 
Courage: 2015

Year Seven

## Heaton Extension Writers Anthology

Edited by Beaulah Pragg
Smashwords Edition (2018)

Copyright © respective authors (Bahar Parsaei, Becky Bates, Hanna Wikstrom, Holly Abell, Kate Gardiner, Lucy Murray, Marissa Gaffney, Matthew Brown, Ngaio Shaw, Olivia Hawtin, Olivia Schupbach, Paige Bowman, Rosa Blake, Tess Nord) 2016

Cover image copyright © Wei Li Jiang, 2015. Used with permission.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favourite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

www.beaulahpragg.com
Table of Contents

The Mystery Of 88 Tenth Avenue - Bahar Parsaei

Paige Pancakes - Becky Bates

When Nana Died - Hanna Wikstrom

Autophobia - Holly Abell

Little Elephant - Kate Gardiner

When Everything Takes Flight \- Lucy Murray

The Prison I Called Home - Marissa Gaffney

From Matamata to Rio - Matthew Brown

The Peanut Butter Sandwich - Ngaio Shaw

Above the Blue - Olivia Hawtin

But What If? - By Olivia Schupbach

Forced To Fly - Paige Bowman

The Courage To Kill - Rosa Blake

Saving Leah - Tess Nord

About the Editors

Other Titles

# The Mystery Of 88 Tenth Avenue

## by Bahar Parsaei

### \- One -

My eyes scanned the flat, closely inspecting every inch. It wasn't the best house I'd seen, but it wasn't the worst either. It was quite modern. Judging by the looks of it, you could see that it was built no less than two years ago. I didn't want to stay in New York. I wanted to go back to California, but on the bright side I didn't have to stay here for long. I just needed to live here until I turned twenty one, which would give me access to all the money my parents had left me in their will. Taking a deep and not-so-fresh breath, I picked up my luggage and confidently walked over to the door. There was a little bell ring on the door directly above the doorknob. I rang it and waited patiently. No answer.

I tried again. Once again, no one opened the door. I wrapped myself tighter in my leather jacket as my long black hair blew into my face. If the owner of the house doesn't hurry up and open the door I will probably freeze to death out here, I thought.

Frantically, I started pressing the bell non-stop while I knocked on the door with my foot. As I was thinking about smashing open a window, the door opened and a guy looked out. "What do you want? I'm busy!" he asked with an annoyed expression.

I stared at him in awe. Is this really what my lawyer meant when she said that the owner of the flat was a person with great responsibility? This boy was probably no older than me! The boy stared back at me impatiently. "Well? Are you just gonna stand there staring at me?" he asked.

I pulled myself together and picked up the document that my lawyer had signed. "I am the flatmate that you accepted. My name's Elizabeth Hunter," I said as I handed the letter over to him.

He looked at it with clear disinterest and then tossed it behind his back. "Okay, sure. Come in." He beckoned me in and went back inside.

He didn't even offer to help me with my bags! I thought as I dragged my six overstuffed suitcases and duffel bags into the flat.

### \- Two -

The flat was bigger than I had expected—sort of like the TARDIS in Doctor Who, it was bigger on the inside than on the outside. It had a nice cream coloured carpet with some black leather couches and two huge sixty five inch TVs. The kitchen had three coffee makers and a shelf filled with all sorts of candy. Everything was incredibly high-class, which made me feel very odd in my leather jacket, ripped jeans and converse. The boy, whose name I didn't even know, flopped onto one of the couches and turned on one of the TVs, which was placed straight in front of the couch.

I stared at him with a disapproving look. "I'm supposed to be your flatmate and I don't even know your name," I said, hinting that maybe he should be opening up a bit more.

The guy turned his focus away from the TV and looked at me. "If you really need to know, my name is Jay and this isn't even a flat. I just said it was a flat so that I can get some money!" he said, laughing. My jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Why on earth would YOU need more money?" I shouted. "Look at your house and the furniture. You have two sixty five inch TVs AND two leather couches!"

Jay looked at me like I had just shouted the worst insult at him. "Well, let's just say that I went a little overboard with the furniture shopping and that now I don't have enough money to pay the rent," he said with a tone that suggested I should change the subject. I was about to ask where my room was when a ten-year-old boy jumped into the room and belly-flopped onto the couch beside Jay.

"Hey, Big Brother!" the boy said enthusiastically. Then he turned to look at me with the same expression that Jay had greeted me with. "Who's she?" he asked Jay as he pointed at me.

Jay sighed. "This is Elizabeth. She is our 'flatmate'," he explained. Then he turned to me. "Elizabeth, this is the other person that lives in this house who is also unfortunately my younger brother William." He was clearly not happy that his TV time had been interrupted again.

I looked down at William. He had the same dark brown spiky hair as Jay and the same colour eyes, but apart from that, he was totally different. There was an awkward silence which was broken by the noise of some cars beeping outside. I stepped forward. "So Jay, where is my room?" I asked.

Jay glanced up at me. "Did you say something?" he asked, his attention still on the TV.

The anger rose up in me. I grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. "Can you please stop watching TV and listen to me for a second? I said where is my room?"

Jay looked taken aback at my actions with the remote. "It's upstairs in the left corner," he said and then held his hand out for the TV remote. I sighed and dropped the remote in his hand. I went through the corridor that led upstairs.

As soon as I reached the top of the stairs, my Phantasma started. I hated the sensation so much, but it was something that couldn't be controlled. There was something special about it, though. It only started when there was a ghost around.

### \- Three -

All my friends had told me that my Phantasma was special, but they had no idea how hard it was. You would see ghosts all the time, everywhere you went. I'd only found out that I had it when I was twelve, which was six years ago. Back then, I thought I was so special to have the ability to see ghosts, but all that changed. I still, to this day, feel guilty about the fact that my brother followed me on a ghost hunt under my insistence and died. I hadn't been able to stop the ghost that attacked him. After his death, I had made a promise that I would never make contact with a ghost again, so I ignored the alarms screaming "Ghost alert! Ghost alert!" inside my mind and turned to the left to go and find my room.

The door was painted a light blue colour with a grey doorknob. Inside was quite plain. There was a bed and a dresser with a huge wardrobe which was situated beside the bed. I looked at myself in the mirror beside the weirdly huge wardrobe. My straight black hair was messy as ever and dark brown eyes looked extremely tired. I didn't fit in with the rest of the room which was clean and tidy.

"Elizabeth!" Jay's voice shouted from the living room. "Come down here. I need to talk to you."

As I went out of my room, my Phantasma perked up again. I shook the feeling off and walked downstairs to where Jay was standing.

"I'm going out to see some mechanics because the car has sort of broken down," he said as he put on his black leather motorcycle jacket. "Would it be okay if I left William with you?"

"Sure," I muttered. To be honest, I didn't really want to spend the rest of my night with a ten-year-old kid, but I didn't really think I had a choice.

"I'll be back in no more than two hours. See you soon!" he said as he walked out the door.

William jumped onto the couch. "Come on Lizzy, let's play video games!" he shouted as he threw me a remote. Things just couldn't get worse could they?

Five hours later, I put the remote down and looked up at the clock. I got a huge shock when I realised that it was three hours past the time that Jay had promised to be back. I knew where the mechanic store was, but it would be at least an hour if I had to get there by foot. I knew I had to go and find Jay, but I also knew that there was a ghost in the house. My Phantasma hadn't been very strong which meant that the ghost wasn't very strong either. I went over to William, who was lying down on the couch.

"William, I'm going to go out for an hour. You need to stay here. Do you understand?" I asked.

"Sure, have a good time wherever you're going," said William.

I took my white jacket from the coat rack by the door and went out into the cold.

I reached the mechanics quicker than I had expected. Jay was there talking to one of the people. When he saw me, his expression changed."What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay and take care of William!"

I looked at him angrily. "If you hadn't notice, Mr. Jay Maxwell, you have been gone for over five hours now," I said.

"I'm finished now anyway, so come on, we need to go back." he said.

Jay didn't talk to me all through the way back home. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, but when I asked he didn't answer. As we reached the front door, my Phantasma started again—though stronger this time. The alarms in my head were twice as loud. Jay opened the door and stepped inside.

"William, I'm home," he said. "William?"

He rushed upstairs to check William's bedroom. I followed him up.

There was no sign of William. He had completely disappeared.

### \- Four -

Jay threw a huge tantrum. "Why did you leave him? I gave clear instructions that you were to stay with William until I came back! Who cares if I was gone for over two hours it's not like I had died or anything!" he shouted.

I got red in the face. "He's your brother so he's your responsibility. I just arrived here today and you're already giving me my own responsibilities, one of them being to look after your annoying as brother!"

Jay stared at me blankly before quietly replying, "He might be annoying, but he's my brother." Then, for the first time, I realised that Jay cared about something other than TV. I gave him a determined look and said, "Don't worry, Jay. We'll find William. I promise."

Jay was looking at the door of the closet with a weird expression on his face, as if he was in a sort of trance.

"Jay? Jay are you even listening to me?"

Jay suddenly snapped back into reality.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He looked at me in a weird way and asked, "Have you ever got that feeling when you're in a room and it's like there's something else in the room with you, but you can't see it? You know like there's another person, but no one's there, and you get that really creeped out feeling?"

I looked at him in shock for a few minutes and then it hit me. Of course! Jay didn't have Phantasma, but he could still feel that the ghost was there, even though he couldn't see it. I just nodded to him and looked around at my surroundings. I had never been inside William's room, but my Phantasma was stronger than ever. Like my room, William's room had a huge closet.

My senses came back to me and I walked over to the closet. Even by putting my hand on the door, I could feel that there was something supernatural in there. Without thinking, I turned the doorknob and walked into the closet. Jay's voice sounded from behind me. "Elizabeth what are you doing?"

I ignored his question and beckoned him to follow. Just as I had thought, there was a mini black wooden door right at the bottom of the closet. It was unlocked, which saved me the job of looking for keys. I crouched down and crawled through the door. Jay looked unsure, but with a surge I grabbed his arm and pulled him through.

"What in the world are you..." he started, but I stopped him. I put a finger to my lips and carried on, looking at my surroundings. It was a big room. Probably an old storage or attic. My Phantasma got stronger and stronger until... I saw it.

A big ghost—probably a Poltergeist, though they weren't supposed to be visible. Its face wasn't visible which made it impossible to tell how strong it was. It was hovering beside an unconscious William, who lay on the floor. By the looks of William's white face the ghost had already sucked out a quarter of his life force, and that was never good. Jay, who of course couldn't see the ghost, rushed forward to help him. I held a hand out to stop him.

"Do you have any silver?" I asked. Jay looked at me like I had gone mad.

"Silver? How is silver gonna help?" he hissed.

I gave him a look that said 'don't-question-me'. He looked at me in a 'you-are-just-crazy' way and took off his watch.

"I have a Rolex watch. Is that going to help?" he asked.

I gave him a dubious look. "I don't think there's any actual silver in a watch, but it's worth a try." I said as I took the watch. "Any more?" I asked.

He turned his pockets inside-out and looked at me questioningly. I sighed. "So much for being a billionaire," I said.

Jay looked around the room and grabbed a little box that was gathering dust in a corner and handed it to me. "Is this gonna help?" he asked. I fiddled with the lock for a while until it clicked open. I studied the contents closely. Necklaces, rings, lockets and pendulums were stuffed into it carelessly and it was overflowing with little coins. I nodded approvingly.

"Yes. Yes these are absolutely perfect." I put the jewellery in a pile with the Rolex.

"Here's the plan," I said. "You can't see it, but there's a ghost here and ghosts hate silver. When I throw these silver items at it, I want you to grab William and run as fast as you can out of here and don't make a sound." I explained

Jay opened his mouth to argue, but then decided against it. I took my position in front of the ghost. All my fears came rushing into my head. I had faced ghosts before but only weak ones. I had definitely not faced a poltergeist before. I revised everything I knew about poltergeists. They were blind ghosts and could only find you by movement and noise which meant that as long as I didn't make a noise I should be fine. I pulled myself together, grabbed the silver items and aimed them straight at the poltergeist. With all the force that I could manage, I thrust the things at the ghost. The figure started to fade slowly starting from the top to the bottom. I felt pride that I had defeated the ghost and shame that I had broken my promise of never being in contact with a ghost.

Jay had already got William and was on his way back to the house. Checking for the second time, I made sure the ghost was gone and slowly backed out of the hidden room. The silver items had all been burned with ectoplasm. Jay would be so mad when I told him that his Rolex watch was burnt.

When I entered the living room, William was still unconscious and Jay was sitting on the couch. "Did you get my Rolex watch back?" he asked.

I laughed. "You're rich. Go buy another one."

He stared at me. I stared back. "So are you going to thank me in some way?" I asked.

He gave me a smirk. "Sure. Thanks. And don't think that saving William is going to stop me from getting the rent from you. Did you expect that?"

l smiled back. "That's exactly what I expected."

## About Bahar

Once upon a time...oh wait wrong story. So Bahar is a girl that was born in Iran, but moved to New Zealand when she was six. Even though she knows that she will never see a ghost, she is still keeping an eye out just in case. She spends her free time with her friends and at Starbucks. She enjoys writing stories and eating pizza. Though she hasn't written any stories about pizza yet.

# Paige Pancakes

## by Becky Bates

Paige Pancakes had never quite mastered the talent of expecting the unexpected, though no one really could have expected the sorry events of the day to come. It wasn't like there was any fault in Paige either. She was an intelligent and sporty child, loved dearly by all and most gregarious. And it didn't just stop there. Paige looked after her body and was a most attractive young lady. Her bright sense of humour brought much joy to her classroom. She enjoyed touch rugby, netball, hockey, and the arts. Her most favourite thing to do was play with her cheeky seven-year-old brother, Stanley, whom she dearly loved and treasured. Yes, Paige had a perfect life, until a fairly ordinary day turned into the worst and most horrible day of her life.

The prim and proper headmaster of Fairville Intermediate marched into Room Twenty Two with a grim expression on her face just before morning tea time and requested to speak with Paige. Paige was annoyed, as she and her best friend Becky were working on a fun project together, but was not surprised, for she was often called into the headmaster's office for various academic and sporting reasons. Paige was bewildered, though, over the fact that Mrs McDermott hadn't just asked for her over the intercom. Hopefully it wasn't something serious. The intercom was probably broken, she surmised. They strode down the hallway together towards the headmaster's room for the obscure meeting.

After reaching the small tidy quarters, Paige took a seat in the hard wooden chair across the desk from the wizened woman. She saw the sadness in Mrs McDermott's eyes and wondered once again why she was here. She was about to say something when Mrs McDermott cleared her throat and began to speak. "Your brother is in a coma in hospital, Sweetheart. While biking to Fairville Primary, Stanley turned a sharp corner and was hit by a bus. He is extremely lucky to be alive. I'm so terribly sorry, dear," she finished.

As soon as the words sunk in, Paige's heart leapt into her throat and she felt tears sting her eyes. "No! No! Not Stanley. You must be mistaken! It wasn't him. It was someone else!" Paige screamed, sobbing in pain, though deep in her heart she knew it was true.

