Congratulations to all entrants to the inaugral MPS Lily Whitney Writing Competition! We have printed the three winning entries so the whole school community can enjoy the wonderful story writing of our budding authors.

1st Place Winner

‘Wetherlund Hall’, by Josephine Barnes, Grade 4

Samantha gazed up at the emerald green canopy, watching the light filter through the leaves. The peaceful forest was her favourite thing about Wetherlund Hall, the property that had been in her family for generations. She and her parents had moved there when her dad’s older sister, Eryn, had moved to California with her husband George and her kids, Kelly and Chris. Since the property was far from Samantha’s former home, she would have to start at a new school at the end of the holidays. That didn’t bother Samantha too much, as she had few friends at her old school. Suddenly a voice cut through her thoughts. “Hi.”

Samantha cried out and whirled around. She didn’t know what she had been expecting but it definitely wasn’t a boy dressed in a dark green suit and a chocolate brown waistcoat. As she stared at him she saw that the colours of the boy’s outfit perfectly matched the shades of the magnificent oak he stood in front of.

“Who are you? Why are you in my forest?” Samantha shrieked. He laughed.

“Your forest? I’ve been here a whole lot longer than you.” He responded. She raised an eyebrow. This kid was becoming increasingly interesting.“How much longer?” Samantha wondered aloud, taking a tentative step forward. His eyes looked old. Like they’d seen too much. However, this didn’t prepare her for his answer.

“About three centuries.”

Samantha raised her eyebrows.

“Cool!” She exclaimed. The boy laughed again.

“Out of all the people I’ve met, you’re one of the few who hasn’t tried to hit me with an axe.”

He grinned mischievously.

“WHAT? Are you okay?” Samantha fretted.

“It hurt at the time. A lot. But I’m fine, it takes a lot to kill an oak tree.” He explained, rubbing a scar on his wrist. At that moment Samantha saw that the scar matched a jagged mark in the bark of the tree he was leaning on.

“You’re a TREE?” Samantha gasped. He nodded.

“Yup. That’s me. The name’s Theo, nice to meet you.”

He stuck his arm out.

“We’re meant to shake hands, right? Sorry if my social skills are a bit rusty, I’ve been asleep for seventy years.” He apologized. Samantha couldn’t help smiling. His grin was contagious. She shook his hand and introduced herself.

“I’m Samantha. So, how come you decided to take a nap for seven decades?” Samantha asked.

Theo’s eyes darkened and he stopped smiling.

“Well, I made friends with this girl, and we were climbing my tree together. By the way, that’s not as weird as it sounds. I’m not connected to the tree that much, I just feel pain when it feels pain and stuff. Anyway, we were at the top of the tree, and one of the branches broke. I tried to save her- I did! I couldn’t though. Then her brother came and took her away. I don’t know if she made it.” Theo’s voice crackled with emotion. His whole body seemed to be weighed down by the sadness, and his waistcoat slipped off, revealing a patchwork of scars on his arms. Samantha’s heart ached for him. She reached out and he took her hand, amber tears dripping from his eyes. Rain began to pour from the sky, drenching them both.

“Is there anything I can do?” She whispered.

“Find out if she survived. Please.” He murmured. Then he began to fade into the tree, becoming fainter and fainter until Samantha was alone, in the rain, in the not so peaceful forest.

Samantha walked back to the house in a daze. Theo had asked her to find out the fate of his friend. It seemed impossible though. It was seventy years ago, and lots could have happened in all that time. Samantha sighed as she entered Wetherlund Hall. She flopped into a squishy armchair and sighed. Then she chuckled to herself. It was so simple! Why hadn’t she thought of it straight away? A girl and her brother who were in the forest seventy years ago. There was a huge possibility they were Wetherlunds like her! All she had to do was find someone who knew her family history. The best option was Great Aunt Maggie. She lived in Wutherland Hall, though her older brother Simon and his wife Jenny, Samantha’s grandparents, were on an extended cruise around the Caribbean. Samantha made her way to Great Aunt Maggie’s bedroom. She knocked gently on the door.

