Through the Wardrobe

My monster usually appears as my parents tuck me in at night but this time I was ready. I was going to be prepared.

As my parents left my bedroom door, I moved my covers to just next to the door and waited. I stared at my watch and waited; it was torture and hell.

Tick tock...I saw the time. 23:50.

Tick tock tick tock...the cars stopped driving.

23:51...tick tock tick tock...snores from my parents room started going off.

23:52...tick tock tick tock ...I started to yawn uncontrollably.

23:53...tick tock tick tock...The small room got darker and darker.

23:54... tick tock tick tock...the door started making mechanical noises, like the creak of a stair lift.

23:55... tick tock tick tock... An elevator ding echoed through the holes in the door.

23:56... tick tock tick tock...faint voices got louder and louder from beyond the door.

23:57... tick tock tick tock...a bright glow began to erupt from the hard wooden door and cracks began to spread across it.

23:58...tick tock tick tock... the door began to creak open very slowly - like an antelope realising it’s being watched.

23:59... tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock... everything stopped. The glow turned dark. The cracks reduced. The door stopped opening. The voices stopped and my neck hair prickled. This is the part in a horror movie right before a horrific jumpscare.

00:00... bong bong bong bong... went the grand oak clock. Cuckoo..cuckoo... went my mother's cuckoo clock and suddenly the door swung open, but no longer was it leading to the hallway of my house but to just darkness. I would describe it as a black hole but coming out of it was a creature of gargantuan proportions. It had fur the colour of freshly made droppings and eyes in the pigment of dark dark red, on each hand a flurry of razor sharp claws. Its mouth was a gaping hole of death and rotten meat. Its snout was the bright orange of the sun and its tusks were as sharp as a saw in a lumber mill. My monster was humanoid and a fat humanoid at that. No, my monster was a boar! It looked all around the room, supposedly looking for me and then went to open the closet. He started searching for me in the closet. I saw he’d been in there for a while so I lunged into the portal he came through...

Scientists theorize about white holes: how black holes suck things in and white holes expel them far away from where they were sucked in. As I lunged through the black hole, I believed in that theory.

When I came out, I was in the middle of nowhere and my monster was growling menacingly at me from the other end of the portal behind me.

Dylan Whittington-Dowling 7R

So, I should probably start by saying…

I’m a cat. Love it!

A C-A-T, a cat.

And I’m going to tell you a story.

In fact, I’m doing it right now.

Right now you are probably thinking things like “What good is a story told by a cat?”

and “I don’t want a cat story, I want an action packed adventure!”


Right now, I’m the storyteller, so you should stop whining and accept what you have got.

Even now you are still reading which proves you think is a good enough story to read anyway.

Writing: Joel Davidoff 8U

‘You had just left school when you perished. It was a skidding car, nothing particularly extraordinarily unique, yet fatal nonetheless. You had a painless death. Doctors tried to save you but your body was so utterly shattered; no one could help you. You were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me.’

Writing: Jonathan Breed 8U

He was running through the undergrowth, branches tearing his clothes and scratching his skin, searching for his trap. All he could hear was his heart in his chest like a hammer on a sword. The rain whipped past his face like little shards of ice. His breathing was ragged and laboured, the bile in his mouth was unpleasant, he was beginning to tire. “Come on. You're nearly there. Just a bit longer” he said aloud, hoping this would give him energy. He had lost the sound of his pursuer but that didn't stop him, he still ran on, desperate to find the trap he had laid. Suddenly, his feet were whipped from beneath him, his world turned upside down. Thump, his head hit the ground as he was flipped. Faintly, he heard an ear-splitting roar from beneath him and then his world went dark.

Writing: Oliver Serkis 8U

Morgan Flower. Winner of the Nobel Prize and knighted by Queen Elizabeth herself. Sir Morgan Flower. All these complicated names! To me, he was Dad, just Dad. However, I didn’t see him much; he was either at his lab, or in the pub downtown. He always told me of his ‘Garage project’ for a bedtime story, and each time he told me, I realised he said a bit more.

