CREATIVES NOW!

PROSE ▪ POETRY ▪ DESIGN ▪ LANGUAGE ▪ NEW FICTION

COVER ART: JAMES BARKER 12D

CONTENTS DESCRIPTIVE: Y10 SCRUTINISE THE WORLD

ART NOW! VIEW THE LATEST FROM SIXTH FORM ART AND GRAPHIC

DESIGN STUDENTS THROUGHOUT THE MAGAZINE

500 WORDS: Y8 CRAFT IMAGINATION WITHIN A WORDCOUNT

UPCOMING: GET INVOLVED!

ARMITAGE: VISITED BY A POET

DISTILLED! NOVELS TAMED AND CONDENSED BY Y8

WRITERS NOW! VISITED BY THE MANCHESTER WRITING SCHOOL

CRIMELINES: GEMS OF HISTORICAL FICTION

РУССИАН ПРОСЕ: RUSSIAN PROSE

POÉSIE FRANÇAISE: FRENCH POETRY

FICTION NOW! NEW MUST-READS IN A LIBRARY NEAR YOU

DESCRIPTIVE: SCRUTINISING THE WORLD PURGATORIO ADAM CRITCHLOW 10E It is a place of ordered chaos, where people of all classes swarm weekly for their needs and luxuries alike. Your eyes might alight on a decadently coloured sale sign. The colours in general are so rich and plentiful that they begin to blur into each other like fresh paint in a sudden downpour. There is a constant hum as you walk, intermittently broken by the beeping sounds created by those at the final stage of their visit. A gaggle of middle aged women buzz around the ‘CLEARANCE’ section like bees to a hive. Children’s cries reverberate around the vast, bleached-white halls as their parents routinely refuse to let yet another generic plastic toy enter their trollies, already fathoms deep with that week’s purchases. A man, vainly attempting to cover the ever-expanding patch of skin towards the summit of his head, stoops over the cheese counter, brow furrowed, breathing in lungful’s of air so thick with the pungent odour of cheese, you could cut it with a knife. As you walk, you hear snippets of conversation and see mums on the verge of middle-age with their hands clamped like vices around their ecstatic children’s arms, frantically trying to drag them out of the aisles that the diminutive ones desperately wish to inhabit. An acne-infested youth stands at the exit, clutching a brightly coloured bucket, overflowing with enthusiasm. He possesses a smile that engulfs most of his face, exposing teeth stained by years of clamping machines of death between his lips and allowing serpentine toxins to decay the very organs that keep him alive. He lives a life of hollow coughs and soot-stained lungs. From above, you see an image of duplication. It is as if the room is a hall of mirrors. People drift like shoals of jellyfish from aisle to aisle with no particular destination in mind, letting the general flow of the shoppers guide them through the anemone-reach of products. The aisles loom over you like the pillars of an ancient Greek building; cardboard cut-outs reside at the foot of the hallowed passageways like mythical gods. The filaments of the bulbs, shining from the roof, burn like cold, white suns, worlds away from the incessant carnage, the irresistible system.

A CITY DAWN ALEX RAMWELL 10B The sun glints off the jungle of steel and glass. The imposing structures reflect the rays with refraction of such ferocity that it seems to come from a fire deep within. Backstreets still lie in shadows, awaiting the warm, gentile touch of the day to come. The boulevards awaken slowly and increase in noise as activity stirs with every minute that passes: the city has hibernated through the night only to be awakened by warmth. The beating heart of the city is restarted as the veins and arteries are put back into use, transporting the abundant workforce to their individual jobs that are, despite the ‘individuality’, just as dull and mundane as those of the people in the opposite building or on the opposite side of the room. The dawn chorus of tyres squealing and horns blaring, greet all who open their windows to the world. Taxis clog the veins like cholesterol, causing the cacophony to louden with increasing frustration. The skyscrapers stand as watch towers to the city whilst the hills are docile giants, ancient and ever present, halting the rapid spread of the suburbs that diffuse away from the vigilant eyes of the centre like bacteria through agar. The suburbs incline themselves towards the apex of the city, the modern equivalent of the ancient pyramids where kings lie in rest. Structures reach upwards: the Earth’s own needles, puncturing the clouds and drawing down a cool blood of blue that bleeds across the sky in rivers. The arms of the rich and greedy reach skywards in search of greater wealth and fortune. Some extend with a spire like a finger; others are solid and uniform like clenched fists hunkering down defiantly. In an urban Amazon, manmade monoliths echo the buttress rooted trees of the forest. From the air, the city is simple, a set of grids, intersected by sets of grids, intersected by boulevards that extend to vanishing points. The inner city sprawls outwards into questionable backstreets that in turn slice through the blocks, on which equally questionable people deal in equally questionable things. The city is the product of a person with a plan, an order of how things should be in a perfect world; it is not a perfect world and the rolling hills put a sharp stop to the uniformity. Nature is not uniform or perfect in any way. The taxi pulls out only to slink back into the river system. As we head deeper into the city, concrete towers above.