"Go through to the office and the secretary will drive you to the hospital where your parents are waiting." Mrs McDermott's soft voice reminded Paige that she was in the room. Paige nodded vigorously through a fountain of tears and hurried over. She desperately wanted to see her darling Stanley. She hoped Stanley was alright. The thought that he might have died already made her walk even faster.

After a short car trip, Ms Rolanda dropped Paige at the large bleak hospital and a kindly young nurse escorted her to a small waiting room. Her eyes darted around finding her parents sitting on a patterned couch, their hands grasped tightly together. She saw the fear and worry in their eyes. "Where's Stanley!" she exclaimed. "I need to see him now!"

Her mum blinked away tears and explained gloomily that he was currently being operated on. He had major head and brain injuries, a dislocated hip, his leg was broken in two places, and he had bruises all over his body. Paige began to shake with crying. She wriggled into her Dad's comforting arms and felt like she wanted to die.

After four strained hours of waiting in the same space, fidgeting, chewing nails in concern and attempting to read magazines, a male doctor with a grave, wrinkled face appeared in the doorway and updated them on Stanley. "We're doing our best, but he's not looking too good," he told them. "Stanley's limbs are healing and bandaged, but he has severe brain damage and is heavily comatose. You can see him now, but please be very quiet and aware that he will be in huge amounts of pain beneath his unconsciousness."

Paige and her parents tiptoed along the hallway and into a small white room, anticipating how horrible Stanley would look. At first, Paige assumed they had walked into the wrong room, and almost turned around. Stanley looked like a completely different person, but the sign at the end of his bed read, 'Stanley Pancakes'. They saw a pasty white face, as pale as a ghost's, sticking out of layers and layers of blankets. Many machines were hooked up to his body in various places. His usual cheeky and adorable expression was replaced with blankness. Paige felt like her heart was being torn into tiny fractured pieces. She had to turn away from his poor feeble figure and deathly face. After half an hour of squeezing Stanley's hand and talking softly to him, the emotionally depleted Pancakes family retreated back to their house in solemn silence, making plans to return the next day.

Back home, Paige didn't feel like dinner, and excused herself for an early night. As she lay in bed, tears stung her eyes—not for the first time that day—and she passionately hoped that this wasn't the end of Stanley's small life. She couldn't bear a single day without her brother's contagious smile and twinkling eyes. It was a long, hard, lonely night for poor Paige.

The next morning, she woke to an eerie silence and her whole attitude dropped like a weight right down to her slippered feet. She spent that day in depression and devastation, trying to forget the horrible happenings that were imprinted on her mind every moment. Becky comforted her with all the love in her radiating heart, but Paige was immensely miserable and the day dragged by like a month. She yearned to see Stanley awake and well. All day, Paige wished and wished for him to be better and as bright as birds when they next saw him.

At the end of the school day, both of her parents met her at the gate, looking as gloomy and forlorn as she did. They explained that they were going to visit Stanley again, and Paige obligingly agreed. She desperately wanted to see her darling brother, and even more so wished for him to be sitting up in bed, smiling his beautiful wide grin with holes from missing teeth, when they entered the bleak scary hospital room. Her parents embraced her briefly, and then helped her into the back seat of the car.

Dark raindrops streamed down the window and ominous black clouds blanketed the sky. The weather completely resembled Paige's upset and weary mood. As soon as their silver Honda pulled up the gravelly hospital driveway, Paige flung open the car door and sprinted to her brother's room. She ignored the scolding nurse and went straight in. Her heart dampened as she saw the shocking sight of her terribly poorly little brother. He looked like a frail old man. Even though she couldn't bear it through the pain, Paige forced herself to go to school the next day in her grieving state.

The weeks went by in sadness and despair and Stanley's condition got worse and worse. He was obviously going through agony beneath the coma and his wounds were not healing without his brain in full function. Paige and her family supported each other and went on with their normal life, however there was a hole in their hearts where Stanley's cheery smile was meant to be. Only Becky could relieve her eternal pain and gave her endless kindness, and many hugs. School was truly tough as many people treated her awkwardly, and every second without her little brother went by like an hour. Teachers tried to comfort her, but their words dripped with sickly sweetness.

After about six difficult prolonged months, Paige's mum and dad sat her down on the couch and told her gravely that the doctor had explained to them that the chance of Stanley recovering was about one in a thousand. They knew that he was in pain and wanted to do what was best. They had found the right time to let go but, as Paige burst into exasperated sobs, they told her they would wait until she too was ready, since she and Stanley had been as close as Siamese twins.

Giving Paige the decision was meant to comfort her, but in fact it put a large weight on her shoulders. She was absolutely torn. The idea of turning off Stanley's life machine brought her immense fear, but it was clear that he was suffering deeply. She firmly told herself that Stanley was sure to wake up soon.

Over the next couple of days, her decision painfully lingered in the back of her mind and she tried everything she could to awaken Stanley. She squeezed his hand and whispered comfortingly in his ear. All her efforts were in vain though, and Stanley's pale eyelids remained closed.

That night Paige lay in bed with a hard lump in her throat and tears stinging her eyes. Great fear hung over her heart as she thought of the task she would most probably have to do at some point. She cried with all her heart that night as the thought of losing her irreplaceable brother was horrible.

After another week dragged by Paige had reached the climax of her fear, but was immensely worried about Stanley's pain. She didn't want him to be going through that and so told her parents at dinner that night, with tears in eyes, that she had made the decision to let him be free. It hurt her heart like a dagger but she knew it was what was right. Her whole body shook with crying and her parents brought her into a warm embrace.

Standing by Stanley amongst many relatives and friends the next day was hard, but she knew it would have been what he wanted. As the doctor unplugged the various blinking machines from his limp body, almost everyone in the room was crying. The little remaining colour on his pale skin was slowly sucked away, leaving the sobbing group with a malnutritioned ghost. Everyone paid their respects to Paige and her parents and slowly walked out of the door wiping away their tears.

The following days went by with Paige and her parents feeling like an important organ was missing. They supported each other and received many benevolent gifts, but were immensely upset. Paige went through minor depression and couldn't even remember his funeral but as the weeks went by the pain eased. Stanley always would have that special place in their hearts. Paige slowly began to adjust and accept life without him. She was glad she made the decision and Stanley was no longer suffering. A huge weight was lifted from her shoulders, because sometimes it hurts more to hold on than it does to let go.

# When Nana Died

## by Hanna Wikstrom

### \- One -

I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited outside the door. My boots were buried in the snow and my hair was wet with rain. How long was this going to take? I heard a click as someone unlocked the door from the other side. I hurried inside as soon as it was open.

"Sorry dear," apologised Nana. "I was a bit busy to get to the door straight away."

"No problem," I said as I warmed my frozen hands by the fire. Nana wandered into the kitchen.

"Did you get the shopping, Tyra?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, handing her the overstuffed bag of groceries.

"Ah," she mumbled to herself as she started unpacking it. "Eggs, milk, cheese, bread..." I took my long purple coat off and hung it on the coat stand. I shuffled out off my two-sizes-too-big snow boots and walked down the short corridor to the back door. Unlocking it, I made a dash for the shed. Once I was in there, I lit a candle and wandered through the cobweb-covered garage to the stable where we kept our horse, Mackenzie. She was lying down on her hay pile, looking tired. I grabbed a carrot and held it out for her. She lifted her head and stood up. Her beautiful black hair glistened slightly in the candlelight. I held the carrot out further.

"Come on, Mackenzie," I whispered to her. "Come get the tasty carrot." As she began to eat it I looked over her shoulder and realised that her food bowl was empty. I sighed. Mackenzie ate so much food we might run out of money to keep buying it!

~~~

"Tyra!" Nana's voice echoed through the house. "Time to get up!' She wandered into my bedroom as I sat up in bed and started rummaging through one of my drawers. "Now don't forget dear, I need you to go down to the market today to buy some more food for Mackenzie. And when you get back if you wouldn't mind collecting the eggs from the chicken pen. And the sheep need shearing, dear, if you could do that as well."

"Yes Nana," I said as I pulled on my long white dressing gown. I had a long list of jobs for today.

~~~

"Just this please, Sir," I said as I struggled to lift the enormous bag of horse food up for the man running the stall to see.

"That will be twenty dollars," he said. I rummaged through my pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar note.

"Here," I said, handing him the note. He put the note in the money draw and started serving the next customer. I began the long walk home, tugging the bag along behind me.

~~~

By the time I had made it to the front door, I was completely exhausted and out of breath. I knocked urgently on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Nothing. I banged my fist against the door.

"Nana!" I called. "Hurry up! This bag is heavy you know!" I stood there for another few moments before giving up and stomping around to the side of the house to look through the window. What I saw made me drop the bag of horse food in horror. I could see Nana through the window; but she was lying on the couch, as still as a stone. Nana was dead.

### \- Two -

I curled up in a corner of the hospital reception room, my face wet with tears. Why did Nana have to go? The hospital said she only died of old age, but eighty seven? That isn't very old at all! I know I will have to get over it eventually, but I don't think I'll ever be able to.

A man in an official-looking suit walked into the room. I'd always hated official-looking suits. They were too officialish. "Tyra, is it?" he asked me. I nodded.

"What a pretty name," he said. "Anyway, I'm here to inform you that you have a plane flight to New York city at exactly eight am tomorrow. Your Aunt Maria has offered to look after you. You will need to have your luggage ready by four am and be at the airport promptly by five am."

'Five am?' I thought. That is way too early! Don't these people have any sleep? Are they Vampires? I shivered. Better not think about that.

"Yes, Sir." I nodded.

He showed me to a taxi waiting outside. "This'll take you home. I'd suggest that when you get there you pack your bags, and then have a bit of a rest. There will be another taxi coming to pick you up tomorrow at four am. I've organised a babysitter for you to stay the night, as you are too young to be home alone. Other than that, I'll see you at the airport at five." He smiled and shut the door.

As the taxi was driving down the road, I squeezed my eyes shut and shivered. Tall buildings. I'd had a fear of them ever since I was four, when my parents died in an earthquake and a building collapsed on top of them. Well, better not think about that either.

I started to ponder what I would take with me to New York. Well, since it was summer over there, I'd better pack suitable clothing and accessories. My red maxi dress, my tie-dye t shirt, my multi-coloured leggings... Is that enough? And I hadn't even begun to think about shoes yet! Oh my god, there was so much to think about when you were moving to another country in the morning, especially a really awesome country like America. And I was going to live in New York! I started singing a song to myself. "Celebrate good times, come on!"

It was only after I'd been singing for a full five minutes that I realised the taxi driver kept looking at me in that weird way like, "What the heck is up with you?" because I was singing at absolute full volume. Oh well, at least now everyone could see how happy I was!

### \- Three -

I sat on the plane in complete silence, staring out the window. Why did plane flights have to take so long? I looked at the screen in front of me that was tracking how long it would take to reach America. The screen showed twenty two hours and fifty five minutes. 'What?' I thought. 'I've only been on this stupid plane for one hour? No way! Why couldn't they break the journey up with a holiday in Mexico? Then I could eat tacos all day long whilst wearing a sombrero!'

I woke to smell of delicious food. 'How coincidental!' I thought. 'They've made tacos for lunch! Mmmm, tacos. Finally, a decent dish!' All we had for breakfast was scrambled eggs on toast. Yuck! But then I had some apple juice. And then I had more apple juice. And then I ended up drinking twelve cups of apple juice in the space of five hours! Maybe this plane ride wasn't so bad after all.

~~~

The aeroplane swayed slightly as it began its descent over New York. I sucked on the lolly that the air hostess had given me. Before I knew it, the plane's wheels hit the ground and the air hostesses were opening the exit doors. "...and we hope you enjoy your time in New York city," the voice over the intercom finished.

I grabbed my handbag and climbed down the steps of the plane. I turned around to try and get a glimpse of the airport, but crowds of people pushed me onwards and I couldn't see anything. It was only when I got inside, and all I had to do was wait for Aunt Maria to arrive, that I got a proper look at the distant city. And that sight made me drop everything I was holding—my three purple suitcases, my red suitcase and my two pink handbags. The city was full of tall buildings! Everywhere I looked, there were crowds of them packed tightly together. I felt like I was about to faint, but then a cheery voice from behind me interrupted my thoughts.

"And you must be Tyra!" I turned around to see a lady wearing a long red coat and black high-heel boots standing behind me. She looked like she was somewhere in her mid-thirties. A girl about my age stood next to her.

"Yes, I am," I said with a faint smile.

"Well then, welcome to New York city! I'm your Aunt Maria, but just call me Maria. Don't bother with the 'Aunt' bit. And this is my daughter, Lydia." She gestured to the girl next to her. "I heard that your grandmother passed away. That must have been really hard for you."

I nodded.

Her face brightened. "But I like to look at the bright side of things. Now you can come stay with us!" She smiled at me, then at Lydia, who smiled in return.

"Yay?" I said uncertainly. I severely hoped they didn't live in one of those tall buildings.

Lydia kept trying to start conversations with me during the car ride, but they were mainly one-sided. One of them went like this:

"You'll really like our apartment, Tyra!"

I was silent.

"It's got a great view of the city 'cause it's on the top storey!"

Top storey?

"The building's, like, a hundred and ten storeys high!"

A hundred and ten storeys? No way, no way, no way! I'm never going there! I closed my eyes as we drove further into the city.

"Tyra, why have you closed your eyes?"

I opened my eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Lydia laughed. "Cool. It would be so funny if you had a fear of tall buildings!" She laughed again.

You have no idea, I thought.

### \- Four -

As we climbed out of Maria's purple Lamborghini, I got a good look at the apartment. It was fancy, that's for sure. Every window had a balcony and ivy climbed up the cream-coloured bricks. In fact, it was probably the nicest apartment I'd ever seen (not that I'd ever seen any in person). But it was tall. Lydia wasn't kidding about the hundred and ten storey thing. And it was only when Maria pointed to a high-up window and said, "That's our apartment right up there," that I realised she wasn't kidding about the top-storey thing either. All I could think was, OMG, OMG, OMG, how am I expected to live here? But I can't tell anyone. They'll think I'm crazy for having a fear of tall buildings!

I took a deep breath to calm myself and thought, Oh well. You're here now, Tyra, and who knows? Tall buildings might not turn out to be as frightening and dangerous as you think!

My legs were aching and I was out of breath by the time we reached the apartment. The elevator had taken us to storey one hundred, but we'd had to climb the rest. And I thought I was fit!

"So, Tyra," Lydia began eagerly. How could she have so much energy after that climb? It was like she did this every day! Oh wait... she did do this every day. "You wanna tour of the apartment?"

"Um... sure," I said, avoiding any windows and trying not to think about the fact that I was at the top of a hundred and ten storey building in the middle of New York City. Aka the-city-of-tall-buildings-and-the-scariest-place-I-have-ever-been.

"So, we'll start with the bedrooms," Lydia said as she led me down a long corridor with a deep red carpet. She pointed to each door as she told me what they were. "That's Maria's bedroom. She doesn't mind if you go in there. The rules aren't super-strict or anything. By the way, I don't call her Mom. She prefers Maria. And that's my room. I don't mind if you go in there either. It isn't that private—just don't go rummaging through my desk. This here is your room; complete with a four-poster, just like mine!"

