Winning Story - BSC Writing Competition

As promised in the previous newsletter, please find Oliver P’s winning story below. This story won the Junior Years Category for the BSC Writing Competition. The judges’ feedback was that this was 'a compelling, visceral piece with some excellent imagery and hints of humour’. 

Once again, I commend all students who submitted stories to this competition. We absolutely loved reading your stories and hope that you continue to pursue your love of creative writing. Also, thank you again to our fantastic expert judges.

Aimee Shattock

Communicate and Relate Teacher and Literacy Coordinator

The Girl From Spiritus

By Oliver P

The sun shone so brightly through the windows of her room. Warming her like a cup of hot tea. It may have stung her tired eyes, but it warmed her fragile body, so it was worth it. Pulchra heard the talk below her. She often wondered what she would say if she were to talk. Pulchra was 15 and had never uttered a single word. She had never laughed, but she did smile. she often seemed emotionless. Pulchra avoided going outside her room because she was so ashamed of her appearance. Her hollow cheeks, pale skin, and tangled hair. Pulchra had Pneumonic Morbus, a lung disease in which one's body gets weaker and weaker, and then they die. She stood up and gingerly walked to her bedroom window and looked at the city of spiritus around her. The impossibly tall buildings and the astonishing gardens. it was like the city had been hand-crafted by God. The entire city was encapsulated in a ginormous dome. The inner lining of the dome was covered with screens president Reine could control to give the fantasy that there was a sky above them. There are no other cities left on earth. Back in the late 2000s, there was a global nuclear war, luckily the spiritus government had built the dome over the city before any radiation damaged the city. Pulchra heaved a cough out of her throat, her whole body shuddered with the effort. she climbed back into bed and fell asleep.

Her family and she had a difficult relationship. Her family still cared for her, but they hated her. She was the shame of her family, so she was never treated as an equal. More like a cat that had ripped the curtains. Once when she was 8, she had gone to a local mall with her mother to buy a gift for her father. That trip was a disaster, even though she had tried to put on makeup and wear a wig. When they arrived, Pulchra was overwhelmed. She was led like a dog on a lead through the sea of people, they shopped for hours and hours, her mother even bought her a pink teddy from the toyshop.

It was after lunch that things started going wrong. They went to a jewellery store. Everywhere she looked, things sparkled, glittered, and shone. Her mother held her hand tight and whispered in her ear "Pulchra dear, just be careful in here, can you do that for mummy?" Pulchra nodded and smiled. Pulchra was in awe of the diamonds, they were so shiny and perfect, must Touch!" she thought, stupidly Pulchra reached out to the diamonds, they were so close. She heard her mother yell "Pulchra NO!" but it was too late, Pulchra was already stroking the diamond. Suddenly, her head was ripped to the right, Pulchra felt her wig being ripped off her head, she saw the floor rush up to meet her. She remembered the look of horror on the people in the store. Her mother was among them. a guard was standing awkwardly holding her wig. She felt a warm trickle of blood dribble down her face. Her mother rarely spoke to her now. But maybe, it is for the better.

Pulchra was watching her television like she always did when her bedroom window exploded, and glass showered her. She was too slow to react, so she was scratched and scraped by the sharp shards. Pulchra felt the warm trickle of blood down her face. The sharp stab of fear stung more than the glass which sliced her skin. She stumbled out of her bed. Pulchra trod on something cold and rough. She looked down. There was a large stone underneath her feet. She gingerly bent down and picked it up. She turned it over. There was a scrap of paper roughly taped on the back, scribbled on was the word "WEIRDO!" 

Pulchra tied all her dresses together and used them to abseil down to the ground from her broken window. She hadn't been outside in a long time. The streetlights bathed the street in an eerie glow. Pulchra stumbled into the middle of the road. She heard the rumble of an engine starting. she looked down the end of her street and saw a police car, although it had a lot of coloured scribble on it. Pulchra realized if the police had been there when the rock was flung through the window, maybe they saw who it was. Pulchra started to slowly walk over. She got right up to the boot of the car and banged on the glass. She saw the profiles of four people in the car all turn to look at her. She waved at them. Then with tyres screeching the car drove away at great speed. Curiosity is a hook. 

Pulchra ran after the car, her arms pumping and bare feet bashing against the pavement. Soon she got tired and had to stop. She heard the car's tyres screeching before there was a sickening bang, mixed with the sound of crumbling concrete and muffled cries. Pulchra tumbled towards the noise of the voices. She walked until the sun just peaked over the horizon. Pulchra found the car, half embedded in the dome and on fire, she crept closer but stopped before the heat of the flames became unbearable. Pulchra noticed that the force of the car had caused massive fractures to appear in the dome. She pushed through the crumbling concrete, metal and glass revealing an endless desert, the red sand swirling around like a swarm of insects. Pulchra took a deep breath, the air tasted so fresh, so cool, so crisp. She exhaled. Her legs crumbled beneath her, and Pulchra fell back gasping for breath, for that clean fresh air, the wondered whether she was dreaming. her heart slowed, her hands grew still, and her breath became shallow. The life drained from Pulchra's eyes.