It could have been in a few different places, but they chose a place called Flowerbook Park in Harfield which was in the county of Oxfordshire but north of Oxford. They selected this place for their experiment because They had to choose somewhere so this was it. It was a dreary place with old vines hanging from the trees and the paths had grown over a long time before. The trees were all oak and they were decorated with their logo. They weren’t worried about who would find Them but They were suspicious of anyone who did find Them. If they did find Them, they would have to be excellent at mapping and would realise that it wasn’t on the maps. It was the most secret place They could find. No-one had found them yet.

Writing: Lalith Pasuparthi 8U

The grey mist was creeping through the tall buildings of London, when Tony Grimald came staggering, exhausted, into his modern property in the Barbican. He was on the run. That was the only term for it. He had made a dash for the first plane back to England from Italy, and had been fairly convinced that he had outrun them. It was ten past eleven by the time the plane had landed, he had collected his luggage and caught a taxi to go home. He was exhausted and he looked it. He couldn’t go to sleep, however. There was a very important call he was waiting for, one which would determine the rest of his life. Suddenly, he felt his phone buzzing. Immediately, he picked it up, and listened, before snatching a small scrap of paper, and scribbling on it before laying it among the many invoices and accounting work from the bank he worked in. He was walking out of his study, with the intention of going to his bedroom for a well deserved night of sleep, and was about to leave, when he felt something pierce the side of the neck. He touched the area where he had been hit, and found some sort of dart. He barely had time to process what had happened before he collapsed. He convulsed, then lay still. He lived alone. There was no-one to hear him. In fact, if he had turned around just before he died, he would have seen a most curious sight. A black clad figure seemingly suspended in mid-air.

Most crimes have an explanation. Most crimes can be solved. Most criminals can be found.

Not this one.

Writing: Ayan Konkader 8W

The ball flew high into the air, swirling in the blustery wind. The crowd and players all raised their heads to follow its direction. Everyone except for one person. Oliver Frail jumped up and down on the spot standing on the sidelines trying to keep calm as he waited to come on as a substitute. He was nervous enough to be sick, but he hoped that no-one else would realise how scared he was. He had been thinking about this moment for two weeks - his school's long-awaited home match against their title rivals North Street. Wearing the school's all-white kit, Oliver looked around as his teacher Mr Dickens signalled to the referee that Blackfriars wanted to make a change. Ignoring his shaking hands and hiding them deep inside his long shirt sleeves, Oliver gulped in the air as he felt the first drops of rain begin to fall. It looked as if the whole school had turned out to watch on the playing field. Oliver knew his mum and dad were out there somewhere too watching his big moment.

Writing: Yuvva Raj Khantharuban 9Z

Mark’s skis sliced down the surface of the snow, carving a long thin line down slope. The bitter wind whipped against his face. The iconic skyline of the alps towered above him on the horizon. He gritted his teeth together, struggling to control his skis on the powdery sheet. Wondering whether he was going to make it to the end or not, he zig-zagged through the line of flags, narrowly missing them as he did so. Seeing that he was nearing the final jump, his stomach clenched at the thought of falling. But the crowd urged him on. Mark glanced to the side where the crowd stand was. Bright Flashes and cheering escaped the surge of people and tourists. Focusing more on the jump now, his hands gripped his ski poles and he leant down lower to speed up.

Suddenly, he hit the foot of the jump, jolting at the sudden incline. He left the edge of the jump, soaring through the air like a hawk. Only having split seconds, he tilted forward, making the trees and hills to whirl in a mix of colours. The crowd had gone silent. His knees braced for impact. THUD! His skis thumped against the ground, sending a jolt through his body. All he had to do now was ski faster and faster to the end of the time trial.

Writing: Rory Conner 8W

I remember the first time I met Jacob vividly. As I reminisce about that moment everything comes back to me. The smell of the cattle car and the hundreds of people crammed into its claustrophobic bulk. The dozens of cuts and aches that I had garnered on my harrowing path to where I was now. But most of all, the memory that dominates all others of that God-forsaken place were the screams. Sickening and visceral they were, and when there weren’t screams there was instead the constant moans of the ill and the weak, or people begging for food and water. I personally did not see the point. It was February 1944, and most had heard the nightmarish rumours of where we were being taken. As a 15 year old boy, I had a fairly blunt view of the world - I did not see the point in asking God to help us because surely he was long dead. I never did fully forgive God for what he allowed to happen, but Jacob gave me hope that perhaps there was a chance for us and our families to survive. That’s what got me through the times that were to come - blind hope.