My eyes scanned the bedroom. The floor was made from polished wood and a light grey carpet lay underneath my white four-poster. The cream-coloured walls looked great against the white draws, on top of which there was a glass bench. A large mirror stood against the wall. The pale curtains opened onto a beautiful view over New York city. Well, what everyone else would call beautiful and I would call the most frightening sight ever. Glass French doors stood in the corner and opened out onto a small balcony.

"It's lovely," I said to Lydia, making a mental note to keep the curtains closed at all times.

"So, I take it that you had dinner on the plane?" Lydia asked. I nodded. "Well I know it's late, but do you want dessert? Maria's made chocolate cake. We can have it with some ice cream whilst watching TV if you'd like?"

"Yes please! If you're sure it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all!" Lydia said as she walked out of the room.

"And by the way, now that you're living with us, you might as well call me your sister," she added with a wink. I threw my suitcases on the floor and flopped down on the bed with exhaustion. I made a mental list of everything that had happened to me today.

I took a plane flight from New Zealand to New York city.

I ate tacos and drank apple juice.

I found out that New York is the scariest place I've ever been.

I met Maria and Lydia.

I found out that Maria and Lydia are really rich.

I got taken to live with Maria and Lydia.

I got given a really cool bedroom.

I am about to eat chocolate pudding with ice cream whilst watching TV.

Yep, I think I'm having a pretty good time in New York city.

### \- Five -

The room around me was shaking. My eyes snapped open. I'm dreaming, was my first thought. But when I looked out the window I realised how wrong I was. It wasn't just our apartment that was shaking. It was the whole of New York.

"Earthquake!" I heard Maria shout as she came rushing into my room. I leaped out of bed just in time as the top of my four-poster came crashing down.

"Where's Lydia?" I shouted over the noise.

"I can't find her! She's not in her room! She must have gone out before the earthquake started and she didn't get back in time!"

"We have to look for her!" I yelled.

"I tried! But I can't find her anywhere." Maria grabbed me by my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "You have to help me!"

I looked frantically around the room. "Look! The door is still open. We can get to the staircase!"

Maria nodded and we hurried across the room, just as the earthquake slowed and eventually stopped. When we reached the stairs, Maria went first. As soon as she was out of the way I followed.

"Maybe we should split up. It will be quicker that way." I said.

Maria nodded. "Good idea. I'll take the left side of the house, you take the right." She hurried over to the nearest doorway. I rushed into the kitchen. I didn't have to look for long. Because right in the middle of the kitchen floor was a huge hole. And clinging to the edge of the hole was Lydia.

"Lydia! It's me, Tyra. Are you Okay?"

Lydia looked up. Her eyes were filled with fear. She looked so helpless. "Um, not really!"

"Are you hurt?"

"Yeah. My leg feels like it's broken, but apart from that I'm good. Oh, and I also happen to be dangling over a 50-metre drop, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mind helping me up."

I would usually laugh at her sarcasm, but now wasn't the time for humour. I reached over and grabbed her wrists. With a lot of effort from both both of us she finally managed to roll over onto the floor. I was about to call out for Maria but at exactly that moment an aftershock began and some of the walls began cracking. I saw Maria run towards us, but she was cut off by a collapsing wall. As soon as the quake slowed I hurried over to the pile of rubble.

"Maria!" I yelled, in case she could hear me.

"Tyra? Are you alright? Where's Lydia? Did you find her?"

"I'm fine. Lydia's right here. Can you get out?"

"I can. The staircase is right here. But I'm not going until I know you and Lydia can escape."

I glanced over at the staircase. It looked safe enough to climb down, but Lydia couldn't walk.

"Yeah, we can get out."

"Is Lydia hurt?"

I looked at Lydia. Blood was seeping uncontrollably from the wound. If she didn't get help soon she was sure to die of blood loss.

"Lydia's hurt. Badly. But there's no time for you to go and get help. It'll be too late by then. I'll carry her down the stairs. Don't try and find us."

"Alright." Maria agreed. "But you have to hurry."

"Don't worry." I said. "I will."

I heard Maria's footsteps echo through the building as she hurried away. I rushed over to Lydia.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her.

"M-my head's sore. And I can't stop the blood. I feel like, like I'm going to pass out."

"Alright. I'm going to carry you down the stairs. It's the only way out. Your mum's safe, don't worry about her."

Lydia nodded.