DAN ANDERSON 12H

MAX PILLING 12B

ADAM PALMER 12G

DAN HAYMES 13I

HARRY STOCKS 12A

WILL HARDY 8D

500 WORDS

CONTACT ADEN STEPHENSON 8B At Mission Control, M.O.D., Alex reflects: January 1, 2136, the 100th anniversary of living on our home planet, Mars. We have successfully averted the overpopulation crisis on our Motherland, for now. There’s a friend that I really must wish a Happy New Year; it’s been months since I spoke to that guy, mostly because the connection takes an age on an interplanetary call. I dial but the intercom buzzes and I hear the dulcet tones of the Boss. “Alex!” “What is it, Ida?” I ask, slightly irritably if I’m honest. “Stop slacking and get back to work.” “Roger that, Ida. Working.” Really, though, what is the point? The last Altercation was in 2020; that ultimately led to our Leaders sending us here in order to reduce the demand on the Motherland’s resources, thereby ending the greed and destruction. It is peaceful here. There are no predators. We brought only cattle. So why have an M.O.D? I guess it keeps us busy: not much else to do. 50 feet under the ground, a solitary figure resumes his data log: It was 161 solar revolutions ago when the first Objects came. Prior to this, we had seen things in the sky but they hadn’t landed. Over the subsequent Revolutions, more of them came. Some stayed in the sky, some landed, some moved, others did not. But then, 61 Revolutions later, They came. My brethren fled. I remained to observe. I witnessed Their growth, Their adaptation to life here. They are bi-pedal and bounce along the dusty, red terrain. Their shells are shiny white. Their heads transparent and bulbous, with an inner soft skull containing small, mobile eyes. Their breathing mechanism is external. Enough observation. I am decided. It is time to communicate.

Back at HQ, M.O.D. “Woah! I do believe that there is actually something on my screen! Oh my Creator! Ida! Ida!” “I know Alex! There’s a huge life form on the radar: it’s moving extremely quickly towards the outskirts of Rodan, almost gliding across the surface. Grab Albert, Declan, Kate and Khali to intercept and investigate. Arm yourselves appropriately. Now’s the time to put all that training into action!” “Understood. Let’s move, team.” I’m excited, buzzing in fact. It’s a weird feeling, one I haven’t experienced in some time. And it will sure make my call with Thomas later much more interesting. On the surface: As I near the Objects, I see some of Them bouncing tentatively towards me. I must allay their fears, though I must confess that I have some of my own. “Greetings! I am Gorgan. I am indigenous. I come in peace.” The humans did not come in peace. “IT’S ROARING! IT’S GOING TO SLAUGHTER US! SHOOT TO KILL!” The M.O.D. fire relentlessly on this mysterious behemoth. It takes a lot of hits until it eventually collapses, screaming and rasping distastefully. “Why would you greet me in this brutal way?” “IT’S STILL ALIVE!” A storm of lead rains down upon it once more: this time there is no chance of survival.

AFTER HOURS NATHAN HAYES 8D The teddy bears had sat grinning at Sammy from the prize stall ever since the Electrastar Arcade had opened several weeks ago. He really wanted one in particular - Eddy Teddy, to be precise - but although his older sister, Jane, promised she would help him win one, they were still a long way off earning the 100 tickets they needed. At the end of a long, unsuccessful day of ticket winning, Sammy was quite upset. He'd seen his friends winning things, but he hadn't. This was probably why Jane managed to persuade her brother to sneak in with her at night to win tickets. When they had enough, they'd return the following day and buy the bear. It was an ingenious idea! What could possibly go wrong? The arcade didn't have the same, exciting atmosphere at 1 o'clock in the morning. The flashing lights that usually flooded the arcade with colours were now emitting a dull, depressing glow. Music, slightly distorted, echoed around the room. After finding the back door unlocked, Jane, accompanied by a worried-looking Sammy, had entered the Electrastar Arcade and started to play video games. They were doing well: 22 tickets on "Whack-a-Random-Object", 49 on "Zombie Beard's Mildly-Entertaining Boat Adventure", and 14 on "Test-O'-Weakness" - they only had 15 more tickets to go! That was around that point when Sammy realised all the bears from the prize stall had disappeared... Of course, Sammy was absolutely distraught, and collapsed to the floor in a flood of tears. "Th-they've all g-g-gone!" he wailed. "Everybody's w-won one except m-me, now! I r-r-r-really wanted one, t-too!" and with that, he rolled over and kicked an arcade machine. Then it was Jane's turn to notice something: a small gap had appeared where the machine had stood before being kicked, and after heaving it to the side, a stone staircase was revealed, which headed down into the dark depths of the unknown. Leaving Sammy crying in the corner of the room, Jane carefully tiptoed down the staircase. After some time, Jane finally reached the foot of the stairs. After quietly colliding with a solid object she guessed was a door, she realised she could no longer hear Sammy's sniffs and wails... she could hear voices. Jane pressed her ear against the wood, and heard a cold voice ring out: "After we rob the banks, we can move on to the next step of the plan." "Eating cookies?" asked a deeper voice.

"No, Billy. We're going to poison those, remember?" replied a third. Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and the door collapsed. Jane fell face-first into a well-lit room full of - wait... is this right? Yes? Ok... Jane fell face-first into a well-lit room full of evil teddy bears from the prize stall. This was it. No escape. Jane was tied up in the corner of the room, bubble-gun-wielding bears marching around her, figuring out what to do with their prisoner. Eddy Teddy was coming towards her... she closed her eyes...

ALIEN FARM DANIYAL ASHRAF 8D From a vantage point on the other side of the universe, what seemed to be an average conversation was taking place. However, it was anything but average. Far from it. It consisted of a burble of languages which to the normal ear, sorry, the normal human ear, did not make the least bit of sense. Where was I? The conversation. Yes, that was it! A chicken sat at the head of the ebony table. It had red eyes and white feathers. This would have been a normal chicken had it not been wearing armour and a tiny helmet. This was not the most absurd creature at the table however; a zebra wearing a pink pinstripe suit and a dinosaur with a top hat and roller skates topped the list. "It has been over 200,000 years since we first began to spy on the humans”, intoned the dinosaur. “They believe that they are intelligent. They believe they have power over our Earth. Yet they do not know the true meaning of power!” The chicken clucked agreement: “They have thwarted our expression for too long. They will be our slaves just like they enslaved us. We will attack and all will be ours. Animals will rule again!" Elsewhere in the galaxy, an earthling named Robert Anderson snored, a fizzy drink and a stack of donuts to either side of him in pride of place. If Bob had been awake rather than nursing his growing pot belly in sleep, he might have realised the imminent threat posed by a fleet of ships approaching Earth on his NASA control panel... My name is Mathew Lee. I am the world's greatest underachiever. However, I excel in one area: my knowledge of aliens. My best friend Carl Williams and I