I first met him as I was crawling across the floor, scouring for any remnants of food. Most did not expect it to be the five day journey that it was, and due to this hardly anyone rationed. I was no different. I was so foolish, so unconservative back then. Eventually, I dragged myself through the sea of legs empty handed, and propped myself up against the corner of the cart. It was at this point that we hit a stone on the tracks. The cart lurched like a hungry beast and thrust me into the cold metal wall, rendering me dizzy and powerless.

“You alright?” I heard a voice as I was propped up against the wall. He spoke in Yiddish, so I knew him to be a Jew.

“I’m fine,” I answered, but my croaky and pained voice clearly told him otherwise.

“I saw you crawling around - you’ll never get anything that way. Here, I’ve been saving this for a while..” He pulled from his pocket, for we had not been given our camp uniforms yet, a small flask of water and shook it. Almost empty, it would not sate my thirst but it could tame it. I am convinced to this day that not one other person on that cart could have given up such a boon. Not even my father, who was as generous as a man could get would have given that to me, let alone a complete stranger.

“I’m Jacob. We should stick together. If what I’ve heard about this place is true, then we’re gonna need as many friends as we can get.” He extended his hand to me. I did not hesitate to shake it.

“Ben. Good to meet you,” I croaked.

That handshake saved my life.

The day after our meeting, we survived by talking to each other. We were surprised to discover that we had grown up in the same town, a place called Bircza. It took a mass genocide for us to finally meet, and yet he was still cheery, and spurred me on as my mental health deteriorated. They say you discover what someone is really like during times of crisis. I only ever knew him in one of these times, and he remains the greatest person I have ever met.

Writing: Louis Jolin Yr 9

The Monster Under the Bed

The rain is clattering on the roof,

the start of my nightmare.

I did tell someone ‘bout this once,

but nobody seemed to care.

Even worse than spiders and sprouts,

the monster under my bed.

It scares me more than I know it should,

even though it’s all in my head.

I hear it on the wall again,

the scratching clear as ever.

Its needle claws are scraping down,

but do I check? Never.

I listen out for what comes next,

the low pitched sound of growling.

I feel its anger building up,

and I’m sure its face is scowling.

I feel a bump from under my bed,

it's coming out once more.

I want to shout and sprint away,

but I can't even reach my door.

I scream and shout as loud as I can,

and the monster runs away.

I open my eyes and look down the hall,

it was only my cat. HOORAY!!

Writing: Josh Prentice 7R

Summer’s Day Ghost

Washing on a line,

The sun shining, divine,

Reflects the lawn,

A transparent life starts to form.

Top and tails,head to toe,

A ghost is this, you would now know,

Hovering high, he begins to fly.

Faints to the light,

For a teleportation flight,

There he appears,

Now he is feared.

Drifting on,

House to house,

Garden to garden,

Lawn to lawn.

Haunting places,

Taunting faces,

Gliding away,

Into the end of day.

Writing: Edward Meacock

A Midsummer Night's Dream

In my set for the Athenian Court, I have tried to create an atmosphere of fatality and helplessness for Hermia, at the mercy of Theseus and his men. I have also created a feeling of power for Theseus, and formality for the Judges standing at the sides of the court. Duke Theseus is given an appearance of being extremely powerful over Hermia, as he gets to decide what she can do. I have put him in the center stage position, up on a grand throne, higher than everyone else, with golden ornaments surrounding him, to give this feeling of importance. Hermia, as said at the beginning, is given a view of being powerless and seeming trapped in this huge problem of who to marry. To show this, I have put her low down in the ‘pit’ with chains over her legs, as well as having the guard, watching and waiting, looking down on her. There are also some figures standing on top of the big arches at the sides of the set. These people are the noblemen or judges for the court, and make the event of Hermia’s marriage choice seem very formal and professional, adding to the feel of power of Theseus and his men. Finally, I’d like to talk about the decorations around the court. The two golden towers in the distance, the small columns underneath Theseus’s throne, and the throne itself: a mass of golden blocks. This was all made like this to show that this is no ordinary court; it is the court of Duke Theseus, a very important person.