I used all my strength to hoist her up off the ground and make sure I was comfortable carrying her. Then, slowly but steadily, I made my way over to the staircase.

~~~

As I sat in the ambulance and watched Lydia lying on the bed with a nurse next to her, I remembered how I had had to make a decision on whether to guarantee my own safety or to help Lydia. My mind had been spinning over the options. It had felt like I had two personalities.

Personality 1: Save Lydia. Her life depends on you.

Personality 2: No way! Escape whilst you can.

Personality 1: But if you help Lydia then she'll at least have a chance of survival.

Personality 2: But if you save Lydia then you're putting yourself into danger.

Personality 3: Why don't you just commit suicide and then you wouldn't have to decide!

I was so glad that I had chosen to save Lydia. Because now she was going to live.

### \- Six -

Three months later

Lydia came out of hospital three weeks ago. Apparently that scratch of hers was really nasty. Good news is, she's better now. She won't be able to run as fast for the next month or so because she's got stitches in her leg, but at least the pain has mostly gone away. I'm kind of the hero of the family now because I saved Lydia's life. Maria was thanking me so much during the helicopter flight.

"Oh, Tyra, you saved her! How can we ever repay you?"

And I said stuff like, "It was no big deal. I just pulled her out of a hole and carried her down a staircase.. Maybe risked my own life as well, but whatever!"

We moved back into our apartment yesterday. The rebuild workers had been fast to fix it. It was perfect. Everything was exactly where we had left it and nothing showed any signs of damage. Maybe tall buildings are safer than I thought.

## About Hanna

Hanna is an eleven-year-old girl who loves writing, playing the guitar and singing in the shower. She love animals, especially canines, and her favourite book is the School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani. She has a German Shepherd dog called Chewbacca (Chewie for short) and he is the cutest dog ever. Hanna's favourite animal is a wolf.

# Autophobia

## by Holly Abell

Why do they have to leave? They know how much I hate it when they leave. Of course it was another one of those 'holidays' that they went on without me. The truth is, my parents, Sandra and Will, are...spies. Tomorrow they are getting on their spy plane and going nine hundred fifty four miles to London. It's a secret that I can't tell anyone (except for you)! My parents have both been spies since they were twelve and are now both forty six. I, Clara, am seventeen, almost eighteen, so I can stay home alone, but I hate it. I am an only child. I had a brother, but he died a couple of years before I was born. I have only one picture of him, which I look at all the time. The photo is old and crumpled but it is better than nothing. It's a photo of him before school one day. He had scruffy brunette hair and a crooked smile that makes me grin.

My parents have been away twelve times (as far back as I remember). Every time that they go it is torture! I absolutely hate it when they leave. I always feel so lonely and abandoned. My parents think that I have a problem... but I don't, trust me. At least I don't think I do.

I storm out of the house. I can't stand it. Right now, I am walking down my lane. I just have to get away. Running makes all my fears go away. I have been out for eighteen minutes now—it's probably time to go home, although I don't want to. I get to the bottom of our drive, puffing and panting. I felt my face burning bright red, for two reasons: I am furious with mum and dad and I'm so tired from sprinting, trying to loose all my anger and sadness. I stroll up the drive, my legs feeling like jelly. I can hear Mum and Dad arguing,

"She doesn't like it, Will!" Mum yells.

"She has to get over herself, Sandra. She's almost eighteen. Plus, she has to get over this autophobia!"

My eyes well up. Dad is right, I have to get over it. Autophobia—the fear of being left alone—is pathetic!

I knock on the door. Silence. Mum opens up, her eyes red. She has definitely been crying. She gives me a massive hug,

"I'm sorry we have to leave," she whispers in my ear, "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yes," I say, on the verge of tears. It is almost ten o'clock at night. Mum cuddles me all the way to my room.

"Love you," she said.

"Love you too," I sobbed.

Mum closes the door so only a small glimpse of light shines in. I lie in bed and cry myself to sleep.

I wake up to my pale blue curtains being drawn. The sun is blinding. I pull the covers over my head, then realize there is a black stain on my white satin duvet. Mascara.

"Rise and shine," Mum says, sounding joyful.

"How can you be happy," I moan. "Today is going to be the start of the worst week of my life."

"Cheer up," Mum says, "We're only going for a week".

"But in that time, bad things can happen."

"Like what?"

"First of all, your plane could crash or, when you're on your mission you could get hurt... or even die!" Saying this makes me cry. "Please don't go," I say. I put the waterworks on, full blast.

"Come on! Nothing is going to happen, Clara. I'm telling you."

"Okay, okay." I get up out of bed and put on my comfiest clothing, jeans and a t-shirt. I know that I can't stop them, whatever I do or try. I give them both a hug and a kiss and tell them to go on their way. I put on a confident face, watching them drive away, but my eyes start to water.

"Come on, Clara," I say to myself. "You can get through this!"

I go inside, get myself a packet of chips and watch my favourite show, Keeping Up with the Kardashians. I sit on the couch, weeping through whole series. After five hours and ten shows, I start to feel a bit better. Maybe this won't be so hard after all!

I push myself up off the couch. My legs ache from sitting down for so long. I see a picture of mum, dad and me. It is one of us at the beach, smiling as big and as wide as we can. I'd thought that I'd finally got over it, but...no. The tears start flowing again. I wipe my eyes and turn the picture around. I go to the landline and call Ariana.

"I'm all alone," I sob.

"Sorry, Clara, I told you, I'm in Hawaii, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Damn!"

"Sorry, if I could, I'd come back, but as you know, I'm afraid of flying alone."

"Okay," I say, trying to hold back tears.

"Bye, love you!"

"Love you too." I put the phone down and look up at the ceiling. It is an old trick my grandma used when she went to funerals. She knew the ceiling of the church like the back of her hand.

It is almost five pm. I need to start thinking about what I should have for tea. Fish and chips? Pizza? Subway? No. I don't feel much like food, but I needed to eat away my loneliness and sadness. McDonald's it is then. Hopefully no cops will pull me over for driving without a license.

I arrive at McDonald's, hoping my eyes aren't red and puffy. I buy a double cheeseburger and a large frozen coke. I hop in the car and drive off.

Oh no! I think. I can see red and blue flashing lights up the road. "Crabs!"

I quickly turn down a side street and park. Luckily, they drive past. A wave of relief comes over me. I start the car and drive off.

Finally, I arrive home, safe and sound. I open the bag and breathe in the delicious salty smell."Yummmmm!"

I get out a white china plate and put my cheeseburger on it. Something posh and something not! I think to myself.

I slump down on the large, soft, comfy couch and pull a fluffy blanket over me, then I turn on the news.

"Breaking news," the news reporter says. "Two secret agents are being held captive by the most dangerous villain out there."

I start to freak out. What if it's Mum and Dad? What if I never see them again? It shows a video from the room's security camera. Two people, a lady and a male. It is Mum and Dad! I can't hold it back any more. Tears flood out. My head falls against the arm of the couch. My life is over.

No, I think. I am not going to be a prissy girl who is too scared to save her parents. I am going to be a...hero. Mum had put five thousand dollars in an account for 'emergencies' only. I'm pretty sure that this is an emergency, I think.

I log onto my Mac Book Pro and look up flights to London from Barcelona. Air Europa or Albastar are the two options for flights today. I need to get there as soon as possible. Albastar leaves forty five minutes before Air Europa, so Albastar it is. I fill out the online form and press 'Buy'.

Done.

I print out my tickets and quickly pack my suitcase: three tops, four pants and three pairs of shoes (and of course I pack the other garments as well). I hit the road in my mint green Mini. It only takes thirty five minutes (according to my phone) to get to the airport. I arrive in the airport car park. I am going to leave my car there for a week so it will cost thirty dollars.

I park and walked in with my suitcase trailing behind me. It is quite heavy even, though it isn't even half full. I find my way to the 'check baggage' area and sit down on an empty row of seats. The flight is due to depart in one hour. They open the gate and I put my suitcase up and it is scanned. All clear.

Finally, I start boarding. I am at the very back of the plane. I get out my blanket and my mini pillow and snuggle down. I hate flying by myself. We take off and I push myself back in my seat. I shut my eyes and take a big breath in.

When we are up in the air, the turbulence smooths out and I finally relax. I need to start my plan on how I will save my parents. First of all, I need to figure out how to find them. Luckily, I have a GPS tracker on my phone, so that I know where Mum's phone is. I'll check that when we get off the plane. Now, when I find the building, I will have to break in. I had learned from a few secret agent courses how to pin people to the ground and how to hack into alarms and shut them down. I have a metal melter in my kit, so that I can melt the door handle and the lock.

After some turbulence, the pilot announces that we have to be seated for landing. The air hostesses brings around chewy sweets and then sits down at the back. I peer out the window as we plummet toward the ground.

After I get off the plane, I go through baggage control and then get in a taxi to my hotel. I will stay there until tomorrow, then I will put my Super Saviour Plan into action. I am so nervous that I don't sleep a wink.

In the morning, I put on my pale purple top with my black leggings and my favourite sneakers. I get my metal melter and put it in my purse. Then I sneak out the hotel sliding doors and stroll down the street. It feels like every pair of eyes are on me. My phone starts beeping. My parents are near.

I get to a dark mysterious building. All the windows are blacked out and padlocked so that no visitors can enter. It's time to start my rescue mission. I get out a pipe cleaner and stick it in the padlock and wiggle it around. Click! It bursts open.

Too easy! I think.

I tiptoe down the eerie corridors, being as quiet as a mouse. I hear a door slam and heavy footsteps coming towards me. I sprint as fast as my feet will go. I open a door to what looks like an office and hide behind a desk. All I can hear is my heartbeat and my heavy, raspy breaths. Suddenly, the door handle is pushed down and a large, muscled man walks in and sits down at the desk. His feet are millimetres away from my face. I try not to breath, but whenever I do that, after ten seconds I let out a big sigh.

"Seriously!" he yells. "Malcolm, my accounts haven't been done, again!"

I lie there, trying not to move or breathe or do anything to put my life in jeopardy.

"Where is that man?" He walks out and finally, I can breathe again. I listen until I can't hear his footsteps any more. I turn on my phone. My parents are right on top of me, according to this. I get up and look around.

Damn! Mum's phone is on top off a cabinet, along with Dad's. Well, I guess I will have to find them the old fashioned way, using my eyes.

Slowly, I open the door. It creaks loudly. I wince, but no one comes to check it out. I listen, hearing voices. They were near, very near, and they sound familiar. Could it be?

I sneak along the corridor and put my ear against the next door. "Help," I hear, "Help!"

I kick the door, but only give it a little dent. I fiddle with the handle. Nothing happens. This is the job for a metal melter. I get it out and turn it on. A flame lights up and I put it up against the handle, melting it down to a gooey silver mess on the ground. This time, I kick the door as hard as I can and it flies open. I see Mum and Dad sitting on the ground, cross legged, eating bread crusts.

"Mum," I shout, "Dad!"

I run over to them and collapse into Mum's lap, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"What do you think you're doing?" The big man from the office is now standing in front of us. His face is red and angry. We all stand up and run towards him. We pin him to the ground and call the police. When they arrive, a camera crew comes with them. They take us back to the hotel and I am on the news with the big headline 'Eighteen-year-old Saves Family—What a Hero!'. I smile as we turn on the TV and all snuggle in to the double bed, together again. Mum and Dad will never go on another mission. That's right, now that they can't be secret agents any more, because everyone knows our secret. They will have to get normal jobs. Get ready for...The Abell Family Burger Hub!

## About Holly

Holly Abell is a twelve-year-old girl who is currently at Heaton Intermediate in Room Two. She loves sport, hockey and tennis. Also she enjoys writing, art, science and hard materials.

The reason she wrote about this topic, autophobia (the fear of being abandoned) is because she thought it was a realistic problem that millions of people around the world have, some mild and some major.

# Little Elephant

## by Kate Gardiner

Jabari groaned as he hauled himself out of the low bed in his little room. His mother was already up, making an awful racket as she cooked breakfast. Birds chirped as the sun rose, baking the savannah in warm golden light. It was on mornings like this when he missed his father the most. He glanced at the scars that criss-crossed over his abdomen, reminding him of things he would rather forget. Jabari got dressed into his best clothes, a loose white shirt and shorts and ruffled his short, curly black hair. He rubbed the elephant as he placed it in his pocket for comfort. The little elephant was carved out of wood from one of the Marula trees that littered the savannah. It was worn smooth from all the times he had rubbed it over the ten years his father had been gone.

The night before his father left, he gave the elephant to Jabari, saying, "This is my gift to you, my little elephant. When you hold this and think of me it will give you courage. I've got to make a journey to trade with some of the other tribes. I will be back." When Jabari woke up his father was gone. Jabari moved to place the elephant in his secret hiding place in the wall of the hut beside his bed, then he stopped and put it in his pocket. Jabari had a bad feeling that he was going to need it.

He heard a lion roaring in the distance. Oh no, this is the day, he thought to himself. Ebele and Ayana stomped into the room. "Come on Jabari!" Ayana yelled.

Ebele whispered something to her and his twin sisters ran out of the room, giggling. Jabari smiled to himself, but his smile faded quickly when he remembered what was to come. His mother glanced out of the window and saw the large group of people walking to the meeting house. "We need to go. Get your sisters,"

"Okay," Jabari replied and he shooed his sisters out the door.

Jabari and his family walked into the wooden hut where the village meetings were held. The hut was packed with people. The whole village was there. As he and the other sixty people sat down on the ground and looked up at the wooden platform at the front, his eyes wandered over the familiar room as though he had never seen it before. He noted the artworks that depicted the savannah on the walls. The low ceiling and dirt floor with the light flickering from the fire gave the large hut a warm look. Jabari was jolted back into the present as the elders walked up on to the platform. The Elders were a group of ten—the oldest and most respected individuals in the village. Imamu, the Head Elder stood up. "Today we are here to discuss the coming of age ritual. As you know, by our tradition and the ancient laws our village was founded upon..." Jabari slipped into a daydream. He had heard this so many times before.

Suddenly, Jabari snapped back into the present as Imamu said, "To come of age, sixteen-year-old males have to prove themselves by killing a wild animal. Jabari, son of Lekan and Nia, it is your turn. It is traditional that the elders choose the animal you have to kill," Imamu took a deep breath, "We have chosen a lion. Tomorrow at dawn you are to go out into the savannah and bring back the skin of a male lion. You may use a spear. Bring back a lion skin or don't come back. Jabari do you accept?"

It was several seconds before Jabari could recover his voice. "Yes," he stammered.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. All Jabari could think about was what awaited him tomorrow at dawn. Jabari heard the scraping of chairs and saw people milling around. It was the end of the meeting and he silently followed his mother out of the room. His mind was in turmoil and he fled to the savannahs beyond the village. He needed to be alone. He leaned against a tree and tried to sort out his thoughts. The biggest problem of all was one that he hadn't admitted to anyone because he didn't want to admit it to himself. Jabari was terrified of lions.

He had been terrified since he was six years old. Ten years ago, he had run away from the house without telling his mother. Out in the Savannah, he had turned around and seen a lion behind him and had tried to run. He'd only just survived, but was left with horrific scars. Jabari locked his fears inside of himself and started walking to the village.

It was the morning before he knew it. Jabari saw a scrap piece of paper on the floor.

Dear Jabari,

Do what you have to do and please come home.

Love from,

Ebele & Ayana

He walked into the kitchen of his house and accepted the food that his mother offered him. Jabari felt queasy and could only eat a few mouthfuls of the unappetizing porridge and bread. His mother glanced at the sun peaking over the horizon. "Go now dear," she whispered.

He grabbed a spear and ran. Jabari stalked through the long grasses of the savannah, knowing that he would not have to find the lion. It would find him. Jabari waited and waited. Finally he heard a low growl. A ball of fiery fur silently padded towards him. The lion was stunning. He was a dignified male and the colours of his mane glowed golden in the rising sun. He was strong and a powerful build. He had a look of wisdom in his deep hazel eyes. Jabari stood motionless, waiting for his end. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. But then Jabari saw the faces of his family: his dependable mother and his two little sisters. Someone was missing. Jabari put his hand in his pocket and felt his little elephant. The link to his father.

In his mind, his father said to him, "Keep going, do what you have to do. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Don't stop now."

With that thought Jabari opened his eyes. The lion was still there but it stood there silently. I know what I have to do, he said to himself.

Jabari looked down at the point of his spear. The lion roared. Jabari had to kill him. His heart was pumping and adrenalin rushed through his veins. The lion circled him. Jabari was rooted to the spot with fear. His hands were slick with sweat. The boy and the lion faced each other, then the lion leapt towards him.

Jabari fell to the ground. He couldn't get up. The lion advanced towards him. Jabari squeezed the elephant in his pocket. The faces of his mother, sisters and father swelled up in his mind once more, urging him to do what he had to do. He ducked behind one of the small rocks that littered the savannah. The lion swiped. Jabari crawled away slowly and hid behind a tree. He held his arm and felt something sticky. His arm was scratched but there was no time to tend to it. Adrenalin gave Jabari boundless energy. He ran at the lion yelling. It snarled and ... He felt a thud. The magnificent lion fell to the ground. Jabari staggered as he realised what he had just done. He looked with pity at the lifeless creature but nothing could be done. He tied a rope around the lion and started dragging it back to the village. Jabari realised that his father had never really been gone. He lived inside of Jabari and nothing he or anyone could do would change that.

The elders couldn't believe that Jabari was still alive. They had expected him to die out in the savannah, at the mercy of a wild animal. Imamu called the villagers into the meeting hut. "Jabari has succeeded. He is now a man!" announced Imamu.

He walked out of the meeting hut, still a bit dazed. He saw his sisters and mother hugging a tall man. He wasn't sure who it was until he saw the handsome laughing face smile gently at him. "My little elephant, all grown up," said his father in a choked voice. Jabari enveloped his long lost father in a hug. As he looked around and saw his mother and sisters happy faces he realised that his father had finally come home.

## About Kate

Kate Gardiner is an eleven-year-old student who currently attends Heaton Intermediate. She loves reading and playing netball. Kate likes animals and wishes that she had one of her own. She loves spending time with her friends and family. Kate chose to write this story because she thought that it would be interesting to write in a tribal African scene.

#  When Everything Takes Flight

## by Lucy Murray

Zoe had wavy, golden blonde hair, like the sand, and a fashion sense no one could doubt. He eyes were a sparkling blue, like the ocean. She had a really sociable, bubbly personality and a flawless complexion. Her life revolved around friends, family and basketball, which she practically ate, slept and breathed.

26 August 2017, Surfers Paradise, Australia

"Mum!" I screamed up the stairs. "There's a letter on the bench for you!"

"I'm coming Zoe, just wait a moment."

Mum's golden hair fluttered as she rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. She ripped open the envelope. She was silent for a period of time that felt like forever, then she suddenly gasped.

"Is it good news?" I questioned with doubt in my voice.

"Yes, yes, yes! Zo it's amazing!" she said, jumping up and down excitedly. I skimmed the general letter and screamed with excitement. It read:

Dear Mr & Mrs Williams,

We would like to congratulate your daughter Zoe Williams on being selected for the Australian Youth Olympics Basketball team. This tournament is held over the month of March and will take place in Chicago. The total expenses will be $6000 plus spending money. To lower costs, fundraising opportunities are available. More information will be provided by email as details are confirmed over time.

Congratulations again,

William Jones – Australia Youth Sports Director

I heard Dad pull into the driveway and was thrilled. As he climbed out of his glossy black Mercedes-Benz, I greeted him with a beaming smile on my face.

"Hi, my girl," he said with a smile.

"I've got news," I said. "I've been selected in the Australian Youth Olympics Basketball team who are travelling to Chicago next year!"

"Wonderful Zo, I'm so proud of you!" he said as he pulled me into his arms.

That night I was so overwhelmed that basketball was the only thing on my mind. What could I do better? Would I be the best? Would I like my team? Just a truckload of questions floating in my brain as I drifted to sleep, but the main one was 'Will I be able to get in the plane?' I had a huge phobia of planes ever since my grandmother died in a plane crash over the Indian Ocean earlier this year. They were still searching for the wreckage.

### 24-31 October 2017, Sydney, Australia

Today was my sixteenth birthday and I was over the moon. My mum, my best friend Courtney (who I'd been friends with since we were two years old at preschool) and I had taken a girls shopping week to Sydney. I was happy I could just spend time with my mum and Courtney before I got back to my hectic basketball schedule, but I then realised something wasn't right. That was when mum let it all off her chest. "Zoe, I have some horrible news," she started. "Your grandfather has been diagnosed with lung cancer and has been given five months to live, but they're saying it could be shorter."

"That can't be right!" I yelled. I truly loved my grandad to the point words can't describe.

"Zo, calm down. You're not the only one who's upset over this. It has come as a shock to everyone," mum said calmly.

After that, our week flew by, but I was relieved to get back to the sport that I could happily call my life. Basketball. My intense training schedule filled my spare time and took my mind off things.

### 25 February 2018, Surfers Paradise, Australia

The countdown was on for the Youth Olympics. Only five days to go. Today was the only day I'd had off in a couple of weeks. My muscles were aching, but that felt good and relaxation was all I needed. Interrupting my thoughts, my cellphone started vibrating on my lap. The contact name was Penny—Courtney's Mum. I immediately answered it, but wondered why she was ringing me. It was 2:37 pm on a Saturday. Something filled my mind with negativity. This must not be good, I thought.

"Hi, Zoe," said Penny sounding a bit shaky.

"What's going on?" I answered politely.

"I've got some horrible news for you, Zo," she continued.

"What's wrong?" I replied within seconds.

Penny started to sob, "This morning John and I found Courts lying in her bed unresponsive, and now she's in a better place."

I yelled and screamed. "This can't be happening!" I shouted. But she'd hung up. I heard gentle footsteps up the stairs and then a crack of my door opened. Mum came and sat in my bed and hugged me. "I'm so sorry, Zo," she calmly whispered to me.

Courtney was a diabetic and I'd known that since we had first started being friends. Before she'd gone to bed, she was stable, but in the night she'd suddenly got low and by the time her parents came, it was too late to do anything. She'd already left us. I was speechless and just cried and cried and cried for three days in my room. Alone.

### 29 February 2018, Surfers Paradise, Australia

Tomorrow was the day we left for Chicago, but I just wouldn't leave my room. Every time someone stood in the doorway, I yelled, "Go away!"

No one could get me to leave, but then I realised something. Courtney wanted me to go so bad, and she had been so supportive of me ever since I'd received the confirmation letter for the Australian Basketball Team. I'd do it for her, for my grandad, for my parents and the whole team. All that mattered to me was my friends, family and basketball. Otherwise all this determination would go to waste. Did I really want that?

### March 28 2018, Chicago, United States of America

The tournament had been a great success, we came back to the airport undefeated with gold medals hanging round our necks. All of it was done for Courtney and my grandad. From getting onto the plane (which I had been truly scared of), to scoring the winning three-pointer for the team, these things forced me to come back stronger than before.

## About Lucy

Lucy Murray is a twelve-year-old girl who currently attends Heaton Normal Intermediate. She loves participating in all different types of sports, especially hockey and cricket. She chose to write this particular story as she was deeply fascinated by how people's fears affect their everyday lives and how they live. Lucy also enjoys having a laugh with family and friends, while being outside.

#  The Prison I Called Home

## by Marissa Gaffney

Oats and milk, my daily breakfast. Oh shoot it's nine am. I've gotta get out by ten past! Claudia thought. The spoon clanged against the side of the bowl like the bell did when her parents got married. Claudia missed her mum so much she couldn't describe it. A tear rolled down the side of her face, hitting her lip and dropping onto her chest. Although it was a sad moment, Claudia knew she had to maintain the facade of being German. She started her car and drove the few kilometres to the kindergarten. During the short journey, however, her mind still raced backwards to find the happy memories that she'd had with her mother. Due to the fond yet distracting memories, she suddenly realised that she was late for work.

Once inside, her friend, Martha, asked her, "Where have you been?" in German. Unaware, Claudia responded in her native Jewish tongue, explaining that she was missing her dearly beloved mum. However Claudia and Martha didn't realise that their conversation was overheard by the head of kindergarten—who was an active member of the Nazi party. Madam Schwartzkopf secretly sent a telegram to the Nazi party that two Jews were masquerading as Germans. Thirty minutes later, Claudia and Martha were being led away by the German guards and taken to the concentration camp which would likely be their home for the next several years.

~~~

Claudia and Martha were cramped inside the back of a truck with about fifty other people—men, women and children. Claudia stared at them. They stared back at her, fear etched on their faces. A voice spoke from the back, "Where are they taking us? What are they going to do?"

An elderly, frail man who sat next to Martha said, "They're taking us to the camp. It's the end for us."

Claudia got a sudden chill down the back of her spine. She was getting the sense that the 'camp' was an unwelcoming place.

~~~

All of a sudden, the truck jolted and screeched to a halt. People were screaming with alarm and the children began to cry.

"Schnell, schnell!" The German guards ordered the prisoners off of the truck, then they started separating the men and the boys from the women and the girls. Tears were pouring out of families' eyes. The soldiers were physically and mentally tearing them apart. Claudia wondered if these families would ever see each other again, and with that thought, Martha and her were ushered into the train's cattle wagons with girls still crying for their fathers and brothers. The doors slammed shut and the train kicked into action. Darkness wrapped around them like blanket, a whistle sounded and the train juddered into life.

Claudia could see through a narrow gap in the train carriage that they had gone from daylight to darkness and it seemed like the journey was going on forever. She sensed the fear from her fellow prisoners. The air had a slight musty aroma from the amount of people in the wagon. At times, Claudia felt a bit panicky due to the number of people surrounding her.

Lots more time passed, then people screamed as the train suddenly lunged to a halt. The doors were unlocked and the German soldiers could be heard outside, "Aussteigen, aussteigen." Everyone started scrambling outside, just glad to get some fresh air. Claudia still couldn't believe that four people had died on that everlasting journey of three days and three nights. She and Martha felt so lucky to still have the earth beneath their feet.