scan the skies for UFOs once school is out. After a quick hello to my mum, a clamber up the stairs and the slam of a door, we reach my observation control deck! The walls are covered with newspaper clippings and the posters of societies dedicated entirely to finding intelligent life. As the scanners whirred into life, more red dots filled the radar screen than I had ever seen before! "Sir, two beings have discovered our presence”, a rhino with muscles on muscles reported fearfully to the Commander Chicken. "It seems like the offspring of the earthlings may have some sense unlike their parents. Perhaps they’re worth saving?" A small wing momentarily rested on the head of the rhino, this caused the tough-hided beast to disintegrate instantly. An evil cluck rang out via the ship’s tannoy: "Let the attack on Earth begin!" Suggested related reading:

UPCOMING PHOTOGRAPHY AND CREATIVE WRITING PROJECT

JOURNEY: PHOTOMONTAGE AND STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS Details of how to participate in this project will appear in Notices in the Summer Term, with resulting student work appearing in our next edition.

KID Batman, big shot, when you gave the order to grow up, then let me loose to wander leeward, freely through the wild blue yonder as you liked to say, or ditched me, rather, in the gutter ... well, I turned the corner. Now I've scotched that 'he was like a father to me' rumour, sacked it, blown the cover on that 'he was like an elder brother' story, let the cat out on that caper with the married woman, how you took her downtown on expenses in the motor. Holy robin-redbreast-nest-egg-shocker! Holy roll-me-over-in the-clover, I'm not playing ball boy any longer Batman, now I've doffed that off-the-shoulder Sherwood-Forest-green and scarlet number for a pair of jeans and crew-neck jumper; now I'm taller, harder, stronger, older. Batman, it makes a marvellous picture: you without a shadow, stewing over chicken giblets in the pressure cooker, next to nothing in the walk-in larder punching the palm of your hand all winter, you baby, now I'm the real boy wonder. Simon Armitage from the collection Kid (1992, Faber & Faber)

SIMON ARMITAGE TALKS CLASSICS AND CONTEXT

A poetry reading and talk from Simon Armitage in February had the McKellen Studio Theatre packed full, with an excited audience hanging on the poet’s every word. Sixth Form students of English Language and Literature were invited to attend this special event, as were boys in Years 10 and 11 identified as Able, Gifted and Talented in English, and those studying the complement of subjects delivered by the Classics Department at GCSE and Advanced Level. Mr Armitage began with a number of poetry readings, which he framed with anecdotes about how he came to write each particular piece. He began with the ballad-like ‘Song of the West Men’, about the ordeals of a fisherman, before moving on to ‘Kid’ – a poem from the point of view of Batman’s Robin, written about DC Comics’s decision to scrap the character. This was particularly interesting, as Mr Armitage took the time to explain that it is not just about the specific instance of a comic-book sidekick moving on, but more generally it is also about the anxiety and thrill of flying the nest. He also talked about how this was a very personal poem for him.

He went on to talk about his radio adaptation of the Odyssey for the BBC, and the difficulties he faced in creating his version, Homer’s Odyssey. He read an extract titled ‘Then all the men came and added their weight’, which is about Odysseus’s victory over the Cyclops. He also discussed The Last Days of Troy, his stage play adaptation of the end of the Iliad which was originally commissioned for the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester that then went on to be performed at Shakespeare’s Globe. This again posed challenges, not least because Homer’s version of the story does not provide an ending, and he had to call on Virgil to complete the tale. Although much of the adaptation is written as dialogue, he described how particular moments, such as prayers or particularly poignant monologues, are elevated into poetry. He read out one such moment: the dead Patroclus returning to visit Achilles one final time as a ghost. This was a particularly moving moment which held the audience rapt.

The final poem of the reading was ‘The English Astronaut’, and continued the theme of “failed heroics” that came up in The Last Days of Troy. Again Mr Armitage gave some context to the piece, saying that he is very interested in the things that England does badly that other countries seem to do well – in this instance space travel. Like ‘Kid’, this wryly humorous piece got the boys chuckling as they listened. The boys were also treated to a “world premiere” reading of a poem he wrote about crossing waters and being left in the lurch, which he started to compose when he was walking the south-west coast near Hale in Cornwall. The story of how the poem came about gave a unique insight into Mr Armitage’s writing process and how he finds inspiration in his life. This was a subject he returned to in the question and answer session. The boys also enthusiastically asked questions about his work, some referencing particular poems they had read. He was asked about the earring in ‘My father thought bloody queer’ – which he still wears to this day, despite his father’s advice to “take it out and leave it out next year”! One of the boys asked his views on how to keep the Classics relatable, to which he responded that these works deal in human truths and universal truths so they are still relevant. However, he advised that one way to ensure people keep reading the Classics is to keep translating them into modern English, as in thirty years’ time the translations of today will start to sound dated. He also talked about how he came to Classics later in life, and found that these old stories have shaped the way he interprets things since he read them. Following the reading and question and answer session, Mr Armitage led a scriptwriting workshop with a group of twenty-three boys in Years 10 and 11 who are studying Drama. In lessons, these boys are currently working on their own production of Mr Armitage’s The Last Days of Troy and Homer’s Odyssey. Some of them also watched the premiere of The Last Days of Troy at the Royal Exchange Theatre. They have been considering how to adapt epic poetry into dramatic scripts, and so this was a really valuable experience for them. The session was focused on these concepts, and particularly Mr Armitage looked at staging Odysseus’s trip to the world of the dead.