Writing: Ben Moor (Year7)

A Midsummer Night's Dream

With this model of the Athenian court I am trying to create a serious mood by having not many things to get distracted by. With the lonely blossom tree set in the background I tried to make it show that there is still hope in the end. There is not much scenery but that is because it is an Athenian court.

For the lighting I used my lamp and cut a hole in the top of the box, however if it was a real stage I would use as realistic ‘sunlight’ as possible because all the lighting they would have back at that time was either sun light or candle light.

With the sound effects I would position speakers around the theatre and they would play sounds according to the situation and mood. For the colours I made the theatre have a mainly black colour so the stage stood out a bit more, the theme on the stage is more marble white. The black curtains help absorb some sound so there is no echoing which is really useful and also it acts as a cover when actors run off stage at the end of their part. The seats are arranged so that the focus is on the centre of the stage which is Theseus’s throne.

The pillars are there to show the type of place that the Athenian court is, an intimidating place and to add structure to the building. The stage is raised so that the audience has a better view of the play before them and the seats also gradually rise up towards the rear of the theatre so everyone can see the play.

Writing: Jordon Butcher (Year7)

A Midsummer Night's Dream

I have created the Athenian Court. I have decided to make the floor out of marble, to show the riches of the Duke of Athens. I have also decided to make the walls completely white apart from a few things because this highlights that the Duke has so much space that most of the place is empty. I have also added a massive arch at the back to show that the court is intimidating and in front of that, there is a massive crystal chandelier that also really shows off the wealth of the Duke. On each side wall of the court, there are 4 spikes, with dead heads on top. This shows that the Duke is serious, and that he will actually kill Hermia if she doesn’t obey his orders. To intimidate anyone that walks into the court, I have also added a lion head on either side to convince people that they should probably turn around. As detailing, the arch is lined with quartz that has been painstakingly chiseled to perfection. There are also details in the back top corners of the room as support beams. The ceiling has been lined with 24carat diamonds, all perfect hexagons, to really show his wealth.

Writing: Zayn Karkera (Year7)


If you want to be saved the half-day of pure nightmare that I had to put up with, then it’s most likely in your best interests to listen in, because hearing about just how badly I mucked up and how easy it is to make the same mistake I did might just change your mind on a few things. So, without further ado, let’s get on with it.

So you’ve probably heard about this whole lockdown thing that’s been taking place over the last few weeks. Kind of hard to miss if you ask me, what with all the emergency broadcasts and global quarantine orders. We’ve all had our fair share of cabin fever from all this lockdown business, but I must say, my first day at home trumps them all. Picture the scene: you wake up, realising that there’s probably schoolwork to be done. ‘It’ll be fine,’ you say to yourself. ‘Relax, It’ll be easy. There’s no school! Just have a lie in! You have 24 hours in a day! Just do it later!’ Fast forward twelve hours, and let’s just say that things didn’t go according to plan.

It’s 7:30pm. I have about 5 hours of work to do. Panic. Panic, panic, panic. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I had essentially no time to do far too much work. So, what’s the solution? Crunch time. Please, if you take one thing away from this talk, let it be this: do not rely on crunch time. You will not like it. Please, just don’t. I bore this burden so you wouldn’t have to. I know, what a hero! Just do your work properly, please! It is literal hell. Your work will come out worse, you will hate it more, you will be less productive. Just don’t.

So, I went against my advice and rushed it at the end. And I regretted that. The work I produced was hardly better than something you’d see out of a primary school, but it had to be, because my poor planning had put me in this situation where I wasn’t sure if I was even able to carry on.

So here’s what I’ve learned. Manage your time, stick to your schedules and don’t procrastinate. It’s easier in every way that way. You will enjoy your responsibilities more, you will get more done and you will enjoy your free time more, confident that everything will be finished. This is a life skill, too. It’s hard to get by if you can’t manage your time properly. So remember, don’t make the same mistake I did: get it done now, don’t wait till later.



