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Write On!

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Congratulations to Chelsea whose short story Just Memories has been selected by our class to represent our school in this year’s NESA Write On competition for Stage 3. Well done to all of our students who created an entry for this year’s photo prompt below.







Just Memories

It was the first time people had been let into our country. They came in and we stayed in. I wondered why people would want to come to North Korea? Of course I kept these thoughts to myself; I cheered at the parades, I bowed at the memorials. Naturally, the foreign guests had just been a cause for our ruler to show off. The fake weapons were paraded, people were scared, people left. But the ones with the cameras stayed, and now they stood on the footpath smiling and talking to no one in particular. These were the tourists. They left too… then the bombs started. This is my country, this is my story. This is our time.

“We have made a decision… to let the foreigners into our country! They will abide by our laws, they will be crucial in the battle against America, they will scare the rest of the world with their cameras and news reports and most importantly, they will help us win. You may not leave. You may not talk to them. You may not look at them in the street.” The small TV screen we huddled around every night went black and silent. Our electricity had been terminated for the remainder of the night. Yet news was still circulated in the form of photos. Illegal photos from the tourists. We had one. It was a black and white shot of a parade. You couldn’t see the parade coming, only the people. I remembered that parade so vividly. They had paraded a fake weapon that day.

The excitement strung between the foreigners had been electric. They actually cheered because they wanted to. But their voices were drowned out when we heard the planes. They had been real, of course. I don’t know how many people died when the bombs fell. We were all meant to die, I know that. That night I lay on the cold, blood stained concrete, shaking, the corpses surrounding me, staring at me, lifeless. Were they with someone they loved when they died? I hope so. I don’t know where my family went, but it doesn’t matter because now because I am abandoned.

Dr Garamond shut the notebook with a slam. He was the only one who could shut small books with slams. He slouched in his chair, his large bulk filling it and making it look like it was a small fold-up chair at a cheap cinema. His large brown eyes stared across the table and right at me. “So…” I said. “Will you publish it?” His reply wasn’t what I had hoped for.
“This young girl in the story deserves privacy. No one will read a story this short, but I will keep the diary just in case. It could help me immensely with my research.”
I had come all this way, from North Korea, to be turned down. And now the diary, my diary, my only remaining possession that I salvaged from the ruins of our small cottage was no longer mine. I guess, at the end of the day, there are just memories.

Write On 2016

Well done to everyone who completed a piece of writing for the Board of Studies Write On competition this term. Write On is an annual writing competition open to all primary students in Years 1 to 6. Using a photograph as a stimulus, students are asked to compose an imaginative piece of writing up to 500 words in length. We then had a ‘blind’ sharing session where volunteer readers anonymously read each others work. Congratulations to Layla, whose story The City was voted as the best from our class to represent Stage 3 in this competition. Have a read of our stories below.


Layla – The City     Blade- The Timber and Joinery Factory      Chloe – A Better Life   Elijah – The Plane

Elsie – Liar Liar    Ember – Lost Not Found   Liana – The Golden Charm   Mila – Twice Upon a Time

Sachin – The Effects of War   Sam Walsh – The Orphanage   Sia – The Stick    Sophia – Orphans

Write On!

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Congratulations to Joe who was selected as our Stage 3 representative for this year’s Board of Studies Write On competition. Using the image stimulus below students had to write an imaginative, persuasive or informative text no greater than 500 words. Well done to everyone who completed an entry. Joe’s story, Rough Edges can be found below. 

Rough EdgesIMG_5959 (2)

“I can’t see, let me through, I want to see!” I squirm through the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of the miraculous machine! The soft sand of the beach filled my shoes and all the shouting blocked out what the man was saying! More people gathered and shuffled making it harder for me to see. I tried to climb up someone’s jacket only to be thrown off, landing in the sand firmly.competition-2015-pic

After failing several different ideas I tried to move towards the road so I could climb up those rocks and get a better view. I climbed about half way up one of the rocks facing west and stared endlessly at the massive object. It was like a plane except it was slower and more appealing… it was amazing!

It paraded around in circles for hours and surprisingly nobody left. In fact more people came every minute! It was spectacular, it glided through the sky effortlessly. Flying higher and higher it became impossible to hear the man. He was shouting something but the object drifted too high. After a few minutes the aircraft floated so high it was merely a spot in the clouded sky.

The tiny silhouette in the sky drifted higher and higher although it would drop a few metres every now and then and people would gasp and hold themselves hoping that the men wouldn’t fall out. There was a loud whistling sound as one of the parts of the aircraft fell and stuck upright in the sandy shallows of the waves. The people where astonished and looked up to see what would happen next and surely enough they did. The aircraft jolted to the right and spun wildly in the air.

The wild struggle to stabilize the aircraft was intense. It twirled around and spun dangerously, but after a while they held it still only to be thrown around inside while it started spinning again. The people below covered their eyes not able to watch what could happen next.

The aircraft spun like a merry-go-round as it became larger the closer it came to the ground. One of the men climbed up on to the edge of the basket like carrier as the other one hung on for dear life. The aircraft crashed to the ground just after the man on the edge jumped out. The other was not so lucky and was crushed under the massive weight of the aircraft, his limp body partially covered by the large plastic balloon. People fled in horror while some stayed and looked at the horrific sight with astonished eyes and gaping mouths.

As I knelt beside the wreckage the crowd began to disperse. I felt hot tears trickle down my face. That was the last time I would ever be with my brother at the beach.