He discussed the problems of dramatizing such a scene with the boys as well as the more general problems with adapting the source material. They talked about the number of characters needed on stage and who would be essential to this scene, as well as the idea of what hell and the dead would physically look like. He then got the boys to take part in a writing exercise, where they imagined themselves as one of the five characters they decided were needed and answered a series of questions from their point of view. The only requirement Mr Armitage gave them was that they write in an interesting way, whether that be dramatically or poetically. There was just enough time for a brief discussion about some of the points raised by the questions before the end of the session. Mr Armitage finally set the boys a final task to complete if they had time later, and asked them to start creating dialogue line by line in groups with each person writing for the particular character they had imagined. This would not create a final script, but would inspire some great moment that might be used in a final version. This workshop gave the boys plenty to think about both in terms of scriptwriting and adaptation, and they gained approaches to writing original script and ideas for improvised scenes from the session.

My party piece: I strike, then from the moment when the matchstick conjures up its light, to when the brightness moves beyond its means, and dies, I say the story of my life - dates and places, torches I carried, a cast of names and faces, those who showed me love, or came close, the changes I made, the lessons I learnt - then somehow still find time to stall and blush before I'm bitten by the flame, and burnt. A warning, though, to anyone nursing an ounce of sadness, anyone alone: don't try this on your own; it's dangerous, madness. Simon Armitage From Book of Matches (1993, Faber and Faber)

TYLER TURNER 12G

BEN LAINE 13I

YEAR 8 REDUCED NOVELS All Year 8 students were set the task of ‘capturing’ the essence of their favourite books in a jar. They could do this in the form of a drawing, sculpture or collection of items that are presented within the container. They then labelled their jars in poetic form. Pupils were asked to think about scientific condensation, reduction or recipes that require lots of ingredients to help with their design process.

JEI MAKINO 8C THIRTEEN

WILL HARDY 8D WONDER

GEORGE BRENNAN 8A THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE

JOSEPH HEXTALL 8F THE FIVE PIP

GEORGE BAXENDALE 8E GEORGE’S MARVELLOUS MEDICINE

VIEW Y8’S WORK IN THE SENIOR LIBRARY AND IN ‘A’ CORRIDOR DISPLAY CABINETS

WRITERS NOW! Senior School boys enjoyed a day absorbed in words and stories during this year’s World Book Day. The morning began with an inspirational opening address to a full assembly from Dr Livi Michael of Manchester Metropolitan University who was accompanied by Iris Feindt, the School’s Writer in Residence, who brought with her fellow authors from the Manchester Writing School. Her talk, focussing on “The Use of Reading and Writing to Establish an Eloquent and Individual Voice”, reminded the audience how we, as humans, have always told stories. Storytelling, she reminded the audience, is an integral part of a teacher’s toolkit and we are all often required to tell our own story – in job interviews and when engaging in new relationships and friendships. She explained how reading is a process of turning words into images and how writing is this process in reverse. Today was not just about being good at English or reading and writing but about having fun! She then introduced the Manchester Writing School authors, who would carry out workshops across the School during the day. All were published writers in either the Crimelines or Timelines anthologies of short stories.

Over lunch, the writers enjoyed two lively debates with the Senior Literary and Debating Society discussing the decision to drop classic American literature texts from the syllabus and the decision to publish the Mockingbird sequel: Go Set a Watchman; and with the Junior Literary and Debating Society where boys and Iris Feindt adopted literary characters and argued passionately why they should not be thrown out of an imaginary hot air balloon. One by one they were removed – Harry Potter, James Bond and Voldemort until the final was fought out by Lannister from Game of Thrones, Willy Wonka and Alex Ryder, with the latter winning out. Having saved the world many times, the audience felt that the young secret agent deserved to be saved himself!

Throughout the day, all year groups engaged with the ten writers who shared their knowledge, experience and top tips with the boys. The group of writers comprised MA students in children’s literature, a writer for LEGO comic, teachers and a management consultant. The workshops focussed on ways into writing and included character questionnaires to flesh out key roles and character reversals and the use of props in helping build the impetus behind plot events. Boys were then challenged to write an outline of a story and to produce openings and key scenarios. Winning and Highly Commended short story submissions resulting from the WBD workshops will be published in next half term’s edition.

Extracts from the Crimelines anthology, devised and edited by Iris Feindt and Livi Michael, follow. The extracts selected are derived from short stories composed by the writers who visited school on World Book Day. The anthology is published by The Manchester Writing School, part of the Department of English at Manchester Metropolitan University. The anthology was a Manchester Children’s Book Festival project and is illustrated by student from MMU’s School of Art. Copies of both the Crimelines and Timelines anthologies are stocked in the School Library.

Dale Hannah

from C S High Illustration: Steph Coathupe

“Pilgrim, I’ve been looking for you.” Mr Dempster tugs at his nostril hair. He looks agitated. Even more than usual. “Me, Sir?” I say, pointing a trembling finger at myself. “What have I done now?” “I need a crime solving, I hear you’re the boy for the job. Solve my dilemma and I’ll see what I can do about your illegal squatting.” He flicks his eyes around the boiler room. The boiler room that’s now my incident room. I can’t believe he found it. Probably Terry, that Site Supervisor. Snitch. He prods a hairy finger under my chin and closes my mouth. “Well? What do you say?” “Where’s the crime scene?” I’m not sure if this is some kind of trap, but what the hell, I’ll do anything to save HQ − the hub of all my operations. I have an in-tray overflowing with cases to solve.

