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DRAGONFLY DI GEST
Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I
Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
(www.dragonflydigest.weebly.com) 2
Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
(www.dragonflydigest.weebly.com) 3
Contents P. 4 Editor’s Message Sho Giersztein F3A
P. 5 Ink Cloe Cheung F3A
P. 5 Red Tears Crystal Tong F3B
P. 5 The Pursuit of Love Madeleine Lui F1A
P. 6 Silver Jasmine Wong F2B
P. 6 Artist Alexandra Hayden P6A
P. 6 Disappearance Elissa Zhu F1A
P. 7 Crying Woman Farah Daveau P6B
P. 7 The Carnival Christy Chu F3A
P. 7 Guardian Janhavi Modak F2B
P. 7 Creature Georgina Yeo F2A
P. 7 Self Portrait Rey Koizumi F4A
P. 8 Her Mr Ian Clayton
P. 8 Abstract Aalia Ashraf F1A
P. 8 The Moon Charlotte Van der List F1B
P. 8 The Cheetah Louis Campion P6B
P. 8 Dead End Alexander Chen F1B
P. 9 Ballerina Aalia Ashraf F1A
P. 9 Capitalization Jessica Lui F1B
P. 9 The Flash Robyn Collins F3A
P. 10 Poetry Hides Charlotte Van der List F1B
P. 10 Amnesia Aalia Ashraf F1A
P. 10 The Witch Ethan Bensadoun F2B
P. 10 Little Girl Molly Newell P6B
P. 11 These Young Hands Freya Seex P6B
P. 11 Sunset Adrian Chan F1B
P. 11 Self Portrait Eden Bensadoun F4B
P. 11 Should Students Have Compulsory
Homework?
Timothy Kan P6B
P. 12 Perspective Amelie Gautier F1A
P. 12 Summer Clothes In A Snowstorm Amelie Gautier & Elissa Zhu F1A
P. 12 浓浓父子情 Kylie Tin F5B
P. 13 Tower Irvin Chau F4B
P. 13 These Tiny Hands Gabriella Deegan P6B
P. 13 The Tree Gabriella Dickinson F1B
P. 13 It’s A Pirate Life For Me Sebastian Dickie P6B
P. 13 Naughty George Zoe Bruwer F2A
P. 13 Butterflies! Reem Thakur P6B
P. 13 On Fire Jasper Plowman F3B
P. 15 Griffin Georgina Yeo F2A
P. 15 Mythical Creature Emilie Parlett F2B
P. 15 Robot Sharon Chu F1B
P. 16 A Scared Treasure Marianne Kuhl F1A
P. 16 Barney’s Bike Ride Lachlan Peters F1A
P. 17 The Chrysalids Essay Aarmann Mohan F3A
P. 18 Bunny Transformation Caoihme Clearly F3A
P. 18 Pleb Transformation Thomas Brookes F3A
P. 18 Out of Focus Crystal Tong F3B
P. 18 Landscape Kimberly Chong F3A
Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
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Editor’s Message
Dear Readers,
Welcome to our sixth volume of the Dragonfly Digest. This literary magazine consists of prose, verse, and divine
works of art from our skilled students of French International School. It includes work from Primary 6 to Form 4.
They are the products of our passion for literature and art and we hope you enjoy reading all of the works within this
magazine.
For the editors, this edition was a true experience for the whole Dragonfly Digest team. I am certain we enjoyed every
second of it. Furthermore, our Dragonfly Digest team has taken a big and exciting step forward, as it is the first time
that the Dragonfly Digest included works from the Primary school, created a website and used Dropbox to download
and edit works sent to us. These were our three main goals for this edition of Dragonfly Digest, with the guidance of
Mr Bogart and the effort of our team, our goals were successful and became a reality.
Overall, this was an authentic learning experience and every Dragonfly worked very hard to produce this magazine. I
hope that our patience and dedication of our efforts are evident within this edition.
Thank you to all the editors and most of all, thank you to Mr Bogart, who guided us in creating this unique magazine.
We would like to especially acknowledge him for his guidance.
Readers; dig in and enjoy our collection of the most marvellous literature and artwork that FIS has to offer in 2015!