~~~

Shortly after that, everyone was assigned a barracks and given their striped pyjamas and a number was tattooed on their arm. Claudia's number was 100503 and although this number would physically stay with her forever, the pain of the tattoo needle would only last for several days. They were given stale bread and some coffee and it was off to the day's work. Since Claudia was young and well built, she got the physically demanding task of digging graves.

~~~

Claudia's hands shook at the thought of digging up this grave. As she bent down to pick up the shovel, pains shot through her back like bullets—another twelve hours of digging. The shovel made contact with the earth. She dug deeper and further into the soil, her mouth becoming as dry as sand with every shovel full. Claudia was reminded of her own mortality. Every spadeful got her nearer and nearer to what she didn't want to face. A decomposed body. A person. In her own mind, Claudia didn't want to take another physical step with this shovel, but at the same time, she could be the person lying in this grave. This psychological torture was a daily reminder of the future they likely all faced. Should she welcome death sooner rather than later? Or should Claudia wish for another day in this hell hole prison. There was a glimmer of hope that, eventually, the barbaric torture from her captives would end. Maybe one day, maybe not.

~~~

The meagre food rations did little to provide enough energy for Claudia to complete a day's hard labour and the constant hunger pains were an hourly reminder that she needed eat more food. How could she do this?

Claudia had been thinking about stealing some food rations for a number of weeks and although in her mind she knew it was wrong, she had this internal turmoil of should I or shouldn't I do it? Claudia was starving to the point where she couldn't take it any more. The excruciating pains in her body occurred because she was getting little to no food. She knew she had to eat. She could she could just feel it in her bones. Claudia had decided to do it on a number of occasions, but at the last minute she had gotten cold feet. In her mind, she was back to dealing with this internal turmoil, "I've got to eat. I just need to!" Claudia was not only worried about being caught by the guards, but she was also worried about stealing someone else's rations. Before the war, she had been a hard working member of her community. Claudia would never have dreamed of stealing anything, no matter how big or small.

~~~

"Right, now it's time," she whispered under her breath. Everyone was fast asleep. Claudia sat on the side of the bed, gripping the bed frame. Her heart was racing, sweat beading on her brow. She wiped the sweat away and put her shoes on, ready to start her deceitful act. Claudia placed her trembling hand on the handle of the door and pulled it open. The door screeched. Oh no, someone's waking up! she thought, but there were no cries of alarm. She opened the door and then guided it to close softly. The cold breeze brushed Claudia's face and she started walking up to the graveyard. Where could I get some food? she thought for a while. Maybe the guard's office would have some?

Claudia's legs were as cold as ice and her hands were getting pinker by the second. She saw some guards ahead and turned around, walking the other way. She could hear the guards talking. If they saw that she was out at this time, she didn't know what they would do with her. Claudia pressed her back against the wall of the office and listened to them talking. "Morgen werden wir alle Baracke C schießen." Tomorrow we shall shoot all Barracks C.

"Phew," Claudia thought. "That's only one away from my barracks."

~~~

At dawn the next day, Claudia's mind kicked into action. "I'm so tired from yesterday," she said to herself.

"Wait, why are there crumbs on the floor?" asked Martha.

"I have no clue," Claudia said deceitfully.

People started awaking on their timber lined beds, which were more like book shelves. Claudia quickly pushed the crumbs under with her feet and went to the bathroom to wash her dusty face, but symbolically she was washing away the sins of last night's escapade.

~~~

Claudia lined up with the other prisoners, shovels in hand, ready to start another twelve hours of digging graves. The prison guard shouted that they would need to dig fast because they would be shooting prisoners today. Claudia was hard at work digging when she her heart started palpitating. Shivers raced down her spine as she heard *bang* *bang* *bang* *bang*. The prisoners of Barracks C were no longer alive.

~~~

Later that day, Claudia and Martha were summoned to report to the guards office immediately. Claudia was freaking out inside, "What was going on? What was happening?"

She rushed over to the guard's office faster than her feet could handle and suddenly stopped. The guard ushered her inside the cramped office. Her eyes scanned the office, looking at every little nook and cranny. The German guard slammed the door shut and Claudia snapped back into reality.

"I have heard from some other people in your barracks that you, Martha, have been spotted eating food that is not rightfully yours. Do you confess?"

Claudia didn't know what to do. It was like the situation where she was was being led away by the German guards to the concentration camp. What should she do? Should she let her dearest friend Martha take the bullet for Claudia's crimes, or should she be the one who dies?

"Komm wir den ganzen Tag nicht!" Come on we do not have all day!

In the end, Claudia decided to take the bullet. Her mind raced backwards to her happy childhood—to all her happy memories—then she spoke her very last words, "Thank you for being my friend, Martha. I'll never forget you."

## About Marissa

Marissa is twelve years old and was originally born in Yorkshire, England but moved to New Zealand late November 2014. Her passions are singing, dancing and acting and was taught by Matthew Lewis in Harry Potter. One of her other passions has always been writing, especially stories. The reason she wrote this story was because when Marissa was in Year Six she went on a school trip to Amsterdam and went to the Anne Frank Huis (House). Anne Frank is her inspiration so she thought that she would base it around her life as Anne went to a concentration camp. Marissa hopes that you enjoyed reading her story an that it inspired you to write your own.

# From Matamata to Rio

## by Matthew Brown

Ryan Ross might seem like like your average nineteen-year-old boy. He knows what clothes to wear, what clothes not wear, knows which artist has just released a song, and all the lyrics to it. However, Ryan Ross is far from your average nineteen-year-old.

### Thursday 18th August 2016  
8 Tainui St, Matamata, NZ

"Mum can we please go up to Auckland this weekend?"

"Yeah please can we, Mum? It's only two hours away?"

I sigh, already knowing the answer to my brother and sister's questions.

"No, of course not darlings. Who's going to stay here with your brother?"

"Mum, I'm nineteen. That's definitely old enough."

"I know that, dear, but your father and I need to have a talk with you about the invitation." She turned her attention back to the blaring television.

Now would be a good time mention the invitation. A couple of weeks ago our family received a letter offering me a place in the NZ team that would be travelling to Rio de Janeiro in two months to participate in the Paralympics. I would be participating in the S8 class for fifty, one hundred and four hundred metres freestyle. All flights and accommodation were paid for. There was only one problem. My fear.

My parents died in a car crash and I mangled my arm. It had to be amputated and I can't get into a car without replaying the event in my head. The few times I tried to get into a car since, I spewed everywhere and wouldn't eat for a week. My new family (who saved me from the orphanage) live in Matamata and we'd have to go by car up to Auckland to catch the flight to Brazil. My parents say I'll be fine now. It's been five years since the last time I tried, but I'm not so sure. I only have another week and a half until the flight to make up my mind.

"Who wants dinner?" The booming voice interrupted my train of thought.

"Dad!" My little brother, Ben, jumped up into my father's arms and our dog, Billson, began wagging his tail and barking loudly.

"How was training today, Ryan?"

"Good," I replied casually. "Nailed my fifty free, twenty eight point eight one."

"Jeez, good thing I got KFC so we can celebrate."

"Daniel," my mum piped up, "we can't go feeding him deep fried stuff two weeks before the biggest tournament of his life."

"It'll be fine, Mum," I muttered.

"Exactly, Maria, it'll be fine," Dad said in a know-it-all voice.

I sat down at the ancient wooden dining table, the flimsy wooden chair creaking under my weight.

"Kayla, dinner is ready!" my dad yelled down the hall, calling my fifteen-year-old sister out of her room.

"Do we have to have KFC again? It's gonna make me fat," she moaned. We all sighed silently as another one of Kayla's rants about her being overweight began. "If get fat then Josh won't like me, and if Josh doesn't like me then I'll be failure like the rest of..."

"Shut up and sit down!" Dad roared, cutting her off. He turned back to his chicken and began gnawing on the bones. My family sat eating in silence. I stood up and placed my plate in the dishwasher.

"Night," I was met by silence. Slowly I turned around and began walking down the hall to my bedroom.

### Saturday 20th August 2016  
Matamata Butchery, Matamata, NZ

"Oi, Ryan! Go put these lamb shanks out for me." I sighed. My dad was always giving me the easy jobs, babying me. His excuse was that he didn't want me to get injured right before the tournament, but the real reason was he didn't think I could manage a knife with only one arm. I wandered over to the stack of packaged meat, all pristine and perfect, and carried it over to the trolley we use for transporting meat. My shoes clacking on the tiles broke the silence. Finally my dad spoke up. "So have you made your decision yet?"

Of course he was talking about the Paralympics. "I'm not sure, Dad. Probably not, but I honestly don't know."

"Do you know what you just said?" My father's voice was raised. "You're telling me that you'd give up a once in a lifetime opportunity, the chance to represent your country. All because sitting in a car scared you five years ago?" He was shouting at me now, his eyes looked like they could set fire.

"I'm not really sure," I mumbled sheepishly, my face burning red.

"So the answer is yes then, isn't it?" His tone changed. "Clearly my poor baby is too young to go in those big, scary cars." You could see the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

What I did next was probably one of the most stupid things I have ever done. I hit my dad. Not a gentle slap on the cheek, but a full on slap to the face, right in the jaw. He was shocked, his mouth agape. "Just go and do what you're told," he said in a shocked voice, "and don't ever do that again."

I turned and began pushing the meat loaded trolley to it's destination. I still couldn't believe what I'd just done. Hit my father? Some customers that had been watching stood open mouthed. I unpacked the meat and trundled the trolley into the back room.

"Bye." I was met with an unsophisticated grunt as I pushed the swing door open. The cold air blasted me in the face as I began walking to the sports centre.

### Later same day  
Matamata Sports Centre, Matamata, NZ

I sat down on a wooden bench. Benji, my best mate came and sat next to me. Our instructor, John Banks, walked slowly towards us. John was a balding man with pasty, white skin that looked as if he had spent his whole life in a cave. He had round, metal rimmed spectacles and always wore the same outfit of a black nylon t-shirt and shorts and salt stained sandals. There was a woman next to him. She was wearing a black swimming cap and black racing suit.

"Benji, Ryan, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Sophie Pascoe, the 2013 Disabled Sportsperson of the Year and six time gold medallist, but I think you two already know that. She is also the female record holder of fifty metres free, so you'll be racing her today, Ryan." I sighed. My day just got worse than it already was. I had to race one of the best freestyle Paralympics swimmers.

"In you hop. Two hundred metre medley for a warm up."

I dove in, the cool water a relieving my skin from the hot summer sun. Air bubbles floated of my arms to the surface as I began my butterfly. Despite having all his limbs intact, Benji couldn't match me at any stroke excluding backstroke. By the time our butterfly was finished I was at least three seconds in front of him. I breezed through backstroke and was at 1:18:41. On to breaststroke, the time Benji would gain ground. Still, he was at 1:25:67, seven seconds behind me. I began the stroke, pulling with my arm and pushing with my legs. Behind me I could hear Benji spitting out carbon dioxide and breathing in air just as quickly. The noise was gaining on me. I focused on my stroke, push, pull, breathe, repeat, push, pull, breathe, repeat. Finally, I was on to the one stroke where I could really have him: freestyle. Despite Benji only being 4.5 seconds behind me, I was confident. One, two, three, breathe, it was methodical, relaxing even. I tore through the water, at the opposite wall already. I tumble-turned at the wall, my nose brushing against the tiles. I set back into the rhythm, one, two, three, breathe. My hand touched the wall and I stood up, my eyes drawn straight to the timer 2:42:27. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a much better time than I'd been expecting. Benji came up in the lane next to me, panting.

"Far out, 2:49:51." I could hear the edge of disappointment in his voice.

"Hard luck."

"Ryan, you've got ten minutes rest. You'll be racing Sophie in fifty free."

"Can I have fifteen?"

"How about five?" my coach said, mischievously, a smile breaking onto his face.

"I'll stick to ten." I swam over to the stainless steel ladder and hauled myself up the steps.

I walked over to my bag and ripped open a muesli bar wrapper, cramming the contents into my mouth. I snatched up my water bottle at let the water run down my throat. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I sat down and Benji came over to me. "Good luck."

I chucked him one of my muesli bars. He caught it with one hand and wolfed it down, nearly as quickly as I'd eaten mine.

"Gonna need it," I said

"Ryan, up to the block please." I jumped up and wandered over to the plastic white block. In the lane next to me, Sophie was doing similar.

"On your marks." I stood up onto the block. "Set." My feet set into position and my arm locked in next to my head. "Hut!"

I dove into the water. Immediately my arm began pumping. I rolled to breathe didn't have time to inhale before my arm instinctively pulled my head back into the water. By the time I'd reached the opposite end, I felt as though I was about to collapse. There wasn't even time to check the clock after my tumble-turn. I began pulling my body through the water, clawing it back towards me. I churned through the water, not even realizing when my arm hit the wall. I stood up noticing my compatriot doing the same. I spun 180°, the neon red numbers timer glowing. Lane three: 27:81, that was me. Below it read, lane four: 27:89. Realisation began to sink in. I had just beaten world number one at fifty freestyle. I was shocked, on top of the world. I turned and shook her hand, nearly dying of the effort. Every muscle in body was aching. I lugged my body off to the ladder and clambered out of the pool.

"Thanks, Coach," I yelled whilst grabbing my bag. I jogged over to the changing rooms, dried off my body, chucked on a t-shirt and walked out. Benji ran over to me. "Mate, that was insane!"

"Thanks."

"I'll shout you Macca's."

"Choice, let's go." We walked out of the building. I had made up my mind. I was going to Rio.

### Saturday 27th August  
8 Tainui St, Matamata, NZ

I lugged my ancient suitcase out the even older door, my arm muscles straining with the effort. Sweat was breaking out on my forehead, not because of the suitcase though. I was about to get in the car for the first time in five years. The boot of our Nissan Primera loomed in front of me, an endless abyss of black fuzz.

My hands began to sweat. I walked towards towards the car, step by step. My body went cold as I placed a clammy hand on the seat's fabric. It was as if that action triggered something, the key to unlocking the memory I had buried and tried to forget about. The accident flashed before eyes. My dad crying out, my head hitting the seat in front of me. The pain shooting up my arm. I couldn't take it, I turned my head and vomited. Not just a tiny bit, but everywhere. Mum ran up to me, her face a state of shock. "Are you alright?"

"Mum, I'm fine." I gave her a quick hug and sat down in the car, feeling as if nothing had happened.

My dad tore out of the driveway and said to his iPhone, "Hey, Siri, give me directions to Auckland International Airport."

Rio felt just that little bit closer.

### Friday 16th September  
Olympic Aquatics Stadium, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

I lay on the couch of my room. The sterile white wall gave it a hostile feeling. My body was aching. I was so pleased I got that last place, one last chance. The other two races had gone horribly wrong. I hadn't even qualified for the finals. I wanted this so badly. I stood up. It was time for my final, my time.

### One hour later  
Same location

Just two minutes longer. It was so close. The white block with a black number three on it was blurred in my vision.

A crackly voice came over the intercom. "Up to the block please."

I rose from the bench slatted wooden bench and stood up on the block. I took deep breaths in and out. The voice of the intercom came over once more, "Thirty seconds until start. Fifteen seconds. Ten seconds. Five seconds. Four, three, two..." I took three quick breaths. "One."