I would like to tell you about an old lady that I met today on my street. Her name is Tilly. She is 94 years old.

Now, when my mum told me that we were going over to talk to her about her experiences on VE Day, I grumbled. When she then asked me to bake cookies to take to Tilly’s house I grumbled even more. So how surprised would you be if I told you that I actually really enjoyed meeting her and talking to her? Because, the truth is, although she’s 94 and struggles to walk up and down the stairs, she was once my age and somehow I found that she can relate to some of the struggles of lockdown. After all, she was a young teenager when the Blitz was taking place and if we think lockdown is tough then the blitz was on another level.

She was there, she told me, as she heard the voice on the radio, proclaiming the end of the war in Europe. It was a big night for her - her older sisters were going out to party in London and she managed to convince her mother to let her tag along! What a first night out!

She told me she had never seen anything like it. Her sisters were trying to get near Buckingham Palace but the throng of people was so large and heaving that she didn’t get anywhere near. And if I hadn’t visited her on VE Day I would never have known about the great suffering turned to joy that was the 8th May 1945.

So the moral of the story is this - if you see someone in need of a conversation: stop, and you might find it very, very interesting…. I know that it might seem tempting not to, but old people are like books - full of secrets and knowledge, acquired over a long time. With Tilly, I found that I could relate to her experiences during the war, as we were experiencing similar conditions in national lockdown.



It was late January, 2020, and Covid 19 had just landed in the UK.

It was like a bomb. The impact from it was catastrophic and it spread for miles and miles, killing the hundreds of thousands who were engulfed by it.

I was not scared though. For I knew that, as said in the book Dune by Frank Herbert,“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

At first I thought that Covid 19 was extremely deadly, but then I realised that most of the deaths came from fear. People were taking lots of food that others could no longer get. Or patients not being treated for other deadly diseases because they didn’t want to get the virus.

I haven’t just recited the famous quote to my struggles during Covid 19. I have used it many times, like when I broke my thumb and I was in agony. Or when I was petrified out of my skin that I would throw up in the car on the way back from holiday.

So, in the difficult times we are currently facing, remember, remember, remember, that fear is the real enemy. That Covid 19 is just its ‘minion’. And that the only way to overcome this, is to not be fearful, but to instead be someone like Joe Wicks, someone like Darren Bentley. Be someone who takes the most out of this and not someone who is so scared that they lie in bed all day.

If you are to learn anything from this speech, it is that fear is the most deadly thing in this world, so that is the real enemy to overcome. Anything else like Covid 19 are just extras. Think of it as fear being a cake. You could add jam, being a deadly pandemic, you could add honey, being a broken bone, you could add anything you wanted, but by themselves, the toppings aren’t as great as the cake itself.

So, do not fear. “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.” Then you will face your fear. You will permit it to pass over yourself and through yourself. And when it has gone past you will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only you will remain.

Stay safe everyone.



Never again, will I be so sad.Never again will I take my anger out on others and never before, have I felt this connected. This is all down to the heart of my little sister. It has usually been the other way around with me comforting her when she is down, but this dark patch has changed everyone. Whether the sky is pouring it down or scorching us all, she is always being nice and making me laugh and I would like to dedicate this speech to thanking her for changing my outlook on this deadly disease.

For example, on Saturdays we would usually spend the whole day out bird watching in the natural world, but this particular Saturday it was raining and we had already had our one piece of exercise, I was not coping well and my sister came to the rescue. She decided that we should build a den in my bedroom. So we spent the day doing just that. When we had finished we slept in it for the night. This really helped boost my spirit and wasn’t the only way she helped me. She also made me do lots of trampolining, obstacle courses and water balloon fights.

She has been the one that has kept the family together, she is the sun casting light upon us, she is the one that is reminding me to connect with the family and use this dark time to really get closer with my family as we are all stuck inside the same house. Also it is a time to talk to friends through all these new calling apps such as Zoom.She has taught me to stand and fight against this disease and not let it get inside of us. We need to keep going no matter what and this is a message to you: we will make it through this as long as we keep the right frame of mind and listen to those around us.