“Come in!” Great Aunt Maggie commanded. She was around eighty, but nobody knew her exact age.

“Hi!” Samantha cried.

“Hello, Samantha. Oh, you’re dripping! Come here and sit near the fireplace.” Great Aunt Maggie suggested. Once Samantha was seated she asked her question.

“Great Aunt Maggie, do you know of a girl who lived here about seventy years ago? A girl with a brother?” Samantha asked. Great Aunt Maggie leaned forward with a crinkly smile.

“Yes! Why do you ask?” She responded. Samantha told her about Theo and his tragic story. Great Aunt Maggie looked as if she was watching a memory.

“So, who was that girl? Did she survive?” Samantha questioned. Great Aunt Maggie gave a wrinkly smile.

“That girl was Margaret Wetherlund, and she most definitely survived! Otherwise how would I be here?” Great Aunt Maggie laughed.

“You were Theo’s friend?” Samantha gasped.

“Yes! I healed from the fall, but my parents decided to send me to boarding school, to keep me out of mischief. I never forgot about Theo though. Would it be possible to see him again?” Great Aunt Maggie wondered. Samantha smiled.

The next day Theo woke to hushed voices. He opened his eyes and willed himself into existence. Water dripped from the leaves, sun shining on them and creating miniature rainbows in the air. Theo was met by an elderly lady he didn’t recognise. When he looked her in the eye he saw an old friend.

Then he turned to Samantha and saw a new one.

2nd Place Winner

‘The stone at the edge of the water’, by Sara Campanero Healy, Grade 6

It started with the stone. It looked so ordinary, lying at the edge of the water, half buried in the mud and twinkling in the sunlight. It looked ordinary, but Luna Mayfield knew it wasn’t. It lay there so innocently, concealed against the other river rocks, letting the water from the Yarra splash onto it. Luna’s fingers twitched, she needed to hold that stone. It was as though it was whispering her name, begging her to pick it up…

Just do it Luna told herself, It’s just a rock, nothing spooky nor interesting. The wind had picked up now, making the trees sway and Luna’s long brown hair dance up to the sky. It was now or never to get that stone. Luna took a deep breath, reached down and grasped it in her dirty hands.

“Ouch! “, Luna yelped as an electric shock ran through her veins. She dropped the stone, letting it fall beneath the piles of autumn leaves. Luna jumped away from the riverbank, scared and confused. Was that stone radioactive? It sounded dumb, but she couldn´t think of another explanation.

“Where did you find that?” A deep voice boomed suddenly from behind her. Sturdy arms grabbed her shoulders, lifting her off the ground and into the air. Luna screamed and swiped at her captor’s hands, screaming once again when she realised that something was terribly wrong.

Her captor’s hands were blue.

But before she could do anything, something hard jammed into the side of her neck, and she felt the strong hands release her. Luna fell to the ground below. The last thing she saw was a tall blue figure standing over her, and then she slipped into darkness.

Luna awoke to find a blue face extremely close to her own. Luna screamed and sat up straight. Her eyes were still blurry and sore, but she could make out a massive domed cave, dimly lit by candles that hung on the walls. Luna coughed and turned back around to face the blue creature. It looked exactly like a human girl. A bit taller than the average man, perhaps. She reached a blue hand towards Luna, staring at her with intensity in her startling yellow eyes. Luna backed away, only managing to crash into another group of blue men. They snarled at her, pushing Luna back to the centre of the cave. “What are you?” Luna cried in panic. “Where am I? Will you kill me?” One of the men in the crowd laughed, “We’re Azuloos,” he said in a voice Luna recognised as her kidnapper. “We’ve been hiding from humans for centuries, why would we kill one little girl now?”

“Then why did you take me?” Luna yelled. “I want to go home, I don’t care who you are or why you’re hiding from human kind, I demand you take me home this instant!”

The Azuloos laughed again, and Luna felt anger bubbling through her veins like a volcano ready to explode. “I can take you home, on one condition,” a soft voice from behind whispered.