A clapper went off and I dove into the water. The second my body hit the water, I was away. I only had to swim one length as the Olympic pools were fifty metres. Quarter of the way. My arm cut through the water. I felt as though I was flying. Half way. I was slowing though. Pain shot through my leg. I cringed, kicking with one leg. Three quarters. My two unscathed limbs carried me on. My arm touched an obstacle. I stood up, Realising it was the wall I sighed with relief. Finally finished. I looked around and realised I'd won, the clocks conveyed, lane three: 25:03. I nearly started dancing, I was so happy. I started crying. My fellow competitors climbed out of the pool, so I followed suit. The next half hour was a blur. I remember standing up on the podium holding my medal as the New Zealand national anthem played. My smile was enormous. I'd won.

## About Matthew

Matthew Brown was born on the 17th of February 2004 and lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. He is currently attends Heaton Normal Intermediate school. He loves playing sport, especially playing football. He chose to write this story because he was surprised how people's fears affect their daily lives.

#  The Peanut Butter Sandwich

## by Ngaio Shaw

Five years ago, my younger sister Violet and I were at home alone as our mum—if you could even call her that—was out doing what she called work. To clarify, work in my mum's eyes included armed robberies and shoplifting on a daily basis. She wasn't the world's best mum. In fact, she was in the Council's bad book for punching a particularly persistent social worker who requested to inspect our house, more commonly referred to by passers-by as 'that shack on the corner'.

Anyway, back to the story.

We had been to the dilapidated store down the road and returned with a crusty peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Violet and a mouldy ham and lettuce one for me. As we were walking back home, Violet was bubbling with excitement because she had never had a peanut butter sandwich; little did she know it would be her last.

As I bit into mine, I noticed a very happy, fat slug wiggling in my sandwich. I was making a fuss, trying not have contact with the repulsive slimy animal, and I didn't notice Violet, who was choking and holding her throat like an invisible lasso was pulling on her neck. By the time I saw Violet, she was too far gone for me to help her. My lungs were burning and and my throat was dry and parched as I ran up and down the street screaming for help. I don't remember much about the next few hours except that a paramedic took her away and told me everything was going to be okay. When mum got home that evening, she didn't even care that her daughter had died. She was more interested in her nails. A few days later, a council representative came knocking on our door and my mother discreetly slid out the other one, vanishing with a simple good luck. That was the last I ever saw of her.

Life at the orphanage was hard at first, but after a few weeks I was starting to fit in. I grieved every day before bed for Violet, wishing to see her straight black hair and that bubbly smile which gave her dimples right up her cheeks. I didn't want to go to sleep because I knew I would wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat. Ever since that horrible afternoon, I had been having dreadful nightmares about choking and not being able to breath.

Then the time came. Adoption day. I hoped that maybe a nice family would adopt me, but I knew my chances were slim. We all lined up and the rich, snobby inspector peered down his acute nose. He had a sneer on his face like he had just seen rat. This was the bit I dreaded most. He made us change into clean clothes and our linen was swapped from the thin, grimy ones we were used to fluffy, luxurious sheets. Of course, this was all just for show and they would be taken away the moment the last visitor crossed the threshold onto the footpath. Then we would be ordered to take off the new uniforms and put back on own disgusting ones.

As the families came around, none of them felt I was worthy enough for their eye contact—except for one. That family consisted of a young boy about my age, a teenage girl with long blonde hair, and the parents who were just like your average mum and dad. After glancing over at me, while talking to the lady at the adoption desk, they walked over together and asked me if I wanted to be adopted by them. I was taken back, but still bubbling with excitement on the inside. I was over the moon, until they told me their address—55 Grape Road—which was commonly called Peanut Butter Road because it contained almost all the peanut growers and producers in the county. My heart skipped a beat. Why?

I was given five days to decide and used every last second of it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that anything would be better than here, so I packed my bags and said hello to yet another new beginning.

# Above the Blue

## by Olivia Hawtin

The moonlight sparkles on the deep dark water. Everyone in the stands has gone quiet, waiting patiently for the gunfire. Gabriella takes one look at the daunting wall only metres away. With her heart pounding loud she bends into the starting position, her hands sprawled out in front of her.

Bang!

Gabriella immediately springs forwards in an elegant dive and lands under the chilly, refreshing water of the pool. She swims beautifully. Only bubbles from her breathing confirm that she is a human rather than a fish. It seems only seconds later when her hands push against the time sensor at the wall. Gabriella treads the swaying water and looks around to see how many others have finished. Her heart leaps, she is the only one. She turns around just in time to see the other competitors arrive to join her at the once nerve-racking wall. Harriet Macellaio comes second and Olive Sale comes third, shortly after her. Gabriella smiles as her best friend, Coco Giada comes fourth. Soon the last swimmer reaches the wall and the competitors are free to climb out of the pool. After confirming her win with the judges, Gabriella makes her way back to the changing rooms where Coco is drying herself.

"Congratulations on your win, Brie. You'll be flying to Rio to compete in the Olympics for sure!" Coco says happily, showing no sign of disappointment on coming fourth.

The night air is chilly and a cold breeze whips around them as Coco and Brie hurry back to their apartment. Brie wakes early the next morning, wrapped tightly in her duvet. A sliver of sky is visible against the heavy curtains: it is a cool, clear blue of watery ink, somewhere between night and dawn. Everything is quiet except for Coco's slow deep breathing from the bed opposite her. Brie looks up at the shadowy ceiling. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had dived into the fresh water of the pool. Brie lies in bed and thinks of the feeling of coming first, about Coco coming forth, and how she could be flying to Rio to compete in the Olympics.

Brie's mind goes back to August the Fourth, 1996. It was the day her beloved aunt was scheduled to come back from the Olympics in the United States. She had just managed to win a gold medal in swimming. That was the day Brie's life changed forever. Brie had just been picked up from her swimming lesson and her mother was driving her home. Brie's mother tuned into the radio and they both listened.

"We have the latest news for you now," the radio man spoke, "There has been a devastating disaster. An Italian aeroplane has crashed over the Atlantic Ocean. We expect that all passengers and crew have lost their lives."

Ever since that dreadful day, Gabriella Volante has been afraid of flying. Brie's hand grips tightly around the heart necklace her aunt gave her before she went to the United States. Aunt Georgina would be very disappointed if I chose to ignore an opportunity to the Olympics, Brie thinks to herself.

The following morning, Brie wakes up on to find an email on her laptop. She takes a deep breath before clicking on the message.

Dear Gabriella Volante,

Congratulations on your win in the National Italian Swimming Tournament!

You and nine others have been selected to participate in the 2016 Olympics which will be held in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. You will be flying out of Romon the 29th of September 2016 at 5:30am and will land in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil at 18:00pm.

If you have any queries please email janebones@gmail.com

To confirm the flight please ring me on 09 6235409 or email at the link above

Yours sincerely,

Jane Bones

Brie shakes her head and slowly pours milk into her cereal. I won't tell anyone yet, she persuades herself, but she can't help thinking about what her aunt would think if she knew she didn't take the chance to go to the Olympics.

"Are you alright, Brie?" Coco asks as she joins Brie at the table for breakfast.

"I'm fine," Brie stumbles as she comes back to reality.

That night Brie sleeps uneasily.

The aeroplane bumps up and down. It's just the wind, Brie tells herself but the bumps carry on. Suddenly, the plane shakes rapidly, the whole plane turns over on its side. People scream around Brie as they plummet towards the ground.

Brie wakes up with a start, heart beating fast. She doesn't want to go back to sleep but soon her eyes droop and she falls back into a deep sleep.

"I wanted to give this to you, Brie," her aunt says as she undoes the golden heart necklace that she always wears and hands it to Brie. She hugs Brie tight and whispers in her ear. "You'll be a great swimmer, Brie, I believe in you." She stands up straight and says goodbye. Brie's aunt walks away confidently and waves to them before turning the corner and vanishing.

It is a wonderful morning. Coco draws back the curtains and sun splashes onto Brie's face. Suddenly, Brie knows that she had something very important to do.

The local library has the normal hum of people about it and Brie is tapping the table with her pencil. In front of her lies her laptop. Brie stares at the screen for a moment, bites her lip and then slowly writes a short email to Jane Bones, telling her how pleased she'll be to go to Rio next month.

The next two weeks are rocky and Brie starts to loose sleep. On Saturday, she thinks about ringing Jane Bones to tell her that she has changed her mind, but then Brie thinks about what her aunt's face would look like if she found out that Brie chose not to go to the Olympics.

Brie turns over in her bed and comes face to face with Coco, who is kneeling by the bed staring at Brie. Both the girls jump.

"You gave me a fright, Coco!" Brie gasps.

"I've been worrying about you," Coco mumbles, clearly embarrassed by her sudden appearance.

"I'm just sleeping in," Brie says a little too quickly. Coco raises her eyebrows.

"Okay, fine. I'm just... a little bit nervous about... the flight to Rio." Brie blushes.

Coco nods her head. "I see." They sit in silence for a few seconds. Coco bites her lip and reaches into the back of her denim jeans. Slowly, she pulls out a piece of paper. Coco flicks the slip of paper in front of Brie's big emerald eyes.

Thursday 29 September 2016  
Rome to Rio De Janeiro

Miss Coco Giada

Check-in: 3:30am

Departure: 5:30am

Arrive: 18:00pm

We hope you enjoy your flight!

Details about flight at www.yourflight.com or 09 9876460

Brie and Coco grin at each other. Brie springs up in joy and pulls her suitcase down from the sturdy wardrobe.

On the morning of the flight Brie is wearing a wide smile. Coco and Brie stride through the door of the airport to board the aeroplane. As they reach the metal stairs up to the plane, Brie suddenly freezes. All sorts of thoughts begin to stream through her mind. The plane could crash as it did with her aunt; she might not win, and in the end there would be no point in coming. Coco tries to haul Brie up the stairs, but she won't budge. Then another thought comes into Brie's mind, driving the others away. What would her aunt would do? She wouldn't be afraid. She would walk onto the plane confidently, not thinking about the dangers.

Brie takes a long deep breath and slowly starts to climb the stairs. Each step feels like a step to success. Brie sits down on one of aeroplane seats with a loud thud. She closes her eyes and focuses on the week ahead—what the noise of the crowd will be like, how good the other swimmers will be, and who will get medals.

"Brie," someone whispers in her ear, Brie rubs her eyes and sees Coco grinning. Brie looks around. People are standing up and getting their bags down. Brie beams. She has been sleeping the whole time!

The water is glittering in the sunlight, Brie looks around and sees thousands of faces staring down at her, waiting for the gun to fire. Brie bends into position, ready to jump. The gun fires and her feet spring her off the board. She feels the refreshing, cool water and she kicks her feet as hard as she can. Brie glides gracefully through the water, her hands diving in and out of the water. Soon she sees a dark wall ahead of her and she fastens up. Her hands push against the wall. The stadium erupts into applause. Brie's heart beats fast as she looks up and sees people cheering for her. She's won!

## About Olivia

Olivia Hawtin is a twelve-year-old that attends Heaton Intermediate School. She has been writing since she started school and also loves reading and art. Olivia is still waiting for her letter from Hogwarts. She wrote this short story because she, too, is afraid of flying.

# But What If?

## By Olivia Schupbach

Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice. I'm sure there are people in the world worse off than me, but my choice is life threatening, live or die. I feel useless lying here in a coma, hearing my close family—or what I have left of a family—talk about my chances. It's weird, hearing but not seeing. They are making my life choices and plans without me, or from another point of view, my life in their hands. I am physically disabled. I can't walk. I have no chance of recovery. If I ever wake up—which may I mention is not their choice, it's entirely mine—I am permanently in a wheelchair. You may think that's not so bad, but when you're a REP hockey player, it is. My dream since I was a little kid just came true, and now this. Life isn't fair at all. Just as you think things are going to start looking up, everything you know is turned upside down.

I don't need to see to know there is a whiteboard above my head saying 'Alex Gray'. I'm in one of those hospital gowns and my Dad is sitting beside me, in one of those hospital chairs, with a weary look on his face. The floor is white tiled—spotless—like hospitals usually are. I also know that my brother and sister are in the corridor, my brother probably with headphones on—it is basically 'headphones on, world off' for him, it is his escape. My sister will be sitting there, biting her nails. She always does that when she is nervous or she dreads what is to come.

~~~~

A flurry of screams and horns filled my ears as squealing tyres screeched on the tarmac. Next thing I knew, a transporting truck had crashed into us. Mum leaned against the side of the car, body limp with a deep gash in her forehead, not to mention all the others scattered over her arms and face. Blood trickled down her forehead. If I'd known I was losing her, I would have tried harder, but I couldn't move. Each muscle screamed as I shifted in my ripped leather seat to try help mum, but I couldn't. My back was killing me which actually turned out to be a bit of a bigger problem. I don't know how long after that the ambulance arrived, but it seemed way too long. Mum had a direct hit, more blood pouring out of her gash each second. Way too long. She was gone.

I don't remember much after that, just being lifted out of the half squished car by a serious faced middle-aged man who followed to lift me into the ambulance with the help of a colleague. I could feel my deep blonde hair soaked with blood. My blue eyes stared at the man, my pale skin turning even whiter. What seemed like a million different machines were beeping and buzzing around me inside the back of the ambulance. The man sat up and started pressing buttons, changing settings, and a red liquid pumped through a tube inserted into my hand. Blood, I was losing too much of it. Mum wasn't lifted into any ambulance. She was left for another type of transport to pick her up. It was a name I had never heard of. I can't remember it. I never saw my mum again. Well I didn't see anyone again. I remember the guy taking my blood pressure and bandaging my cuts, but too soon after that I blacked out. I haven't woken up since.

~~~~

"Now, Mark, I see it's a hard decision to make, but just know, if Alex wakes up she may have some slight memory loss. The crash affected her brain. From what we can tell, it's only little snippets, not her whole life before the crash. She's not in a good state. It's unpredictable, but we don't think she'll make it. Alex has been on life support for two months. It might be time to let go." The doctor sounds sincere, as if he is truly sorry. I can tell that Dad is hurting, having just lost his ex-wife and now almost losing his daughter.

"I get there is almost no chance, but you don't understand how much I need her. I'm prepared to wait, no matter how long it takes. She's a fighter. Always has been, just like her mother was," his voice sounds cracked, but he knows I can make it. He knows there is hope. He believes in me.

Nothing else is said. The eerie silence is killing me. Is he still here? A heavy breath against my neck tells me he is. Right beside me. I know he isn't going to leave me, no matter how long it takes for me to wake.

~~~

I remember how the divorce started, vividly. Dad coming home from work late, us kids in bed. They remained silent, except for the attempts to start a normal conversation.

"How was work?"

"Fine."

They would then leave it at that, not wanting to talk or set fire to another long and hard fight, although it never helped. They argued almost twenty four seven, it was hard for my siblings and I as well. We had no clue the fights would be so permanent. About a week after the fights got even worse, dad started to rent a run down apartment. They never really explained why dad moved out, although Amber, my older sister—fifteen at the time—wasn't stupid. At dinner one night, we had chops—dad's favourite—and Amber finally spoke up. "Mum?"

"Yes honey?"

"Why did Dad really move out?"

"Amber... as you know your father and I are having difficulties," she cautiously spoke, careful as of trying not to let out too much information.

"Yeah, but everyone has difficulties. Are you guys getting divorced?" You can trust Amber to jump to conclusions.

"Amber! We are just giving each other some space. Don't get ahead of yourself!"

Although Amber was right. We lived like that for three years before the day of the divorce finally came.

