Celebrating Student Success 

The English team would like to congratulate Lily Hutchinson (Year 8) on her outstanding achievement in the 2025 Insight Creative Writing Competition. Lily placed first in the Year 7 division; an incredible accomplishment that reflects both her creativity and dedication to developing her writing.

Lily wrote her winning piece as part of the English Enhancement Program in 2025, where she demonstrated exceptional imagination, storytelling and control of language. Her work impressed the competition judges and earned her first place, a cash prize, and an award that was presented at the official ceremony late last year.

We are incredibly proud of Lily’s success and the way she continues to embrace opportunities to challenge herself and develop her talents. Achievements like this highlight the importance of nurturing creative expression and celebrating student voice within our English programs.

Congratulations, Lily! Her award-winning story is included below for the school community to enjoy.

Halves of Her

The line of soldiers - men and women, young and old - stood at the edge of the fjord with a heavy silence over them. Bjorn spoke softly but powerfully:

“Lo, there I do see the one who walked with the gods,

Lo, there I do see a mother her eyes full of fire,

Lo, there I do see the seers watching through the haze,

And they call her

To take her place among them in the halls of Valhalla,

Where the wise are never forgotten.”

The sky was a dull blood red as the longship swayed slowly down the fjord. The flames licked greedily at the wooden hull - dancing, leaping, eating away at her still body on the ship. 

Sigrid’s hand clenched the metal ravens sewn carefully onto the hem of her skirt by hands that would no longer move, as she watched the fire swallow the last of her mother.

Her younger sister Yrsa shivered in the icy breeze. Her eyes were unfocused as if she were seeing something beyond. Her tears froze on her pale face. Their brother Erik’s jaw was clamped so tightly that it looked like his teeth might snap. His helmet was resting in his large, shaking hands. And their father Bjorn? He stood like a statue on the edge of the water, bow still raised. “The other clan won’t bother us. Not now.”

Sigrid’s heart hammered, not from the cold but from voices wrapping themselves around her head. The two voices spoke as one, both cruel and kind.

“Choose.”

The word tumbled through her mind like a storm, she only wished she could scream it back. One by one the Vikings stepped away from the water’s edge, each mourning the loss of their seer. Sigrid and her father were the last to step away and yet he couldn’t meet her eyes. 

Sigrid at last stepped back, the ravens on her skirt clinking each step. They weren’t stitched with embroidery threads but rather were made of thin sheets of blackened iron, each no bigger than a coin. She remembered her mother making them, singing softly about Odin’s messengers. 

The grieved clan trudged back to their longhouses with heavy hearts.

“How will you be happy without her there?” the voices said in unison, one full of mourning the other harsh and taunting. Sigrid shook her head to shake the voices out. She didn’t know whether they were real or just the grief in her head.

“Hold your head high, you are the daughter of someone great.” Whispered the full, gentle voice. Speaking alone the good voice sounded like the sound of leaves in the breeze, her family laughing over dinner. New things. Life. The other tutted quietly to itself. “You aren’t her. With great loss comes great sorrow.” This voice was harsh and hollow and twisted all the good things to evil, swallowing the light.  Awful pictures appeared in her mind. Sigrid didn’t know who she wanted to listen to. 

At last, when Sigrid fell asleep, she dreamt of her mother Solveig carving runes in bones and speaking softly to herself. But when Sigrid went further into the room, she saw the voices drifting around her. As she approached both good and evil looked at her pityingly. 

“She died the way only few choose. She sacrificed herself for her people, for you.” Good spoke, but oddly Evil was whispering along. Sigrid supposed that there was never any good, really, without evil there, too.  “But now you must walk alone…” 

Sigrid woke with a start, chest heaving. Yrsa was staring at her, glassy blue eyes wide. Her usually neat braids had hair slipping out in an uncontrolled way. “Are you ok?” whispered Sigrid. She knew the answer even before she said it. Yrsa shook her head and furrowed her brow, laid back down then searched the ceiling.

At dawn, Sigrid started her chores for the day. She spoke to her father, who just absently agreed with everything. Yrsa didn’t speak at all. She was carrying more than words could hold. 

Sigrid forced the voices aside while she cleaned, cooked and worked. But as she checked the cupboards for all manner of different things for a hearty breakfast, the voices weaved their way inside her brave front.

