Gentle crash of waves up shore,
Can be heard.
Calico cliffs crumble, leaving a snowy white mold of limestone
Lying on the sun baked ground.
There …
On a beach…

Naushiha Aravinthan

A Day of Storywriting

Cheerful sunshine gleams through the clear window, providing light to my brown wooden desk as I excitedly write my next outlandish novel.
The bright sun travels ever so slowly across the crystal clear sky, my long, wavy hair blowing in the light summer breeze as my pencil scrapes across the currently blank paper.
I take the first word-filled page from the top of the large refill pad, tearing the sticky elastic so the depressing, dark, grey may fill the next awaiting page with a beautifully coloured scene of a thousand roses.
I smell the sweet aroma of the lovely flowers on the tall tree outside my open window, mixed with bracing fresh air, to keep my open mind latched, so the crisp wind shall not blow it off of the hinges.
I hear the bone-chilling wind slapping my blue curtain, and tauntingly throwing my loose paper onto the fuzzy purple carpet like a malicious person throwing your heavy stack of schoolbooks onto the filthy concrete.
The coloured light, laced with gold, pink and white graces the urban sky with its beauty as the kind day slowly goes away, winking goodnight to me as it vanishes into the shadows, which take over like invaders, destroying all that is bright and cheerful.
I think of a new chapter; what comes next, an unexplainable mystery or a merry, up-beat feel-good moment without a problem?
I feel my exhausted hand aching with Writer's Cramp, struggling to keep moving forward, after a long day's stationary exploring into my vast imagination.
I am the sole owner of this creative world of mine, the impenetrable fortress of adventure, wonder, and fascination. I am writing, content in my wondrous, wild, and weird world, the fantasy that will hopefully become the next life-changing bestseller.

Local Airplane Company Doesn't Want Rats

A LOCAL RAT choosing to fly Air NZ received a shock when employees attempted to capture him.

The rat, known only as Mr. Buck, boarded a flight after a holiday in Los Angeles, and upon finding there were no more seats available, settled for the floor. The flight became restless soon after, and this caused the rat to have a panic attack. He ran towards the end of the aircraft to escape the tantrum, but his feelings worsened when employees chased him. Due to his size, he found a blanket, which could shield him from the commotion, to hide under. Employees stalked through the cabins as this passenger hid in terror. Apparently, the blanket belonged to a woman who was also flying, because when she felt something on her leg, she picked up the blanket to find Mr. Buck. They screamed in equal surprise, as the woman wondered why a rat was under her blanket; Mr. Buck wondered why a woman was over his blanket. When employees noticed the drama, they discriminately chose the side of the woman, much to Mr. Buck’s disgust. Further to this discriminatory behavior, the woman is being offered compensation after the incident. Mr. Buck says “The flight employees were truly specist... When they attacked me I feared for my life… I will never fly with Air NZ again.” Mr. Buck is pondering over whether to sue Air NZ for the distress he received.

THE FLOWER

You are resting in the warmth of the sunlight.
You have a pink skirt spread out around you.
You stand tall and proud with your friends.
You drink the fresh raindrops dancing down from the sky.
When the moon comes out you fall asleep………

The Moon
You glisten and glimmer in the night sky.
You are the mother of the twinkling stars.
You are a white ball, which fell into a sea of little lights.
You bring light to the gloomy shadows.
Children sleep peacefully under your sparkling glow.
And when the golden ball rises, you disappear……….

WHERE THE OCEAN TOUCHES THE SKY!

As the hills roll down to the beaches ,
and the ferns they sway in the breeze.

Where pohutakawa's reach up high,our special christmas trees.

Where the snow plummets off the mountains
and the tide is always high.

As the Morepork calls in the night and butterflies sweep by.

Where peace is like a song
 and quietness is set free.
 A place where the clouds are long.

As the sun creeps over the rocks and the sheep graze in the fields .

As the wind whiplashes the tufty grass-
home at last.

Where laughter flies by,
where the ocean touches the sky.

Molly Fausett-O’Connor

Two young girls stood by the wall...
Silent, sour and still...

“I’m bored!” said Phoenix.
“Me too!” said Lilly.
The girls weren’t happy at all...

Little did they know...
An idea began to grow...
“Wow!” Phoenix said “I know!”

Lilly was silent and shook her head.
Phoenix began running for the gardening shed.

Lilly squirmed and peered around the door....
She waited for Phoenix to explain some more....
“Let’s make a machine and the world will see us shine!
They will drool and marvel at our amazing design!”

“Ok...” Lilly quietly sighed.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“This is great! Just wait and see...
A mystery! A mystery! Is what it will be!”

Lilly was curious but kept her mouth shut.
“Are you ready?” said Phoenix.
But Lilly just tut.

“Phoenix! This is really bad!
What will I tell mum and dad?”

Phoenix just smiled from ear to ear.
Lilly didn’t really care...
For Lilly knew Phoenix all too well.
When….
“Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! What is that smell!?”

“It’s egg... It fuels the machine!” Phoenix grinned.
The stench, it wafted upon the wind.
Lilly, amused at Phoenix, began to smile.
“My dear friend you’re really quite volatile!”

“We don’t have much time, so calm down girl!
Come on! Why don’t we give it a whirl?”
The two little girls were seated and waiting.
Suddenly the machine started vibrating!

It whirred and fizzed!
It blurred and whizzed!

The world grew fuzzy and, oh so, strange
The room around them began to change.
The grey shed walls crumbled and dissolved.
Swirly Whirly colours twirled and revolved.

Their hearts began to thump and pound.
Then their feet hit the solid ground.
Lilly was tall and Phoenix just small.
The edge of the mushroom could solve it all.

The chink of china was heard to the right.
They turned to see an enchanting sight.
Three crazy characters were seated in one spot.
Spreading jam and butter into a clock.

Lilly sees a white rabbit but decides not to follow.
Maybe they could come again tomorrow?
Phoenix whispered, “I think it’s the machine.
“Well, I’m really scared!” Lilly quietly screamed.

