Congratulations to our incredible winners! We hope that the whole school community will enjoy reading the stellar writing of our four winning entries.

A special congratulations to all who entered - the field of entries was superb and we are so proud of our budding writers!

First Place Winner: The Key

By Lucas Capicchiano, Grade 6.

Waves crashed in the distance, grasping the shoreline like hands groping for dry land, before retreating to the great aqua surge that was the ocean. I stood, admiring the indigo sea, as the sun rose to greet the new day. I loved the ocean so much and couldn’t wait to be in the waves. Adjusting my goggles, I stepped into the water, gasping slightly as the chill enveloped me for a moment. But I was used to it.

Once submerged in the familiar water, I began my morning swim. This was the way I had started my day for as long as I could remember – the ocean always welcomed me. But today was different, somehow. I wasn't focusing like usual, and before I knew it, a rip had taken me out so far that the coastline quickly become a small smudge in the distance.

Panic swept over me as the waves dragged me out to sea. My breaths came short and quick, and I began gulping seawater, kicking sideways to free myself from the rip. Suddenly, something slimy and scaly slithered past my leg. I stifled a scream and looked down in terror. But whatever it was seemed to have already disappeared. I tried to calm myself down enough to search for whatever it was before making my way back into shore.

Breathing in deeply, I put my head under the water. I could see a giant forest of green kelp, its slender stems dancing with the currents on the ocean floor. There was no sign of any creature, but then, I glimpsed something unexpected. The density of the kelp seemed to lessen in a particular section. I squinted, trying to get a better look at it, noticing a clearing in the kelp forest. A flash of golden light caught my eye, and I wondered what could have made it. I returned to the surface to gulp another breath of air and plunged back under. Diving deep down towards the clearing, I began to make out an intricate pattern on the ocean floor. It seemed to be made out of a combination of seaweed and shells, carefully arranged in curved rows that looked like ocean waves. The shells around it seemed to shimmer and glow. But how could they? This was at the bottom of the ocean floor!

Soon my chest was burning and felt like it was about to burst, so I launched myself back to the surface once again. As my face broke the water, and I greedily gulped in air for what felt like the first time in years. I looked down at my watch. It was nine in the morning already! I had lost track of time. I had to get back home, or Grandma would be worried. I swam as quickly as I could to reach the shore, promising myself I would return soon to have a closer look at the strange pattern in the sand.

I arrived home late, dripping water and sand on the kitchen floor. My grandma looked up with a frown on her usually smiling face.

"Where have you been?!" she asked, “I have been so worried!

“I am so sorry - I was carried out by a small rip on my swim and it took me a while to get back in”, I explained, leaving out the bit about my strange discovery in the kelp. Her frown was immediately replaced with a warm smile as I leant in to give her a wet hug.

"Where is Grandpa? Fishing? I need to ask him something."

Grandma gestured toward the back porch, so I moved out the door again. My grandparents' house was on the very edge of the water, so it had a little jetty out the back where my grandpa would fish for hours. I often sat with him, chatting away the hours together, just enjoying being in each other’s company. But today, I wanted to tell him about my odd morning out in the ocean. I could always tell him anything because he would listen and give me good advice. I had always lived with my grandparents because my parents had died when I was very young. Grandma and Grandpa never talked about them, no matter how many questions I asked.

Approaching the jetty, a rotting stench told me that Grandpa had had a lucky morning of fishing.

“Hello Grandpa, how has your morning been?" I gasped through the gross smell. “Something really strange happened this morning, do you have time to talk?" Grandpa stayed silent through the whole explanation, but I saw his face grow paler and paler. Once I finished, he sat still and stared out into the ocean for what seemed like hours. Finally, without saying anything, he got up and gestured for me to follow him.

We went back up to the house and up the winding stairs until we reached the attic level. The room was coated in a thick layer of dust, and boxes lay haphazardly pm the floor. Grandpa walked right past them to the only piece of furniture in the room. A bookshelf. Questions raced through my mind. Why did he bring me up here? Did he want to give me a book? What did that have to do with…. ? But before I could ask any, Grandpa began to push the bookcase aside to reveal an old, worn-out door. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How did I not know this door existed? And what on earth was it for?