Marion Brown

from The Toughest Dare Illustration: Jennifer Quinn

Her thin fingers clutched at Amy’s arms and tried to push her out of the room. Amy stood her ground and tried to catch hold of her hands. “I need to get you out of here. You’re not safe.” The girl gazed blankly at Amy. As she stood with her small fists clenched, with dark circles under her eyes, the girl looked more like an old woman than a child. Amy could see bruises on her thin arms. Her stomach lurched and bile rose in her throat. No one should be treated like this. Amy took a firm hold of the girl’s hands and tried to conjure up her most confident smile.

Matt Killeen

from Crimes & Punishment Illustration: Dan Garrity

His voice was a basso rumble and his shoulders were broad, blocking out the marble sky. “You see, those I’m sent to punish are never who you’d think. You’d probably think, murderers right? No, too obvious. Sin comes with pride you see...” “Who then?” “...so there are those paper-thin skinned wrinklies, knees worn bloody on the church floor of a thousand Sundays. They’re surprised when I visit, to say the least.

Marie Basting

from Leave This All Behind Illustration: Phebe Dwyer

I scanned the yard; there was a crate of empty milk bottles in the corner. I pulled it toward the house, picked up a bottle and lobbed it upward. The bottle hit the wall and fell to the ground shattering into a hundred pieces. The next one did the same...and the next. Hands shaking, blood thumping in my ears, I threw bottle after bottle. Until eventually...smash! I finally hit the window pane. Shards of glass rained down on me. But then, when the glass stopped falling, and it was safe to look up again, there she was in the window. Mum.

Kim Hutson

from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Illustration: Renos Kontaris

The bag lay open on the desk, its contents spilling out for the doctors to see. A small teddy bear, a pair of children’s glasses, a red plastic thimble, an empty wallet, a key, a squeaky rubber dog toy in the shape of a bone, some flowers which had disintegrated in the bottom of the bag, and the business card of a taxi company. Dr Whitstable removed his black-rimmed glasses and rubbed his black-rimmed eyes. “But there must be a story,” he said. “She can’t have just appeared out of the sea.” All five heads turned to face the window as they heard the hiss of tyres on the wet road. The sweep of headlights made a shifting grid pattern on the wall.

Livi Michael

from For One Day Only Illustration: Bethany Thompson

And the rope gives. I’m teetering, flinging one arm out and round like a windmill. My foot slips and I’m dangling from the rail. Death never looked so easy. Then something grabs me by the neck. “Up you come, lad,” says Jerry. And he drags me into the basket of the balloon. We sail toward Maggie, who’s dangling from the rope now, and Jerry leans out so far I can’t look, and hauls her in. Then the balloon flies up into the sky with all three of us in the basket, sending off its magnesium flare that’s brighter than the sun. And the crowd goes wild. They think it’s all part of the act!

Alison Padley-Woods

from Honest Al Illustration: Harry Fryer

They were just the messengers, hoping for something to liven up their day. “You know what you’ve done,” said Susie in a whisper. This was a girl I used to call my friend, before all this began. “Do I?” Maybe I sounded a bit self-righteous, but as far as I was concerned I hadn’t done anything except tell the truth and that wasn’t a crime as far as I was aware. So, why was I still feeling guilty? I took my time, slowly unloading my PE kit before closing the metal door and turning the key. I listened to the click of the lock. “Tell her I’ll be out in a minute.” At that, the whole pack swung round in unison and moved off, hurrying back along the corridor.

Katy Simmonds

from Toy War Illustration: K. Butlers

Some kid on my bus has this toy gun. He’s pretending to fire it over the backseat, making gun noises and all. Sam was good at gun noises – better than I ever was, but that’s how it goes when you’re a kid; your big brother is the best. At everything. And you want to be just like him. But then he disappoints you and you wonder how you could be so stupid. The kid with the gun ducks behind the seat away from imagined enemy fire. He takes out a pretend grenade, pulls the pin and lobs it, cramming his fingers into his ears. “Boom!” he cries. He has total control. Then his mum’s tickling him and he’s squealing and wriggling and the two of them do that for a while. Outside, his toy war waits patiently for him to return. I feel like crying. But I look out the window and turn up my music, pretending that when I get home, me and Mum can laugh and pretend Sam never ran away. Only he did. Ten minutes ‘til my stop.

Kat Williams

from A Case to Crack Illustration: Emily Orrock

“Detective, through here. This is where they found him.” I walk under the crime tape, cornering off a large square. Contained within this square is a white tent, which looks like it could have popped up out of a cracker. Tall figures in paper white suits and matching white shower-cap-like-shoes surround the area. Some are looking up into the sky, others toward the blocks of flats while a handful duck in and out of the tent, carrying plastic bags the size of sandwich bags. I push the tent flap open, disappearing from daylight. Only the young officer and me are inside. Spotlights have been set up, heads bent, focusing in one spot, the spot where the body lies splattered on the concrete. And there’s a lot of him. He’s a big guy. Or was, should I say? He’s face down, his porcelain hands either side of his head. Chalky outlines have already been marked on the pavement, creating an odd oblong egg shape. I guess there’s no way to determine what pattern or shape you’ll be when you hit the ground from such a tall block of flats. “What’s on the back of his jacket, Officer? It looks so lumpy and wet? Like...wallpaper paste?” “I’m not sure, Detective. They’ve taken a sample.” I nod, looking away and glancing at the floor. It suddenly feels stiflingly hot and stuffy. “So, what do you think, Detective?” “Hmm?” I answer raising an eyebrow but still studying the bloody gum speckled floor. “Well, do you think Mr Dumpty fell? Or was he pushed, Sir? “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