Yours Sincerely,
Sho Giersztein
• Sho Giersztein F3A, Editor in Chief and Verse.
• Cloe Cheung F3A, Editor of Prose.
• Kayleigh Bogart F2A, Deputy Editor of Prose.
• Agnes Shu F2A, Deputy Editor of Prose
• Sasha Denham F2A, Deputy Editor of Verse.
• Jasmine Wong F2B, Editor of Art
• Mr Jason Bogart, Staff Editor
Front Cover Artwork: Marta Huneeus P6B
Back Cover Artwork: Katherine Cheung F3B
Website: http://dragonflydigest.weebly.com
All prose, verse and artwork are written, created and designed by French International School (HK)
students and are not to be used without permission. All Rights Reserved.
Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
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Ink
Cloe Cheung F3A
Deep down in the bleak, unforgiving night,
A small sudden sniffle, a young girl’s cry.
Wishing for a vivid dream to take flight,
Instead of nightmares that grip as time ticks by.
Creeping shadows snake along wilting walls,
Trees scratch numbly against the windowpane,
Silence and secrets flood the lonely halls,
The stifling darkness will drive her insane.
She hopes to disappear into the light,
But from the infinite pit crawls the beast.
A monster that she surely could not fight,
She would have to brave her fears first, at least.
Ink trickles, she closes her wary eyes,
As the last drop of light shrivels and dies.
Artwork by Crystal Tong F3B
The Pursuit of Love
Madeline Lui F1A
It was a bitter cold December night. The wind
was howling and snowflakes were falling rapidly. A
barren tree stood alone, swaying as the wind blew
through what was left of the thin branch. Yet no-one
noticed the cold. The warm fire, frolic music and cozy
persian rugs of the ballroom in Harvewood House
segregated the guests away from the frigid air.
Antonio watched the violinist playing soft
pizzicatos and nodded to his guests. He smiled politely
as a Mrs Harrington introduced him to her daughters.
The young maidens studied Antonio, who was listening
without much interest.
Antonio turned around as a bleak gust of wind
gushed in the flown open French windows. “…they are
rather fine young maidens, Mr Hurst, this is my eldest,
Jane…” Antonio nodded along, glancing briefly at Jane.
He clasped his clammy hands, wondering what to do
about dear old Mrs Harrington.
Antonio searched the room, and his eyes
landed on a beautiful young maiden, who does not,
in any possible way, have the slightest bit of
resemblance with Mrs Harrington and her daughters.
She was standing near the opened French windows,
strangely unaware of the cold. She looked around
with a lost look on her face. Her eyes met his, and
she held her gaze for a few seconds. The maiden’s
beauty infatuated Antonio.
Antonio was determined to make her
acquaintance. He excused himself and walked with
much gentlemen air towards the lady.
“Good evening,” the young maiden curtsied.
Antonio bowed and returned her greeting.
“Antonio Hurst,” he introduced himself.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance.” Antonio
smiled warmly and extended his hand. He asked if
she would care to have the next dance with him, and
she nodded.
They stood opposite to each other and
waited for the music to start. After a while, they
were laughing together like old friends. Antonio was
deeply in love with the maiden. He made a few
attempts of asking the lady her name, but failed.
They were in mid-conversation when the big
grandfather clock struck 12. It was midnight. The
mysterious maiden gasped, and without warning, ran
away and disappeared into the crowd. Antonio put
down his glass and raced after the lady, calling out
to her, and felt desperate, since he was unable to
address the maiden with her name.
Antonio flung opened the doors, and ran out.
Despite the raging wind and snow that lunged at him,
he did not give up. He caught sight of the mysterious
lady’s red gown on a hill of red and white roses in
the distance. Antonio called out in despair, but heard
nothing but his echoes and the roaring sound of the
snow storm. He ran up the hill of roses in search of
his love but in vain. Feeling disheartened, he
shambled along the way. She was gone.
Back in the house, Antonio asked his friend
Fitzwilliam if he had ever heard of the mysterious
maiden he has just met, and described her
countenance to him. Fitzwilliam was astounded. Her
name was Isabella, Fitzwilliam told Antonio, and
she was his brother’s, Charles’, fiancée five years
ago. Poor Isabella had drowned herself in a river
because she could not stand marrying a man that she
did not love. They have been engaged since their
infancy.