The whirl of colours began to return.
The girls collided as they twisted and turned.

To Phoenix’s delight.
Giving Lilly such a fright.
Trees began to sprout.
Up and around and about.

Forest sounds and singing filled the air.
“Where are we now? Where, where, where!?”
“Runga Rawa! Mana! Mana!”
Tribes were humming, chanting a mantra
Travelling through old New Zealand times...
Oh the fantasy of crossing time lines!

Once again they flew through the sky
To the amazing worlds they said good bye

Lilly was happy to come back to the shed.
“Home sweet home!” Lilly happily said.
The pair locked the den and headed to the wall.
Now the girls weren’t bored at all.

Best friends had their fun.
They laughed, cried and screamed,
To this very day they look back at their
Whirring, fizzing, blurring, whizzing machine...

Yani Widjaja

Grey. Nothing but grey. All my happiness had seemed to be drained out of my life, leaving nothing but a sad little boy. Me. The walls of my room which was once full of colour was now grey. I looked outside my window, all the plants looked wilted. The once bright plums that hung on the tree were now sour looking. This had all started with a single, tragic misunderstanding.

The day I found out my parents were getting divorced, my mouth hung open. "How can you do this to me!" I howled. "Jacob! We are your parents so we have mana over you," my mother said. "Besides, we still haven't been getting along very well even though we're separated and this has gone on from quite some time now", my father added, sighing.

Now, here in my room, I flashback to the night before. My parents are yapping their heads off at each other. I sneaked up to their room, curious to know what they're arguing about. "We shouldn't tell him, he'll get such a shock, Elizabeth we can't do this!" My father raised his voice. "We have to, Peter! He needs to know what's going on!" my mother replied, her voice shrill. I knew the situation was volatile. My parents could either forgive each other and everything would go back to normal, on the other hand they could keep fighting and get divorced. All of a sudden my parents burst into a fit of rage. That was it, I ran down the hallway, tears stung my eyes. Some people would describe be a quiet character but I have my moments. As I ran past the lounge, I heard the TV say, "Do you want to live life on the edge?" "No way!" I thought, "I want everything to go back to normal!"

I came back down to earth. Right here in my grey room, right now. That was yesterday, this is now. Then it hit me. I had experienced the shadow of sadness.

Ella Starrs

Her volatile mouth, the endless pit, is waiting at the end of the sands.
Maybe a character of mana and pride, or a malevolent spirit, always
watching, always waiting for a lonely soul to
topple
over
the
edge.

Nobody knows for sure.

She is the Mother of all, pulled by the moon,
never sleeps, never dies.

Curious turquoise eyes, beckoning, tempting,
peering upwards, never blinking.

Wickedly beautiful, terribly bewitching,
by no means growing older, a cheater for sure

She is teasing and chatty, jumping and jokey,
never stays inside the linies, never plays by the rules

But beware! Pulling and tugging, she constantly calls:
Lives lost without warning, a day without dawn.

She's creeping closer, rising higher,
go to sleep and never wake up.

She offers bounties from her plentiful depths
but demands to be honoured and revered.

The tree has fallen and there it lies,
she leaves her prey where they plunge, no use for them now!

'He taonga no te Moana me hoki ano kite Moana.'

'What is given by the sea returns to the sea.'

Lydia Whyte

The Blitz Thief

‘Don’t play on the bomb sites, Meg,’ her mother’s words echoed as she joined her friends, Tom and Harry.
‘Finally!’ said Harry stepping around debris from last night’s bombing raid on London.
‘What? Why are you so cheerful? We’ve got Latin today,’ Meg lamented.
‘Na! Oak School was hit last night.’ Harry was positively effusive. ‘They’re movin’ in and having their lessons in the afternoons - at Latin time!’ he babbled. ‘Children, we are on half days!’
‘Yippee! I was beginning to think that old creep Hitler was totally incompetent!’ piped up Tom. ‘He didn’t get our school, but I think we can still call that a result, ay?’

The school bell chimed at noon and the three friends made their way home via Walden Road. They passed the bakery and the seven houses destroyed by fire bombs two nights earlier. The acrid smell of smoke assaulted their noses. Racing to find treasure, they started fossicking through the rubble. Meg spotted a silvery gleam and scrabbled up high on a pyramid of bricks and wire, just as the air raid siren began to wail, shrieking its message to get below ground. Meg jumped in fright, lurched backwards and wedged her foot in a mound of wreckage. She looked up and saw Tom and Harry already running for home.

‘Harry! Please!’ sobbed Meg, ‘My foot! It’s stuck!’ but with the siren’s noise, her voice was drowned outto just a whisper, and the boys were gone.
Yanking her leg with all her might, she pulled her foot free and crawled down to the road. She limped and stumbled her way home and, with a huge sigh of relief, crept down to the cellar.

‘Where’s Mum?’ her younger brother, Peter, demanded. ‘She went out to look for you.’
‘She’ll be back in a minute,’ Meg replied squeezing herself between her brother and tear-stained little
sister, Annie. Wrapping an arm around each, she prayed that Mum had made it to the nearest tube
station.

Tremors rocked the house as bombs fell, so Meg started playing ‘If there was no rationing I would eat….’
‘Oranges,’ said Peter.
‘Bananas,’ added Annie.
‘A pomegranate,’ Meg declared, just as a massive explosion shook the house, like a giant slamming its
fist down in anger. Dust smothered them.

Trapped and stunned, all they could do was wait. Eventually, the ‘All Clear’ siren announced the raid’s end. Next, a tin helmet popped through a growing gap in the ruins and then Meg’s mother’s face peered down into the chasm that was once their cellar.
‘Sorry,’ Meg whispered to her mum once they were above ground among the wreckage of their home, ‘I was playing on a bomb site.’
Mum squeezed Meg and smiled. ‘If I’d been down in the cellar too, they wouldn’t have known where to dig.’
Meg trembled. The bomb had hit just four houses away. Tom’s home. She sobbed as the realisation dawned just how much there was for Hitler to steal.
 