The Azuloo child was sitting behind her, the one who had been watching Luna sleep. She beckoned Luna to the floor, and Luna sat down, looking deep into the child’s yellow eyes. “My name’s Simcha, and I want you to listen to a story. A true story about the Azuloos.” Luna tensed; from the sadness in Simcha’s eyes, this obviously wasn`t a happy story.

The little Azuloo took a deep breath, and began...

“Humans and Azuloos came around about 7 million years ago. We lived peacefully together in perfect harmony, black alongside white alongside blue. Humans didn´t seem to mind that we were immortals, as long as they had that tiny bit more power, it would be enough for them.”

Luna gasped. “You’re immortal? How old are you?”

“About 205 years old” Simcha replied with an offhand shrug. “ANYWAY. That all changed when the humans became an empire. An empire called The Romans. “

“The Romans got afraid of us because of our differences. Our skin. Our immortality. One night they snuck into our villages… and burned them to the ground. Angry at their declaration for war, The Azuloos fought back, but there were too many humans to hold off. Many Azuloos died that day, but it was when the emperor’s daughter was killed, that we decided to go into hiding.”

“We found a safe place in Australia, these caves that we are in. The Azuloos stayed undercover, we found an underground river for water, and made our gardens in sunlit caves. But we knew that eventually we would have to rise back up… which is why we left that stone at the edge of the water.”

Luna sat up straight. “That stone!” she whispered excitedly ´”I found that stone!”

Simcha nodded, “Exactly. That stone was enchanted to only be visible to a trustworthy human, so that we could ask him or her an important question.” Luna glanced around at the dark cave filled with Azuloos. What sort of question were they going to ask? She turned back to look at Simcha. “What’s your question?” she asked testily. Simcha smiled a complicated smile, and then she whispered to Luna,“Have humans changed? Do they bring out their love for power and fear for difference on war? Is it safe for us to come out? Or will they harm us because of our skin colour?” Luna opened her mouth to say humans had changed, but something stopped her.

Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust.

The white settlement in Australia.

The World Wars .

Luna smiled sadly at all the Azuloos. “I think it’s best you all stay here, where it’s safe,” she said. Simcha smiled gratefully, “Thank you, Luna.”

Luna gave her an odd look. “How do you know my name? You can´t read minds…”Simcha gave a cheeky smile, stood up off the stone floor, and pushed the stone into Luna’s hand.

“For when you come back, and humans have changed.” Luna smiled around at all the Azuloos and sighed. “I hope that happens soon.”

Author’s Note: I wrote this story as a protest for humankind. Humans are power-hungry beings who will destroy anything for their own comfort, for money, and especially for power. Humans start wars over land and ownership, but I am mostly ashamed of how most humans (not all) treat those who are different as ‘Less important’ than the rest. Take the White Settlement of Australia for example: The Indigenous owners of this land are just like us, their emotions, feelings and personalities are just like ours, yet white people treat them horribly just because of their skin. I find that disgraceful and absolutely wrong! I know we apologised as a country, but as people, I’m not too sure. I still hear comments that are racist and awful. In The Stone At The Edge Of The Water, the Azuloos were nearly wiped out because of humans, and they were forced to live underground for thousands of years. I also included that they have to still stay undercover, because humans haven’t changed. And that’s true. Totally and absolutely true. I hope you enjoyed my short story, as it was written from the heart. And just remember, please treat everyone the same. The world already has enough mean humans. (Although I am sure that the person who is reading this is super amazing and understands why this is such a serious topic!)

3rd Place Winner

‘Mute’ by Lola Wood Sharples, Grade 6.

This story is about a girl who cannot speak, and her unbreakable bond with her brother. A reminder that you can always achieve your goals if you believe you can.