His gnarled hands gently pulled on the old doorknob, and it slowly creaked open. I peeked in and took a few steps inside. A small wooden chest was the only thing in the dark windowless room. A closer look revealed the intricate details embellished on the box. Coral and shells decorated the whole surface in a pattern that seemed familiar.

“Open it," Grandpa instructed in a quiet voice from the doorway. Intrigued, I slid my hands under the lid and lifted it up, grunting at its surprising heavy weight. Once open, I peered at whatever might be inside. Sitting at the bottom of the chest was a conch shell. But for some inexplicable reason, it emanated a warm golden glow. I couldn’t stop staring at it. I could hear Grandpa’s voice talking to me, but so much didn’t make sense.

“lt was given to me by your parents, before they disappeared," he explained from behind me. My whole world seemed to tip on its axis. I felt my blood rush and the air left my lungs. I had so many questions. Before they disappeared!? Could that mean that my parents were alive? How could that be possible? Where did they go? Ideas whizzed around in my head like a tornado. Finally, words spilled out of my mouth.

“What are you talking about? You told me my parents were dead!" Confusion was beginning to be replaced by a fury that coursed through me. Had they lied to me?

“We have wanted to tell you for years. But we had to wait. We were sworn to secrecy. They told me you had to find the clues on your own." Grandpa looked distraught.

“What clues?" I started, overwhelmed and trying to process what he was telling me.

So many things were going through my head. I didn’t know where to look, what to say. I glanced over at the shell and noticed that it was still glowing. Edging closer, I scooped it up and noticed a minute scrape on its side. Picking it up to examine it more closely, I could just make out a pattern etched into it. The shape seemed somewhat familiar. Words tumbled out of Grandpa now.

“Yes, it’s the shell! Don't you see?! This is how you find your parents! The shell is the key," cried Grandpa. Time stood still again as it started to make sense.

“Thank you for showing this to me, Grandpa," I finally said. A faint smile crept onto his face, and I could see tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

I knew what I had to do now.

Ignoring Grandma's shouts of confusion and clutching the glowing shell close to my chest, I burst through the door of this strange hidden room, down the stairs and raced toward the ocean. I leapt from the jetty, straight into the water, paddling furiously toward the area where I'd spotted the kelp forest earlier. Interestingly, the current seemed to assist me this time, working together with my arm strokes and rapid kicks to carry me toward my destination.

Before I knew it, I was there.

Holding the glistening shell in front of me, I took a huge breath and dove deeply under the surface. I was right: the strange pattern of shells and seaweed on the ocean floor I had glimpsed earlier that morning was exactly the same shape that was carved into the side of the shell. But my excitement quickly dispersed. What was I supposed to do now? I went to the surface to breathe and have a think.

Suddenly I remembered Grandpa's words - the shell is the key! Praying it would work, I dove again and swam down towards the centre of the pattern, still holding the shell, and saw what somehow, I knew would be there - a keyhole! I pressed the tip of the shell into it. At first, nothing seemed to happen. But after a few seconds, a faint whirring sound from somewhere below the sand began to conduct through the water. It grew louder and louder, until abruptly, BOOM! The surface of the pattern crumbled away to reveal a gaping hole in the sand. As I tried to see what was in the hole, I became aware of a searing pain in both sides of my neck, and an odd, stretching sensation in my feet. I looked down and couldn’t recognise my legs. Webbed feet covered in glittering scales had taken their place, moving the water powerfully with each kick. My body felt stronger than ever before. But I also noticed something else. I was breathing! Underwater! How could that be possible?

I didn’t have time to think about this extraordinary series of events as a strange glow caught my eye. The hole was glowing a brilliant blue, and curiosity got the better of me. Grabbing the shell, I shot through the water at speed with my webbed feet into the darkness. The trench became a tunnel that seemed to go on for miles. But by traveling at a speed I didn’t think I could ever move at; I quickly reached the end. Cautiously, I emerged from the opening, waddling as my webbed feet were bound in a large fin The passage led to a grand underwater room and the sheer enormity of the space nearly knocked me off my feet. Well, my fins. It was like an underwater kingdom. It was hard to process where I was standing was under the ocean floor.