Winner of the Speed Date an Author Manawatu writing competition

Jotham Harris

Soccer Highlights

“Good evening, welcome to ONE’s highlights of Spain v Brazil in the 2010 FIFA World Cup Final. Around 90,000 dedicated Spanish & Brazilian fans were there to support their country. Both teams in this match possessed some of the biggest names in the footballing world, Ronaldinho of Brazil and David Villa of Spain. Over to the commentator.”

Peeep! “Here we go, the whistle to announce the start.Fernando Torres plays the ball out to Pedro who breaks down the left and Spain is immediately on the attack. Pedro crosses it in but David Villa heads it wide .A Brazilian goal kick, the first of the game . Spanish midfielder Andres Iniesta is quick to steal possession and sends a long ball up field.

Ooh a horrible tackle from Felipe Melo . The ref is fossicking in his pocket for a card . The ref has shown Felipe Melo a RED card!A chasm has opened between the two teams with Brazil down to ten men and it is not even half time. There are only 3 minutes left. . . There’s the half time whistle.”

“Cheering erupted as the 2 teams jogged back onto the pitch. No substitutions. No score. Back to the second half.”

“Brazil kick off ,playing the ball back to defender Maicon , who looks to make a long pass to a teammate but is tackled by Spanish midfielder Xabi Alonso . Alonso unleashes a thunderbolt from the centre circle which is curling, curling past the out stretched fingertips of the Brazilian goalkeeper and INTO THE BACK OF THE NET . That will go down in history as the goal of this World Cup.
Brazil kick off for the second time tonight. They pass out to the wing and begin an attack of their own but the attack is foiled by a spectacular diving header from Spanish defender Sergio Ramos which lands at striker David Villa’s feet .He sprints down the wing and his shot catches Brazilian keeper Julio Cesar off guard . The back of the net bulges. As he fishes the ball out of the back of his net he blushes pomegranate pink for letting in such an easy goal in such an important game. Spain are 2-0 up. With 3 minutes left, even Brazil aren’t coming back from a score like that. The Spanish are dying to hear the final whistle. THERE IT IS. A smile begins to creep across the face of Spanish goalkeeper & captain Iker Casillas.”

“Wasn’t that the most exciting ,amazing , marvelous , terrific”-
“Er ,Ahem I think you’re being a little effusive there Mark .”
“Oh right , sorry mate . well as I was saying it is the most ASTRONOMICAL event that has ever occurred in the HISTORY OF SPANISH FOOTBALL.”
“This is Mark and Martin , ONE’s highlights.”
“Adios and goodnight .”

Francess Harnett Darlington

One day, long, long ago, an ornate palace stood in a vast desert. This palace had been around for thousands of years and had sand encrusted into the beautiful patterns carved into the structure. The only inhabitants in this once-upon-a-time-palace were camels who fossicked around in the sand for remnants of food.

On one of these lonely days an Arabian figure appeared in the distance. The sand churned at his horse’s legs as they drew closer to the ruins. He saw a run-down bridge stretching across a great gaping chasm. He rode on, not knowing that the bridge was a mirage. He found himself sliding down a steep cliff, the horse attempting to slow them down. Eventually they hit the bottom. Their momentum sent the pair rolling roughly over the rubble. The weight caused the saddle bags to split, and pomegranates tumbled out. The figure arose and walked around his fallen horse. It had no injury. The figure wandered across the bottom of the chasm searching for help. Soon he came across a large hut. He looked through a flap of cloth. Inside sat an old lady who had the distinct features of a turtle. He politely requested a place to stay for the night and, since she had been in similar strife, she said yes.

The man and the lady sat around a campfire, drinking soup that soothed their throats. The horse rested behind, happily munching hay. After a while some conversation arose. He learned that the lady’s name was Khuzama, and she learnt his name was Jihad. Night fell suddenly, as if between blinks. The man was given a pillow and blankets as he was to sleep outside. Before he slept, he had one final demand, that he ate a pomegranate before sleeping every night. When he entered the hut to get one
, he saw piles of gold. He knew he just had to steal it. Several hours later he woke up. It was black except for the glow cast from a lantern. He crept in. The turtle lady was asleep. Quiet tinkling sounded as gold was tossed into his pillow-case. The woman didn’t stir as he dragged the bag out of the hut. The horse twitched as the man tied the makeshift sack to her back. The rider spoke a few soft words to the horse, “Creep away, Fhikela.”

The sun rose and the woman woke up. An effusive gasp escaped her throat when she saw that the stranger had taken her gold. Fire blazed in her eyes. “I call upon the mighty lands, to rouse up the stormy sands to kill the man who took my gold, making this a warning to be told.”

The man was forcing his horse to ride against the sandstorm that was forming. Suddenly large amounts of sand were blown at the rider, smothering and killing him. The horse galloped away, throwing his body off her back.

The ruins now stand in peace, never to be disturbed again.

Bronte Heron

Mum tightened her grip as I struggled to let go, a thrashing fish on the end of a hook. Onlookers stared as she hauled me through the crowd, her face bright red and her breath ragged from the exertion. I can’t have looked much better myself, hollering and carrying on as a stubborn donkey would when forced to work.

“Muuuum! Just get off!” Those being the words I’d begun chanting since we left the car.

“You know we have…to go… Bronte…for goodness sakes…you are so like your father!”

I stopped dead in my tracks at that, half amused and half bewildered by her hypocrisy. Poor Mum nearly fell over.

“Hmph!” She grunted as she rightened herself. “Bronte, she’s family. We have to support her.”

“But Mum! This is social suicide! Look, if we turn back now, she wont even see us, and we can say we forgot about the…”

“Tally Ho, old girls!”