Michaela

The word ‘social’ is being used as a weapon lately. It feels like a weapon too. There are many words that include the base word of social. There’s socialize, social media, antisocial, unsocial, socialists, to name a few. It’s interesting, to watch all the groups of people, talking and laughing with each other, yet every individual one of them are still in their own little worlds, completely unaware of what’s happening around them. The word ‘voice’ is getting tossed around like a grenade lately, because if you don’t have much of a voice people will try and speak up for you, which is nice, but they try to tell people what they think you are thinking. They try to understand the words you want to say. They try, but they are always wrong. For example, today at lunch I was picking out my lunch and the lady behind the counter wasn’t sure what I wanted, so she sent me off with gloopy green spinach and a cheese sandwich. I didn't want any of that, even though I was hungry. I threw it all out and sat at an empty table. I slowly lay my head down on the table and just listened. That is, until Alex came. He’s my brother, 14 years old, tall for his age with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes with brown flecks in them. I always look in Alex’s eyes, because it makes me feel good. Most of the time I can tell what he is feeling from what his eyes look like. I know what they look like when he’s happy, or when he needs a hug. Hugs always make him feel better. They always make me feel better too. Alex always understands me. He is my favourite person in the world.

Alex

My sister. She is my life. I would do anything for her, she is my favourite person in the world. She has wavy dark brown hair and green eyes. I see her at lunch and go over to her. She has her head lying on the table with her arms crossed. “Hey. Where’s your lunch?” I ask. She lifts her head from the table and signs to me; ‘Thrown away’. “Ok, you look hungry though, do you want some of mine?” I question. She looks up at me with those soft, lime-coloured eyes of hers and nods her head. I gently push my tray up in front of her and she lets her hand hover over my tray, just before reaching for some fruit salad. Then I’m happy, because she starts signing to me about her day so far. We finish our food and decide to go outside to our special tree. We always go out there and… communicate. I hate how she doesn’t have a voice. She’s never been able to say stuff like; pass the salt please, or; you stink today. It hurts that she will never be able to speak. My sister, Michaela, was born with a medical disability called laryngeal atresia. Put simply, she was born without a voice. It’s not that she lost her voice, it’s that she never had one in the first place. We go out and sit down. “How did you do on your test?” I inquire. She signs. ‘No results yet.’ “ That’s ok, I’m sure you passed.” The bell rings. “Seeya Micky.” I blurted. ‘You can’t call me that here, dummy’ She signs, laughing.

Michaela

Alex and I are walking home while having a conversation about me. I don’t know why he brought it up so randomly, but he did. I signed to him that I was already used to having no voice and was completely prepared to just spend the rest of my life without one. He said nothing after that, but I knew what he was thinking. I know he just wants me to have a great life, a great life where I can talk. Though I think he also understands that I can have a great life without talking as well. We walk the rest of the way home and enter the smooth, wooden door and into our house. Alex rushes over to our baby brother, Hugh, who is lying down on the couch, and tickles him until he giggles loudly, a cute, bubbly baby giggle that makes my stomach squirm with pleasure. I grin as hard as I can which makes Alex grin when he looks at me.

Alex

I see Michaela smiling hopelessly, which makes me happy. I watch as she scoops up Hugh and hugs him close, only pulling away to look at his sweet, chubby baby face. Grandpa’s asleep on the couch not far away from Hugh, even though Hugh’s only 11 months old and should probably not be left alone. It’s fine though, because we’re here now.

An Hour later…

Michaela has fallen asleep on the couch holding Hugh. Now is my time to act. I’ve never really been the type of brother to snoop around, but I need to know what she writes in there. I sneak upstairs to Michaela’s room so I don’t wake anyone up. I look on her bedside table and sitting there is Michaela’s journal. She writes in it every night. She writes to somebody called Lily. She admires Anne Frank, so she writes like her. I read.

Lily

Tuesday

Dear Lily, today was rough. I got laughed at by a little kid for signing to my brother. I shrugged it off but Alex was really annoyed by it.

Wednesday

Dear Lily. I remembered another dream I had. It’s not very realistic, but I guess every person like me has dreams like this. Another way to communicate. And I’m not talking about a voice, in particular, although that would probably be ideal.

Thursday

Dear Lily, I think Alex is worried about me. He doesn’t have to be. I’m a strong person, but I understand why he is worried.

Alex

I can’t read anymore. It hurts too much.

Transition to Secondary School

How parents can support their child's transition to secondary school