"Son!?" An oddly familiar, but gentle voice sounded from somewhere nearby. My head whipped around to the source of the sound, and I could barely believe what I was seeing: two elegant shimmering merpeople, swimming toward me. The man and woman both wore stunning crowns crafted from seashells and their feet were webbed ... just like mine. There was something so familiar about them both that drew me to them. So taken aback by the sight of these stunning creatures, I have barely registered what they had just said. Son!? How could that be?

"Mum, Dad?" I stuttered in bewilderment, barely believing that this could be true. The look on their faces was something I would never forget.

"Yes! Yes!! You've found us at last! We knew you would," they cried, sobbing with joy as they enveloped me into their arms. And at that moment, I wished I could stay cocooned together with them forever. But a question nagged that needed answering.

"But why would you leave me?" I asked, pulling away from them. My heart ached with the feeling of abandonment.

"There are some things we need to explain to you," my father said softly. "Twelve years ago, when you were just born, a great war began in the ocean world. The war started over that very shell you hold in your hands for it possesses the power to transform any merperson into a human. It is also the key to unlock our secret kingdom. Many fought to have this power, but as king and queen, we knew we had to keep the shell safe. And we also had a new baby boy that had to be protected from the war. So, we made the impossible, heartbreaking decision to send you away from all the fighting of the merpeople and give you to the humans to keep you safe. We swam to the closest island we could find and came across two caring people that agreed to raise you."

So, they weren’t my real grandparents, I realised. Two complete strangers had sacrificed their lives to look after me, all these years. What remarkable people.

"We told them all about the hidden kingdom and gave them specific instructions to tell you everything once you found the clues. The entrance, to be precise. Then they could give you the conch shell and it would lead you back to us."

As all of this information began to settle in my head, I considered my future. I had always felt very connected to the sea- and now it started to make sense why. But could I live the rest of my life underwater with my parents, as a merperson? It would be wonderful to be with them, get to know them and this watery world they called home. I was also getting very fond of my fins and capacity to breathe underwater. But then I thought about leaving my grandparents, whom I loved dearly and to whom I owed so much, and I had a life on land that I loved.

I realised I had to make an impossible decision.

2nd Place Winner: Belonging to the Forest

By Isla Gardner, Grade 5

As Sylvie bounced along the train seats towards her grandma, she stared out the window watching the forest of buildings trail behind. Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief as she would be leaving the city far behind for the summer. She was going to stay with her grandparents in a remote forest. She always felt displaced in the city, like a fish out of water. There was a long journey ahead, when Sylvie woke the next morning, she would almost be there.

Grandpa picked her and Grandma up from the red bricked train station, and as she stepped through the gate, she sucked in a huge gush of fresh air. "Sylvania!" Grandpa called stretching out his arms. "Just call me Sylvie, Grandpa." she said as she fell into his arms. They had a long winding drive ahead, through steep mountains and an ever-changing scenery. The cottage where her grandparents lived was secluded at the edge of a forest, so they took a rickety ferry across gushing water ways to reach the tiny stone cottage. It was surrounded by nature teeming with birds and wildlife. Sylvie thought it was almost enchanting, except for the loggers echoing off the mountains like drums. "What's that awful sound?" questioned Sylvie as she jumped out the car. "That noise was not here last summer." Grandpa rubbed his forehead, "That's those vile loggers, that are closing in on this ancient paradise." he croaked in a shallow voice. "We've been protesting all year for them to stop what they are doing." worried Grandma. Her heart sank at the unsettling news as she visualised what could become of this beautiful untouched land.

For the past few weeks, Sylvie explored the edge of the forest with her grandpa .

"We mustn't go too far into the forest. It's to remain untouched by people." Grandpa would say. Realising how unique and special this place really was, Sylvie cautiously glared around making sure she wasn't damaging anything.

With each bird song Sylvie would hear her heart grew with love for the wildlife that called it their home. With each leaf she touched she felt a connection with the statuesque trees. Every time she dipped her toes in the gleaming river, Sylvie could feel a tingle flow through her blood. But every time she heard the distant blaring of chainsaws, she would feel a stabbing in her heart.

