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DRAGONFLY DI GEST

Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I

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Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,

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Contents P. 4 Editor’s Message Sho Giersztein F3A

P. 5 Ink Cloe Cheung F3A

P. 5 Red Tears Crystal Tong F3B

P. 5 The Pursuit of Love Madeleine Lui F1A

P. 6 Silver Jasmine Wong F2B

P. 6 Artist Alexandra Hayden P6A

P. 6 Disappearance Elissa Zhu F1A

P. 7 Crying Woman Farah Daveau P6B

P. 7 The Carnival Christy Chu F3A

P. 7 Guardian Janhavi Modak F2B

P. 7 Creature Georgina Yeo F2A

P. 7 Self Portrait Rey Koizumi F4A

P. 8 Her Mr Ian Clayton

P. 8 Abstract Aalia Ashraf F1A

P. 8 The Moon Charlotte Van der List F1B

P. 8 The Cheetah Louis Campion P6B

P. 8 Dead End Alexander Chen F1B

P. 9 Ballerina Aalia Ashraf F1A

P. 9 Capitalization Jessica Lui F1B

P. 9 The Flash Robyn Collins F3A

P. 10 Poetry Hides Charlotte Van der List F1B

P. 10 Amnesia Aalia Ashraf F1A

P. 10 The Witch Ethan Bensadoun F2B

P. 10 Little Girl Molly Newell P6B

P. 11 These Young Hands Freya Seex P6B

P. 11 Sunset Adrian Chan F1B

P. 11 Self Portrait Eden Bensadoun F4B

P. 11 Should Students Have Compulsory

Homework?

Timothy Kan P6B

P. 12 Perspective Amelie Gautier F1A

P. 12 Summer Clothes In A Snowstorm Amelie Gautier & Elissa Zhu F1A

P. 12 浓浓父子情 Kylie Tin F5B

P. 13 Tower Irvin Chau F4B

P. 13 These Tiny Hands Gabriella Deegan P6B

P. 13 The Tree Gabriella Dickinson F1B

P. 13 It’s A Pirate Life For Me Sebastian Dickie P6B

P. 13 Naughty George Zoe Bruwer F2A

P. 13 Butterflies! Reem Thakur P6B

P. 13 On Fire Jasper Plowman F3B

P. 15 Griffin Georgina Yeo F2A

P. 15 Mythical Creature Emilie Parlett F2B

P. 15 Robot Sharon Chu F1B

P. 16 A Scared Treasure Marianne Kuhl F1A

P. 16 Barney’s Bike Ride Lachlan Peters F1A

P. 17 The Chrysalids Essay Aarmann Mohan F3A

P. 18 Bunny Transformation Caoihme Clearly F3A

P. 18 Pleb Transformation Thomas Brookes F3A

P. 18 Out of Focus Crystal Tong F3B

P. 18 Landscape Kimberly Chong F3A



Editor’s Message

Dear Readers,

Welcome to our sixth volume of the Dragonfly Digest. This literary magazine consists of prose, verse, and divine

works of art from our skilled students of French International School. It includes work from Primary 6 to Form 4.

They are the products of our passion for literature and art and we hope you enjoy reading all of the works within this

magazine.

For the editors, this edition was a true experience for the whole Dragonfly Digest team. I am certain we enjoyed every

second of it. Furthermore, our Dragonfly Digest team has taken a big and exciting step forward, as it is the first time

that the Dragonfly Digest included works from the Primary school, created a website and used Dropbox to download

and edit works sent to us. These were our three main goals for this edition of Dragonfly Digest, with the guidance of

Mr Bogart and the effort of our team, our goals were successful and became a reality.

Overall, this was an authentic learning experience and every Dragonfly worked very hard to produce this magazine. I

hope that our patience and dedication of our efforts are evident within this edition.

Thank you to all the editors and most of all, thank you to Mr Bogart, who guided us in creating this unique magazine.

We would like to especially acknowledge him for his guidance.

Readers; dig in and enjoy our collection of the most marvellous literature and artwork that FIS has to offer in 2015!

Yours Sincerely,

Sho Giersztein

• Sho Giersztein F3A, Editor in Chief and Verse.

• Cloe Cheung F3A, Editor of Prose.

• Kayleigh Bogart F2A, Deputy Editor of Prose.

• Agnes Shu F2A, Deputy Editor of Prose

• Sasha Denham F2A, Deputy Editor of Verse.

• Jasmine Wong F2B, Editor of Art

• Mr Jason Bogart, Staff Editor

Front Cover Artwork: Marta Huneeus P6B

Back Cover Artwork: Katherine Cheung F3B

Website: http://dragonflydigest.weebly.com

All prose, verse and artwork are written, created and designed by French International School (HK)

students and are not to be used without permission. All Rights Reserved.



Ink

Cloe Cheung F3A

Deep down in the bleak, unforgiving night,

A small sudden sniffle, a young girl’s cry.

Wishing for a vivid dream to take flight,

Instead of nightmares that grip as time ticks by.

Creeping shadows snake along wilting walls,

Trees scratch numbly against the windowpane,

Silence and secrets flood the lonely halls,

The stifling darkness will drive her insane.

