Year 8 Creative Writing
Lucy French 8A2
“Who ate my tarts?!”
They stand, lined up like toy soldiers. But these men are not soldiers, no. Soldiers are brave, these men far from it. But then again, no soldier has ever had to face her. She paces, back straight as a rod, the sounds of her footsteps echoing through the cold, empty room. Her eyes alight with a fiery passion; if only she cared this much about her subjects. The frogs reel back slightly in collective horror for they know no words of mercy shall fall from her lips.
Still she paces, glaring at each poor soul with a look that could cut through solid rock, a look that could see all your secrets, all your fears, a look that could pick you apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but a shell of who you once were- if you were lucky, that is. They would not be deemed worthy of such a luxury. I need not wonder what awful fate shall befall the guilty. It is always the same.
She stops suddenly, and the poor frog nearly hops right out of his skin. He gulps. His eyes dart furtively to the frog on his left. The game is over, she has won. She pounces on the poor boy like a cat. She reaches out a menacing finger, and wipes a spot of jam from the corner of his mouth. I cannot help but feel bad for him; I do give her her power, after all. He falls to his knees, pleading desperately for his life, but it’s no use. She has already turned away, and he is seized by guards.
“Off with his head!”
Flynn Gray 8S1
I was lying on the table, what a scrumptious of tables, with my head on the plate and my tail facing the floor,
Oh, how I knew I wanted so much more,
It's easy to turn, then twist, then pour, and then pour some more till there is no more to pour,
But the purpose of my life is so unforgiving, for the pain is not in the work, the pain is in the living,
For I know that in the reach of my tail and tip, there are others like me who are trapped with a grip.
A day came round, with a slip and drop, I touched with a clink, a spoon like me,
I felt a connection, a feeling of glee, a vision of a place where I could love and be free,
But this did not last for more than a second, as the feeling was taken with a deafening grip,
Back in the cup, and twisting I went, I’ll never forget, the joy of a friend.
So, now I ask you old chum, does it sound dumb, to waste your life, looking into the sun,
Waiting for something, a something with muchness, or sit on your tail, and let out a wail,
But fear not, for I have found strength, a strength in waiting, what you call patience,
I am sure one day, fate will once more, chance my way and I will seize the day.
Liana Calderone, 8C2
We tread carefully on the crumbling stone of the ancient ruins, in the distance, the warriors, a sea of red and white, the only noise being the clanging of their swords. I find myself in a trance until suddenly from behind, the thundering roar of the Jabberwocky sends tremors throughout my body. It scares the living daylights out of me. Alice whirls around and without a second thought, darts behind a pillar. “Oh my god, we are finished, Alice is no match against this monster. We’re going to die, this is the end” I mumble hysterically. “Goodbye wo-” before I can finish my sentence I am cut off. “Oh quit whining you wuss and grow up” hisses the vorpal sword. Easier said than done. The beast screeches and shoots volts of lightning from its mouth, the buzz of electricity enveloping the area around us. Eventually it dies down, and Alice sees this as a chance to escape and sprints towards a staircase, but before she can reach the stairs we land face first into the rotting stone. “OUCH... Huh, not a single scratch on me” I chuckle for a brief moment as Alice recovers and starts again towards higher ground. The Jabberwocky follows us all the way up until there’s nowhere else for us to go. “Do something Alice, before he eats us up like a snack!” and at that moment Alice miraculously gets herself onto the monster’s long, scaly neck, clinging for dear life as the Jabberwocky violently shakes its head to get us off. I felt like I was going to throw up. “Please protect me lord, please” if you ask me it’s kind of ironic how I’m asking for protection. Not long after we’re thrown into the air, and Alice recites the Red Queen’s most iconic line: “off with your head” before plunging down onto the beast and slicing its head off. An eerie silence settles over the battle field like a blanket, everyone’s eyes following the limp head of the Jabberwocky tumbling down the stairs before coming to a halt in front of the Red Queen. The look on her face was priceless: a combination of shock and horror. LATER Alice sips the blood of the Jabberwocky and is sent back to London while I am returned to my stand inside the White Palace beside the vorpal sword. I drift back off into a deep slumber, awaiting my next battle.
Hayley Perkins 8A2
I beam with pride as the queen places me upon her voluminous scarlet curls. I sit comfortably, cushioned by her silken locks. I am polished, and gleaming like light reflecting off the water. Today is battle day, and I can feel a change in the air. The whole castle is steeped in unease and fear, but I hold complete faith in my beloved queen. Either way, whoever wins today will be the rightful ruler of ‘Underland’, and will deserve to wear me. Hundreds of fighters have assembled outside. They are grim and sombre, aware that many will not return.