Some doubtful people out there think we will never meet again in person and we won’t be able to socialize in public again, but what I say to them is yes we will. There will be a day where everything is back to normal and we are back at school. Yes it will. We won’t give up and we will fight to the end. Yes we will. Small businesses will reopen and our hair will be cut. Yes it will.

So, just keep in mind what is really important to you in this dark time.


Cursed Ship poem - inspired by the Rime of the Ancient Mariner

We sailed for days upon days, Calm seas and bright sun. Our eyes never fell upon another soul, Until that fateful eventide.

We looked upon the rolling sea, That moments before was gleaming glass. We looked upon the squally sky, That moments before was serenely still.

And, to the wonder of the crew, A boat, all tattered and frayed, Materialised from the eternal gloom, Like a rabbit out of a magician’s hat.

We gaped upon the boat with fear, As scared as children in the dark. For we all on board did know, That this was a cursed ship.

The wind whistled through the sails And the waves smashed against the hull. The moon shone its ghastly glow, Upon the deck of cowering men.

But as we approached with dread, We smelt the stench of rotting flesh. For these weren’t men at all, Their bodies free of flesh and mind.

Our ship complained and tried to flee, But escape was not an option. An unearthly force drew us together, Like magnets, we could not fight the pull.

But as we neared the boat, Our ship began to twist and flail, Fighting this unknown force, Loyal and protective to the end.

Now we could see more clearly, The horror of this ghoulish crew, Full lit by moonlight, Steering a ship made out of bone.

Now the wind picked up and flapped, Our eyes seeing, but disbelieving, The sail, now full in view, Made out of human skin.

A sound, carried by the tempest. The cackling and howling of the undead crew, Like hyenas on the hunt, Chilled us through to the bone.

Yet, as we got close enough To see the buttons on their tattered clothes, A lightning strike rent the sky in half And threw us to the deck.

In our disbelieving disarray, We all got up and saw The sky was blue; the sea was calm And the spectral ship was gone.

Had it been a dream? We all did wonder. But never again did we see, That ghostly ship and its grotesque crew.

Milo Bagot Year 8

And another one I really like:

The haunting ship slipped silently across the tranquil waters. It made no noise as I looked on, aghast. A tower bell tolled and still this satanic vessel carried on, yet to drop its anchor in the icy veins of the seabed. Suddenly, it jerked backwards and tilted port side, a creak and clank prominently rose from the seabed; a plume of wet sand swirling upwards as the anchor found its destination. A figure rose up from the fore-deck, but they were too far out to see. A sudden shriek filled the reticent atmosphere. The mayor's wife had fainted with shock after one look through her bejewelled telescope! Greedy hands reached for this possession in a battle to see the cause; and turn by turn, the town looked at this sudden arrival.

When I placed my eye to the fine brass of the telescope I could feel the warmth of dozens of other eyes as they snatched glances at the ship. As I looked down the sight, I could see that more and more members of the crew had risen from below decks and were doing duties across the ship. With horror, I looked on. First I saw flailing limbs that wrapped around heavy, sodden ropes which dragged down the fore-sail. Then I saw ghostly eyes that glowed in the misty gloom of the on board lanterns, a ghastly crew they were. Moans of despair and pain drifted across the water that I could only presume the mariner’s souls had emitted. They hit my ear with a dull and heavy ache, haunting me to my very existence.

And then I saw him. A man! An actual man! He walked with despair and sorrow. Could only imagine that he was their captive. He stood at the bow with a mark around his neck, slowly blistering and bleeding. Was this some sort of cruel punishment that he was having to endure? I felt a sympathy for him that I had never felt before. As I ran the telescope over the vessel, I could see marks and damages to it; large cracks in the hull, patched up holes and flaps of rotting wood just above the water line. As a unique bell started to toll to show the hour of seven, the man started to whoop and scream and run. The crew of this ship started to gather around the main-mast and an angelic sound slowly rose from their bodies and then they crumpled, dropping in a deadly heap among the slick deck.