She hopes to disappear into the light,

But from the infinite pit crawls the beast.

A monster that she surely could not fight,

She would have to brave her fears first, at least.

Ink trickles, she closes her wary eyes,

As the last drop of light shrivels and dies.

Artwork by Crystal Tong F3B

The Pursuit of Love

Madeline Lui F1A

It was a bitter cold December night. The wind

was howling and snowflakes were falling rapidly. A

barren tree stood alone, swaying as the wind blew

through what was left of the thin branch. Yet no-one

noticed the cold. The warm fire, frolic music and cozy

persian rugs of the ballroom in Harvewood House

segregated the guests away from the frigid air.

Antonio watched the violinist playing soft

pizzicatos and nodded to his guests. He smiled politely

as a Mrs Harrington introduced him to her daughters.

The young maidens studied Antonio, who was listening

without much interest.

Antonio turned around as a bleak gust of wind

gushed in the flown open French windows. “…they are

rather fine young maidens, Mr Hurst, this is my eldest,

Jane…” Antonio nodded along, glancing briefly at Jane.

He clasped his clammy hands, wondering what to do

about dear old Mrs Harrington.

Antonio searched the room, and his eyes

landed on a beautiful young maiden, who does not,

in any possible way, have the slightest bit of

resemblance with Mrs Harrington and her daughters.

She was standing near the opened French windows,

strangely unaware of the cold. She looked around

with a lost look on her face. Her eyes met his, and

she held her gaze for a few seconds. The maiden’s

beauty infatuated Antonio.

Antonio was determined to make her

acquaintance. He excused himself and walked with

much gentlemen air towards the lady.

“Good evening,” the young maiden curtsied.

Antonio bowed and returned her greeting.

“Antonio Hurst,” he introduced himself.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance.” Antonio

smiled warmly and extended his hand. He asked if

she would care to have the next dance with him, and

she nodded.

They stood opposite to each other and

waited for the music to start. After a while, they

were laughing together like old friends. Antonio was

deeply in love with the maiden. He made a few

attempts of asking the lady her name, but failed.

They were in mid-conversation when the big

grandfather clock struck 12. It was midnight. The

mysterious maiden gasped, and without warning, ran

away and disappeared into the crowd. Antonio put

down his glass and raced after the lady, calling out

to her, and felt desperate, since he was unable to

address the maiden with her name.

Antonio flung opened the doors, and ran out.

Despite the raging wind and snow that lunged at him,

he did not give up. He caught sight of the mysterious

lady’s red gown on a hill of red and white roses in

the distance. Antonio called out in despair, but heard

nothing but his echoes and the roaring sound of the

snow storm. He ran up the hill of roses in search of

his love but in vain. Feeling disheartened, he

shambled along the way. She was gone.

Back in the house, Antonio asked his friend

Fitzwilliam if he had ever heard of the mysterious

maiden he has just met, and described her

countenance to him. Fitzwilliam was astounded. Her

name was Isabella, Fitzwilliam told Antonio, and

she was his brother’s, Charles’, fiancée five years

ago. Poor Isabella had drowned herself in a river

because she could not stand marrying a man that she

did not love. They have been engaged since their

infancy.

Antonio listened with all ears, his heart

filled with sorrow and grief; he was in love with a

ghost — someone like ethereal that he could not

touch.



Antonio watched as Fitzwilliam screwed up his

portrait of a young lady and threw it on the floor behind

him. And he knew how the paper and portrait felt;

churned up and wasted. Just like Antonio himself.

Artwork by Jasmine Wong F2B

Artist

Alexandra Hayden P6A

An artist is who I aspire,

flickering movements and finesse,

a burning passion like fire,

sketchy strokes as well as skill.

To fulfil my dream,

I must impress,

eager and able to redeem,

is the ultimate key to success.

When I have achieved my goal,

everything will be at peace,

including my heart and soul.

Artwork by Jessica Lui F1A

Disappearance

Elissa Zhu F1A

It was 1969, in France and two newlyweds

called Simon and Genevieve had decided to move

to the countryside to start a new life. They bought a

new house on a hill in the countryside and started

arranging their furniture. They noticed that there

was a lot of dust, like the house was uninhabited for

a long time. The first night in their new house, they

heard creaks in the house, like something was

running in the walls. They thought this was normal

because the house was on top of a hill and it was

natural to have wind on a hill. The next day, while

Genevieve was doing the laundry, she heard the

creaking sounds again, but there was no wind.

Suddenly, the laundry she was washing started

going up and down, and sounds of deep breathing

resounded in the room. Terrified, Genevieve went

to find Simon, but when he came to investigate, he

found nothing. When Simon came back to the room

where he was arranging objects on the mantelpiece,

he saw that some of the things have been moved

from where he put them. He went to see Genevieve

and asked her, “Genevieve, did you move the

things I put on the mantelpiece?”

“No, why?” she asked. The couple started

to get agitated now, but as night was closing in,

they had to stay in the house the night.

That night, they heard the scuttling in the

walls again and they felt icy fear grip their heats.