The voice rang down the street with authority and grandeur. Mum and I both cringed inwardly and half closed our eyes with dread, because unlike the rest of the onlookers, we were aware of what was to come.

Spinning slowly to face the coming parade, I saw Mum force a smile onto her face. She’s a strong woman, Mum is. And me? Well, I pulled hoodie up over my head and tried to look as invisible as possible as my nightmare from the past month began to replay before the entire population of New Plymouth.

The people around me scoffed in unison at the cause for my dramatics, and with good reason. For leading the parade was the only woman who had caused me more public humiliation than the number of years she had been alive, and trust me. This was a lot.

Gran. The name alone made me shudder.

Mounted on the back of a Clydesdale so big it looked like it could haul a mountain across Africa, she made her entrance as she usually did – as though she were re-enacting a scene from an epic blockbuster. Dad always said she put the Grand in Grandmother. With one hand gripping the reigns of her beastly steed and the other thrown in the air in a majestic wave to her audience, she seemed to be basking, no bathing in her own self importance.

The women marching behind her rolled their eyes at Gran wearily, they were already fed up of her antics and the parade had barely begun.

At first the faces watching the procession portrayed only confusion at who Gran and the marching ladies were. But slowly, like the first few drops of rain before a storm, random faces dotted throughout the crowd lit up with recognition. Before long, the floodgates opened, and everyone was cheering, clapping and yahooing in a torrential downpour of entertainment.

I seemed to be the only person in the whole town who was completely mortified by all of this. The heat of embarrassment coloured my cheeks as I heard Gary, the intern from Mum’s work, yell; “Oi January! Show us ya’ jugs!” Worse than that, I caught wind of my Biology teacher, Mr. Newman hollering shamelessly; “Hey November! Get your kit off for us!” Hoots of laughter rang in the air like sirens.

I ducked my head even lower, but not before I’d seen the marching ladies giggling with schoolgirl excitement, and Gran begin to radiate pride, a smug grin etched between the wrinkles of her mouth.

Mum heaved a tired sigh next to me. “Oh well. It could have been worse. At least this time she’s wearing clothes.”

Bile rose in my throat as I thought back to the reason for Gran and the marching girls’ widespread fame throughout Taranaki. A Calendar. Such a simple and harmless fundraising idea for the RSA. Yet to this day, I cant look at one without thinking of Gran, splashed across the cover of December, covered by nothing but the beginnings of a scarf she had just begun knitting.

by Bronte Heron, Year 10, New Plymouth Girls' High School

Susannah Whaley

Missing You

If I walked past you in the rain
would you see me?
Would you feel my presence
brush past you
like a whisper?

I can see you.

Steam rises from your clothes
sifting into the air
forming a mist
in the clouds.

Your hair's
a rusty thicket
the bristled strands
crinkling
wrinkling
twinkling
an auburn mop.

My hair was brown.

A dusty, mousy brown
like the paint
you find in art class
that no one wants to use.

Your eyes were always blue
the deepest, cleanest blue
a sea I could get lost in
if you let me.

What happened to those eyes?

Filled suddenly with tears.
Can't you feel me anymore
sis
Can't you feel that I'm right here?

An empty bed
still unmade
a wardrobe filled with clothes.
They are never to be worn now.
The room is tapu.
Sacred.

Did I mention that it hurts?

At least it would
if I were real
but spirits have no pain.
One learns that
early on.

But
if I could hurt
I would die again
every single time
I saw you walking in the rain
without me.

*   *   *   *   *

Childhood Dreams

If I were God I would

Paint the sky purple
Fix a rainbow in my hair
Turn the light up on the stars

Juggle with the moon
Eat a banquet on a cloud
Use a bolt of lightning as a skateboard

Pirouette upon a moonbeam
Tie the earth up in a bow
Play piano on the sand

I would

Weave an apricot from gossamer
Do a jig on the blue moon
Toast marshmallows on the sun

Fold the world into a paper plane
Build a skyscraper from a rose
Make a butterfly from a small child's tear

Fly to the top of a mountain
Hear a raindrop sing
Turn a feeling inside out.

If I were God

My fairytales would be possible
And it would be I
Who was but a dream.

Naushiha Aravinthan

Wind
Wind
I feel your chilly breeze
You cry out lovely and sad songs,
Yes I can hear you wind.
You make things soar high
above the furry, soft clouds.
You sadly waddle away
when the sun comes out.

Mountains
You have a great grin
As holes as eyes.
Clouds as hair
Cliffs as a mouth.
You lean over me balancing on the ground.
You cant jump but
you can stretch as far as the sky.
All day I wonder what your doing?

Rain
Rain
you tap your music,
you make rhythm.
When you mix with the sun
you make a rainbow.
You give water to the plants.
You help the planet too.
But rain
what do you do when you don't rain?

Poems by Naushiha Aravinthan

Angela Fearnley

The Mysterious Slime

No! No! No! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
    Friday 13th May 1994. It was a cold frosty night. I was driving home from work when suddenly the car turned off. Ice covered the windshield. I tried to open the door but the ice had frozen it shut. SPLAT!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! There on the windshield lay the most repulsive slimy looking creature. It was an off green colour with 3 jet black eyes the size of golf balls. It had 11 long slimy tentacles that stuck to the windshield like glue.
    The next thing I knew I was lying in a hospital bed with stitches in my forehead. “Wh … wh … wha …what … what happened?” “You were in a car crash” Replied the nurse “But the strange thing was that you were covered in green sticky slime.” Flashbacks of the creature screamed back into my mind. My heart started pounding like it was going to pop out of my chest. “May I please go now?” I asked trembling. “You may leave as soon as we….” I nodded my head not realizing that I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. The nurse left the room. I then ripped the drip out from my wrist, climbed out of the hospital bed and started walking down the corridor.
    Half an hour later I was climbing out of the taxi that had just pulled up outside my house. As I walked up the stairs to the front door I noticed a crack in the window that I had never seen before. Once I was inside I noticed every bit of dust and every little crack. My eyes then started to burn. I ran to the mirror my eyes were jet black. I fell to the ground and slowly drifted to sleep.
    I woke up lying hopelessly in a drain; I staggered to my feet and started to walk towards the town of Burnsville. I arrived 20mins later. I dug into my pocket to find 3 gold coins, so I decided to buy the daily herald. I walked to the nearest dairy to buy the herald and on the front cover read ‘Murder Down in Scally Wally Drain.’ But that’s just were I was! I read on, ‘Green Slime Foot Prints Left Behind’ I pick up my leg to find green slime on the bottom of my foot. I pick up my other leg to find a blood covered knife strapped to my leg. I then realized what the nurse had actually said “You may leave as soon as we find out what the green slime was” I thought to myself ‘So if I had listened to the nurse…. I could have been snug up in my bed’ Tears suddenly started to roll down my cheeks.
    Days passed and I slowly grew….. into the creature that once lay on my window screen. Over those past few days I had murdered 27 people and turned 3 people into what I was now a green slimy blood sucking monster.

