Creative Corner

The Storm 

Have you ever laid on the wet grass after and storm and admired the sky? The contrasting colours battling to take up the vast area and give our eyes delight. The way the clouds dance around each other, careful not to put a toe wrong as it would end in loud, thunderous sounds of anger. The birds that come out of hiding to bask in the newly found light of the sun and the peaceful sound of water dripping from the drainpipes. You’re probably wondering why I’m asking. It’s because it’s like life. Life is full of storms; all you have to do is make it through and it will create something beautiful.   

Being a teenager in this day and age is exactly like the storm described above. It’s crazy and no one knows the outcome or fate that the other side holds. The situations that teens are put in are stressful. For example, school. School is the lightning of the storm, always looking to strike you at your most vulnerable. Always taking the weak man as prisoner. It sends electricity through your veins and leaves you powerless after its struck, weak even. You swear you can’t go on; some don’t make it out alive. But there is always those few talented teens that don’t get struck. They push through adversity and continue to strive through.  

After lighting you can always expect thunder. To us teenagers, that is the surrounding body of people around us. The noise they make is deafening and can burst your ear drums if you aren’t careful. For me, it’s my parents. Always rumbling and taking over the lighting show. If I never get struck by the lighting, I will always get stuck in the thunder. “We expect the most you know”, “we’re only looking out for you”. Sometimes teenagers don’t need the lighting to fall, all it takes is that little rumble of thunder to make us feel the pressure, the outside voice telling us we aren’t good enough, telling us that we’ll never amount to anything if we continue down our road of searching. Deafening, loud thunder.   

There are the few that are scared of the storm itself. They see it as an overwhelming burden on their lives and refuse to even let it happen to them. They feel free and do what ever they please but when the storm comes lurking and begins to get closer, instead of facing their problems head on they decide to run. With nowhere to go, they find comfort in the arms of others. This comfort traps those young teens and gives them a false sense of security. This encourages the storm to come faster and heavier than first thought. This creates a bubble of fear that will eventually pop and course through the body of the vulnerable teen and wreck havoc on the emotional and mental health of the unsuspecting teen. The storm will eventually catch up and grab on tight, never letting go until there is nothing left to consume of the teenager.   

Maddison Butler

Year 11

Guilty 

It was a normal day at the local park. Birds were chirping, children were laughing (and crying), parents were bragging about how low their taxes were and the random starving artist was painting children.  

Suddenly the atmosphere shifted, and almost everybody turned their heads to the person who had just entered through the gate. It was a very old man: a retired war veteran who owned the local Kmart. He strolled into the park with a resting, intimidating face. Squirrels clamoured up into the tree. Children screamed and ran to their parents who had suddenly started talking about war crimes, and the artist showed a look of disappointment as he packed up his things quickly and left in a hurry. He was careful not to show his art to a single soul. I wondered why. 

Alongside the war veteran was a snail, attached to a small pink leash held by the old man. Locals constantly wondered why he had a snail for a pet, though they never had the courage to ask.  

An enraged mother stood up, sharply making a quick turn towards him on route to cutting him off. The other parents didn’t realise what she was doing until it was too late.  

“EXCUSE ME SIR.” She barked at him the words falling off her tongue in a blind rage.  

“Yes?” the old man, whose name was Jeff, replied calmly to this sudden approach.  

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR DOING?!” the woman shouted practically in the man’s ear, however received no physical response from the man.  

“I am taking Jefferson around the park for a walk, what are you doing invading my space like this?” Jeff replied almost calmly. He was getting irritated, which was odd for him.  

“YOU ARE SCARING MY CHILD! GET OUT!”  

Jeff gave her a stink eye before responding with, “please move.” The woman looked enraged at this comment and started stomping. Jeff panicked, swiftly attempting to nudge Jefferson out of her burst of rage, but unfortunately, not swift enough. The snail’s shell cracked with a loud crunch, ultimately killing it.  

Jeff stared down at the remnant that was his best friend. No knowing whether to fell rage or depression. As tears swelled in his eyes, he clenched his fists and smashed the woman’s nose. Blood trickled down what was once her nose and into her hand and onto the ground. Her eyes grew wide, as if she hadn’t just killed a man’s pet.  

For the first time in years, tears fell from Jeffs eyes as he stared down at his hands covered with blood as the woman reached for her phone. He kneeled next to his “fallen comrade” as he would say. He hadn’t cried so much since he promised his friend in war to take care of his snail for him.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- “he repeatedly muttered to himself as he was dragged away from the scene by the police. 

* 

GUILTY.  

Finally, the judge sealed his fate with one charge of assault, the woman smirking from ear to ear in the corner, a white bandage on her beaten nose. 

No regrets. 

Xen Such 

Year 7

Rainstorm

There is something so 

Unique 

About the world after it rains.

I’ve heard

‘It’s a time for new beginnings’ before…

But I don’t think

That’s all it is.

In all fairness,

I am not a person who enjoys the rain.

It makes me feel cold 

At the best of times

And lonely 

In the worst.

However.

There are a couple of moments

A couple of 

Phenomena

That only occur 

Because it rains.

There’s the second

Or hour

Or minute before it rains.

When the music the world makes 

Seems to get just that little bit louder.

It rides the wind

Ties my hair into knots

And whispers in my ear:

Take cover. I will change EVERYTHING.

Where you can smell it in the air

And if you’re up high enough 

You can see the far-off clouds

Changing shape as the rain bursts free.

And then there’s the hour

Or minute

Or second after it rains.

When the earth feels more alive

And the sky above you is still gunmetal grey

And the music stops.

As if to laugh, for a second,

At the inhabitants of the world

And shout:

Here’s the clean slate

You all wished for

But at what cost?

‘Cos the rain falls when the sky gets too heavy to hold it

The same way tears fall.

‘Cos when it’s angry enough

It creates phrases like

‘hail’ ‘acid rain’ ‘blizzard’

That don’t whisper for us to take cover;

They SCREAM.

My favourite type of rain

Is actually not quite rain at all.

We call it

A storm.

Light and sound 

Collide in the air

And have the power to destroy almost anything.

And I can sit

Inside or outside

And FEEL the thunder rattle both the sky

And my bones.

I think the thing that people most like about rain

Is how human it is.

Clouds mimic the biological components that cause salt water to fall from our eyes

The sky screams louder than any living thing

And the world lives on afterwards.

And so do we.

Evie Taylor

Year 11