Antonio listened with all ears, his heart
filled with sorrow and grief; he was in love with a
ghost — someone like ethereal that he could not
touch.
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Antonio watched as Fitzwilliam screwed up his
portrait of a young lady and threw it on the floor behind
him. And he knew how the paper and portrait felt;
churned up and wasted. Just like Antonio himself.
Artwork by Jasmine Wong F2B
Artist
Alexandra Hayden P6A
An artist is who I aspire,
flickering movements and finesse,
a burning passion like fire,
sketchy strokes as well as skill.
To fulfil my dream,
I must impress,
eager and able to redeem,
is the ultimate key to success.
When I have achieved my goal,
everything will be at peace,
including my heart and soul.
Artwork by Jessica Lui F1A
Disappearance
Elissa Zhu F1A
It was 1969, in France and two newlyweds
called Simon and Genevieve had decided to move
to the countryside to start a new life. They bought a
new house on a hill in the countryside and started
arranging their furniture. They noticed that there
was a lot of dust, like the house was uninhabited for
a long time. The first night in their new house, they
heard creaks in the house, like something was
running in the walls. They thought this was normal
because the house was on top of a hill and it was
natural to have wind on a hill. The next day, while
Genevieve was doing the laundry, she heard the
creaking sounds again, but there was no wind.
Suddenly, the laundry she was washing started
going up and down, and sounds of deep breathing
resounded in the room. Terrified, Genevieve went
to find Simon, but when he came to investigate, he
found nothing. When Simon came back to the room
where he was arranging objects on the mantelpiece,
he saw that some of the things have been moved
from where he put them. He went to see Genevieve
and asked her, “Genevieve, did you move the
things I put on the mantelpiece?”
“No, why?” she asked. The couple started
to get agitated now, but as night was closing in,
they had to stay in the house the night.
That night, they heard the scuttling in the
walls again and they felt icy fear grip their heats.
Suddenly, they heard a door creak open and slam
with such force that the whole house shook. Both
Simon and Genevieve put on their dressing gowns
and went down the stairs, slowly, to see what made
the sound. The further they went down, the colder it
got, until their hands and feet grew completely
numb. All of a sudden, they saw and felt
something, they felt something envelope them
completely, and they realized why the house seem
uninhabited when they moved in.
The deliveryman knocked on the door
“Hello? Is anyone there? There has been a package
for you and it was here for three days already!” The
deliveryman cried. On the last knock, the door
slowly opened, and the deliveryman realized that
there was no one. The house was completely
deserted, yet all the furniture was in place “Oh, no,
please no, please, no not again, please no, not
again!”
That same day, the villagers decided to
destroy the house in which Simon and Genevieve
lived in. They demolished the house and built a
garden full of birds of paradise and tulips to
remember the latest and last victims of the house.
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Artwork by Farah Deveau P6B
The Carnival
Christy Chu F3A
The sky is alight with carnival light,
A Ferris wheel spinning in slow neon arcs.
Smells of popcorn and candy fill the night,
A gem of life in the forbidding dark.
A lively merry-go-round twirls with grace,
As its passengers grin with happiness.
Ominous clowns with a mask over their face,
A sign of their on-setting craziness.
All of a sudden, the Ferris wheel creaks,
The cheery laughter comes to a sudden stop.
Everyone’s heads turns to the very peak,
As the Ferris wheel collapsed with a pop.
In the midst of the screeching, screaming, din,
I stand under the collapsed wheel and grin.
Artwork by Janhavi Modak F2B
Creature
Georgina Yeo F2A
There is a creature that lurks in the dark,
With spindly fingers,
And teeth like a shark,
Its furry coat covered with cinders,
And its toes coiled and round.
Its hair is greasy like blackened brew,
It feasts on your deepest fears,
And with its ghastly roars saliva will spew,
Its shrieks will echo through your ears,
And its ghostly red eyes piercing you.
Its head is pointed with spikes and two horns,
Its mouth a gaping hole,
Its body concealed with sharp thorns,
Its arms are as black as coal,
And its body is humungous and stretched.