Now that Sylvie was familiar with the forest edge, she explored it on her own. One humid morning she meandered along the winding dirt track that she has walked every day with her grandpa. Suddenly, something gleaming caught her eye. It had delicate amber splotched wings and an olive-green body. As she examined this elegant butterfly, something magical pulled her towards the forest. The butterfly fluttered off the exotic flower it was perched on and flew towards the alluring pull.

With all her courage, Sylvie followed the butterfly into the impenetrable forest, but her Grandpa's words kept ringing in her head.

You mustn't go too far into the forest.

The magical pull kept tugging on her forward.

You mustn't go too far into the forest.

The force grew in strength, greater than she could handle...

Sylvie had no choice but to go into the untouched...

The forest was humble and steep. The towering tree branches and vines snaked together like knots. A thick misty haze stuck to the tops of the leafy green trees. As Sylvie strode through the forest, her steps made the leaves crunch under her feet. She was led by the butterfly to a majestic glittering waterfall. Behind it Sylvie saw elf-like creatures, with leaves braided through their wavy brown hair. Their clothing was made entirely of nature. When Sylvie stared at them their emerald, green eyes stared back. "Who are you?" cooed Sylvie, watching the creatures slowly approach her. "We're expecting you, Sylviania. Welcome to Levia Forest. We are the Forest Guardians, here to protect and care for the forest from humans like the loggers over the mountain." explained a Forest Guardian who was beautiful like the forest. She took a step forward on the rocky ground and held out her palm. "My name is Reniala, which means mother of the forest and this paradise is my life and soul. We need your help to stop the loggers demolishing this ancient forest! Do you think you can help?" Reniala asked with hope laced in her voice. "You can trust me ... " she added, reassuring Sylvie.

"Er ... I need to get back to my grandparents, they will be worried." Sylvie told Reniala, not sure what she was seeing. Reniala nodded and wished her goodnight.

As Sylvie sprinted back through the dense trees nearly tripping over the many moss covered logs, she spun her head, whipping her auburn locks across her face and screamed. "I will help you... I promise!"

Thump! Sylvie's head smashed to the ground. Tired from running, she toppled over a jagged rock. Throbbing with pain she wobbled up to see the overgrown forest that secluded her. Vines carried flowers that looped in and out of trees. Sylvie realised how dark Levia was. "It must be nearly dusk." She whispered to herself remembering Grandma telling her to be home by dusk. She rubbed her sore head and stumbled one way and then the next. She came to an abrupt halt and took a long breath in. She was lost, deep within the dense dark forest.

When twilight arrived, Sylvie eventually found the edge of the forest, brushing past the scratchy leaves and camouflaged sticks to reveal a devastating sight. It wasn't the edge of the forest she was familiar with and hoping to see. Big golden trucks with oversized wheels stood at the edge of Levia Forest ready for deforestation at any moment. Dark trees were already littered on the ground, hiding the dirt from view and a thick cloud of muck hung over the dark sky. There was a miniscule camp set up in the middle of this. Three or four tents stood around one petty circle with a blazing fire producing a cloud of sickly smoke that drifted above them. Sylvie marched to the camp not sure what she was going to do.

"What the? Get out of here little girl." Grumbled a deep hoarse voice, the tall man slowly got up from his seat. "Who are you calling little?" Sylvie defended, continuing to march forward. "Are you aware that you're causing the forest pain? Are you aware of what you're doing? It should be you who's going to 'get out of here."' She pushed forcingly. Suddenly, Sylvie felt a rush of magic strengthen in her. She threw her hands out in front of her and concentrated on the tingling sensation in her hands.

"I'm going to make you feel what the forest feels." Sylvie shouted at the flabbergasted men. When the magic left her the loggers' eyes filled with glistening tears. They dropped to their knees and started crying. "What have we done?" asked the man with a hoarse voice. "We are never doing this again." sobbed another into his mucky hands. "Why does my heart throb?" questioned a logger whose dirty long hair dropped over his face. "This is how the forest feels when you hurt it, when you cut down the trees and pollute the water and air. Broken" Sylvie told them, her voice cracking. "Broken." one man repeated, clenching his throbbing heart. She stepped back onto lifeless twigs and sawdust, pleading with the sobbing loggers to stop demolishing the precious forest.