 Suddenly Sigrid was young, playing with the clay pots of herbs while her mother brewed potions. Her mother’s hands stroked her face and warned her to be careful with the angelica and thyme. She smelled beautiful - like all the herbs in the world, grass, the sky. Evil crept in the shadows of the memory and breathed in deeply, twisting her point of view. “What’s the point of living in a world with beautiful herbs if your mother isn’t there to smell them? Or grass without her treading on it?”

The oil lamp above Sigrid’s head filled with light. Good’s voice rose out of the light saying, “Your mother died for peace. Follow the path she took.”

“You aren’t her. Staying still won’t fix a thing.” Simpered Evil, “She won’t come back unless you avenge her, Sigrid.” 

“You’re alone now…” they spoke at the same time - yet separate.  

“I can’t choose between you!” Sigrid howled. She lashed her arm out at the clay pots of herbs before she had realised what she was doing.  They cracked at her feet. Something inside her cracked as well. Evil cackled in the shadows of her mind, while good giggled quietly along.

Erik glared at her, sharpening his knife in a sickeningly repetitive way. “Say it.” He growled. A protective runestone was clenched in his hand. Evil hummed appreciatively in the corner of Sigrid’s mind. 

“Say what?” she mumbled, sweeping up the clay pots.

“I saw a spy from the other clan on the west of the fjord. Admit it. The other clan won’t stop even though we have a peace treaty, even though mum died for us.” 

Sigrid held her head in her hands as the voices swirled through her mind like a storm. They both had a point… “I - I don’t know.” 

Erik stormed out, still sharpening his knife. Good filled up the light and wailed, “Walk your mother’s path.”

That night, after the family had an awkward sort of dinner, Sigrid lay down to sleep.  After a few seconds she sat back up and decided to get some fresh air. Oddly, it seemed to have gotten quite dark outside in the few minutes that had passed. She felt like she should go to the forest, where she plodded around until she reached a clearing. She remembered this clearing from when she was a bit younger.

She and her friends making trinkets and weapons on sunny afternoons. Yrsa made a bone arrow head and drew a squiggle in a tree with it.  Her mother walking around laughing and helping them work. She came over to Sigrid and showed her some tiny metal ravens she was making…

Sigrid knew Good had been there then, making the flowers bud and everyone happy. Surely Evil had been present when her mother died. She pictured the darkness swirling around the longship in the form of fog and shadow as it went down. Good just floating there in quiet acceptance. 

A fresh roar of grief rose, and she knew good and evil were still clawing at her. Sigrid sighed quietly and stood at the edge of the clearing. Before her, two figures appeared, one bathed in moonlight with long golden hair, the other lurking in the shadows with sallow skin. They looked just like how they sounded. Their voices merged into one but was fractured by a sharp argument.

“I can lead you on the path your mother took, the very same.” urged the Good.

“You don’t need to be your mother; you need to avenge her.” Growled Evil, “I can help you do that.” 

Good countered Evil by speaking directly to Sigrid. “If you can become a seer, you can stop things like this happening again. You can control what will happen before it happens.”

They both had a point. She could walk like her mother and become all seeing or she could try to bring her back. With a jolt Sigrid realised that both these options sounded so appealing because both of them came from within herself. Good and evil were two sides of the same coin; a coin Sigrid been flipping constantly. They were here because she tried to choose one or the other, vengeance or power. Sigrid realised neither voices were really what she wanted to choose.

“I’m not alone in this.” Sigrid said simply.

The voices hissed and spat, clawing at something in her, but Sigrid felt something new – pity. For them. Never truly separated into light and darkness, never truly united as a spirit. They were broken. The spirits roared inside her skull, but Sigrid felt something else – something fiercely her own. 

She closed her eyes and they disappeared. She couldn’t choose one or the other. She would walk her own path. One shaped by her mother, but not her mother’s path. One where she would stand united with her family. 

Her father walked over and met her eyes. Yrsa and Erik came and stood beside her in quiet support. 

Two ravens flew overhead.

“Look, Odin’s watching.” Whispered Yrsa. 

Sigrid clutched the shiny iron ravens sewn in her hem and smiled softly to herself.