Angela Fearnley

Asmitha Muruganathan

Spring
Spring is colourful and alive.
Pansies bloom.
Rainbows appear out of nowhere.
I like spring
No one is unhappy or sad
Great wonderful flowers bloom straight away

Stella

“They almost had the case cracked then they strike again, how are they going to keep up” Trueman says while reading the daily Herald. “Those detectives are the best in town, how could they fail” he was telling his daughter Chelsea.
“Well I don’t know those guys are obviously just that much better” Chelsea said.
“I just don’t get it? Well you better walk to school, can’t have you being late, can we?”
“No dad.”
Suddenly, they heard a frightful scream and the sound of a gunshot.
“Get down” Trueman says to his daughter. Chelsea quickly ducks under the breakfast table, Trueman looks out the window cautiously and the next door neighbour is lying shot on their driveway .
“Oh my gosh Mr Old has been stabbed.”
They run down and Trueman checks for a pulse, while Chelsea rings the ambulance and police.
“Hello 111, yes I need an ambulance and the police. My neighbour has been shot, there must be a criminal in the area, please hurry up dad’s checking for a pulse and I think he will live, but we need help” Chelsea hangs up.
“Dad you stay here and look after Mr Old I’ll look out for the ambulance and direct them over here, bye.”
Off Chelsea ran down the driveway, she saw the bushes shake in the house across the road and immediately thought it could be the criminal. She went over to the garden and saw the hint of a black sweater. She hid behind the clothes line and waited. He hadn’t seen her, then a man sneaked over the fence, she could hear the sirens of the ambulance and policemen arriving. She waited a little longer then crept over the fence after the man, making sure he didn’t see her. She kept low and hid behind whatever she could find. The man looked back, she quickly darted behind some firewood then he climbed another fence and then turned on to the street. The man ducked into another house and climbed through the window. It was obvious that noone was home. Chelsea peeked in the window and didn’t see anyone one, so she crept around the house and she saw him. He was with another man; they must be partners in crime she thought.
She brought out her cell phone and said in a hushed tone “It’s me dad get the police over to the house next to the dairy he’s inside I’ve been following him.”
“The officers caught the masked man and Mr Old is in a stable condition, well done Chelsea” the head policeman congratulated Chelsea.

by Stella Marshall

Cameron Hillary

One fine day in Chilly Ville there was a spy named Johna. He wondered what would happen in his future.

One day he was sitting on a bench in a park. Next second out of the blue, came a mysterious man.
The mysterious man said, “If you want to see your future you can use my time machine, in my underground lair.”
“I don’t know, I’ve just met you, how do I know I can trust you?”
“I’m offering to be your friend and help you, how could you say no?”
“You could be trying to kill me in a secret place, but I guess it's worth a shot.”

So Johna jumped on the mystery man’s flying jet-ski and they set off to his lair.
After five minutes, they were into the hot desert and it was getting dark. All they could see for miles, was sand. Suddenly they stopped and dropped three metres underground. They were at the lair entrance.
“It’s about 200 metres through this tunnel mate,” said the mysterious man.

They went 200 metres into the tunnel and arrived in his lair.

The mysterious man said, “Would you like a tour before we leave?”
“I would love a tour,” replied Johna. So the mysterious man gave him a tour. Johna thought it was awesome but what he thought was even more awesome was that he was going to the future.
“Ok, last stop, the time room.” There they were standing in a room with only one thing in it, a time machine.
“Are you ready?”
“Yip, lets go.” They jumped in, set the time and they were gone.

Next thing they were standing in a toilet cubicle together, 20 years in the future. They looked the same as they did in the past. Johna decided he wanted to go visit his spy master at Spy Co. to get the mystery man recruited. Fortunately they were in luck, Spy Co. was happy to recruit the mystery man and they named him Rocky.

At that point, they found that together they were going on a mission to hunt down Cat Woman. So they agreed to do it and they went into the briefing room. After being in there for half an hour, they set off to the spot where she was last seen.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the industrial block where she was last seen.
Together they decided it would be easier if they split up to find her.
After a few minutes of looking around Cat Woman had spotted her next target … Johna!

She pounced on him and her ½ meter long claws stabbed right through him for an instant kill.
Moments after, she ran off into the darkness.
Straight away Rocky came around the corner finding Johna lying there dead. He pulled out a bottle labeled Lifadone and poured it over Johna. He also pulled an ancient book out of his bag and read the words “life and death both are great, but life is greater.”

Moments later Johna’s eyes opened and he got up …

… he was alive again.

The next day together they were sitting in the TV room at HQ and they saw themselves on TV. Rocky had become famous for his amazing ancient magic and life saving skills. He was granted one million dollars from the Government and a building to start a business, where he could save lives, for a bit of cash.

The end!

by Cameron Hillary

Mike Rowland

The Pirates and The Skogs

Long ago there were two tribes that got along well… That is all going to change.