A few weeks later in her grandparent's cottage, Sylvie was sadly packing her suitcase. Across the room her favourite meal was cooking in a brass pot above the wood fire oven. She didn't want to leave Levia, Ranalia said they needed her there and she knew she didn't belong back in the city. Sylvie's parents worked overseas so she was forced into a boarding school where she was tormented for being different.

Her grandparents learned of her turmoil and enacted a plan to intervene. Suddenly, her bedroom door sprung open and Grandpa, who was wearing his usual red straw hat came inside, followed by Grandma who was in a handmade cream dress.

"Sylvania, we just convinced your boarding school and parents that you can stay here with us, if that's what you want." They said excitedly. Sylvie's jaw dropped, her eyebrows raised in utter glee, and she ran to her grandparents. "Of course, I'm staying, there's no other place I want to be.” She said, sharing a tight hug with her grandparents. "This is my home; this is where I belong." She quietly whispered, whipping away a tear. Grandpa and Grandma held her hand and whispered back: "This is where you have always belonged, after all, Sylvania means belonging to the forest."

(Joint) 3rd Place Winner: The Adventures of Evie and Charlie

By Evie Bluck, Grade 4

Prologue

The furry little tails stood out against the sleek black sky. The gardener woke to a surprisingly loud crunch and then a munch. The gardener ran down the halls throwing on a dressing gown, bursting to see fields of - not carrots but carrot tops!

Chapter One. The Phone

"RINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNIG"

Evie dashed up the stairs with her dog Charlie. bounding at her side.

"Hello. Yes. Oh no. Yes. Okay. We'll be there first thing in the morning Olivia!"

"Another case for us Charlie. We better get some rest!"

Charlie made a sound like a cow that swallowed a chicken, which meant "I want to stay home. IN BED! Not another case!"

Chapter Two. On The Farm

Evie, Charlie and Olivia, the gardener stood silently in shock looking at endless fields of carrot tops as the sun rose higher into the sky.

"I don't know what happened." said Olivia "I was peacefully sleeping and woke to a few surprisingly loud munches and crunches. I thought my son was playing a computer game!"

Evie inspected the scattered carrot tops looking for clues.

Evie said, "Just by looking at these fields I have three suspects on my list and those are: Mr. Gold, Bunnies or a new kind of carrot eating species."

"I doubt it would be the last one, but Mr. Gold does think he can make karat gold out of carrots and bunnies do eat carrots" replied Olivia.

"We are on the case." said Evie.

Chapter Three. Mr. Gold

Evie and Charlie arrived in the street where Mr. Gold lived. His house stretched into the sky and cast dark shadows everywhere. It was not very well looked after. The fence was old and rickety, and the roof needed repair. His garden was overflowing with golden statues, popping up out of the untidy lawn which needed mowing.

This was the first suspect on Evie's suspect list. Evie went up to the door and rang the doorbell that sounded like crunches. "Typical Mr. Gold" thought Evie. While she waited for someone to come, she noticed a pair of muddy boots on the front porch, with a set of muddy footprints leading up the garden path. Evie knew someone was coming from inside because Charlie's ears pricked up.

Suddenly the door opened, just a crack. All that could be seen of Mr. Gold was his eye and a bit of his matted blue dressing gown. Mr. Gold looked to be more than 100 years old with thin eyebrows and not much hair on his head from what little they could see. His eyes were a hazel colour, and his mouth was making a large frown.

"Who are you? What do you want!" said Mr. Gold quite angrily "It is Evie, I'm a detective. You may have seen us on the news. We just solved the case of the missing trophies. It was on channel 9. I am here about a theft at Golden Orchards".

"Ah. Yes." Mr. Gold thought for a second "Well, okay, come in."

Chapter Four. Brunch with Mr. Gold

"I don't usually have company inside my house. Everyone is frightened of my house and how big and dark it looks. But I am quite friendly.

Evie sat in an armchair opposite Mr. Gold. Charlie was out in the backyard staring through the wire at the hens. Evie explained what had happened at the orchards and how all the carrots had gone missing.

"So, you're saying this gardener thinks I make carrots into karat gold. I don't think carrots can be made into karat gold, and I haven't tried once!" said Mr. Gold in disbelief.