~~~

I can hear various machines still buzzing around me, footsteps in the hospital corridor outside my room. Remembering my life before the crash is hard. I know that if I wake up, my entire hockey career is thrown out the window, just when it was getting started.

~~~

"Alex! Hurry up!"

"I'm coming, Mum. Just grabbing my hockey bag!"

My nerves were doubling by the second. For as long as I could remember, I had been preparing and training for this. Dad worked as a personal trainer and he played a big part. He helped me set up an exercise plan, which involved regular visits to the gym and an eating plan which resulted in no junk food for almost a year. My dream was to become a successful hockey player, and being in the REP team was the first step. All that training came down to this day. I couldn't talk on the way to the trial turf. A million thoughts were flying through my head, telling me that I was stupid thinking I had a chance and to turn around and go back home, but I didn't. As our car rolled up into the small car park, I saw the rest of the people trialling for the under-eighteen REP hockey squad. I was sixteen, almost seventeen, but by the looks of the others they were all already seventeen. They looked far more skilful than me.

~~~~

The game comes in flashes. I can't remember the little details. Memory loss, probably from the crash. Focusing is a little hard too, but I can manage. I can still tell Dad is right by my side, my siblings outside the room in the seats in the corridor waiting for me to show any signs of improvement.

~~~~

Coach Samson was waiting. He quickly gave us our positions and blew the whistle. I remember how hard it was to tackle and dribble with the fast and responsive opponents that were picking up every movement before it happened. I remember the one goal I scored after out-skilling the entire opposite team and having a hard hit at the surprised goalie, the ball flying past her over-padded feet and into the back of the goal. Our team won by one goal. My goal in the last dying minute had won the game. Coach seemed impressed, like he saw me as a scrawny wannabe and I had taken him by surprise. When I found out that I had made the team as a Centre Half, I literally jumped for joy. My first step on the road to being in the New Zealand hockey team was just beginning.

~~~~

All for nothing. So now you see my point of view. To me hockey is everything. If I can't play, maybe it will be easier if I don't wake up at all. Waking up would mean losing so much. Maybe none of this would have happened if we just stayed in England. I remember my first thoughts of New Zealand after we moved here six years ago. A year before, our parents had started fighting and wanted a 'new start'. Moving ruined everything.

~~

Stepping off the plane into the common wind of Wellington, it finally hit me. England wasn't home any more. New Zealand was. The airport was smaller than Heathrow, and less busy. We had three hours before our next flight down to Christchurch, so I had time to kill. I walked into "Sushi Ya" and scanned the new menu. I ordered a Teriyaki rice ball and patiently sat at the corner table, studying my surroundings. Bustling people, hurrying to a flight board, flew past me. I finished my rice ball and stood up. I had thirty minutes before our board, so I decided I should find my family. I soon found them, sitting at a table talking in hushed voices. Mum was gripping her coffee mug with tense fingers. Amber, my older sister, was drumming her manicured fingers on the table top. As soon as they saw me they stopped, looking up.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. Are you ready? We need to head over to board in five?" Mum said, changing the subject.

"Yeah."

They stood up and grabbed our carry on bags. We walked in silence towards our gate, the flight much the same. We arrived in Christchurch later that night. Everything after we landed is basically a blur.

~~~~

I never found out what they were saying at the table in Wellington. Secrets. It seemed like we had a lot of them. To be honest, maybe I shouldn't wake up. I have no social life. My family isn't really a family any more. A big part of it is missing forever.

~~~~

"Mark, it's been nine weeks without improvement. It's time to let go."

"No. Give her more time. My girl is a fighter and she's definitely not done fighting yet, she's coming back," Dad argues.

"Mark..."

"No. I've already lost someone and I'm not ready to lose another one."

I don't know how, but his words spark something inside me. Maybe it makes me realise the impact my death will have on the family I have left. My brother and sister have lost Mum and are going to lose a sister. I can't do that to them. I don't have the heart to let them down. The doctors say I have no hope, yet all of them still believe in me and I'm not going to let them down either. I'm going to wake up and prove I am, and always will be, a fighter.

~~~~

I seemed to be strapped in this world of memories and blackness. I can't wake up. It's like a force pushing me back down. I can see a light. Every time I come too close to it, I am shoved back down the bottomless pit of my coma. It's impossible. It's too hard... And then I remember the reason to wake up. It's like a wrecking ball, breaking down the walls and opening a passage. My eyes flutter. All I can see is that bright yellow light. Then I see him. His worn and tired face watching me. He sees and stands up. I'm back and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon.

## About Olivia

Olivia is a twelve-year-old Heaton student. She lives in Ohoka and travels in to Christchurch by bus or by car every morning. Her strongest point in school has always been literacy and enjoys writing in her free time. Another favourite of Olivia's is absolutely anything to do with horses. For nine years of her life, horses have played a huge part. She tries to ride whenever the chance pops up. Hockey is also a passion of hers.

# Forced To Fly

## by Paige Bowman

'It happened on the 27th of September, the fatal crash stripped him of his life.' No words could describe the immense devastation I felt as those words tore through my heart. I sat down on my leather arm chair, completely shocked at this horrific news.

"What happened?" I stuttered.

"A glossy silver Honda roared down the main streets of Tokyo, Japan, unaware of its surroundings. Just as Mark was crossing the road, the Honda disobeyed the traffic lights, sped around the corner and collided with Mark." Mum sobbed gloomily, her face drenched in tears. "The funeral is in Tokyo, so you are going to have to book tickets for a flight. It's on the twelfth of October, so start writing your speech. My flight is on fifth and bookings have sold out."

Then I realised, I didn't have the money or the bravery to take a flight to Japan, however I didn't have a choice. It was either my brother or me.

The next morning, I woke up with a staggering idea that would take monumental courage and bravery. I made a tenacious decision to fly there with my uncle in his air force plane. It would be the cheapest thing to do, however it would take unparalleled courage to fly in an air force plane as I would presume that it wouldn't be as safe and prestigious as a normal aeroplane. I then promptly rang uncle Brett to ask him if I could accompany him on the way to Japan. My lips trembled dramatically as I requested to go with him.

As I put down the phone, I started preparing myself for the harrowing trip. As a trained pilot I should presume that my uncle would feel certain of the safety procedures, so I can entrust him with my life, however the plane we would be flying in wouldn't be as prestigious as one of the usual planes you would fly in at the airport. I had arranged to go with him on the seventh and within a few days, became unsure of my safety.

As I put my final bag in the boot of my car, I went over the final sentence of my speech again. 'He has always been my brother and always will be.' I then jumped into my car and pulled the seatbelt across my chest. I pulled the gear into reverse and slowly backed out of my driveway, headed for the motor way. Almost ninety minutes had passed and I was almost there. The runway started to make its way towards me, giving me a concerned feeling in my stomach. As soon as I got out of my car, I looked up. Dark clouds were tumbling through the sky heading west, making me anxious to get to Japan.

"Hey, Rebecca!" bellowed Brett as he strode towards me.

"Hi," I stuttered nervously as I shuffled over to shake his hand.

"Are you a little scared, Rebecca? There's nothing to be scared about!"

I wanted to tell him about my fear of great heights, however I managed to fight the urge.

"So this is the plane we will be flying in," mentioned Brett as he gestured me towards an old, frail, unsteady aeroplane awaiting departure. "She's a few decades old, but she's in prime condition!"

I was doubtful that this rickety air plane was in prime condition and questioned whether I should still go.

"Get ready to board," declared Brett, "we are leaving now!"

I stumbled up the stairs leading into the plane, cringing at the numerous creeks released from the frame of the steps. The first thing I saw as I walked into the plane was a parachute resting on the ground by my seat.

"Oh, and you're going to have to put that parachute on now," Brett said seriously.

These words brought panic rushing through my body. During take-off, the violent wind blasted through minor cracks in the structure of the plane, placing pressure on my immaculate face.

Eleven hours had passed of the eleven and a half hour trip, making me more scared for landing. I had been pressing myself against the leather seat of the plane since take off to ensure extra safety. We were already passing over the bright city lights of Japan, we just had to get to Tokyo.

As we sped over tremendous sized clouds, a sudden pocket of turbulence sent our plane ripping diagonally through the clouds and heading towards the ground. My screams blocked out the shrieks of the wind.

"Get ready to jump!" Uncle Brett shouted all of the safety guidelines of skydiving. Once his quick briefing was over, he told me that I was going to be landing just over a wide field near the borders of Tokyo.

"Are you coming with me?" I stuttered restlessly.

"Someone needs to land this plane," gestured Brett urgently. "Now jump!"

I hesitated. Would Mark want me to do this? The ground was becoming uncomfortably close. I didn't have the courage to jump, but thinking of Mark gave me an extra boost.

Suddenly, a storm of wind rushed past my face as my shrieks blocked out the ongoing voice of the plane diving towards the ground. My feet shot towards the ground slicing through outbursts of wind. I yanked on the parachute cord, releasing a colossal piece of fabric into the sky. I suddenly started to drift down towards the wide field. As I came closer and closer to the ground I noticed two rugby posts towering over finely trimmed grass. As my feet started to approach one of the two posts, I quickly attempted to move myself away from the posts and into the middle of the field. A sudden weight began to lay pressure on my thighs as one of my feet grabbed the ground. I placed both feet on the ground, lurched forward and collapsed.

"Are you wounded?" an anxious voice brought me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes to the blurred image of a smartly dressed paramedic. I shook my head wearily, unaware of the intense throbbing in my ankle. The paramedic then scanned my body for damage. As his eyes reached my ankle he took out a strip of cloth and firmly wrapped it around a large lump in my right ankle. Pain echoed through my foot as he did so.

"Can I get you to stand up?" asked the paramedic as a stretcher was wheeled out of a nearby ambulance. I put myself in an upright position and the paramedic heaved me up onto the stretcher. He then pushed me into the ambulance leaving the other paramedic to shut the doors. As we drove off, the other paramedic—Asako, as it said on her name tag—approached me and gave me all of the information known about my ankle. It was suspected to be broken, due to the large lump, however it might only be out of place.

As we arrived at the hospital, Asako wheeled me through the big double doors and pushed me towards an empty room. About half an hour later I was taken to the x-ray room where they discovered it was a minor break. As soon as the doctors found out, they decided to plaster it straight away as it would only get worse. They strapped my leg with the first layer of cloth, then quickly applied the plaster. I was told that I would need crutches and could leave the hospital after I'd been given them.

After I'd been given the crutches, I was escorted to my hotel by a taxi only having to pay half for the trip. All of my luggage was still on the plane, so I had nothing to unpack. As I lay down on my bed, I suddenly remembered Uncle Brett. My worry grew and grew as I thought about the state he would be in at the moment. He might not even be alive! I quickly decided to call my mum and inform her on the situation.

"Oh no! This is not what we want before a funeral," moaned Mum sadly.

"Have you heard any information on Uncle Brett?" I asked Mum worryingly.

"Yes, he only has a few broken bones he will still be coming to the funeral," replied mum thankfully. "I better go, now. Bye."

It was the day of the funeral, October 12th 2015. The venue was nice and peaceful with comforting vibes. There were approximately twenty three people at the funeral—some Japanese, some not. The speeches began. They all reminded me of Mark: cooperative, polite and affable. I noticed Uncle Brett sitting in the back row with bandages covering his face and both arms and legs in plaster.

It was now my turn to read out my speech. My face smothered in tears as I read out the final sentence, "He has always been my brother, and always will be."

## About Paige

Paige Bowman is an eleven-year-old girl currently attending Heaton Intermediate.

She has an immense passion for gymnastics and is currently exceeding in many of her commitments. Paige wrote this story in deep dedication of pedestrians being killed yearly.

# The Courage To Kill

## by Rosa Blake

"Hey, Kristof where you going?" I hear Leopold call out behind me, but I have no time to stop. I'm late for the third time this week and Dolf said I'm lucky to even still have my job. I sprint on my deprived legs through the slovenly streets, trying to come up with a valid excuse for rushing away.

I arrive at the fields and sprint towards the unkept vines hosting berries. I grab a bucket then hurriedly start chucking blueberries in it. Ten dollars a bucket and I need the money.

As soon as my shift finishes, I run to town and head towards the bakery. The fresh smell of ciabatta envelopes me, but sadly I have to go for the cheaper option.

Once home I divide up the bread for Mum, Martin and I. They gratefully devour the bread I give them, but their sad, devastated eyes tell me they want more. Unfortunately we don't have any more. Ever since Dad stormed out when I was ten, I have been the main worker in my family. Mum tried to help, but she is a developed woman and no one will hire her. I try my best, but we only just manage. It's strange, I think, how one person is the reason others stay alive. I don't remember much about my dad, but I hate him for leaving us and taking all the money with him. He just left one morning before the rest of us woke up and still Mum stares out the window, as if expecting to see him come up the lane with a large bag of money draped over one shoulder and an ear to ear grin.

The next day, I wander to school after my shift, repeating the reason I rushed off yesterday over and over in my head. My excuse has to be perfect. They can never know. I reach the school's gate and I am almost knocked off my feet as Leopold and Kaspar thump me on the back. Thankfully, the numbskulls have forgotten about my sudden disappearance yesterday because my excuse was questionable at best.

We enter the gates to our worn down school together and the familiar feeling of nausea hits me as people of all ages clear a path for us. I hate being so prestigious, but it's the easiest way to hide my secret. We stroll into the school foyer and are joined by more of my "friends". Lucas calls us over to a camouflage coloured poster displaying the words: Join the army! Boys over fifteen. A buzz of excited chatter hits us all because these idiots don't realise what it actually means. Nevertheless, I fake enthusiasm, trying to fit in.

Throughout the school day, everyone won't shut up about the poster and as I hear all about people's thoughts on the army, I actually find myself considering joining. I'm struggling to make enough money for my family and this would provide a much better income. Being a soldier can't be any harder than being a picker. Later, Leopold, Kaspar and I write our names on the sheet and I feel a thud in my heart, impatient to begin this new adventure.

I open the door to my shabby, dingy home after school and ready myself to declare my new job possibility. Mum, sobbing noisily runs up to me and envelopes me in a hearty hug. I find myself puzzled and rather annoyed she interrupted my moment. Then she says, "Oh, Kristof, you put your name down for joining the army."

I explain to her about how we would get more money and I how would send a cheque every time I get my pay when she nods and splutters, "I will miss you so much." She ushers me into our measly dining room where her and Martin have tried their best to produce a feast of meat and bread. I have my family's approval, it is really happening. I am about to join the army.

### One month later

Leopold, Kaspar and I board the plane, a bundle of constrained excitement and nerves filling our stomachs. We spend the plane ride wondering what we are about to experience. I feel a chapter of my life closing and a new, mysterious one awaiting me.

### A further two months later

After weeks of excruciating training, I am now a proper soldier. l patrol slowly along the river bank, pondering about what Mum and Martin would be doing right now. I'm a bit worried about them, but they are probably having a great time with double the money we usually have and only two mouths to feed. Over here in Poland, the air feels so much cleaner and everything seems a lot nicer than it is at home. Being a Nazi soldier is great!