The Authors

HO YIN NG 12F

BENITO O’LOUGHLIN 13I

РУССИАН ПРОСЕ SUMMER IN FIRENZE Прошлым летом я ездил в Италию из Франции с семьёй на машине чтобы посещать флоренс. Каникулы были замечательные там и мне надо сказать бы, что это было самые хорошие каникулы в жизни. Во время мой пребываний я осматривал много достопримечательности. Я думал, что Юфизи галерея было очень интересный и красивый несмотря на то, что я совсем не люблю искусство. К тому же, я обожал собор раз мне казалось, что это было полный история и тоже архитектура было впечатляющий. Однако, мои любимые аттракционы было площадь в центре флоренс. Как только я садился в большой ресторане напротив банка я реализовал что это было что-нибудь особый повсюду флоренс и особенно этот плошадь. Оглушительный шум туристов, восхитительная обоняние свежеприготовленной еда и также колоссальный возрождение строение и памятники что окружали меня. Это было совершенство. С другой стороны я занимался многие занятиями. Каждый день я играл в теннис в местном спортивно-оздоровительном комплексе с мой папой. Хотя к сожалению это было относительно трудно когда мы играли потому, что погода была всегда очень жаркая и солнце светилая но самый худшой вся было что это было никогда не дул ветер. Я тоже плавал в бассейне в гостинице немногие время и один день я занимался футболом с молодой местные люди. Мне очень понравилось. По прошлой день мы ходили вокруг Боболя парк который мы любили очень. Я хотел бы вернуться в флоренс в будущем когда можно исследовать и делать более в флоренси! Last summer, we travelled to Italy by car. Florence was wonderful: the experience of a lifetime. During the stay we took in many sights. The Uffizi Gallery was interesting, beautiful even. It charmed me into an appreciation of Art. Furthermore, I adored the cathedral; it was full of history and the architecture is spectacular. However, the square in the centre of Florence was the main attraction. As soon as I came to rest at a restaurant on the banks of the Arno, I realised that there was something special about Florence: the sounds of tourism, the delicious

smell of freshly made food and the backdrop of colossal Renaissance buildings and monuments. It was perfection. In addition to this, I played tennis in the summer heat. I played with relative difficulty due to the baking sun and lack of a breeze. We swam and I kicked a football around with locals. On the final day we took in the Boboli Gardens. One day I will return to Florence! CALEB HALL-PATERSON 11C REFELCTIONS ON WAR В этом году весь мир будет отмечать семьдесят лет со Дня Победы в войне с фашистской Германией. Нелегко досталась эта победа. Хотя я очень мало знаю об этих событиях, но книги о войне и рассказы ветеранов хранят память о защитниках своего народа. Мой прадедушка, Соколов Николай, был участником этой войны. Он служил в войсках, которые восстанавливали железные дороги и мосты, разрушенные фашистами. Однажды его группа выполняла задание командования. Необходимо было восстановить мост. Но часть его была заминирована фашистами, и трое товарищей моего прадедушки погибли. Задание было выполнено, а прадедушка и ещё два бойца были награждены медалью "За отвагу". Её до сих пор хранит моя бабушка. Фашисты хотели поработить всю Европу, однако это им не удалось. Ценою жизни миллионов солдат была одержана Победа. Мы должны помнить подвиги победителей. Вечная им память и вечная слава! This year, the whole world will commemorate the anniversary of the day victory was established in the war against Nazi Germany. Is was not easy to achieve this victory. Although I know very little about these events first hand, books about war and veterans' tales keep to the stories and memories of valiant defenders alive. My great-grandfather, Nikolai Sokolov, was a participant in that war. He served on an army team, which restored the railways and bridges destroyed by the Nazis. Once, his group performed a very terrifying task. A bridge had to be rebuilt. Part of it was mined by the Nazis and as a result, three companions of my great-grandfather died. The job was done, and my great-grandfather and

another two soldiers were awarded the Medal "for courage". This medal is still preserved carefully by my grandmother. The Nazis wanted to enslave all of Europe, but they failed. At the expense of the lives of millions of soldiers, the Nazis were defeated. We must remember the heroics of the winners. Eternal memory and eternal glory! ROMAN SLUSARENKO 10E Мужчина и его дочь Первое февраля 1917, дорогой дневник, меня зовут Боб, я живу в Санкт Петербурге в России. Сегодня цар Николаи второй уезжает из России. Моя дочь и я гордимся нашей страны. Двадцать первое октября 1917: Россия, страна другая сейчас. Лидеры так хороши но это также опасное место. Тринадцатое декабря 1917: Соня, моя дочь сейчас ходить в школу на автобусе. Всё нормально снова. Третье января 1918: ой дорогие! Некоторые преступники взяли мою дочери. Мой соседи говорят, что преступники живут в Сибири. Я поеду в Сибирь чтобы спасти свою дочери. Одиннадцатое апреля 1918: я приезжаю в убежище но никого нет там. Местные жители говорят, что группа сейчас Китае, к сожалению, Российская армия уже било в сих убили доже заключённый и мою дочери я очень расстроен. Двадцать первое ноября 1918: я вернулся в Россию без дочери мне очень плохо. Также моя страна отличается. Я не знаю если жизнь будет тa же самая снова. A MAN AND HIS DAUGHTER 1st February 1917 Dear Diary, I live in St Petersburg in Russia. Today Tsar Nicholas the second has left Russia. My daughter and I were proud of our country. 21st of October 1917: Russia is another country now. Our leaders are good but it is also dangerous.

13th of December 1917: Sonia, my daughter now goes to school by bus. All seems normal again. 3rd of January 1918: Criminals took my daughter. My neighbour says that the criminals live in Siberia; I will go there to save my daughter. 11th April 1918: I have arrived at the shelter but one of the locals says the group is now in China. The Russian army has beaten me, killed all the prisoners and my daughter. 21st November 1918: My country is so different. I don't know if life will ever be the same again.