"Can you explain how your boots got so muddy?" Evie asked, pointing towards the front porch.

"I used them in my backyard. I was using the hose, spraying my cabbages and something came along, stood on the hose and it went crazy! Water was everywhere! Made a whole lot of mud on my boots and on my cabbages. I didn't clean them straight away because the chickens were loose, and I had to shut them away. I came back into the front yard and was so tired, I left my boots on the front porch all night. I hardly think that's a crime! Also! My name is not Mr. Gold - everyone thinks that because of my gold statues my name must be Gold, but it's Mr. Blueback. The statues are just gold paint!

"I am sorry Mr. Gol... I mean Blueback! I made a mistake about your boots."

Chapter Five. Bunny Problems

After Chatting to Mr. Blueback for a little longer they left the house and went back to Olivia the Gardener for an update.

"Bunnies are the only other option, so we'll have a stakeout and catch them red handed!" Evie exclaimed to Olivia.

"I would like to point out that bunnies don't have red hands."

"Okay. Red pawed." Said Evie

"Still not what I mean..." said Olivia shaking her head.

Charlie and Evie headed off to get ready for the stakeout.

Later that night, the sky glowed a misty purple as the moon shone over the orchard. Charlie and Evie had brought over snacks and sleeping bags for a farm stakeout. Charlie was not happy about the stake out. Staying up late was not Charlie's idea of a good time. He would prefer to be in bed. Sleeping. 24/7. But he did like the snacks.

Chapter Six. Silly Stakeout

9pm. 10pm. 11pm. Midnight. Evie watched as the leaves danced through the wind until she heard a crunching noise which made her look forwards and then down to see a surprisingly small bunny. Evie burst into laughter, waking both Olivia and Charlie. Evie held up the bunny for them to see and then the little giggle grew into loud laughter.

Oliva was so delighted to have found the "culprit". She knew after this incident; it would be a good idea to put netting over all the carrots - and all her other produce - just in case!

Evie and Charlie had saved the day once more. Now they could go home to rest.

Two friends

Two detectives

Can two friends stop this "disaster." from happening and wiping out endless fields of carrots?

With the help from new friends, they could find out they are dealing with a smuggler or something much smaller.

Also Look Out For: The Adventures of Evie and Charlie

(Joint) 3rd Place Winner: Boy on the boat

By Gus Natoli Grade 6

Debris and dust ricocheted away, turning the air and sky a light shade of grey. Wilhelm had watched the final ruinous bomb of the war leaving the whole town in rubble, the town hall being the war's most recent victim. And it now lay, flames licking the remaining timber. He had expected the end of the war to be a joyous moment. It was far from that. People dug in a desperate scramble for food.

A woman gave an anguished cry as she called a name, clutching her son to her chest. Rain began to cascade down, in cold clear streams clearing dust off Wilhelm's face. He had lost his mother in the war. He didn't like to talk about it. Wilhelm now walked ‘home,’ home being two planks of disintegrating wood and a tattered and worn sheet, with more holes than actual sheet.

He was annoyed but not surprised to see a man slouched under the canvas.

“You can't stay here.” Wilhelm says to the man, irritation could be heard in his usually hushed voice. The man stared at him blankly before heaving himself up and out of the weathered shelter before he was engulfed in the fog. Wilhelm sat down and began fixing a makeshift meal.

That night he felt something nudging his side.

He reached out to feel a leatherbound diary. Was it left by the man in his shelter? Upon opening the battered old diary, images of islands, food and sea covered the pages. He stared at the detail of the drawings. The hurried inscriptions told stories of stunning islands, with trees covered in fruit. The glow of the sun sending reflections through the salty spray. His eyes glided through the pages before finally reaching the back cover where the delicate initials F D, were inscribed.

Well, what if I found this place? Wilhelm thought. He lay, the moon through the foggy haze illuminating his pale face, green eyes and a nest of tousled blonde hair, as he closed his eyes and slept.

Woken in the morning by the nip of the winter cold, Wilhelm looked for his hidden rations. Nothing. The worm-ridden drawer was completely empty, not a morsel of food left. So, it was decided, he would find the island.