Suddenly, they heard a door creak open and slam

with such force that the whole house shook. Both

Simon and Genevieve put on their dressing gowns

and went down the stairs, slowly, to see what made

the sound. The further they went down, the colder it

got, until their hands and feet grew completely

numb. All of a sudden, they saw and felt

something, they felt something envelope them

completely, and they realized why the house seem

uninhabited when they moved in.

The deliveryman knocked on the door

“Hello? Is anyone there? There has been a package

for you and it was here for three days already!” The

deliveryman cried. On the last knock, the door

slowly opened, and the deliveryman realized that

there was no one. The house was completely

deserted, yet all the furniture was in place “Oh, no,

please no, please, no not again, please no, not

again!”

That same day, the villagers decided to

destroy the house in which Simon and Genevieve

lived in. They demolished the house and built a

garden full of birds of paradise and tulips to

remember the latest and last victims of the house.



Artwork by Farah Deveau P6B

The Carnival

Christy Chu F3A

The sky is alight with carnival light,

A Ferris wheel spinning in slow neon arcs.

Smells of popcorn and candy fill the night,

A gem of life in the forbidding dark.

A lively merry-go-round twirls with grace,

As its passengers grin with happiness.

Ominous clowns with a mask over their face,

A sign of their on-setting craziness.

All of a sudden, the Ferris wheel creaks,

The cheery laughter comes to a sudden stop.

Everyone’s heads turns to the very peak,

As the Ferris wheel collapsed with a pop.

In the midst of the screeching, screaming, din,

I stand under the collapsed wheel and grin.

Artwork by Janhavi Modak F2B

Creature

Georgina Yeo F2A

There is a creature that lurks in the dark,

With spindly fingers,

And teeth like a shark,

Its furry coat covered with cinders,

And its toes coiled and round.

Its hair is greasy like blackened brew,

It feasts on your deepest fears,

And with its ghastly roars saliva will spew,

Its shrieks will echo through your ears,

And its ghostly red eyes piercing you.

Its head is pointed with spikes and two horns,

Its mouth a gaping hole,

Its body concealed with sharp thorns,

Its arms are as black as coal,

And its body is humungous and stretched.

This creature is hidden where no one will look,

It crawls and moves where no one can see,

This creature has never been recorded in a book,

And this creature is lurking right behind me…

Artwork by Rey Koizumi F4A



Her (Extract)

Mr Ian Clayton

A young couple, with granddad in tow had set

off with their young baby and dog to go ice fishing.

They had cut a hole in the ice and had fun playing

around. As ever these days they had filmed their

exploits, with the view, no doubt of informing the

world via social media of the fun they had that day.

Then the unthinkable happened. The baby who must

have been around a year old had been drunkenly

tottering around far from the hole, suddenly slipped

and slid head first into the frozen lake through the ice

hole. The parents had turned their backs for only a split

second. The baby was immediately and completely

submerged in the icy grip of the freezing waters. This

was all captured on video. There was screaming and a

moment of sheer and total panic. The distressed voices

of the parents could be heard some bleeps obscured the

profanity. The camera shots became wobbly and

indistinct. Then the real of point the story became

clear. The dog, the breed of which it was not easy to

ascertain, leapt into the water and disappeared for what

seemed like an age. As she watched, transfixed she

could feel her heart rate soar for the first time since it

had happened. She could almost feel the shock of the

icy water as if it was playing out on her body. Then

from the TV screen with a muffled yelp the dog was

seen holding the baby by its clothes, then dropped the

soaking package on the ice and stood there triumphant

with its gaping, panting mouth. The parents hauled the

dog and the baby ashore. The baby was struggling for

breath, obviously freezing and coughing, but other than

that did not look too awful considering its ordeal. The

dog just sat at the side of the hole shaking. The parents

embraced the baby and the dog. The whole thing could

not have lasted more than about 30 seconds on camera.

Artwork by Aalia Ashraf F1A

The Moon

Charlotte Van der List F1B

The Moon

Is a glistening stone

Too bright

To look at.

But when comes day

It will retreat,

And melt into the shadows

Or reflect in a puddle.

Where a foot

Will make it ripple.

And eventually

Fade away.

The Cheetah

Louis Campion P6B

It is fast,

With its beautiful skin,

Looking for food,

With its sharp teeth,

It found a gazelle,

And gobbled it up,

In the boiling desert,

A flock of cheetahs,

Come in to help,

Gobble the gazelle up,

It was getting dark,

So they sprinted home,

And they will hunt,

Again at dawn.

Dead End

Alexander Chen F1B

It was early morning when Alfred Randall

was giving the McAdam New Brunswick train

station a revisit- it wasn’t exactly the same

anymore, now owned by ‘Crown Corporations’.

Walking through the familiar halls, he ended up in

the platform that held awful memories. Looking

around, he realized that without the tour posts,

everything was almost exactly the same as the last

time he saw this platform. That was the time when

clouds started to grow dark, but Alfred didn’t even

notice.

All of a sudden, the wind started to blow,

and the rain started to fall, and thunder cracked.

Alfred felt like he was experiencing déjà-vu. He

ran for cover, and hid in a small washroom. As



Alfred tried to close the door, a sudden gust of wind

broke the door out of its hinges. When he looked in

the mirror, he saw a ghastly translucent green train

arrive, and on the train were hundreds of people staring

at him. Some had broken limbs and some were

bleeding. The train number was DE-350. It was the

train he crashed 50 years ago.