Outside, the sky is an angry grey, in anticipation of the blood that will be shed all too soon. With one swift movement, The Red Queen mounts her horse and suddenly I have an awe- inspiring view of our tremendous army. Rows upon rows of warriors are clad in grey. At once, we begin to move towards the battlefield and I feel a peculiar rocking sensation, as the horse’s rippling muscles power us forward.
Upon our arrival, our enemies, the White Army, march forward to meet us. The battle begins. My mistress, the Red Queen, calls her weapon, the great Jabberwocky. The very sight of the monster strikes fear into my golden heart. Its teeth are dripping with revolting saliva, and its eyes are red with anger. Poor Alice, she doesn’t stand a chance. The fighting began, and the clashing of swords and the groans of the injured sent shivers down my metal spine. It was utter chaos, and a nightmare for me, as I simply can’t abide the sight of blood.
I watch the Jabberwocky as it roars at Alice. Seizing an opportunity, she takes one mighty swing with the Vorpal Sword, and hacks off the great monster’s head. It rolls sickeningly, signifying the death of the Red Queen’s reign. I can feel the Queen gasp in horror, but she is no longer in control, and I am lifted off her head. Floating effortlessly towards the White Queen, I already feel that I belong to her. Chains are clapped onto the Red Queen’s wrists, but I feel no regret. I am the crown, and now I belong to the rightful ruler of ‘Underland.’
Eva Phillip 8A2
I heard the footsteps first. They rattled the bolts around my flesh and handle. I strained my eyes to see up, past the large, sun kissed kegs that towered before me. I pondered about what it must feel like to have the sun reach you, and for a moment, I wished to soak the sun rays in, just like my bolts often absorb wet, greasy oil.
A perplexed expression plastered on her face, she began to traipse around the room, obviously disorientated. I cringed as I witnessed her vigorously grab at my families handles, tugging at them with all her might before sighing, deflated by her failure to escape our vast room. With all my power, I tried adapt from my rigid position and shrink, becoming invisible and stay unknown to the huge monster, but the walls built around me defined my position.
Fazed with my immense concentration, I didn't realise the infant sized girl standing in front of me until she grasped my brass handle, sending a shiver down my spine. Astonished, I realised that this small, sweet girl was the tall intimidating giant that I was once so afraid of. None the less, my oak wood only softened momentarily before the child was shaking me about, pulling and tugging, pushing and shoving. Her force was so harsh I could hear my locks churning away against each other!
The young lady was almost microscopic now, and referring to my previous petrified state, I envied her ability to shrink.
A sharp utensil was shoved into me, into a cavity that I always imagined was an engineering fault. I gasped as I felt an amazing sense of relaxation rush through my frame. I was no longer a solid, no longer made of sharp corners and stiff edges, I felt free, I felt open. I melted away and allowed light to stream into the dark room. I felt the sun on my immaculate, glossy skin. Swallowed by the day, I didn't even notice my friend wander on past me.
Spencer Kelly 8A3
Flicker. Gleam. The air has become increasingly still. The silence is almost deafening. Glitter. Shine. My body is held captured in a cage. The key to my freedom is wrapped around the guardian of my prison. Gentle footsteps in front of me. Innocent. Fragile. My one and only purpose is to be a catalyst of war, to end the battle between good and evil. Light and dark. Red and White.
My cage opens and as it does, light finally hits my body for the first time in years. Glisten. Glow. A hand wraps around my handle. Warmth at last!
I am on the back of a creature who once guarded my prison, held in the hands of a girl who has the weight of the world on her shoulders. Glint. Sparkle. The warmth of Alice’s company breathes the essence of life into me.
As we travel under the cover of darkness, I radiate warmth. We are almost home. Home? No, my home is here, in the arms of the hero who will wield me and rescue us from this dreary world, ruled by tyranny and utter malevolence.
I am the Vorpal sword and I am home.