MATTHEW SCHAFFEL 9D

POÉSIE FRANÇAISE This edition’s work is inspired by Jacques Prévert. DÉJEUNER DU MATIN Jacques Prévert Il a mis le café Dans la tasse Il a mis le lait Dans la tasse de café Il a mis le sucre Dans le café au lait Avec la petite cuiller Il a tourné Il a bu le café au lait Et il a reposé la tasse Sans me parler Il a allumé Une cigarette Il a fait des ronds Avec la fumée Il a mis les cendres Dans le cendrier Sans me parler Sans me regarder Il s'est levé Il a mis Son chapeau sur sa tête Il a mis son manteau de pluie Parce qu'il pleuvait Et il est parti Sous la pluie Sans une parole Sans me regarder Et moi j'ai pris Ma tête dans ma main Et j'ai pleuré.

BREAKFAST He poured the coffee Into the cup He put the milk Into the cup of coffee He put the sugar Into the coffee with milk With a small spoon He stirred He drank the coffee And he put down the cup Without speaking to me He lit A cigarette He made circles With the smoke He shook off the ash Into the ashtray Without speaking to me Without looking at me He got up He put A hat on his head He put on A raincoat Because it was raining And he left In the rain Without a word Without looking at me And I buried My face in my hands And I cried.

L’ESCALADE ROHAN RAJA 10C Il a gravi la montagne Il s’est arrêté dans la caverne Il a dormi Tout était calme Il a mangé un sandwich Il a recommencé l’ascension Il a saisi l’épée Il s’est battu Un autre homme Il avait une épée Le héros a été poignardé L’homme a parlé dans une langue étrange Du sang a coulé de sa bouche.

LE CHIEN DANS LA FORÊT CHARLES HOWE 10A Elle est allée dans le bois. Il y avait une chouette sombre qui reposait sur une branche d’un arbre. La chouette s’est envolée Elle a regardé devant elle Il y avait un chien sur le chemin. Le vieux gros chien avait une fourrure jaune foncé avec de sales pattes noires. Elle avait peur. Elle en est restée pétrifiée. Quand le chien est retourné Il a montré ses dents cassées. La jeune fille avait très peur des dents. Quand elle est partie des arbres Le chien a disparu. La jeune fille a pu s’enfuir.

UNE ERREUR JOE DYKINS 10F J’ai traversé la route Sans regarder Le conducteur a continué Sans regarder J’ai laissé tomber mon téléphone Sans regarder Je l’ai ramassé Sans regarder Le conducteur m’a renversé Il était trop tard.

L’AIGLE AU BORD DE LA FALAISE SAM CROSTON 10D Ils étaient sur la falaise A la montagne Ils ont regardé vers le haut Les nuages étaient blancs Le ciel était gris L’aigle a attaqué les mouettes Une mouette est morte Ils ont regardé au-dessous Le sang a fait la mer tourner rouge Le vent était fort Le pollen s’est propagé autour de la falaise Ils ont regardé la mer L’aigle a dépecé le poisson Il a craché les os Ils ont levé les yeux L’aigle est allé vers le soleil Comme sa nourriture n’était plus là.

LE ZOO JAY BROMILOW 10F Je marchais à travers le zoo Je me suis arrêté devant la cage des lions J’ai regardé les lions qui dormaient Je me suis ennuyé alors je suis parti J’ai passé devant Sans les regarder La maison des chauves-souris J’ai arrêté aux singes car ils sont Mes animaux préférés Je déteste les araignées Donc je les ai passées devant Aussi elles sont paresseuses Et par conséquent ennuyeuses Au cafe, j’ai mangé un steak-frites J’ai continué à marcher Pour voir les serpents Je me suis enfui Pétrifié!

JACQUES PRÉVERT: a French poet and screenwriter. His poems are very popular in the French-speaking world. His Les Enfants du Paradis is considered one of the greatest films of all time. Prévert was active in the Surrealist movement and together with the writer Raymond Queneau and artist Marcel Duchamp, he was a member of the Rue du Château group.

AWARD WINNING AUTHORS NOW!

This time of year seems to be the season for awards – the Baftas and the Oscars in the world of film, and the Costa Award is the most current in the literary world. With this in mind, the theme for the reviews below is “Award winning books”. All of the titles listed have been recently shortlisted for prizes or are winning books. More importantly, they are all highly original works and are all available to borrow from the Senior Library.

Kevin Brooks – The Bunker Diaries (YA section) Kevin Brooks is not an author to shy away from controversy, and the Bunker Diaries has stimulated a great deal of debate about what is suitable reading for teenagers. Voted as the winner of the Carnegie Medal 2014, it was described by critics as ‘a vile and dangerous story’ and ‘a uniquely sickening read.’ In its defence, the Carnegie judges commented that it was a ‘compelling narrative’ and ‘writing of outstanding literary merit.’

In the novel, the central character Linus wakes to find himself imprisoned in a concrete bunker. He has no idea why he is being held captive, the only contact with his captor is via the lift, which is sent down at set times with food in it. Then one day, the lift arrives unexpectedly – and inside is another person. This is a gripping page turner, well told and with credible characters. Not for the faint hearted admittedly, but vile and dangerous? You decide.

Nathan Filer – The Shock of the Fall This is a first novel which attracted much praise, winning both the Costa First Novel and the overall prize for 2014. The Shock of the Fall describes the 19 year old central character’s experiences of the mental health system. Diagnosed as a schizophrenic, he writes as a therapy. The story is fragmented, jumping about at times, as events from Matt’s life, including the death of his brother, are described. The writing is compelling, believable and also very funny in places. Nathan Filer is a psychiatric nurse and has clearly drawn on his experiences in the writing of this novel.