Alfred remembered the day he crashed that

train, and he was the only survivor. Alfred was a

young conductor at the time, about 18 as he

remembered, and was quite inexperienced. He had a

coach next to him when he was driving, but he was

very irresponsible.

“Just do it, I don’t care,” Alfred remembered

his coach saying most of the time.

And one day, his coach even fell asleep.

That’s when his coach went too far. Alfred was

driving the train to fast, and when he came to a corner

that led to a bridge, the train drove right off its tracks

and it plummeted down the cliff. The train crashed.

Now Alfred was trapped, with all of the ghost

passengers were moaning and shouting his name.

“Come with us! Come with us!”

They started slowly stumbling to him, and as

they got closer, Alfred had no chance to escape. One of

the ghosts grabbed him by the arm, and another kicked

him in the shin. Alfred struggled vigorously, but it was

no use. It was a dead end. The ghosts carried him into

the ghost train and the train drove off with a whistle

into eternity.

Artwork by Aalia Ashraf F1A

Artwork by

Robyn Collins F3A

Capitalization

Jessica Lui F1B

Who invented capitalization?

Surely a mean person.

Why should first letters get to be tall and strong?

How unfair to those in the middle.

At least last letters get full stops to talk to.

mAyBE somETHing Li.ke THIS WoUld bE niCe



Poetry Hides

Charlotte Van der List F1B

Poetry hides in the far end of your imagination,

Poetry hides in your fingertips or in your hands,

Poetry hides in a newly built maze,

Poetry hides in a state of mind hard to reach,

Poetry hides with the wonders of the world,

Poetry hides inside of your soul, waiting

Waiting to be summoned, for an adventure.

Poetry hides in heaven, guarded by hell.

Poetry hides in a forest of life.

Poetry hides in a volcano, kept by water.

Poetry hides within peace.

Poetry hides, you find, you imagine, you create.

And if poetry takes a while to track down keep trying

because once you get it,

You will find it is the most rewarding thing to achieve.

Amnesia

Aalia Ashraf F1A

Alex sighed as he drove his taxi past old

tarnished houses waiting to pick up a passenger, when

he finally spotted a small queue of people waiting. He

pulled in, on the side of the pavement as he picked up a

passenger and drove off.

As Alex steered around the curb of the

pavement, out of nowhere another vehicle raced

towards him turbulently as the two cars collided. The

front of the taxi crumpled like paper and the side

passenger door was torn from its hinges, shattered on

the floor. The two cars lay there in tangled mess, an

oily smell lingered in the air from the thick smoke that

was enclosing around him. He closed his eyes slowly

as darkness swallowed him up.

Alex woke up to find himself in a small-boxed

room of a hospital, the dismal curtains draped from the

ceiling blocking the strong sunlight. He winced as a

searing pain shot through his head when he sat up,

blood roaring through his ears. Alex looked around

but there was no one there. He felt dazed and confused

and couldn’t seem to remember anything at all. He

turned around to open the door and to his surprise, he

found a young woman standing in front of him. Alex

stared at her strangely because he knew she wasn’t

there before, but at this point everything was strange to

Alex.

“Hello,” The girl introduced herself, “I’m

Allen Wilson, nice to meet you.” She held out her

hand but Alex couldn’t remember what to do. Instead

she just gently took his hand and shook it. Breaking

the silence Allen questioned him.

“What’s your name?” Now, realizing what

to do Alex introduced himself as well as he could.

Alex told Allen that he couldn’t remember anything

or how he ended up in a hospital.

They wandered about the hospital for a

while, just chatting. As Alex walked down the

corridor people stared at him strangely but he just

ignored them and continued talking to Allen. Alex

spotted a pair of large doors wondering what was

behind them, curiously he ran towards them Allen

following closely behind. As he pushed the door

open, it groaned loudly as it slowly opened. Alex’s

eyes widened, his body shaking so badly he didn’t

dare move. Right there in front of his eyes was

Allen laid out on a gurney, dead. How is this

possible? Shocked he turned around but Allen was

gone, instead there was a nurse standing in her

place. Alex was still shaking, terrified and

completely confused.

“Poor girl, she was killed this morning in a

car crash,” The nurse said sighing shaking her

head. Alex gasped, he suddenly remembered in the

taxi, just before he closed his eyes he saw blood

everywhere, splattered on the passenger seat, blood

that wasn’t his. It slowly became clear that Alex

had killed Allen Wilson.

The Witch

Ethan Bensadoun F2B

The witch loves to sing

Loves to play the piano and

Loves to bother me.

Sometimes adores me

Sometimes annoys and

Sometimes she kicks me.

But the truth about the witch;

She lives in my house.

Artwork by

Molly Newell P6B



These Young Hands

Freya Seex P6B

These young hands

Are not wrinkled or old.

They are as soft as

A baby’s bottom.

They are as smooth

As can be.

They have hugged

Many people.

And given

High fives.

They are very

Small now.

And are learning

How to write.

They are holding

Pencils now and they

Are really bright.