Jessica Juster 8C1
My ears prick upwards as I hear the quiet pitter patter of the little girl’s feet against the crackling grass. His eyes raise and we spring out of our chair in excitement, leaping up onto the table. Standing tall, from here I can recognise the young girl’s face, her baby blue dress sparking a memory in my mind. I've been waiting for her and now it's time. Moving at a rapid speed, like a cheetah chasing its prey, we make our way across the table. Not concentrating on anything else, my gaze is glued forward. Teapots shattered simultaneously as the china crockery cracks into a thousand pieces. Hatter’s leaps down onto the cold concrete, leaving me almost toppling right off of his head. I assure myself of this newcomer, positive that it is Alice. As I turn around, my red ribbon tied tightly around my waist sways in the slight breeze that passes through this miserably dull forest.
The pocket watch shines as it appears from below, reflecting the only sunlight that is seeping through the gaps of trees. It's ticking at an alarming rate, it's going mad. That's what they call him, apparently it's in his blood. I'm like him too. I think my mind has been polluted, like chemicals have been seeped into my brain. They say I'm the raggedy old crown, comparing me to what sits on top of that enormous head of the Red Queen of course. She's as mad as us. What's the difference between the Red Queen and the Hatter? That's an easy question, the Hatter doesn't find joy out of punishing the pure, nor abuse animals that are as innocent as an ant. Majority of the population of Wonderland are terrified of the Queen. Associating with her is like a seal wanting to be friends with a shark.
Hatter’s flaming unruly curls are exposed as I'm lifted up and tipped to the unknown by passer. It's everyone, not just our acquaintances. I'm sick of tired of being pushed around, I don't get a choice. Oh, what I would do for a day to myself. Wouldn't have to live in the life of the Hatter. It's not all so bad actually, I love that his kind side comes out when the people he truly cares about are around. For instance, that girl Alice. He is the sweetest of sweet to that tiny girl, loves her more than anything else. It's nice to have him there, a little bit of company never hurts. I’m proud to say that the Hatter is a good man, always got something interesting to say. I never turn down a chat, even if I am just his hat.
Sebastian Gauci- 8C1
The crisp cold air penetrated my metallic skin and chilled my whole body. The darkness of this room overwhelmed me. This god damn room that I’ve been in for months. I breathlessly hoist myself up and look through the tiny window using what energy I have left. I see beads of light gleam through the room as the bright sun peaks its head over the horizon. This was my favourite part of the day but in saying that I don't enjoy most of my days now that Red Queen is wearing the crown. “Off with his head” I say in a sarcastic voice, mimicking her. I let out a little chuckle but instantly quite down as not to wake up the Bandersnatch.
I think of the Oraculum and Alice, I wonder if she’s in Underland yet, she must be Frabjous day is in only a few days. I have to keep hope that she will come and find me. This isolation is driving me mad, almost as mad as hatter.
My thoughts get cut off by the sound of footsteps. The Bandersnatch wakes to see who approaches. I hear a scratching sound and a small screech from what seemed to be a girl. “Alice! It must be Alice!” I murmur under my breath. Before I know it the box is open and I see what looks to be like Alice but I’m not sure. She has the small curly locks of golden hair but she has changed a lot. She is a lot taller and her face looks different... older. She picks me up, ever so carefully at puts me in her satchel. “I hope this is the right Alice.” I decided to rest my eyes after the relief of being rescued. Tomorrow I shall kill the Red Queen and her vicious Jabberwocky but today I must rest.
Emily Flaim 8D2
The gloom of her tyrannical reign blankets the world. The Frabjous day has arrived. I must fulfil my purpose. I do not wish to fail but I must admit that I doubt Alice’s strength. Any sane person would. Not that many beings are sane anymore and they do not try to hide it. They wear their insanity as one would wear a coat.
The menacing clouds taunt me, daring me to fail. But as drained and unenthusiastic as I feel, it is not as though I have a choice. I feel Alice’s nervous jitters shiver through me. They are almost contagious. But surrendering to the fear that threatens to swamp me has no use. The Red Queen’s soldiers are striking against the dreary landscape, like drops of blood against the snow. The struggle between good and evil hangs in the air. Who will win?
The ferocious beast roars but I am not afraid. I focus on the White Queen who is Underland’s beacon of hope. She is the vessel which shall carry us to a more peaceful future.
I am flung through the air, again and again, like a flag in the wind. Alice manages to mount the beast, but it does not like that much. Alice and I are flung through the air again, two birds trying to kill the one stone. I am closer than ever to the clouds now and they jeer at me. They tell me I will fail, that I may as well give up. I shall not. My blades slice through the head of the Jabberwocky and its purple blood washes over me for a few brief seconds. The beast, now decapitated, roars in defeat. Silence falls over the land like a wave as the head of the Jabberwocky rolls down the stairs.