This creature is hidden where no one will look,
It crawls and moves where no one can see,
This creature has never been recorded in a book,
And this creature is lurking right behind me…
Artwork by Rey Koizumi F4A
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Her (Extract)
Mr Ian Clayton
A young couple, with granddad in tow had set
off with their young baby and dog to go ice fishing.
They had cut a hole in the ice and had fun playing
around. As ever these days they had filmed their
exploits, with the view, no doubt of informing the
world via social media of the fun they had that day.
Then the unthinkable happened. The baby who must
have been around a year old had been drunkenly
tottering around far from the hole, suddenly slipped
and slid head first into the frozen lake through the ice
hole. The parents had turned their backs for only a split
second. The baby was immediately and completely
submerged in the icy grip of the freezing waters. This
was all captured on video. There was screaming and a
moment of sheer and total panic. The distressed voices
of the parents could be heard some bleeps obscured the
profanity. The camera shots became wobbly and
indistinct. Then the real of point the story became
clear. The dog, the breed of which it was not easy to
ascertain, leapt into the water and disappeared for what
seemed like an age. As she watched, transfixed she
could feel her heart rate soar for the first time since it
had happened. She could almost feel the shock of the
icy water as if it was playing out on her body. Then
from the TV screen with a muffled yelp the dog was
seen holding the baby by its clothes, then dropped the
soaking package on the ice and stood there triumphant
with its gaping, panting mouth. The parents hauled the
dog and the baby ashore. The baby was struggling for
breath, obviously freezing and coughing, but other than
that did not look too awful considering its ordeal. The
dog just sat at the side of the hole shaking. The parents
embraced the baby and the dog. The whole thing could
not have lasted more than about 30 seconds on camera.
Artwork by Aalia Ashraf F1A
The Moon
Charlotte Van der List F1B
The Moon
Is a glistening stone
Too bright
To look at.
But when comes day
It will retreat,
And melt into the shadows
Or reflect in a puddle.
Where a foot
Will make it ripple.
And eventually
Fade away.
The Cheetah
Louis Campion P6B
It is fast,
With its beautiful skin,
Looking for food,
With its sharp teeth,
It found a gazelle,
And gobbled it up,
In the boiling desert,
A flock of cheetahs,
Come in to help,
Gobble the gazelle up,
It was getting dark,
So they sprinted home,
And they will hunt,
Again at dawn.
Dead End
Alexander Chen F1B
It was early morning when Alfred Randall
was giving the McAdam New Brunswick train
station a revisit- it wasn’t exactly the same
anymore, now owned by ‘Crown Corporations’.
Walking through the familiar halls, he ended up in
the platform that held awful memories. Looking
around, he realized that without the tour posts,
everything was almost exactly the same as the last
time he saw this platform. That was the time when
clouds started to grow dark, but Alfred didn’t even
notice.
All of a sudden, the wind started to blow,
and the rain started to fall, and thunder cracked.
Alfred felt like he was experiencing déjà-vu. He
ran for cover, and hid in a small washroom. As
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Alfred tried to close the door, a sudden gust of wind
broke the door out of its hinges. When he looked in
the mirror, he saw a ghastly translucent green train
arrive, and on the train were hundreds of people staring
at him. Some had broken limbs and some were
bleeding. The train number was DE-350. It was the
train he crashed 50 years ago.
Alfred remembered the day he crashed that
train, and he was the only survivor. Alfred was a
young conductor at the time, about 18 as he
remembered, and was quite inexperienced. He had a
coach next to him when he was driving, but he was
very irresponsible.
“Just do it, I don’t care,” Alfred remembered
his coach saying most of the time.
And one day, his coach even fell asleep.
That’s when his coach went too far. Alfred was
driving the train to fast, and when he came to a corner
that led to a bridge, the train drove right off its tracks
and it plummeted down the cliff. The train crashed.
Now Alfred was trapped, with all of the ghost
passengers were moaning and shouting his name.
“Come with us! Come with us!”
They started slowly stumbling to him, and as
they got closer, Alfred had no chance to escape. One of
the ghosts grabbed him by the arm, and another kicked
him in the shin. Alfred struggled vigorously, but it was
no use. It was a dead end. The ghosts carried him into
the ghost train and the train drove off with a whistle
into eternity.