The mariner left alive started to row a boat towards the land and as he got closer I could see his wild grey beard and his glittering eyes. Two other figures were with him, and it seemed that he was pleading for something. All of a sudden the mariner’s ship suddenly sank and all that was left were a few prominent bubbles that slowly sank with the pull of the sinking vessel. And then I remembered, I was a wedding guest tomorrow!

Elliot Brown Year 8

Weather Forecast


Rime of the Modern Mariner

The Mariner stared around the majestic hall, filled with multi-coloured lights blinding his eyes and booming music bursting his eardrums. He walked around the mansion, past the tall statues and the oak-polished furniture, until he found himself in a room full of food, filled with people talking and eating. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a teenage boy with a plate full of food, scraping it all in the bin, to be used for nothing. Slowly the Mariner walked up to him, using his walking stick to support himself from falling...

The Mariner placed his weak hands on the boy, “Move out of my way, stupid idiot,” shouted the teenage kid The Mariner replied, “You made the same mistake as I did” And with that note, he began his tale...

“It was a warm and sunny day, Our crew was boarding the ship, The month was late May, There was a cheery vibe around us.

We kissed goodbye to our loved ones, Before we embarked on the journey, All the bags and luggage weighed tons, We placed them on the deck.

So we started, The sun burning our backs, All of us light-hearted, The ship began to move.

Days and days, Night after night, We ventured on and on, Everyone aboard was alright.

Finally, our destination was in view, Beautifully, the island stood, “Hooray!” shouted our crew, Staring in awe - that’s all we did and could.

However, we had extra food, I chucked it in the sea, All of us in a cheery mood, Something that was not to be...

As quick as a flash, scenes changed, Winds, hurricanes, everything came, Our smile turned into a frown, Meanwhile, our boat capsized

Floating helplessly in the water, We tried to hang on to something, It was treachery and slaughter, As we slowly swept away from our sinking boat...

Life jackets by our side, We opened it up, It was not an enjoyable ride But at least we were floating.

We could not move, Else we risked getting drifted away, We could not move, All we could do is stay.

We could not move, Countless hours went by, We could not move All I thought was saying to Earth: “Bye-bye”.

My actions had led me into this, Wasting was my mistake, All I could think was my wife giving me my last kiss, Before I left Earth.

Days went by, My crew was disheartened, We didn't have the energy to try, The strong currents meant we were stuck.

If we moved, we would’ve drifted away, The water was too strong, It had decided to betray, All we could do was hope someone would rescue us..

Hunger, thirst, We suffered from the lack of it, If I hadn’t chucked the extras away, We wouldn’t be desperate to get hydration using our spit.

The hour came, It made me shudder, I didn’t have much fame, Our crew was dying of famine, and I was responsible.

It seemed like every ten minutes, one person would drop dead, Until I was the last standing, And I wept with sorrow, hoping I was dreaming in my bed, But I knew I was in a real life nightmare.

It was just me on my own, Scrambling for survival, I didn't want to moan, I knew that if I stayed here any longer I was going to die too...

I toughened up, Did what I could, I started moving, The water thrashing me insanely fast.

I prayed, and prayed, I hoped I could survive, It seemed like my life had been laid, That I was meant to die.

Waters, so strong, attacking me from each side, Until, I accepted my fate, and let it wash over me, I fell unconscious, deep in the water, This is how my life was going to be.

I woke up, not knowing the time, I looked around cluelessly, I saw I was on an deserted island, The hope rushed back in me.

I searched around, with the last bit of energy I had left in me, I still prayed and prayed, until in front of me, was coconuts and berries, The coconuts such a calm colour and the berries so juicy, I looked up to the sky, and said thank you, for what is on this tree. I ate until my heart’s content.

I pulled out my phone, soaking wet, Tried to get it to work just once more, I had paid my debt, I called for rescue.

Finally, help came and I was brought back home, I live on to tell this tale,” And with that said the Mariner left, After saying, “Don’t waste”.

The boy stood by the bin, looked at his food, and walked away, He sat down and carried on eating, He had gained knowledge, And he somehow believed what the Mariner said...

Param Ranger, Year 8