English Week 10

WriteOn Competition 2026

All Schools across NSW are invited to enter the WriteOn Competition, the theme this year was: It was a small thing, but it made a big difference.

Students were asked to write an imaginative text. Unfortunately, we are only able to submit one entry per Stage (Stage 1, Stage 2, Stage 3) from our school.

Congratulations to all students who submitted entries for consideration it was difficult to choose who to enter.

Congratulations to Adaline (Year 2), Yeva (Year 4) and Saisha (Year 6) who were chosen to be entered and the best of luck in the competition.

Here are the fantastic entries for you to read!

Adaline ( Stage 1, Year 1)

The Kind Little Pixie

Once upon a time, there was a little pixie who lived in a mushroom house in the woods. The pixie loved living in the forest. She loved climbing trees, nibbling on tree bark, and racing birds to the tops of the tallest trees. She also loved helping animals and protecting baby birds in their nests.

One autumn day, the pixie was racing her ladybug friends up and down the trees when she saw a baby fox sitting alone. The baby fox looked very sad.

"Why are you sad?" asked the pixie. "I can't find my mum," said the baby fox. "Do not worry," said the pixie. "I will find your mum. Until I find her, I will be your mum."

The baby fox smiled.

First, they asked a wolf if he was the fox's mum. "No," said the wolf.

Next, they asked a mermaid. "No," said the mermaid.

Then they asked a dragon. "No," said the dragon.

The pixie searched for many days, but she still could not find the fox's mum.

"You can stay at my mushroom house," she told the baby fox.

But the mushroom house was too small, so the pixie collected bark and logs and built a cosy little shelter where the fox could sleep, eat, and play.

The pixie kept searching. She looked in holes, under leaves, and inside hollow logs. One day, she crawled into a hole, hoping to find the fox's mum, but she only found a mole.

When she came back, the baby fox was gone!

The pixie searched everywhere. She looked under the autumn leaves and climbed the tallest tree she could find. Then, inside a hollow log, she found the fox's mum.

"My baby!" cried the fox's mum.

The pixie and the fox's mum searched together. They looked under leaves, in holes, through the grass, and around the logs.

Suddenly, the pixie heard a tiny squeak.

"I found one!" she shouted.

The fox's mum ran over and was delighted to see her baby. But she said, "One of my babies is still missing!"

They went to the beach and asked a mermaid if she had seen another baby fox.

"Yes," said the mermaid. "I saw a baby fox playing in the water."

The mermaid dove underwater to look for the fox. Soon, they spotted the missing baby fox, kitesurfing across the waves.

The mermaid swam quickly and gently steered the surfboard back to shore.

The fox's mum was so happy to have all her babies back. She thanked the pixie and the mermaid for helping her family.

The pixie smiled and said, "I did not do much. I just did a small thing to help my little friend."

The small pixie had only built a small shelter and helped with the search in her own small way, but her kindness made a big difference.

And from that day on, everyone in the woods remembered that even a small thing can make a big difference.

Yeva ( Year 4, Stage 2)

Rain was pitter-pattering across the silent valley. Chickens were clucking in their pen, and William the cat was purring on the windowsill, but otherwise it was silent. The only person who didn’t hear or see any of that peaceful beauty was me. Back then, I didn’t notice anything. These days, lots of people sit in front of screens and don’t care about what is happening around them.

Well, to be honest, I was one of those people before. But my eyes were opened to the outside world by someone who I thought was incapable of doing it. It was a small thing, but it made a big difference.

I was sitting in my room, stuck to a computer screen. Suddenly, William landed right in front of me, blocking the screen with his body. The cat did the most extraordinary thing ever. He sat and spoke: “Will you ever get off this thing?”

I stared, open-mouthed. “So, are you answering or not?!” William said. “Excuse me, did you just speak?” I asked. “Yes, I did, James,” said William proudly. “Now, will you get off this bundle of metal?”