Artwork by Aalia Ashraf F1A
Artwork by
Robyn Collins F3A
Capitalization
Jessica Lui F1B
Who invented capitalization?
Surely a mean person.
Why should first letters get to be tall and strong?
How unfair to those in the middle.
At least last letters get full stops to talk to.
mAyBE somETHing Li.ke THIS WoUld bE niCe
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Poetry Hides
Charlotte Van der List F1B
Poetry hides in the far end of your imagination,
Poetry hides in your fingertips or in your hands,
Poetry hides in a newly built maze,
Poetry hides in a state of mind hard to reach,
Poetry hides with the wonders of the world,
Poetry hides inside of your soul, waiting
Waiting to be summoned, for an adventure.
Poetry hides in heaven, guarded by hell.
Poetry hides in a forest of life.
Poetry hides in a volcano, kept by water.
Poetry hides within peace.
Poetry hides, you find, you imagine, you create.
And if poetry takes a while to track down keep trying
because once you get it,
You will find it is the most rewarding thing to achieve.
Amnesia
Aalia Ashraf F1A
Alex sighed as he drove his taxi past old
tarnished houses waiting to pick up a passenger, when
he finally spotted a small queue of people waiting. He
pulled in, on the side of the pavement as he picked up a
passenger and drove off.
As Alex steered around the curb of the
pavement, out of nowhere another vehicle raced
towards him turbulently as the two cars collided. The
front of the taxi crumpled like paper and the side
passenger door was torn from its hinges, shattered on
the floor. The two cars lay there in tangled mess, an
oily smell lingered in the air from the thick smoke that
was enclosing around him. He closed his eyes slowly
as darkness swallowed him up.
Alex woke up to find himself in a small-boxed
room of a hospital, the dismal curtains draped from the
ceiling blocking the strong sunlight. He winced as a
searing pain shot through his head when he sat up,
blood roaring through his ears. Alex looked around
but there was no one there. He felt dazed and confused
and couldn’t seem to remember anything at all. He
turned around to open the door and to his surprise, he
found a young woman standing in front of him. Alex
stared at her strangely because he knew she wasn’t
there before, but at this point everything was strange to
Alex.
“Hello,” The girl introduced herself, “I’m
Allen Wilson, nice to meet you.” She held out her
hand but Alex couldn’t remember what to do. Instead
she just gently took his hand and shook it. Breaking
the silence Allen questioned him.
“What’s your name?” Now, realizing what
to do Alex introduced himself as well as he could.
Alex told Allen that he couldn’t remember anything
or how he ended up in a hospital.
They wandered about the hospital for a
while, just chatting. As Alex walked down the
corridor people stared at him strangely but he just
ignored them and continued talking to Allen. Alex
spotted a pair of large doors wondering what was
behind them, curiously he ran towards them Allen
following closely behind. As he pushed the door
open, it groaned loudly as it slowly opened. Alex’s
eyes widened, his body shaking so badly he didn’t
dare move. Right there in front of his eyes was
Allen laid out on a gurney, dead. How is this
possible? Shocked he turned around but Allen was
gone, instead there was a nurse standing in her
place. Alex was still shaking, terrified and
completely confused.
“Poor girl, she was killed this morning in a
car crash,” The nurse said sighing shaking her
head. Alex gasped, he suddenly remembered in the
taxi, just before he closed his eyes he saw blood
everywhere, splattered on the passenger seat, blood
that wasn’t his. It slowly became clear that Alex
had killed Allen Wilson.
The Witch
Ethan Bensadoun F2B
The witch loves to sing
Loves to play the piano and
Loves to bother me.
Sometimes adores me
Sometimes annoys and
Sometimes she kicks me.
But the truth about the witch;
She lives in my house.
Artwork by
Molly Newell P6B
Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
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These Young Hands
Freya Seex P6B
These young hands
Are not wrinkled or old.
They are as soft as
A baby’s bottom.
They are as smooth
As can be.
They have hugged
Many people.
And given
High fives.
They are very
Small now.
And are learning
How to write.
They are holding
Pencils now and they
Are really bright.
These young hands are
Doing me well.
They are holding bottles
Drinking milk.
Helping me count
Up to ten.