~~~

"What in the world are you doing here?" I hear a voice bellow in the shadowy clearing to the left of where I am walking. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not," replies a shaky but defiant female voice.

"This isn't going to work any more," the first voice shouts full of passion and frustration.

"I thought you loved me," the girl said, "I love you," she whimpered.

"No," the man breathes. More to himself than the girl I think.

Puzzled, I stay rooted to the spot, wondering why those people are arguing and why the voices are full of so much emotion.

I am harshly kicked out of my thoughts when I hear the most high pitched blood-curdling scream. I go hurtling towards it. As I get closer, I see red stains littering the trees and I tell myself we will be having rabbit stew tonight, but it's hard to believe. I slow down and creep forward, keeping my ears tuned for any suspicious sounds. My heart quickens when I start to hear grunting and look round from the tree I have found shelter behind to see an authoritative Nazi officer drag a limp, dishevelled girl covered in blood and grime to the river and chuck her in without hesitation.

I feel sick in the stomach as I try to creep silently back through the wild bushes. I try to rid my memory of what I just saw, but it's hard and I find myself wondering more about the girl in the river. Who was she? Why wasn't she allowed here? I have a lot of questions. My thoughts distract me and I trip noisily upon a fallen tree trunk. As my body hits the ground, I hear footsteps ring out behind me like falling boulders and decide this must be the end. I am done for, as good as dead. Not knowing what to do, I lie limp on the dirt and wait for my death to come.

Suddenly, I am thrust against a solid oak tree by mighty fists. "Who are you? Why are you here?" a man's voice demands of me.

I stare up at his face. It's Officer Bracken, the one I thought was a little plump in the cheeks with dark hair. I try to remind him I'm a soldier too, but no words come out. Bracken, taking a look at my mud-caked uniform must've decided my death would look suspicious because he barks, "You will not tell, agreed?"

I give a trembly nod. Deciding that will do, he slackens his grip on my collar, drops me heedlessly to the ground and stalks away.

As I get to my feet, I think about everything that has happened this last week. I have seen a girl murdered, countless soldiers are "missing" and I'm eating worse meals than ones at home. I put two and two together and realise this is a war zone and, although it is not possible, all I want is to go home.

### The war

I look down the barrel of my gun and prepare my aim. I steady my hands and reach for the trigger. On the count of three. One, two, three! I feel my fingers flatten the steel trigger and my eyes follow the brisk bullet. As if in slow motion, I watch the woman collapse at the knees, reach for her heart and fall panic-stricken to the dirt. Foam bubbles out of her mouth and I feel a hand slap me on the back followed by a rusty voice. "Well done kid, excellent aim."

I realise I was holding my breath and gasp for air. I can't tear my eyes away from the dead woman. She was just an innocent person, then her country got invaded and to top it off I just took away her life. I am a murderer. I killed someone. Horrified, I forget about everything around me. I block out the screams and the guns and I fall, a mess, to the ground. I make a silent pact with myself that I won't kill another soul, no matter what I have to sacrifice to do so.

### Three Months Later

My fear of killing people has really started to get difficult. I've had to smuggle Jewish people to an old barn I found near our camp. I continue, with difficulty, to provide food, water and warmth, but the population is fast growing. I remember when I first discovered my fear. When I shot that poor woman, and to this very day her slim, haughty face still haunts my nightmares.

"Oi, you," I hear a masculine voice behind me. I spin around on the barn floor and instinctively hold out my hands trying to shield the Jewish people eagerly awaiting me. "What are you doing?" Officer Bracken asks even though I can tell by his smug smile that it is pretty clear.

"Um, uh," I stutter struggling to come up with a believable explanation.

"You are hiding Jewish people," he exclaims obviously overjoyed he has something on me worse than what I have on him. I'm shocked at his intelligence, to be honest, and I find myself developing respect for the man, though of course I know what he will do now he knows my secret. He will, no doubt, tell everyone about the Jewish people in the barn and not only will I be severely punished, but all the Jewish people will be executed. I can only think of one way I can stop this happening. I can kill Officer Bracken.

I reach for my gun before I can change my mind, I don't even think about my fear, This is different. He will murder all the Jewish people I've fought so hard to save if I don't do this. I snap my finger hard onto the trigger and I do it with surprising confidence. He collapses to the ground, a shocked look on his face and I turn to the Jewish people. "We can't stay here. Let's go."

### Twenty years post war

After an extremely rough journey across sea and land, I now live in America. Many of the Jewish people I cared for did not make it here, but it was our only option. When we got here, we lost touch as people wanted to shut out what had previously happened to them and have a fresh start. All was good in my life for about nineteen years, but then the walls came crumbling down. I was married at thirty to a beautiful, intelligent woman and we were a picturesque couple, until I was diagnosed with severe heart cancer a couple months back. My final days drag on and on and lying in this hospital room now, I look back on all that I have experienced in my short life. Everything that has happened to me, every place I have gone, every person I have met and every decision I have made have shaped me into the man I am today. I am proud to be this person.

### Kristof Luther's funeral

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, we gather here today to commemorate the life of a very special man," announced President Dwight D. Eisenhower. It is with great honour that I call up the people Mr Luther saved to present this box with a token of gratitude. One by one, the many people Kristof had saved carefully placed things in the box that were of great value to them. Once finished, Chamberlain continued, "Kristof was an incredible man and a great role model for all. He saved the lives of people that he was supposed to be killing, an ultimate sacrifice in the position he was in. With great respect, I present Kristof Luther with a medal for service to the Jewish people in World War Two."

A round of passionate clapping followed the President's speech and then it was the Jewish people's time to talk. Each speech told how selfless and kind Kristof had been and touched the hearts of many. Tears rolled down everyone's cheeks. An elderly woman summed up the gathering with a poem. "A hero is somebody who is selfless, who is generous in spirit, who just tries to give back as much as possible and help people. A hero to me is somebody who helps people and really deeply cares. Kristof was a hero and will continue to live on in the hearts of many."

## About Rosa

Rosa Blake is a twelve-year-old girl who currently attends Heaton Intermediate. She loves sport, especially cross country. Rosa chose to write this story because she was intensely fascinated about how different people's lives were in WWII.

# Saving Leah

## by Tess Nord

Leah told me of the shadows and demons that haunted her every move, the ones that lived in her mind and whispered to her about her worst fears and insecurities. She insisted that she was strong enough to deal with them, but after these previous winter months, I wasn't so sure.

One of the days during the middle of winter, I had been staying at Leah's house when I had noticed an acidic, rancid smell coming from her bathroom. To my horror, I had found Leah leaning over her small toilet moaning as she vomited the whole contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. I had rushed to her side asking if I should call an ambulance. Instead of responding, she had taken the phone out of my hand and placed it on top of the cabinets. We sat in a terrifying silence until she spoke.

"Olive, I'm begging you, please don't tell anyone of what you saw here," she had choked out, "because I swear if you tell my parents, I will never forgive you."

Tears had threatened to fall from my eyes. I could barely speak after what I had just witnessed, so I had given her a weak nod and then handed her a towel so that she could get herself cleaned up.

Leah hasn't had an incident like that for a while now, but her eating habits have started to take a toll on her appearance as well as her health. She is now so skinny that you can fit your hands around her waist, and her normally shiny dark blonde hair has become so dull that now you can't see any trace of blonde at all.

As I walked home from hockey practise my mind drifted back to that day in July, and how I had promised to keep her eating disorder a secret. Had I really made the right choice? What would her parents think of me if I told them the secret I had been keeping for so long?

Before I could continue my train of thought I heard someone screech my name from my father's small apartment on the seventh floor of Greenpine high-rise housing. Once I climbed the seven sets of stairs, I peered into the apartment to find Fiona, my step-mother, and several woman from her book club gathered in the lounge drinking champagne and eating the posh cheeses my father had been given for his birthday.

"Oh, so now you've decided to show up, have you?" Fiona snapped at me as she stood from the red leather couch that she had been perched on.

I decided to keep walking, choosing not to pick this fight, but unfortunately Fiona would not let this one go. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?" she snarled.

I kept on walking until I was in the room that I shared with my two brothers, then I quickly locked the door. Luckily Billy, my twin brother, was at swim practise and Alex, my oldest brother, was hanging around at his friend's house. If they had been here, it would have been a whole lot harder to do my research.

I quickly pulled my laptop out of my school bag and placed it on the small desk that I shared with my brothers. I typed ANOREXIA into the search bar and clicked on a random website. It read:

Anorexia can result in suicide, heart attacks and kidney failure. as well as significant weight loss as a result of restricting food intake, fear of becoming fat, even when obviously too thin, distorted body image, excessive dieting and exercising, abnormal food preoccupations, such as counting all calories or obsessively studying cookbooks. It can also result in sleeping difficulties.

I felt myself pale as I read the life threatening results of the eating disorder. I closed the tab and reached for my phone. It wasn't there. I realised that I had left it at Leah's house this morning before hockey. I looked at the clock—4:50. Perfect. Just enough time to get to her house, grab my phone, and be home before Fiona noticed.

I reached Leah's house in no time at all, letting myself in with the spare key which was hidden underneath the door mat. As I entered the house, an airy silence settled in.

It was dark, but I felt like someone was still here—I just couldn't see them. Leah's bedroom was nothing too special, grey walls, blue bedspread and a few decorations here and there. I searched everywhere in her room before I spotted my phone still plugged in beside her bed. I turned to leave her room when I noticed a pale foot poking out from behind the bathroom door. I pushed the door open a tiny bit more to see a pale, unmoving body lying on the cold, hard tiles. I dropped my phone in shock while I held in a scream. Leah didn't even flinch.

I reached for the phone I had dropped, my hand shaking. I was barely able to dial emergency services, but somehow I managed before I collapsed onto the bathroom floor beside Leah.

Within minutes the ambulance arrived. I could only stand and watch as they rolled her into the ambulance and drive away. Deep down I knew that she had collapsed because of the anorexia, but I just couldn't bring myself to come to terms with it. It was when I saw her parents and older brother turn into the driveway that I made my decision.

Leah's father was first to enter the front room. By the look on his face, I guessed that he could tell that something was not right. When the whole family was settled in on the red leather couches, I started to explain what had happened to Leah and how long it had been consuming her. "Look, Mr and Mrs Millar, Leah has been admitted to hospital..." I started but was soon cut off and attacked by a flurry of questions.

"How did this happen?" Seemed to be the one I was focussing the most on.

"I'm guessing that you have noticed that Leah hasn't been eating an exactly... healthy... diet these past months..." I started.

"I told you something was wrong. I told you that something was happening behind our backs, but you didn't listen to me! You told me everything was completely fine!" Leah's mother yelled at her husband.

"Calm down honey. Everything is fine, isn't it Olive?" he said not looking away from his wife.

"No one can be certain of how Leah is going to turn out after this, but what I can be certain of right now is that she needs you... all of you," I said finally, addressing the whole family.

"How can you say this? How can you act like this when this problem is all your fault!" George, Leah's brother, yelled at me angrily. "It was you who didn't make us more aware of this. If you had told us sooner then..."

I shrank back against the brown leather chair as the words started to sink in. "You're right, it it is my fault, but please don't spend what could be Leah's last moments here yelling at me," I replied calmly.

No one spoke for a couple of minutes when finally Leah's mother broke the silence. "Well I think that we need to go to the hospital now so that we can talk to the doctor about Leah's condition," she said.

"I agree," her father said, "but for what it's worth, I think that you should stay here Olive. Your family probably will want to know where you are."

I nodded, accepting that I wasn't welcome to come with them to the hospital. They all got into the duck-blue coloured beetle and drove off, leaving me to walk back home by my self, my phone the only light in a world full of darkness.

When I eventually did get to see Leah, I didn't get much get much time to talk to her because she kept drifting in and out of consciousness. When I did get a chance she was not happy. "Olive, how could you do this to me? You promised you wouldn't tell anyone, you promised!" she said, trying her best to yell even though she was still so weak.

"Leah, I'm sorry, I really am, but I couldn't just watch you waste away like that. That's not would good friends do," I said, but no matter what I did, she would not talk to me.

Later that month, Leah's family moved away and they didn't give me any way to contact them afterward. I didn't think I would ever see her again.

### Ten Years later

I was getting ready to head off to one of when the doorbell of my apartment rang. I went to answer it, only to find a piece of card being slid underneath. I picked up the card and read the three words that were written upon it.

I FORGIVE YOU

My hand tightened around the cool glass of peach ice-tea that I was holding as I slowly opened the red wooden door. A girl's pale round face framed with black curls peered back at me from behind the door, her large, green eyes widening at the sight of me.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as I realised who was standing in front of me. "Leah!?" I managed to choke out before my voice started to fail me.

"Olive? It is you! Oh my god, you would not believe how hard was to find you. I mean I had no way to contact you at all. The only reason I did find you was because I overheard one of your university teachers talking about you—all good things, don't worry," she stopped for a breath before continuing, "but just wondering when were you going to tell me that you were majoring in psychology?"

I stared a her for a couple of seconds, wondering if she was for real. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for an answer.

"I... I... umm..." I started.

"Oh, don't worry about it. That's not what I came here to talk to you about," she said, suddenly serious.

I looked down at my feet, smiling at the way that she got straight to the point.

"I just wanted to thank you for what you did all those years ago, with the disorder. I was scared and didn't know what to do, but I'm glad that someone was able to stand up and do the right thing," she said to me, starting to cry.

Tears also threatened to fall from my eyes so I pulled her into a tight hug and let them fall. We stood like that for what seemed like like hours before we separated.

"I'm glad that you can see... I only did it because you're like my bestest friend ever and I wanted you to be healthy," I said to her.

"Are you sure that you haven't replaced me with a sport loving blonde like you?" she teased, poking me in the ribs.

"I'm sure." I laughed, then asked for her phone number. She dialled the digits into my phone and then left. I stared at the place where she had once been standing. I'd let get her go once, I wasn't doing it again.

## About Tess

Tess is a twelve-year-old girl who is currently attending Heaton Normal Intermediate. She loves to play most sports but her favourite sports are hockey and tennis. She also loves spending time with her family and hanging out with her friends. Her favourite subject in school is literacy and she has been reading since she was five years old.

###

Thank you for reading this anthology. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review at your favourite retailer.

Thanks!

Beaulah Pragg – Editor

# About the Editor:

### Beaulah Pragg

Beaulah works for the library learning centre, as well as teaching creative writing and independent publishing. She is a founding member of the Christchurch Writers' Guild, a free and accessible space for new writers to find encouragement and support.

You can find out more or contact her through her website: www.beaulahpragg.com

# Other titles by the editor:

Chronicles of Tyria: The Silver Hawk

* * *

Home: 2017 – Group Two – Heaton Extension Writers Anthology

Home: 2017 – Group One – Heaton Extension Writers Anthology

Courage: 2015 – Year Eight – Heaton Extension Writers Anthology

Change: 2014 – Heaton Extension Writers Anthology

Chatham Islands War

2013 – Home School Writers Anthology

2012 – Home School Writers Anthology