When the Skogs and the Pirates fight the Skogs are thrown overboard.

Who will help them regain their pride and their ship???

The Pirates and the Skogs lives are about to change.

Who will get the ship?

Who will win the fight?

Find out in
The Pirates and The Skogs by Mike Rowland

The pirates and the Skogs

Once upon a time there were two tribes that got along. They were the Pirates and the Skogs. The Pirates were evil people that loved the sea and hated the land. The Skogs were a completely different. They were a cross between skunks and dogs. They were peaceful, but you wouldn’t want to fight against them.

One day when they were on a ship together, the Skog leader wanted to go to an island with a huge forest, but the Pirate leader just wanted to stay at sea.
“Well,” said the Pirate, “why would you want to go to land, when the sea is so much quieter?”
“Well of course the sea is quiet, but there is no shade and we have such a small area to stand on,” replied the Skog.
Now, the problem was, that there was only one ship. One of the tribes was going to have to wait for another day but they weren’t going to be happy about it.

Suddenly a fight erupted between the tribes about where they were going to go and when they were going there. Most of the Skogs were killed by the Pirates. The ones that survived were thrown overboard. Now the Pirates could have what they wanted and live happily ever after. (But obviously they won’t because that would make this short story too short. Now back to the Skogs.)

They were land creatures and couldn’t swim very well. They thought they were all going to die. For a long time they were floating, to them it felt like years. They thought they would never see land again until they drifted to shore and were found by their relatives… The Wolves who saved them.

The Wolves lived on a shipwreck on the biggest beach in the world and could swim. But they couldn’t buy parts to fix the ship because they left all of their money at home.

Now back to the Pirates. Some of them had a tiny bit of decency and thought that what they did to the Skogs was cruel. So because of that, another fight started. The difference with this fight though was that it was just between the Pirates. At the same time, the Skogs were planning how to get the ship back.

So the wolves had saved the Skogs and were telling them their story.

“We were sailing and something hit us. That’s how we got stuck on this evil island,” said Glove the wolf leader.

“Hey!” said the Skog leader. “Can you hear those stupid idiotic Pirates fighting over our ship?” “Yes I can,” said the Wolf leader Glove. The Pirates were all injured badly and the Skogs had the perfect chance to take the ship back for themselves. The only problem was that they didn’t have a ship. But then they thought about the wolves, who were excellent swimmers.

“Hey Glove, can we please ride on top of you to the ship so we can take it back?” said the Head Skog.

“Sure,” said Glove, “let’s go.”

All the Pirates had been badly injured which gave the Skogs a perfect chance to attack, so they did. The Skogs won the fight and lived happily ever after and the wolves got off the island. So the only ones with bad luck were the pirates who all died.

THE END

By Mike Rowland

Danisha Shah

Sealion
Smooth brown sizzling sways
shining and swooping swims
calmly zooms up and upside down
all around the cool water

Hippos
A huge hippo ate and ate
and drank and drank.
Some water fell out of its mouth.

Written after a visit by Paula Green

Grace Jin

Sea Lions
The sea lions of Auckland Zoo are medium brown,
velvety soft. Smooth swimming like a sea snake.
They swim twist turning as they are flying gracefully.
Ah... the sea lions in Auckland Zoo are very well trained.

Small Hippo Poem
Fat as a pot balloon, grey as storm clouds, slow as snails.

The Hippopotamuses
In the Auckland Zoo, there was dry mud
with a big hollow in a paddock.
It was the muddy hippo bath.
Soon, the hippos came slowly.
With their small ears twitching,
they quickly munched the dry hay.

Written after a visit from Paula Green

Naushiha Aravinthan

Wind
Wind
I feel your chilly breeze
You cry out lovely and sad songs,
Yes I can hear you wind.
You make things soar high
above the furry, soft clouds.
You sadly waddle away
when the sun comes out.

Mountains
You have a great grin
As holes as eyes.
Clouds as hair
Cliffs as a mouth.
You lean over me balancing on the ground.
You cant jump but
you can stretch as far as the sky.
All day I wonder what your doing?

Rain
Rain
you tap your music,
you make rhythm.
When you mix with the sun
you make a rainbow.
You give water to the plants.
You help the planet too.
But rain
what do you do when you don't rain?

Poems by Naushiha Aravinthan

Mike Rowland

The Pirates and The Skogs

Long ago there were two tribes that got along well… That is all going to change.

When the Skogs and the Pirates fight the Skogs are thrown overboard.

Who will help them regain their pride and their ship???

The Pirates and the Skogs lives are about to change.

Who will get the ship?

Who will win the fight?

Find out in
The Pirates and The Skogs by Mike Rowland

The pirates and the Skogs

Once upon a time there were two tribes that got along. They were the Pirates and the Skogs. The Pirates were evil people that loved the sea and hated the land. The Skogs were a completely different. They were a cross between skunks and dogs. They were peaceful, but you wouldn’t want to fight against them.

One day when they were on a ship together, the Skog leader wanted to go to an island with a huge forest, but the Pirate leader just wanted to stay at sea.
“Well,” said the Pirate, “why would you want to go to land, when the sea is so much quieter?”
“Well of course the sea is quiet, but there is no shade and we have such a small area to stand on,” replied the Skog.
Now, the problem was, that there was only one ship. One of the tribes was going to have to wait for another day but they weren’t going to be happy about it.

Suddenly a fight erupted between the tribes about where they were going to go and when they were going there. Most of the Skogs were killed by the Pirates. The ones that survived were thrown overboard. Now the Pirates could have what they wanted and live happily ever after. (But obviously they won’t because that would make this short story too short. Now back to the Skogs.)

They were land creatures and couldn’t swim very well. They thought they were all going to die. For a long time they were floating, to them it felt like years. They thought they would never see land again until they drifted to shore and were found by their relatives… The Wolves who saved them.

The Wolves lived on a shipwreck on the biggest beach in the world and could swim. But they couldn’t buy parts to fix the ship because they left all of their money at home.

