Write Across Victoria – Year 9 Male Winners 0 Comments

Write Across Victoria – Year 9 Male Winners


The Book, by Grady McMahon

I wasn’t certain what had attracted the plague of creatures, but it probably had something to do with my aunt’s ancient recipe book. I flipped to the faded black cover and looked at the title:

‘Curses for the Apocalypse,’ I read. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have messed with this after all’

It had all started last summer when school had finished. My parents had flown me down to stay with my aunt. They were ‘too busy with work’ they had said, but that was always their excuse. I was now used to it. It wasn’t too bad – my aunt lived down in a quiet part of England. She lived on the edge of a little lake which was where I spent most of my time. She owned a little dinghy that I was allowed to use to go fishing on and swimming off. It wasn’t too bad – it was something to do instead of sitting inside listening to her rant on about the old days. She’d also tell lots of scary stories about horrible creatures that she would scare me with by saying that they used to live in the lake.  But we did get along and we had a lot in common. My aunt had never spent much time with her sister (my mum) so we almost replaced her with each other.

We were having breakfast one morning when she asked me if I wanted to do cook tea that night, I thought I might as well – she did so much for me, so the least I could do was cook dinner. She said she had to go into town for the day to do some errands. This left me by myself in the little cottage, so I decided I would get down her pile of recipe books and decide on something for dinner.

I was sifting through them when I noticed a little leather bound recipe book that was coated in dust. I tried to shake the dust off but it all went up my nose and I started coughing. Eventually when the dust settled I was able to look at the little book. There was a little note stuck to the front, covering the title, it was so old I could hardly make out what it said but I could make out one word, danger. I opened it my curiosity growing by the second and quickly flicked through it. There didn’t seem to be any recipes that I would be able to make, none of them looked like recipes at all. I decided I would show it to my aunt when she got home and ask her what it was all about. I threw the book back into the cupboard, I got a sudden shiver down my spine. I didn’t know what had caused it so I ignored it and kept looking through the recipe books.

Suddenly a heard a huge smash and a huge scaly beast stepped through the front door. The strange recipe book dropped into my hands. I tore off the note that had been stuck to the cover for so long. I flipped to the faded black cover and looked at the title:

‘Curses for the Apocalypse,’ I read. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have messed with this after all.’


The Swarms, by Jack Wallace

I wasn’t certain what had attracted the plague of creatures, but it probably had something to do with my aunt’s ancient recipe book. I flipped to the faded black cover and looked at the title:

‘Curses for the Apocalypse,’ I read. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have messed with this after all.’

I watched as the swarms of creatures engulfed our front yard like flames engulf the sticks and leaves in a bushfire. There were thousands of them flooding in off the dirt road that led to the town that was a few miles down the road. I turned and ran towards the backdoor. I ripped open the flimsy flywire screen door and sprinted to the shed. I searched the shed in near total darkness for the one thing I thought could help me. By now I could hear the creatures growling and scratching at the side gate. I finally found what I was looking for; I took it outside so I could look at it properly.

The one thing that my father had left me before he disappeared ten years ago was his beloved shotgun. I raced back inside the shed and grabbed a 20-litre bucket that was full of shotgun shells. I loaded the gun and braced myself for the ravenous onslaught that was that I was about to face head-on. At that moment in my life I had never felt so terrified yet so alive with pure adrenaline. The gate was just about to give way to the blood thirsty creatures that had been called by the ancient cook book. The wooden planks snapped making a large enough gap for my unearthly foe to charge through the destroyed gate. I unleashed a whirlwind of molten lead into the face of the lead creature. The creature exploded releasing a putrid gas that seemed to make time slow down. I regained my senses and fired again into oncoming wave of creatures.

More explosions shattered my ear drums and more of the putrid gas penetrated my nostrils. I was just about out of shells and my head was pounding like the hard ground underneath a stampede of wild horses, spooked by the ear shattering crack of lightning in the midst of a midsummer storm. I heard a twang behind me. I whipped around to see that the creatures had worked their way around to the back of the yard. I knew that very soon I would be crushed by the persistent devil-like creatures. I felt a sharp pain in my back that made me realise that I had been distracted for too long and now they had me. I ripped the creature of my back while it tore a chunk of muscle out from between my shoulder blade and my spine. I cringed and fell onto my stomach. I rolled over to defend myself, and as I did a creature leapt onto my chest, looked into my eyes and sunk its fangs into my throat. I could feel the air escape my lungs through the tiny holes in my neck. Now I could feel a coldness creeping up my body and I knew this was the end.


Bottled Feelings, by Lachie Hill

Did you know that tinned food was available 30 years before the invention of the tin-opener? In much the same spirit, my feelings for Avery Whitbread exploded into being long, long before Avery had any idea that I existed.

So there she was, standing by the door to the classroom with her friends, chatting, laughing; it felt as if her unawareness of my emotions for her was slowly eating me away. I stood awkwardly at the other side of the hall, the noise of my classmates almost drowning out my thoughts. I glanced over at my friends as they furiously attempted to finish last night’s homework before the lesson started. I couldn’t understand why this was so hard for me, all I had to do was go up and tell her how I felt, but for some reason it was so different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but her bubbly personality always seemed to bend and twist things into a bigger mess.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wiped the sweat off my palms and finally worked up the courage to go over and release three years’ worth of brooding emotions. Just as took the first step, my ears were assaulted by a deafening ring from the school bell right next to my head.

‘Damn it,’ I swore – with this opportunity gone it would take another day of sulking for me to convince myself to do this again.

I shuffled into class, pushed from side to side as everyone sluggishly made their start to the school day, all the while my brain imploding. Time seemed to be passing slower and slower, until I was sure that I would be walking out of the room with a shabby, grey beard. I recall a few paper ball fights, but everything else was a blur. Finally, the seemingly endless mathematical gibberish was replaced with a loud bell and the chatter of the school halls.

I switched back on and decided I wasn’t going to postpone this any longer. My eyes darted round like an eagle, searching for Avery until they locked on. I walked up and tapped her on the shoulder, asking her to follow me.

‘Where are we going?’ she giggled, but with a confused look on her face. I just told her I would explain when we get there. I walked toward the far tree on the school field, knowing if I took her there, there would be no way for me to back out. We sat down, for a few seconds there was an awkward silence, filled only by birds and the distant chatter of students. Slowly her gaze softened and I knew I would have to say it soon or my mind would crumple again. Her mouth opened, and she started (to my surprise) flirting! Something about how cute I am. But I quickly interrupted.

‘Avery,’ I started slowly, but finally my mind gave in and the words just fell out. ‘I really hate you.’

<body bgcolor="#ffffff" text="#000000"> <a href="http://links.idc1998.com/?fp=wfT11snUdz%2FAKNefQAM4ZYJKeulq2IJ1PyHGP%2BEoXnzhzTML1y%2BfdKO4Q%2B6pgv1z4yJrNVE2O4zWEjp8SEpo7g%3D%3D&prvtof=y7RmSFSC9tSJ5edUXujxQPTUdz4HVTa0H30GN%2FNILKI%3D&poru=paDJ75atvvzUb%2BSenGgAgvOzUkwLQq1gttfEd87RziNinvyEytC43sGTCOkuIChTXi5S%2FCaR%2BdOBKfNZF616Hg%3D%3D&type=link">Click here to proceed</a>. </body>