These young hands are

Doing me well.

They are holding bottles

Drinking milk.

Helping me count

Up to ten.

They have not got

Long nails but I am

Growing them in.

These young hands

Are young and playful.

These young hands are

Ready for the world.

Sunset

Adrian Chan F1B

As the day has its rest,

The lights will soon be messed.

Its glowing apricot scorches the sea,

But the sea soaks fire like ABC.

The sea dissolves the fruit down its throat,

Being watched by countless people on boats.

Eventually comes the dark night,

Demolishing the holy light.

Artwork by Eden Bensadoun F4B

Should Students Have Compulsory Homework

Every Week?

Timothy Kan P6B

There are many children who complain

endlessly about homework from school. Most

children hate homework. They usually purposely

not do their homework and sometimes may even go

to extreme lengths, like asking their parents to sign

a ridiculous form that says the child is excused

from doing homework, and then telling their

teachers that their dog ate their homework. Most

adults can't stand this behavior so debates have

been raging on the following question, "Should

students have compulsory homework every week?"

There is no doubt that doing homework

takes time to complete and the harder the

homework is, the more time the students will take

to complete the homework. Many students hate

homework usually because it is too hard or too

boring to do. Students would feel tired and

exhausted so they would complete the homework

poorly and have a lack of sleep causing sleep

deprivation. Homework may cause a lot of stress

and pressure upon students, and there are surveys

where it is proved that an excess of stress can kill

you. Also, doing homework means that there is less

time to study for tests and doing homework does

not count as studying for tests as many kids use

material from textbooks to copy onto their

homework, rather than actually trying to memorize



their material. Students need family and social time, so

students should not have homework every week so

they can spend time with friends and family and also

do extra-curricular activities rather than sitting at home

working.

However on the other hand, homework also

has its advantages. Homework is extremely necessary

for higher education purposes and many teachers in the

higher grades fully expect it. Homework may not be

very good in the short run, but in the long run, many

students would grateful on the homework they had

been assigned. Also, many people agree that

homework is the key to success. Homework is a great

way to reinforce concepts that are taught in class.

Homework is a method for students remember

concepts that are taught in classes which gives the

students an education and it makes students much more

mature. Homework also helps students manage their

time and that is particularly useful in the future.

Homework is a good form of academic practice and

many should know about the famous saying

"academics before sports."

To summarize the argument, many students

loathe homework due to certain reasons, but there are a

lot of advantages for homework. In my personal

opinion, I think that students should not have

compulsory homework every week, although a

possible solution for this certain conflict is that

students should have still have compulsory homework

every week but less homework should be assigned so

the benefits of homework is still active whilst students

won't get sleep deprivation.

Artwork by Amelie Gautier F1A

Summer Clothes in a Snowstorm

Amélie Gautier and Elissa Zhu F1A

People gasped

As he passed

“Aren’t you cold?”

Said the old.

“No, not at all”

The courtier cried.

“I feel as though

I’m being deep fried!”

“It’s better than

You ever felt!

But do it too much

And you will melt!”

People ran home,

Knocking down gnomes

They got changed,

Who cares if they were blamed?

They ran with the man,

Whose name was Sam

They ran out of breath,

And froze to death.

浓浓父子情

Kylie Tin F5B

世界上有一种爱，是最无私的，是最伟

大的，那就是母亲的爱。世界上还有一种爱，

却是默默的，它不轻易表现出来的，那就是父

亲的爱。

我的爸爸非常内向，不喜欢讲话。一看

你就知道他是一个十分安静以及严肃

的人。父亲常常不在家里，妈妈也很忙，他们

两个都是非常热爱工作的人。但是，不管他多

忙，每个周末我们还是会找时间一起去散步。

这是一个只有我们两个一起做的活动。散步

时，我们常常一起笑，一起聊天，享受彼此的

陪伴。



爸爸也是非常严格的。我犯错误的时候，父

亲总是严厉批评，教我如何为人处事。甚至还用过

打，我就会泪汪汪地忍着痛。长大后我才知道，所

谓“爱之深责之切”。父亲这么做，是为了我好，为

了我将来不会再犯错。

记得有一次，上初一的上学期，那天下了

一场倾盆大雨。父亲匆匆赶到学校，接我回家。尽

管他的工作繁忙，但他还是来接我的。以前认为这

没有什么，现在长大了,我开始了解他为了我所做

出的种种牺牲。爸爸是我不慎跌倒时的一把真正的

搀扶。虽然他对我的爱不明显，但是他总是在我的

后面像一个阴影随着我，陪着我。

我希望有一天我能照顾他，像他帮助小时候

的我一样无条件地守护着他。爸爸的爱就像微风一

样，你不能总是看得到，但你能感觉得到。

These Tiny Hands

Gabriella Deegan P6B

These tiny hands

Are very small.

They are smooth

And very fragile.

They’ve shaken a rattle

And sucked their thumbs.

When they’re older they

Will be big and strong.

These tiny hands will

Write award-winning books. They’ll row boats

In raging seas.

But for now these hands

Are delicate and soft.

These tiny hands will

Catch balls and open doors.

They will play cricket

And drive a boat.