Now back to the Pirates. Some of them had a tiny bit of decency and thought that what they did to the Skogs was cruel. So because of that, another fight started. The difference with this fight though was that it was just between the Pirates. At the same time, the Skogs were planning how to get the ship back.

So the wolves had saved the Skogs and were telling them their story.

“We were sailing and something hit us. That’s how we got stuck on this evil island,” said Glove the wolf leader.

“Hey!” said the Skog leader. “Can you hear those stupid idiotic Pirates fighting over our ship?” “Yes I can,” said the Wolf leader Glove. The Pirates were all injured badly and the Skogs had the perfect chance to take the ship back for themselves. The only problem was that they didn’t have a ship. But then they thought about the wolves, who were excellent swimmers.

“Hey Glove, can we please ride on top of you to the ship so we can take it back?” said the Head Skog.

“Sure,” said Glove, “let’s go.”

All the Pirates had been badly injured which gave the Skogs a perfect chance to attack, so they did. The Skogs won the fight and lived happily ever after and the wolves got off the island. So the only ones with bad luck were the pirates who all died.

THE END

By Mike Rowland

Simon Kenrick

What am I?
Sabre teeth, sea of flab,
lazy sloth, pop eyed bug,
black hold mouth, leather skin ...
Hippo! Like Jupiter to Pluto

Joshua Fong

HIPPO POEMS
No.1
Humongous ball,
Amphibian cloud,
Boulder glass anvil,
Tiger peach.

No.2
Lazy hippo,
Slow hippo,
Stumbles out,
Then he stalls.
Mouth chewing,
Throat swallowing,
Water in and out.
Relaxed he takes his
Time with him,
Without a glance
To the lovely,
Dirty wet,
Oozing mud.

SEA LION POEM
Streamlined smoothly,
Gliding gracefully,
Carefully carefully,
Playing peacefully,
Winged torpedo,
Bird underwater,
Propelled acrobat.

Written after a visit from Paula Green

 

The 100 Dollar Bill
Once upon 100 Dollar bill ago there was a 100 Dollar bill and it flew to any wind it came to. All the kids tried to get it but none succeeded, even the bravest of all the kids Jimmy Vanstrotsenburg climbed to the highest point of Mount Incredibly Unstable and still didn't succeed. So after a long day of disappointment they went to the local ice-cream shop for some hot chocolate. The man there said there is a rumour that this bill can only be with you if you spend it on exactly 100 dollars...

Captured!
The sound of gunfire rang in Arnold's ears as he ran down the stairs to the basement. His first thought was for Henrietta. How was she doing in all this turmoil? Was she safe? With the wedding as soon as the war was over, he didn't want anything to happen to her. Even if he got captured, he would do anything to keep her safe, and himself alive...

untitled
"Divorce?" she finished for him. Her dad, taken aback, dumbfounded and ashamed just nodded his head. Even though Violet had been expecting this for a long time she still couldn't believe it. She wiped the tears from her face, only bringing more. The pain, the loss, pierced her like a stabbing knife, it was not like any punch from the bullies, or any telling off from Miss Lebama, it was more. More severe, more solemn, more unbearable. Almost without thinking, Violet ran up to her room, slammed the door shut, buried her head in her pillows, and wept. Outside, she could hear her mum and dad crying as well. Two, totally different people, like fire and ice, betrayal and loyal, love and hate...

This is the story that resulted from LIANZA’s Library Week Interactive Story Competition, run in 2008. The story was started by award-winning writer Bernard Beckett, and continued by students from all over New Zealand.

I suppose you could say Damien is my opposite. Whereas I am short for my age, and compensate by this lack of presence with a physical quickness, trying to be everywhere at once, Damien is large and slow moving. Whereas people say my face is easy to read, my face painted brightly in my many moods, Damien keeps his thoughts and feelings well hidden. People rarely have trouble remembering my name; Joshua they say, the second time they meet me, announcing the name confidently as if we are old friends. Damien by contrast is the sort you see in a room and think 'I am sure we have met before, but where?' I am one of five children, Damien has no brothers or sisters. I have recently become interested in girls. Damien thinks me mad for wasting my time on these creatures that he barely notices.

Yes, my friendship with Damien is as unlikely as it is unbreakable. People wonder what it is that keeps us together and I am afraid I can be of no help to them. There is an answer I could give them, but we decided long ago that we would never speak of it again. You see, we do have one thing in common, Damien and I. We both know where the body is buried.
Bernard Beckett

That was one of my memories I cannot forget. We couldn't believe what we had seen. Back then we didn't really know what we had seen, but we have come to have no regrets only gladness.

In Damien's early years he was a really tough boy. He liked to pick on people who he knew couldn't bully him back. The one thing I noticed was that Damien had never picked on me, but gave me the evils.

I watched him as he bullied other people, but didn't do anything about it. Everyday I had gotten more and more afraid of what he would do. It was getting close to camp time. The teacher had talked about camp fees and paying it off. That's when I saw a weakness, I think he had family problems.

Camp came around quickly and we had a lot of camp activities and luckily, Damien had made it there. Our campsite was so amazing it was like we were in heaven. The thing that made it so exciting was the scavenger hunt.

When we were getting into pairs, I was hoping to be put with a girl. I was devastated when I got my partner. I tried talking to the teacher to swap partners with someone else, but unfortunately no one wanted HIM. So there I was standing with the one person I wouldn't want to be near. Damien!

Walking into the forest was alright but then we had to go deeper, and it got darker. Suddenly we were practically touching shoulders, and the only thing missing was the scary music...
Paea Tonga, Avalon Intermediate, Lower Hutt

I have never liked forests, ever since I saw E.T dying in the forest, I have been afraid. Breathing in and out I tried to calm myself down. I turned around to ask Damien for the map but found him walking off in a totally different direction to the starting arrows.
"Damien!" I called. He yelled a muffled reply and kept walking. I didn't know whether I should follow him or not. "We could get lost, killed, kidnapped!"