Only now may I, the Vorpal sword, rest peacefully again.
Eleanor Bates 8D2
Sadness. Anger. Devastation. Walls splashed with red. Bulbous heads and noses. Demands and orders. This has become my life. She storms through the door like a hurricane, power radiating from her, sending a blanket of fear over everyone. Silence fills the room like an overgrown beast. I see frogs trembling as I watch from my perch. Fear. Terror. Order. This is what she has created. I have to witness it each day. I see what she sees. I do what she does. I am an object of regal beauty yet I am cold and sharp. Like her heart.
Her crimson hair consumes me like quicksand and I wonder how many people she has thoughtlessly beheaded; how many families she has split apart, how much anger and mournfulness she has created. She believes it is better to be feared than loved. Bellow. This is what she does as she sentences people to their death. She always commands with the same words, “off with their heads!”
What I used to tolerate now fills me with despair. I am completely inert. My power is completely symbolic. I am placed up here each day, just watching and feeling the guilt that she does not. I despise it. Some days it creeps up on me like a shadow and I am consumed with rage.
How ironic that I am the symbolic essence of power, yet I cannot wield any influence of my own.
Isobel Nicholas 8A3
I stand, hovering between good and evil. A war zone between my allies and enemies. Hungry for power. A dreary sky. A field of black and white. A bloody battle awaits. The Jabberwocky enters. Malicious. Bloodthirsty.
The battle rages. Our breaths are held. The temperature below me boils vigorously. I can feel her fury, her pulsing veins vibrating on my surface. Slaying after slaying. My hope starts to deteriorate like a crumbling tower. Alice’s allies will not stop, neither will the Red Queen’s. This will not end well. One tiny girl, one immense beast. Fighting until death.
I am shaking. I can feel the outrage beneath me beginning to explode like an eruption of lava. The blade slices down as the piercing noise lingers. The creature’s head falls abruptly to the floor. A sight I cannot erase. The head I sit upon is consumed with rage. More than ever before, I can myself weaken. I am powerless. The role I play will be no more.
Around me, an army of card soldiers lay. One by one, they drop their swords. She has nothing left to give, that horrid mind of hers. Slowly, I can feel myself lift. Lift off that tangle, wispy red hair I have occupied for so long. My time is up and so is hers. The crisp air bites. I feel a vast change. I softly land, this time on a cushion of snow. I have found a new home. Evil is behind me. I feel at peace. My power grows. I sit proudly, ready to play my new role. I am the Red Queen’s crown no longer.
Victoria Filis 8B2
Beginning and end. Past and present. Today and tomorrow. I have seen it all. I am a portal from truth to lies. Sanity to Insanity. Imagination and reality. Although no one knows which is which anymore.
I was not created, I merely exist. In me, time stands still or sometimes slips away. I am a place for the discarded. The ones who have no home. Much like an orphanage I shelter those who have nowhere to go.
Sometimes I get lost in the depths of myself. I lose my mind and find it hard to regroup. For I am quite lonely. No one ever wishes to stay with me. I am just a junction from one station to the next. If only people gave me a chance. I could show them more than Wonderland ever could.
I live for the moments when a poor soul wanders past and perhaps misplaces a foot, descending into the fall. I yearn for these moments when they are cascading down at an unimaginable speed. The air, that had moments before been still, would be rushing through me. The excitement and adrenaline I feel in these moments is indescribable. In these moments I feel alive. Alas, these moments are scarce, and when they do occur they often end quickly. As soon as they end I wish for them to start all over again. The things I would do just to feel that sense of exhilaration when people are falling through me are too obscene to be mentioned. It is my drug and when I’m without it I feel alone and empty. I have acquired an unmeetable dependency and it is slowly killing me.
I distinctly remember Alice’s fall. It was different. It was strange. She screamed but not in fear, like the others. It was as if she knew what was going to happen. I realised that it was her, the Real Alice, when she landed from the fall. Any sane person would have begun shouting for help as soon as they hit the floor. But not Alice. She was not sane.
Alice was not my first visitor but I’m terribly afraid she will be my last. For now Wonderland is safe, free of The Red Queen, and now there is no need for anyone to once again visit Wonderland. When I discovered this, a terrible fury burned in me. By killing the Jabberwocky and saving Wonderland, she had withdrawn my reason for existence and for this I will be eternally angry.