For now they are young

And don’t do much.

When they are older

They will save lives of others,

Hold doors, tie shoes

And raise a glass to their mother.

But for now,

For these hands,

It’s time for bed,

And time for tiny thumbs

To be sucked instead.

The Tree

Gabriella Dickinson F1B

It swooshes silently,

It snaps loudly,

The interminable silence until a screech of an eagle,

The greenness fades to orange then to amber in the

autumn,

Fruits and flowers grow in the winter and only

braches stay alive,

They can grow high and low,

Any they are everywhere around us.

Artwork by Irvin Chau F4A



It’s A Pirate Life for Me

Sebastian Dickie P6B

As the sun was setting, Jack was in the eagle’s nest.

He did not realize, but a jolly boat was coming around from the side. Jack started climbing down, getting

ready to change positions with the next night watch. Suddenly, the rope started getting tugged down. Jack climbed

further down to investigate. What he found were about three men, one Jack believed was Captain, had a pistol pointing

right at Jack. “Get down here,” said the Captain "and stay here.”

The other man who was already climbing the rigging, stopped and turned around. “Are ye sure Captain? He

could be a threat.”

“Its fine Archers, we’ll tie him up”

So there was Jack, sitting in a Jolly boat, with some ropes tied to him and a cloth over his mouth. The Jolly

boat was drifting away quickly. He suddenly had an idea, and took the emergency oars and smashed them against the

bottom bit of the sail.

On board the Privateer’s dream the crew were fighting against the attackers. The Privateer’s dream’s Captain

had taken the wheel and accidently turned it sideways. Half of his men were falling off the side, and some hung on to

the railing only to be pushed off. He ran inside the ship and opened the chest and grabbed a bag with and threw all the

treasure he had in it, then threw the empty chest at the window, and dived through it with the bag only to see Jack

smashing the bottom bit of the sail. When the Captain dived through with the bag, he had hit the sail, and the sail had a

sharp bit of iron at the top, and it sliced perfectly through the ropes. Jumping up, Jack untied the cloth and took the sail

and took the lamp and tied them together. He grabbed hold of it, and he went up. He knew he had to get the captain off

the ship.

He landed perfectly on the deck, and took out his cutlass and faced the first man, who Jack remembered, was

Archers. Jack dived behind a barrel, than saw what he could do. He found a gunpowder keg and took a handful and he

also took a lamp. Archers saw what he was doing, and took cover. Jack threw the gunpowder at the water stores and

threw the lamp at it. The lamp broke on impact, and the fire in it exploded the gunpowder, which made the water

release. Jack looked backwards and dived and stood up. But water current was too strong for Archers, and he fell of

the boat. The next one was easy. Five crew were fighting the second man, and Jack climbed up the rigging, cut a rope

whilst swinging down and he kicked the man. The Captain was different. The last of the crew were fighting him, and

Jack fought him. There was a lot of slashing but eventually Jack hit him with the back of the sword off the ship.

After, the crew found their Captain and put him in the ships jail. Jack was elected Captain afterwards.

Artwork by

Zoe Bruwer F2A



Butterflies!

Reem Thakur P6B

When at home, alone I sit,

I see myself falling into a bottomless pit

But then I gaze at the sparkling skies,

And dream about butterflies.

Soaring after planets and threading through clouds,

Flapping their wings over the peaceful crowds.

Their colours and patterns are kaleidoscopic, as soft as silk

Though their antennas are wet and soggy, like a cow's milk

I dream that I can fly too, fluttering my wings like long lashes,

Flying high about mines covered in deep ashes,

Dawn shows its face, the sun starts shining,

The sky makes a thundering sound, a lot like a child whining.

The time has come for me to put down my wings

As from the tower, the bells start to cling.

I try to fly once more, but my dreams are gone,

As I realize I am only human, I feel forlorn.

I wave goodbye to my striking friends,

With a heavy heart I knew that the night had to end.

Artwork by Emilie Parlett F2B

Artwork by Jasper Plowman F3B

Griffin

Georgina Yeo F2A

Be heedful of the immortal griffin

Lurking inside a cave,

It will devour you for its tiffin

And even if you fight it, it will send you to

your grave.

Its soul is black and vile,

Striking fear into your heart.

Shrieks will be heard for many a mile,

As villages are torn apart.

Go slay the griffin if you dare,

But it’ll catch you in a flash

It’ll grab your legs and yank your hair.

Then down its gullet you’ll go with a

splash!

So if you go walking near a cliff,

Don’t stop to catch your breath.

The griffins’ monster not a myth,

It giving the air a foul stench of death.

Artwork by

Sharon Chu

F1B



A Sacred Treasure

Marianne Kuhl F1A

“… in Lockhart Harbour.” Said the man at the tourist centre to Sebastian. “Yes. Three centuries ago, Captain

Jay buried his treasure in Lockhart Harbour-well, what is now called Lockhart Harbour.” Sebastian thanked the man

and left. He and his parents had arrived in Sacred Village just a few weeks ago, but Sebastian was bored already. He

was looking for something exciting.

He walked towards Lockhart Harbour, the place where Captain Jay had buried his forgotten treasure.