"You won't get kidnapped, there is no one else but our class in the woods" Damien replied. I hadn't realised I was talking out loud.

"Come back! I wanna get the prize!" I said to Damien trying not to sound afraid.

This time he didn't reply and he disappeared behind a bush. I ran after him, tripping over fallen branches and dead leaves. I couldn't see him anywhere.

"RARR!" I jumped. Damien jumped out of the bush in front of me and then fell down in hysterics pointing at me and holding his stomach.

"Come on" I said, "I want to get back, how are we supposed to win the hunt now?"
Damien shook his head. "I don't want to win no stupid scavenger hunt, I've found something, come on."
I looked back over my shoulder, I could see Amy and Louise giggling at their map, beside them was Luke and Dave fighting over which way the map turned up. I followed Damien until only a couple of minutes later we came through a clearing.

There was an old house, rickety and broken down, the windows were dusty and opaque. "Awesome" was Damien's reaction.
Typical. I wanted to leave, I grabbed Damien's arm and tried to pull him away. He brushed me off and told me not to grab his shirt, next time I did he would pummel me. I backed off. I decided to leave Damien. Mrs. Early would kill me for leaving my 'partner' but I was not staying near this creepy place.
Just as I was leaving, the door opened. An old lady stepped out. Long grey hair trailed from her shoulders down to her knees, and a long black dress hung loosely off her frail body. "Hello" she said, "I believe you know where my Jonathan is."
Damien turned to me, his face was white. "How does she know?" he whispered.
Brianna Roberts, The Cathedral Grammar School, Christchurch

My feet were planted into the ground like weeds. The scene in front of me started turning black, like a burning page. I grabbed onto Damien's shoulder for support but he didn't shake it off.

"Hello?" said the lady, "Would you kindly answer my question?" Her face went hard, her eyes narrowing. Thankfully, she turned around, muttering something about how ignorant kids were these days.

I started backing up slowly, always watching the house. Suddenly, she came back, squealing like a little girl. "Jonathon! Jonathon! I thought I'd never see you ever ever again! Ooooh... Your father is going to be so angry! You worried us sick! Where have you been??"

All I could do was choke while she sprinted over to me at a speed that shouldn't be legal for ladies at her age. She grabbed me up in her spindly arms and my adrenalin finally kicked in. I struggled and kicked and thrashed until she let me go.

"My, my Jonathon Albert Green, you have turned feral while you were gone." She grabbed my ear in a death lock and dragged me towards the house. I knew this would come back at me one day. All that karma stuff.
Meanwhile, Damien was standing where I'd left him. Still as a dead fish.
"Damien!" I screeched, "What is wrong with you?!" I struggled all I could but the elder was stronger than a professional wrestler on his best day.
All I could do was make sure the woman didn't rip my ear off and follow her into the house. What was the worst that could happen anyway? Was she going to kill me with evil biscuits?
Lura, Ahipara Primary School, Gisborne

Darkness gobbled me up as I stumbled through the doorway. A musty smell wafted through the air and I could just make out the faint outline of a stuffed duck. The old lady's tight grip on my ear relaxed as she reached out to turn the light on.

The room was suddenly filled with light and as my eyes adjusted I realised I was in a small cottage. A plate of freshly baked chocolate muffins was resting on a small wooden table covered with a chequered tablecloth. I could see no sign of the duck or the lady for that matter. The curtains were drawn and sunshine was filtering through. This was not the hut that I was in a few seconds ago. Something awfully strange was going on.

Somewhere a long way off I could hear soft music playing I turned towards the source. The sweetness of the music was pulling me like a needle pulling a thread. I couldn't turn around I couldn't go back. I could see no one. I could hear nothing but the music. A door appeared in front of me. So I opened it. It led me outside to a field. Swaying golden wheat was in the field. Everything seemed too nice. Also in the field was a girl with golden locks and the girl was playing a golden harp and the harp was playing the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Suddenly the music stopped.

The girl turned to me and with the sweetest, cutest smile her voice flowing smoothly she said,

"Once you are in my world Jonathan, you can never turn back"

Then she vanished. The ground came to met me and once again I felt the familiar wetness and leafy smell of the forest. But all I could see was blackness.
Evelyn Paintin, Northland School, Wellington

The darkness was horrible. It was like a giant shadow trapping me inside my own mind. The beautiful little girl turned into a witch and swarmed around me making me feel like I was being attacked by bees. My head was buzzing loudly and that didn't help. Then suddenly it all stopped. I fell to the ground at Damien's feet. But we weren't at the camp. We were in a place unknown, a scary place where the trees leaned over and made scary faces at us, the blackbirds screeched and the moon glistened on the black lake below. There was a small wooden dingy on the lake and two men inside. All of a sudden, the taller of the two grabbed a dagger and plunged it deeply through the other ones heart.

I know I wasn't the one that was being stabbed, but a piercing pain was protruding through my body. I didn't know where the pain was coming from but my instincts told me to go to the lake and talk to the man. The pain seared even more as I got closer to the crime scene. As I approached the boat, I saw the figure holding the knife was Damien. I called out to him but there was no reply. He paddled ashore. I then realized he couldn't see or hear me. He was alike a blind and deaf man put together. I was very curious to find out who Damien had just murdered. As I approached the body my face turned as pale as a ghost. It was me. Except I was me. So it couldn't have been me. But just as I was thinking it over I heard large thumps of footsteps behind me.

I turned around and leaped to the side just as the knife in Damien's hand went for my heart. I grabbed a large branch and hit him over the head. It knocked him out and I buried his body. But his imagination stays with me. He's my imaginary friend. That's how he knows. Because he's part of my imagination. That's another thing that separates Damien from me. I'm real. He's not.
Aimee Stevens, Tomarata School, Wellsford

All entries submitted can be viewed on the Library Week website.