Anthony Horowitz – Moriarty The author who brought us the latest memoir from Doctor Watson (The House of Silk) takes us back to that fateful day at the top of those infamous Falls and reveals what really happened during the ensuing weeks in Moriarty. The demise of the world’s most famous consulting detective and his arch-rival has left a power vacuum which the American underworld is attempting to exploit. Without Holmes, it is left to the detectives of Scotland Yard, in collaboration with the Pickerton detective agency, to prevent them from building on Moriarty’s criminal empire. The game is afoot once more. There are many twists and turns, with plenty of hat tips to the works of Conan Doyle along the way. The attention to detail is admirable and Sherlock purists will enjoy how much of Holmes’ world Horowitz has been able to incorporate. Moriarty will also appeal to those newer to the Sherlock story, offering a flavour of the world he lived in and a gateway to try Conan Doyle’s original stories.

Patrick Ness – More Than This (YA section) Ness – twice Carnegie winner for Monsters of Men and A Monster Calls – has the reader gripped from the first sentence of his latest novel. “Here is the boy, drowning.” The boys last moments are described as he struggles against the tide, until the current throws him against the rocks and he dies. Then he awakes – but where exactly is he? Is this strange, post-apocalyptic version of his childhood suburban home, deserted and covered in a layer of thick dust a bizarre version of hell? During his search for answers, he meets two other survivors and discovers that he, like them, is in danger, pursued by a giant sinister figure they call ‘The Driver.’ This chilling dystopian novel will keep you gripped until the final page.

Claire North – The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August Harry August is a Kalachakra, meaning that every time he dies, he is reborn in

the same time and place to relive his life again. As he lies dying in his eleventh

life, a child appears at his bedside and asks him to send a message back in time

– that the world will soon end. So begins an incredible novel which jumps back

and forth in time, making the reader wonder what they would do, if they could

live their lives again, with the chance to make different choices.

There is much more to this novel than merely time travel – during his lives, Harry

encounters several adversaries. The most enduring is his nemesis, Vincent

Perkis. First encountered as an ambitious student whilst Harry is a professor at

Cambridge, he develops into an insidious madman, intent on changing the

course of history. Set against the backdrop of twentieth century Europe and a

Russian research station during the Cold War, Harry struggles (and often fails)

to stop him.

This is a highly original and engrossing read.

Marcus Sedgewick – The Ghosts of Heaven (YA section) This is a truly captivating book. Impossible to categorise, it takes four separate tales and weaves them into one gripping narrative. The four stories of madness, obsession and humankind’s desire to search for answers, range from Prehistoric times through to the witch hunts of the sixteenth century, a Victorian asylum and a futuristic journey into space. The four stories can be read in any order, giving a possible 24 permutations. Linking them all is the image of the spiral, found in nature, art and architecture. This is a triumph of writing, which has been nominated for both the Costa and the Young Adult Book Awards for 2015.

NEW NON-FICTION AND BIOGRAPHY NOW! Reading biographies is a feature of the Lower School Reading Certificate Scheme. Here are some of our recent additions to the Library:

Helen Macdonald – H is for Hawk

Described as “a soaring triumph”, this book was a surprise bestseller over Christmas and had already won the 2014 Samuel Johnson Prize before it was voted overall winner of the 2015 Costa Prize. H is for Hawk tells the story of Cambridge Historian Helen Macdonald who as a child was determined to become a falconer. Following the sudden death of her father, she decided to follow this ambition by buying a hawk and setting about training it. The book describes the spiritual journey of the author coming to terms with her grief whilst training this most feral of creatures. Helen Macdonald was recently featured on Countryfile talking about her experiences with training birds of prey.

The Gandy Brothers – Tsunami Kids

Aged between eight and seventeen, the four Gandy children were orphaned in the Boxing Day Tsunami of 2004. They made a 200km trek across Sri Lanka to try and find out what had happened to their parents. The children were accustomed to travelling, as they had spent four years living in India with their parents who were working for a charity. Almost ten years later, the two oldest boys, who continued to travel in India and South East Asia, decided to set up a business that helps people living in affected countries by dedicating a percentage of their profits to a charitable organisation. Gandy’s Flip Flops was born, becoming a multinational company alongside the charitable foundation Orphans for Orphans. This is the story of their experiences, their move into business and the people they are helping. http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/547903/Gandy-s-flip-flops-brothers-orphaned-Boxing-Day-tsunami-children-s-home

SPORT BIOGRAPHIES

Jonny Wilkinson – Jonny: My Way

A brutally honest account of one of the most successful and complex athletes ever to play Rugby.

Kevin Petersen – KP: The Autobiography The fascinating life story of professional cricketer Kevin Pietersen, MBE, from his childhood in South Africa to his recent experiences as one of the leading lights in the world of international cricket.

Sachin Tendulkar and Boria Majumder Playing It My Way: My Autobiography

Sachin Tendulkar tells his own remarkable story - from his first Test cap at the age of 16 to his 100th international century and the emotional final farewell that brought his country to a standstill.

PUPIL RECOMMENDATIONS AND FEEDBACK

The Library is always interested to hear about what books boys are reading and enjoying and to receive recommendations for stock. We have recently bought the first two books in a crime series by Eva Hudson: Fresh Doubt and Kill Plain, about a London based FBI agent investigating a series of murders. These books were recommended to the Library by a student in year 9. We are hoping that some of the boys involved in the recent Crimelines writing workshops will be inspired to read the anthologies which are now available in the library. We have two library blogs: http://library.boltonschool.me/ for general updates about the library and http://fictionaward.boltonschool.me/ for our book award. Pupils are encouraged to comment on both about books and reading.

CONTRIBUTING STAFF Mrs Howarth and the Library team, Miss Lord, Miss McCann, Mrs Ryder, Miss Sullivan and Mr Wyatt. To contribute to future issues: please send creative work or project ideas to nrl@boltonschool.org. Entries and ideas from both staff and students most welcome!