I answered, “All right.” “Now we will explore the outside world,” said William shortly. “Don’t be too surprised. While you were locked on that computer, you never heard or believed that animals could talk. Now, let’s go outside. The rain has finally stopped.”

I shrugged and went downstairs to get ready to go outside.

When we were outdoors, I followed William toward the small lake near the forest. When we got there, one of the ducks swimming there quacked, “Don’t come close to the eggs, or I will peck you to pieces!”

“Don’t worry about them. It’s their breeding season. No wonder they are so protective,” said William.

We walked for an hour. My legs were tired, and my mouth was so dry that it felt like a desert. But before I could complain, we had already arrived. It was a tree standing in the middle of a clearing, with a hole in it. William climbed up it and turned to face me.

“Just jump into the hole and say, ‘Book Cave!’” he said.

I was worried, but I did as he told me.

I landed on soft pillows in the middle of a warm room with stone walls and a red carpet. There were also soft armchairs in the corners. In one of them, William was sitting and purring quietly.

“Welcome to the Book Cave!” William exclaimed. “But where are the books?” I asked him. “They are down the corridor behind you,” answered William.

We walked down the dark stone corridor until we came to an enormous hall. This hall was filled with shelves groaning under the weight of the infinite number of books they held.

I walked along the shelves and found a book. I pulled it out and read the heading: “Another world”.

That’s what I need!

Saisha (Year 6, Stage 3)

The Star I Wasn’t Looking For

We all dream of our own star.

Maybe it’s that good English grade you’ve been looking for.

Or maybe it’s mastering Lekach: sweet honey cake savoured during Rosh Hashanah.

Sometimes, we dream of being a star.

Maybe being a Hollywood superstar, strutting down the red carpet like a queen.

Maybe scoring the winning goal for your country, being called ‘the star of the football game!’

Papa once told me each human is gifted with their own sky.

Each achievement adds a star to their night sky.

Important people become stars as well.

I liked having my own sky.

I liked having my own stars.

The newspapers all showcased one heading: WORLD–WAR.

Really?

You would find it hard to believe a war is occurring right now in France.

It was early autumn, but the warmth of summer still lingered.

And the birds, oh, the birds!

Little sparrows darted to and fro, fast dashes of brown and orange.

“Petit Anges,” Maman would often coo.

But I could see the worry in her eyes.

I knew I was Jewish.

Of course I did.

I’ve seen Papa go to the synagogue, wearing his Kippah.

Maman doesn’t like me going there, so I don’t.

Why, though? It’s just a temple.

“It’s not just a temple, Esther,” she sighed. “It’s not just a temple.”

The first time I realised Jewish people were not accepted was when the local bakery, where they had the softest breads, put up a sign reading:

No Jewish Customers Permitted.

Maman grew silent for days, revealing a side of her I’ve never seen before.

We never passed by that shop again.

It was a small thing, but it made a difference.

Maman, Papa, and I sat at the table.

Papa reached into his pocket and emerged with three yellow stars.

Maman wept.

“We have to,” Papa murmured. “Marie, Esther. It’s the law.”

“It’s just a little star.”

But was it?

Stars. Swirling around me.

So. Many. Stars.

But none were good.

I was looking for another star to brighten my night sky.

Instead, the Nazis gave me a star I wasn’t looking for.

A yellow star on an armband.

They gave me a scar.

A reminder I was not welcome here.

A pain that would not go away.

Later that month, on the last days of Spring, the Gestapo came.

Pounding on the door, glass-shattering, and taking me and my parents.

Is this our end?

We arrive at the camp, dread filling me as the Nazi-in-charge ordered:

“Men, this way! Women and children, that way!”

I look up at Papa’s kind brown eyes.

I know this is goodbye.

I rest my head against his chest.

“My star,” he whispers.

We are marched towards a long, grey building.

Inside is bare: no windows, no hope.

I tilt my head and picture my night-sky filled with beautiful stars:

the one thing the Nazis will never take from me.

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