Literacy Marvels

The DSC Short Story Competition

On 14th September DSC took some time out to celebrate our student writers! Our Annual Short Story Competition has concluded and the awards were presented to the following students:

Year 7 SEAL: Sarah D.
Year 7: Bronwyn K.
Year 8 SEAL: Kevin Z.
Year 8: Mesha T.
Year 9: Cynthia L.
Year 9 SEAL: Sarah C.
Year 10: Ash R.
Year 10 EAL: Venus F.
Year 11: Dylan W.

They presented part of their story to their fellow winners, their parents, and the principal team. It was a great opportunity to celebrate academic growth and high performance.

Thank you to all students who entered. The calibre this year was extremely high. We encourage all students to enter next year.

Here are some samples from our winners:

Bronwyn K., Year 7

I thrusted myself up, towards the surface. Squinting, I saw a family at the docks, the moon casting a pale glow on them. I sank, until only my ice like eyes remained above water. As I silently swam closer, a shock rippled through my body. It was my parents.

It was definitely them. They were thinner, with a sad aura pulsing from them. A young girl stood between them. She had my father’s auburn hair and my mother’s warm brown eyes. My parents, they had another child. The warm feeling of kinship glowed through me. I had a sister!

Kevin Z., Year 8

The old grandfather’s clock that awkwardly hung by the empty classroom struck a sombre note upon the twelfth hour. Once upon a time, the clock had the fine privilege of sitting in many of Australia’s most prestigious offices, including numerous government departments. It even had a short but eventful bout in the Senate. But that was all in the past now. The oak exterior that once shined a cedar brown was starting to give away and the fine ornamentation was speckled with debris and tarnished by a lack of proper care and cleaning. It was expected due to its convenient placement, situated right by the hallway.

Ash R., Year 10

I quickly silence my breath and listen for anything. Then, I slip out my door with swift, light steps I go through the kitchen to peer out the window, looking for anyone prowling in the dark. The soft glow of the hall light calms me a bit, at least I can see around the house. I turn on the lamp in the kitchen for extra light. “Just breath” I mumble to myself, “it’s all fine”. Heading back to my room the lights flicker, then zwwwww, the power’s gone out. Everything is pitch black, except for the laptop. I walk towards the glow coming from my room as it’s the only sense of direction I have. My pulse throbs in my ears. On the screen I see more has been added to the story.

Dylan W., Year 11

I’ll be the first to admit, you did a good job following me that night. If it wasn’t thanks to your, let’s say… ‘talent’, then it was most definitely due to the fact that on that night, I had no other thought than the simplistic bliss that the air at that time of evening provided. Perhaps that lacklustre way of thinking made me oblivious to just how long I had been walking for. And perhaps, it was that same mindless wandering that resulted in me taking a shortcut that night, turning onto one of the many alleys I told myself I would avoid. This particular alley, like the rest of them, was tightly sandwiched in between two rows of dated, and dainty-looking, brick houses. And, this particular alley, like the rest of them, may as well have only been light by a singular candle, as the shabby lightbulb in charge of illuminating its surrounding seemed to be on strike, and the only light available was a slither of radiance quietly shining from under the curtains of one of the neighbouring houses. I now question if, had that lightbulb been working, would I have been able to tell that this particular alley, much unlike the rest of them, was a dead end. I now recognise the irony in that name. When I finally realised I had navigated towards a closed-off space, I turned around, sighing at my inability to listen to the one rule I had previously set for myself, as if this somehow was karma for walking down an alleyway when I had so strictly told myself before that I wouldn’t. It wasn’t until now that I saw you and, although the darkened coat you were wearing masqueraded your form, it was clear enough to see a person was standing in front of me. What was less clear to see, however, was the knife you had tucked away in one of your inner pockets. As you eerily crept towards me, I must admit that my first thought was to call out. However, I didn’t know what to possibly say.