Wilhelm crouched behind the mound of rubble, preparing for the moment to spring. When the war broke out gangs formed.

He was currently in the midst of one of the most ruthless; red symbols bared on all their possessions. “What ya looking at?” Wilhelm spins, fist raised ready to fight as he jumps to his feet. A short, amused laugh springs from a girl's mouth. She was tall. Long, ragged hair, a pale face with a spark in her eyes.” My name is Sophia,”. Wilhelm looked on in caution. “Well, my name is Wilhelm.” he remarked, frustrated by the interruption to his plans, “And I need to steal a boat.” She smiles at him before dashing toward a small rowboat and heaves it over toward him. He stares in confusion. What next? She asks. “Wait, I'm pretty sure I'm going alone” Wilhelm announces.

He groans as Sophia hums. How has he gotten himself into this situation? Their boat slices through the water. “It's getting dark," Sofia notes as the sun ducks behind the hills. They haul the small boat up the hill before resting for the night on makeshift beds of leaves and grass. The sound of the thrashing waves slamming against the rocks slowly lulled him to sleep. Wilhelm woke and the moon was still high, he could only just see Sophia as she walked and sat near a tree. There were shadows and muttered voices. He is tired and must be hearing things, he tells himself. He closed his eyes. The smell of pine from the trees is mixed with the scent of the ocean, and then, sleep.

Wilhelm woke pleasantly, different to being awoken by a distant bomb or the hum of a plane. Sophia sat on a log, a small fire blazed, but still no food.

She seemed less talkative this morning and slouched as she lowered the boat into the water, and they moved onward.

Land was now a distant speck, the water engulfing the surroundings.

‘Nice day…” Wilhelm attempted conversation. A smile flickered across her face before it went blank. She suddenly revealed a diary, the cover the colour of blood. She skimmed silently through the pages. Words scattered across the paper. Sophia reaches the end. Wilhelm’s breath stalled as he saw an inky red skull and a glistening snake etched on the final page, the symbol of the most ruthless gang.

2

“Land!” Sophia laughed, a smile bursting across her face. Wilhelm squinted before smiling in hope, his gradual paddling quickened. The boat forged ruts in the sand as Wilhelm and Sophia sprung, stumbling and dashing, the waves dragging at their feet. Wilhem stood in awe. Exotic wildlife scampered through trees with luminous flowers. Large clumps of fruit hung from branches and would supply food and health.

The sharp crack of a branch snaps him back to reality. He scans the clearing in caution. Was that a footstep? Wilhelm swivels in panic to face the muscular form of two burly figures. They seized Wilhelm, his scrawny thin arms no match for their strength. “Sophia run!” Wilhelm called desperately as they dragged him away. Wilhelm stared in confusion as she began to laugh hysterically, a smile of glee spread across her face. “I'm with them! And you led me here!” a sly smile painted across her face. “Y-y-you lied!” he spluttered, a feeling of horror filling him.

Wilhelm stood struggling against the restraint. The tight rope burned his wrists as he is forced against the tree and a blindfold restrains his vision. The luminous surroundings turn dark, and he can no longer see at all.Wihelm heard Sophia sleeping and the low grumble of the bodyguards. He reached out groping for the bonds pulling him to the rough trunk of the tree.

“Hey.” a hushed whisper comes from behind. A sharp slice cuts through the ropes as they fall to the ground. Wilhelm rubbed his wrists as the burn lingered. He turned to face his saviour to see the most unexpected rescuer. ‘Thank you’ he looked to see a masked figure, a long black cape billowing out behind him, in a dark black wave. The man reached for his hood and lowered it as it fell behind his shoulders. “Hello Wilhelm” his worn face shifts to a smile as Wilhelm gasped in shock at the recognition of the old man at his shelter.

3

Before he could murmur any form of explanation the man clutched his hand, rushing him away from the sleeping guards and the unknowing Sophia. They treaded carefully, the light pad of their feet the only sound. They pulled into a clearing. “Maria, you can come out.” A tall woman walked from the bushes- her long brown hair hung over her shoulder and her eyes sparkled with pure joy. “Wilhelm?” she gasped. “M-m-mum?” Wilhelm spluttered in shocked recognition.