If only she had failed, just like her father.
I need to be used. I am the portal of universes, the bender of reality, the connecter of worlds.
I am the rabbit hole.
The Compendium By Adriana Koukounaras 8B2
I wake to a world full of gloom, death and the colour red. I know of a time before, where Wonderland was worthy of its name. I know of the future, where the tyrannical witch who rules, thrillingly weakens and her reign is over. I know of the present, where the one thing that rules Wonderland is a bulbous head with a disturbingly small body.
This place once smelt like tea and cinnamon, reminding me of the joyous tea parties hosted by the Mad Hatter I have frequently foreseen over the years. Now all I smell is the stench of blood and rotting heads, besides the blue smoke from Absolems’ shisha pipe which constantly stalks me.
I feel nothing inside me besides loneliness, anger and irritation towards the dull minds of all that live in Wonderland. They all say she is the wrong Alice, yet when I met her, I knew that she was the one. But these buffering idiots cannot hear me, deciding that she is the wrong Alice. And when she went back to help the Mad Hatter, it nearly gave me a heart attack. “I make the path!”, she says.
Oh please, I make the path. In fact, I am the path.
I hear the flowers gossiping about the slaying of the Jabberwocky, along with the wind whispering of the glory to come to Wonderland once again. I already knew this was to happen; after all, I see all, I know all, I am all.
I am the Oraculum.
Reaped- by Shirley Wu
I was left alone and abandoned in the fiery fires of an ambush. There, in the midst of chaos, I held my final stand, proud and gleaming like never before. A strong sense of self-importance glowed around my metallic body as exhilarating energy rushed down my spine. I yearned for some action. But that sensation ended when I felt myself being snatched away from my sacred ground.
For years I was hidden away in a foul-smelling cage where a monstrous creature, though loyal and dedicated, sat grumbling about life. For months I pleaded to be released and returned to my rightful heir. My screams were muffled by a dusty, claustrophobic box and inside, upon a cushion of red velvet, I lay chained - isolated and neglected.
Days dragged into weeks, weeks stretched into years till finally one day while I was still dreaming of savouring hot jam donuts that were melting against my shining blade, I heard a voice that I had long-ago forsaken. Alice. Could it really be? My saviour? Alice, my knight in shining armour? I didn't feel any emotions of happiness tingling in my in the pits of my handle. For the first time, I felt despair, hesitance, and unsureness. Was I ready to face my most jarring nightmare...my old foe, the Jabberwocky?
Frabjous day has come upon us. I was relieved when I felt the blazing, warm sunshine coaxing my skin. My insides felt bitter and cold much like the Red Queen’s cruel heart.
At first, I felt irritated by the way Alice held my handle - with a lack of confidence. But then I felt the determination set in, rooted upon every step she took towards the enemy. Golden light danced around us urging us to fight while energy, stealth and adrenaline surged from the tip of my blade and into Alice. She starts to chant about breakfast which I found mildly annoying especially in such a dangerous situation until...“Six, I can slay the Jabberwocky.” The force and conviction of the statement hit me hard. I found myself believing those words so with all the strength I could muster, I plunged myself against the neck of my foe.
The Blue Queen - BJ Atwell 8D2
Sometimes, when she’s all alone, she bursts forth into a tsunami of emotion. The waves of gasping wails echo off the walls of her resplendent palace. To me, there’s usually something comforting about the fabric of her dress pressed up against mine, however, today her mournfulness corrupted my satisfaction. Like a wave had crashed against all four of my legs, I realised she doesn’t really want to be feared. She wants to be loved.
From, what seems like to me, the oceanic expanse of behind the great curtain, a silhouette emerges from the ripples of the hefty cloth. Before you see him, you see his flamboyant eye patch, crimson in colour. Quickly, she wipes the tears from her cheeks and hid her face full of sorrow behind a mask of an ecstatic smile. He approaches the queen as her eyes glisten like the sheen of a calm sea. He rests his cold, hard hand on my golden frame. I’ve always had a bad feeling about him, but it’s not like a can do anything about it. I’m defenceless. Lost in the vastness of the deep blue sea.
Here I stand motionless, yet the waves of luminescence in my golden frame have so much movement. Here I stand useless, yet I’m constantly being used. Here I stand silent, yet the red on my, plush, velvet cushioning is so loud. I want to escape from this prison of masked emotions. I want to be free and explore.
But for all I know, beyond these four walls is an oceanic expanse of nothingness.