Extension Writing Program

Over the past term, talented writing students from Years 8 and 9 have participated in an Extension Writing Program with Mrs Watchirs. Skills were refined in the areas of setting, characterisation and context. Congratulations to the students on their commitment and endeavour for excellence, in what has been a very busy term. Excerpts from student works are included below.

Glancing into the world right above her eyes, she deliberately and cautiously tiptoed closer with each step… Beyond the unbalanced surface of the jetty, was a rusty silver bucket that she was determined to get one small peek at. With salty mist blowing in her hair from the night's cold breeze, the boundary of where water met land became smaller and smaller. Icy-cold droplets splashed on to the girl's leg, as old wooden planks fell into the mossy, brown water one by one. Not too close to fall in, but close enough to get one glance, she etched closer. The girl was stunned by what sat at the bottom. Dark clouds began to flood the sky as she rushed back home with the bucket clenched tightly in her hand.

Matilda Hayes (Year 8)

Swallowing in air invested with small termites of dust, my mouth comes to uncomfortable terms with a lump of spit sitting on my tongue. Taking hard gulps to distinguish it and succeeding in my doings, my muscles relax as they convert into a state of exhaustion. Gazing, my pupils stab on the blooming pink phosphorescent light above me. Mesmerised, my weary eyes surrender to a close.

Selena Mcgrady (Year 8)

I entered the hall only to find that the room looked as though it was from a movie. Light oak coloured high-rise ceilings, million dollar chandeliers, elegant table settings and a collective of sophisticated, yet somewhat friendly people. A world I didn’t fit into, but was willing to make an effort to be a part of anyway.

A subtle vibration came from my leather wallet which I gripped with my hand as I went to pick it up.

“No caller ID...” The screen read until I pressed the green button which answered the call.

“Hi, Madison Moore, who is this?”

“37 Springhill road… Be there at 3:30pm tomorrow afternoon, they know what happened and they aren’t happy!”

It didn’t take long for my attention to be averted to this intriguing topic which I had no clue in the world about. I was easily drawn to the mysterious situation. My curiosity had reached inordinate levels which I couldn’t help but give into, I was clueless yet still wondered… What was going on?

Grace Grantham (Year 8)

The dark bags under my eyes stand out the most, or maybe it is the lack of eyebrows that make my own face unrecognisable. I stare at the figure looking back at me... sharp jawline, no extra fat - anywhere. I peer over my shoulder and examine the reflection of my hair sitting on the table a couple of metres behind me. To match my dark shaded hoodie I pull over a tight black beanie that gets caught on the few hairs on my head. I don’t wear bright colours like I used to. Mainly because I don't want to draw attention to myself. It’s been six months yet I’m not sure I'm even close to hearing the end of my mother's questions “Are you warm enough honey? Can I get you something to eat?” It was never ending. I always felt the urge to get up and leave the room, uncomfortable with sympathy. I still don’t want too many people knowing.

Rachel Makim (Year 9)

My hair blew in the wind as I raced down the hill, scenery of the hillside blurring into a mix of greens, browns and yellows. The sounds of nature were disrupted by the echoes of my rubber tyres against the road. The sun shone down harshly, creating blurry lines of heat that made almost everything unrecognisable; almost everything. My tiny house stood proudly in the distance. The two blobs standing in front of the structure of old white stone and washed out wood were a welcoming sight to my eyes. Getting closer, the sound of nature fades back in as I rolled to a stop. They hugged me, Mum and Dad. Mum's hair, as expected, was in a tangly mess of curls bunched up on top of her head and she had on one of her floral summer dresses that Dad loved to compliment her on. As for him, he was wearing one of his blue work shirts with the yellow logo on his chest pocket. Along with the fading brown work boots that, in the words of the man himself, were “better for the workplace” and “as comfy as anything”.

Ebony Mcgrady (Year 9)

It wasn’t the first time that we had heard about a murder of a young woman in Utah. It was rather peculiar however that these stories were repetitive and similar. I think I have a pretty good idea of who it might be though. My ex-boyfriend is one of the suspects. The most obvious suspect of them all. Our relationship all started when I was at the beach, alone. Well, I thought I was anyway.

He was a dashing young man. Six pack, strong jawline, curly hair. You name it, he had it. When he said my name, without hesitation I answered back. I didn’t even question for a second how he had known it.

“That’s me.” I smiled as I made my way over to him. I felt oddly safe around him, like no one else could harm me. Boy, was I wrong.

“Sorry… I’ve just seen you at work before. Your name tag… Victoria…” When he said my name it’s like I fell under a spell.

Bella Nash (Year 9)

I didn’t envision my future like this, how could things have gone so wrong? I pace up and down the sidewalk, what can I do now? The only place I felt safe is now destroyed. The hate I have for these people is burning me from the inside out. I was finally free, finally settled down and now, nothing. I have nothing left and I don’t know what will become of my future. I turn my head and stare at my burning house, the flames rip through every piece of furniture and clothing. Even though my vision is blurred and my body is numb I can’t bring myself to tears. Deep down I have suffered worse pain than this. These pains which have left scars that coarse deeply through my mind. I lied when I said I had nothing left now. All I have left is to run.

Macey Phillis (Year 9)

St Philomena's School Newsletter

DIGNITY WITH COURAGE

Issue 19 · 16 Dec 2020

In this issue