Sebastian lived close to the harbour, so from his room, he could observe the sea. He went to the shed in the back

garden and took a shovel.

The man at the tourist centre had told him that the treasure was buried right under the bridge that led to the

main road. But he had also told him with a very serious tone that nobody would ever dig up the treasure. Sebastian

went down the little steps and arrived at the area where Captain Jay had buried his treasure. Sebastian had a weird

smile on his face as he began to dig. He was going to get his hands on that treasure. He was not afraid of the man’s

warning.

An hour later, Sebastian had found the treasure and brought it home. It was a tiny chest with a magnificent

necklace and a pin made of gold inside it. Sebastian went to sleep with a huge grin on his face.

In the middle of the night, Sebastian woke up to find himself being pulled to the window by some strange force. He

looked out of the window and saw a misty pirate ship with ghostly figures of furious pirates. “Put back my treasure

where it belongs or this will be your last night.” Said the Captain of the ship. Sebastian was paralysed with fear. Like

an automat, he took the little chest and went out into the night. He took the shovel once more and dug a hole. He

carefully placed back the treasure and covered it up. He looked up from his work and saw Captain Jay-or rather

Captain Jay’s ghost- looking at him. The fierce man smiled at the young boy and said: “Greed in such a young boy!

What a shame! You can go now. But don’t ever think of doing this again.” And with that, the ghost of Captain Jay

disappeared.

Barney’s Bike Ride

Lachlan Peters F1A

One hot, dry summer's day, on the 23rd of June 2014, Barney Johnson was out on his light weight, aluminium

road bike in the north of France, preparing for an Iron Man in Sydney, Australia. He went to France because of the

harder terrain, which would be better training in preparation for the Iron Man in December.

Near mid-day, a brown rabbit suddenly ran in front of his bike. The rabbit bounded from a small, narrow hole

by the side of the road. To avoid hitting the small rabbit, he drove himself into a ditch beside the road and doing this,

he hit his head on a tree and knocked himself out cold.

When Barney regained consciousness there was a young man in dirty, khaki, army fatigues and heavy, brown,

old fashioned, leather boots. The young man seemed to be the same age as him, being 29, but looked tired, hungry

and skinnier than him. When Barney looked up, the young man said in a kind voice “Bonjour, ne bougez pas”.

Barney didn’t understand what the young man was saying but he could tell that he was trying to help him because

there was a friendly smile on his face. They then sat down and ate some rations that the young man had and then with

the help of the young man, Barney staggered up and they both started trying to fix the broken aluminium bike. The

bike had a bend in part of the frame and a deformed wheel.

Eventually, Barney set off to finish his training after having a miming conversation with the young man.

Barney still had a long way to go and less time to finish since it was nearly sundown.

At nightfall, Barney finally got to the village he wanted to get to, putting his bike near the old cobblestone car

park outside the local village bar to get a well-earned drink of brandy. The moment he stepped into the bar, he noticed

a black and white photograph on the wall, just above the bar counter. Near the bottom of the picture, he noticed that it

said in black handwriting “In loving memory of our son, Jean-Pierre. 1896-1917”. Barney recognized that this was

the young man who helped him fix his bike. Barney asked the barman who it was and he said, “That is my

grandfather who died in the First World War”.



Comparison and Contrast of Joseph Strorm and

Uncle Axel: The Chrysalids.

Aarmann Mohan F3A

Joseph Strorm and Uncle Axel in The

Chrysalids have affected the choice of David’s actions

in a number of ways. Joseph Strorm relies on set

opinions, he accepts facts without questions and he is

blinded by religion. He may be cruel and nasty to

David by using physical violence on him, whereas

Uncle Axel is humane, open-minded and is a lateral

thinker. He tends to question things and guides David.

This essay will focus on how Joseph Strorm and Uncle

Axel play an important role towards David’s actions

and how they affect his life.

A strong theme in The Chrysalids is religion,

the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling

power, especially a personal God or gods. Uncle Axel

does not believe in the religion of Waknuk as he had

stated in the novel.

“You start asking yourself: well, what real

evidence have we got about the true image?

You find that the Bible doesn’t say anything to

contradict the people of that time being like us,

but on the other hand, it doesn’t give any

definition of Man, either” (Wyndham 63).

Uncle Axel is a lateral thinker. A very strong example

of this is of people who are atheist these days. People

who are atheist believe in evolution and Science.

Uncle Axel does not believe in his religion and this

affects David as David sees Uncle Axel as a fatherly

figure. After David speaks to Uncle Axel of the

“image of God”, David later starts to believe that

liberty is essential to life. The exact meaning of

liberalism varies with time, place, and circumstance,

and with who is using the term. The term can apply to

government, social behaviour, economics, religion or

other areas (“World Book L.12” 228). David is

starting to realise the importance of liberalism of

religion and social behaviour especially when his

father whips him so that he will spit out the truth about

Sophie. “The reality is that organised religion doesn’t

seem to work. It turns people into hateful lemmings

and it’s not really compassionate” (John). This means

that people like Joseph Strorm who believe in the

religion of Waknuk have made people hate each other.