They rushed into a deep embrace, a mix of tears and laughter. His mum explained her adventures and survival. Wilhelm turned to the man who had tears in his eyes. “Son, this is Felix Damson,” his new-found mother introduced the man. “A pleasure to meet you.” he beamed. Wilhelm informed them miserably about the troubling cause of events. As they reached the beach, marine life twisted and turned through the brightly coloured forks of coral, all of this enveloped by water. They marvelled at the sight before discussing a plan. They would gather forces and rebel against the gang.

Wilhelm got out of the boat and sighed. “So, this is home.” he remarked looking at the obliterated streets. The group behind him piled out, darting in and out under cover. They reached a battered door and Maria grabbed the handle. “A friend.” she says with a smile as they enter the small coven. An uneasiness overcomes him as he sees the room full, the muscular forms of the scarred men and women slumped against walls, large glasses of drink hang dully in their hands. They found their way through the fatigued group before reaching a small bench. The tremendous bulk of a man sat at stool, short dark hair and a body rippling with muscles. Large scars and tattoos twist and twirl in masses around his arms and legs.

“Hello Daniel.” “Maria!” The man smiled, heaving himself to his feet, embracing Wilhelm’s mum. She introduced him and Felix. Daniel’s hand clutched theirs in his. Wilhelm then explained his situation, Daniel's usually soft face gradually became firm. “So, you have a problem?” he asked. “We need your help.” Wilhelm answered. Daniel gathered a group of worthy men and women to rebel against the traitorous gang. They roamed the streets for a few days making deals for supplies. Some tinkered, creating rafts from tattered and splintering pieces of driftwood.

4

The cool water pricked their ankles with the deathly cold, seaweed swept between their legs like unidentified creatures. They pushed off from the crumbling brick wall into the murky depths. The only vision of other rafts was the tiny sparkling light, like a star ahead of them as the gloom enclosed the area like a beast. Wilhelm leaned against his Mum; along with Felix and Daniel, crowded in their raft as they headed toward the island in preparation for the ambush.

The raft hit the beach with a light thump as they tumbled out. The groups then separated silently in different directions. They slinked toward the clearing, while Wilhelm clutched his chest in worry. “We’re here” Felix murmured. They hauled themselves into the tree, overlooking the silhouette of Sophia, as she lounged. Felix signalled his hand before quickly recoiling back. And then they jumped.

They landed with a heavy thump before screaming and attacking. A flurry of hands and legs hauled themselves toward the now waking group. Pure fear sparked in her eyes and Wilhelm ran forward in newfound confidence, a mix of anger and sorrow. Within seconds the guards were bound by rope, but Sophia recoiled, distraught. She grabbed the boat and rowed into the darkness.

Wilhelm sat on his beach with his mum as families hurtled toward the sea. People were selling food and toys from makeshift shops, and now thanks to Wilhelm a fair empire had been built, where a police force was created, and food was distributed out from the island. But the tiresome thought of Sophia lingered like a bad smell in the back of his mind. After she had run, they had given chase, but she was long gone.

They had begun organising rules and restrictions, creating a safe environment. The now harmonious streets were filled with chatter and families hefted bricks to their shoulders, rebuilding the broken structures. Wilhelm had trained to become a member of the police force and now patrolled the streets in search of burglars or people in need. A figure casts a shadow over the streets as they hold a person threatening for money. Seeing them, the figure turned and bolted. Wilhelm spotted the dark patch of shadow thrown across the pavement.

5

“There!” he barked, and they bolted for the darting figure through the ominous street. They reach a dead-end street. The hooded figure slumps. The hood draped over her face. “Reveal yourself.” Wilhelm yelled with a forced confidence. The gasping figure dragged the hood from their face.

“Hello Wilhelm” Sofia smiled darkly. Wilhelm growled and stumbled, clutching the wall for support.

“I know you can't throw me in jail Wilhelm” she chattered grimly.

“I know you can't bring yourself to it.”

“You have had it hard Sophia” he sympathised. “But you have done terrible things to many.”

The officers restrained the snarly and struggling girl as the cell door closed with a clang. He stood silently with his mum, his hand slipping into hers. The doors not only closing a criminal in, but also closing the end of the war, and the very end of the island predicament.

Art

Art