If Uncle Axel was not there for David, David might

have started to believe in the religion of Waknuk. He

does not show sympathy and concern for others. “A

religion that takes no account of practical affairs does

not help to solve them is no religion” (Gandhi). This is

what the religion of Waknuk is like; they are making

things for the worst and not for the better and religion

supposed to improve the lives of the human

population. This is what Uncle Axel helps David

realise that the religion of Waknuk is not going to

make things better, but instead make things worse.

A very dramatic sequence in The

Chrysalids is when David runs away because he is

actually a deviation. “Without deviation from the

norm, progress is not possible” (Zappa). This is

what Uncle Axel believes, this is shown when he

states, “Nobody, nobody really knows what is the

true image of God” (Wyndham 64). But Joseph

Strorm, David's father, says he knows the true

image of God and that anyone who is not the image

of God is sent by the devil and is a mutant. Uncle

Axel is a sailor who has travelled many places,

explaining that many places believe that deviations

are normal and states, "In one place they don't think

you're properly human unless you have webbed

fingers and toes” (Wyndham 62). Unlike Joseph

Strorm, he thinks that the true image is about who

you are as person rather than based on your

appearance. He also thinks it's wrong to take

"offences" away from their homes to the Fringes.

He does a lot to protect David because he doesn't

want him to feel out casted by the people of his

society who have a strict idea of what the true

image is. By using the information that Uncle Axel

has gained from his voyages around the world, he

helped David flee from Waknuk. The Telepaths

flee before they are captured. Anne blames them

for her husband’s death. Despite the risk, David

thinks that things will blow over. David and the

other Telepaths get a warning to go. David’s father

and his men pursue them all the way into the

Fringes until they meet the Sealand people, who are

also telepathic and rescue them.

Uncle Axel and Joseph Strorm also have

greatly affected David’s character from the start of

the novel to the end of the novel. In the end of the

novel, he becomes a tough person who has dealt

with many problems and becomes wiser over time.

This is proven when David states, “I was a normal

little boy, growing up in a normal way, taking the

ways of the world about me for granted. It is hind-

sight that enables me to fix that as the day when my

first small doubts started to germinate” (Wyndham

5). With Joseph Strorm whipping him, he had

learnt how to deal with real cruelty and this helped

prepare David for his journey to Sealand. On the

run, David experiences many adult situations. His

love for Rosalind is developing. He has a parent-

like relationship with young Petra. He tries to

protect Rosalind from his uncle’s less-than-pure

intentions. He now knows how to deal with issues,

may it be love or some physical activity. Also,

Petra is too young to protect herself, and to

understand what is happening to her. David must

look out for her to keep anyone else from finding



out about her, but since she is so strong, she is also a

threat to all of the other telepaths. David now acts as a

‘fatherly figure’ to Petra, once again he has realised

how a young naïve boy develops into a man. A quote

that proves this is, “It takes courage to grow up and

become who you really are” (Elton). This quote

describes David’s life as David did not have the

courage to run away and if he just gave up in the

middle of each and every single issue he had, he would

not be who he was at the end of the novel. In

conclusion, David has become hardened and matured.

He is no longer the little boy he was.

Throughout The Chrysalids, Uncle Axel and

Joseph Strorm prove that they have changed the

decisions David takes and how they have affected his

life. David is a changed man; he has gone through a

lot of obstacles than a regular developing boy would

not have to experience. He has matured in various

ways and has accepted different thoughts; he does not

rely on a set opinion. His actions are a perfect example

of evolution. David has become more open-minded,

compassionate, persistent and brave. David has

matured by taking the step by running away. He also

has been more open-minded about different religions

and has learnt to accept people as they are. The

Chrysalids includes many humane themes, such as

evolution, superstition, religion, cruelty, punishment,

lack of personal freedom, etc. David has had some

kind of participation in all of those themes and this has

helped him mature. To conclude, David has become a

real man at the end of the novel. David’s journey in

The Chrysalids is described as, “Strength does not

come from winning. Your struggles develop your

strengths. When you go through hardships and decide

not to surrender, that is strength” (Schwarzenegger).

Artwork by Caoihme Clearly F3A

Artwork by Thomas Brookes F3A

Out of Focus (Extract)

Crystal Tong F3B

Suddenly, when I was scanning my screen

for the last time before diving into my car, noticed

from the reflection of the window a dark and

ominous shadow slowly towering over me and…

That was exactly what I told the police at

the hospital, half paralyzed. I could not remember

anything else except my head hurt like it was going

to explode, I could feel the blood pumping through

my veins, steady but forceful like a bomb timer.

My muscles were sore. Was it the bunch of nice

men? Then I remembered, one of the men was

wearing an odd-looking wristband, it was half-

hidden in his sleeve but even amateur

photographers are sharp at observing for

momentous panoramas. In addition, labelled in

bright orange Korean characters, ‘Gang won-do

prison.’ I knew what it meant. I could feel the

pounding in my head again; the feeling was

familiar yet unrecognizable: just how I felt before

my head got smashed into the window of my car.

My head really hurt like someone set a fire in my

brain. I didn’t want to talk so I told the people to

leave my room. I thought they were genuinely kind

people.

Artwork by Kimberly Katherine Chong F3A

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