They have not got
Long nails but I am
Growing them in.
These young hands
Are young and playful.
These young hands are
Ready for the world.
Sunset
Adrian Chan F1B
As the day has its rest,
The lights will soon be messed.
Its glowing apricot scorches the sea,
But the sea soaks fire like ABC.
The sea dissolves the fruit down its throat,
Being watched by countless people on boats.
Eventually comes the dark night,
Demolishing the holy light.
Artwork by Eden Bensadoun F4B
Should Students Have Compulsory Homework
Every Week?
Timothy Kan P6B
There are many children who complain
endlessly about homework from school. Most
children hate homework. They usually purposely
not do their homework and sometimes may even go
to extreme lengths, like asking their parents to sign
a ridiculous form that says the child is excused
from doing homework, and then telling their
teachers that their dog ate their homework. Most
adults can't stand this behavior so debates have
been raging on the following question, "Should
students have compulsory homework every week?"
There is no doubt that doing homework
takes time to complete and the harder the
homework is, the more time the students will take
to complete the homework. Many students hate
homework usually because it is too hard or too
boring to do. Students would feel tired and
exhausted so they would complete the homework
poorly and have a lack of sleep causing sleep
deprivation. Homework may cause a lot of stress
and pressure upon students, and there are surveys
where it is proved that an excess of stress can kill
you. Also, doing homework means that there is less
time to study for tests and doing homework does
not count as studying for tests as many kids use
material from textbooks to copy onto their
homework, rather than actually trying to memorize
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their material. Students need family and social time, so
students should not have homework every week so
they can spend time with friends and family and also
do extra-curricular activities rather than sitting at home
working.
However on the other hand, homework also
has its advantages. Homework is extremely necessary
for higher education purposes and many teachers in the
higher grades fully expect it. Homework may not be
very good in the short run, but in the long run, many
students would grateful on the homework they had
been assigned. Also, many people agree that
homework is the key to success. Homework is a great
way to reinforce concepts that are taught in class.
Homework is a method for students remember
concepts that are taught in classes which gives the
students an education and it makes students much more
mature. Homework also helps students manage their
time and that is particularly useful in the future.
Homework is a good form of academic practice and
many should know about the famous saying
"academics before sports."
To summarize the argument, many students
loathe homework due to certain reasons, but there are a
lot of advantages for homework. In my personal
opinion, I think that students should not have
compulsory homework every week, although a
possible solution for this certain conflict is that
students should have still have compulsory homework
every week but less homework should be assigned so
the benefits of homework is still active whilst students
won't get sleep deprivation.
Artwork by Amelie Gautier F1A
Summer Clothes in a Snowstorm
Amélie Gautier and Elissa Zhu F1A
People gasped
As he passed
“Aren’t you cold?”
Said the old.
“No, not at all”
The courtier cried.
“I feel as though
I’m being deep fried!”
“It’s better than
You ever felt!
But do it too much
And you will melt!”
People ran home,
Knocking down gnomes
They got changed,
Who cares if they were blamed?
They ran with the man,
Whose name was Sam
They ran out of breath,
And froze to death.
浓浓父子情
Kylie Tin F5B
世界上有一种爱,是最无私的,是最伟
大的,那就是母亲的爱。世界上还有一种爱,
却是默默的,它不轻易表现出来的,那就是父
亲的爱。
我的爸爸非常内向,不喜欢讲话。一看
你就知道他是一个十分安静以及严肃
的人。父亲常常不在家里,妈妈也很忙,他们
两个都是非常热爱工作的人。但是,不管他多
忙,每个周末我们还是会找时间一起去散步。
这是一个只有我们两个一起做的活动。散步
时,我们常常一起笑,一起聊天,享受彼此的
陪伴。
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爸爸也是非常严格的。我犯错误的时候,父
亲总是严厉批评,教我如何为人处事。甚至还用过
打,我就会泪汪汪地忍着痛。长大后我才知道,所
谓“爱之深责之切”。父亲这么做,是为了我好,为
了我将来不会再犯错。
记得有一次,上初一的上学期,那天下了
一场倾盆大雨。父亲匆匆赶到学校,接我回家。尽
管他的工作繁忙,但他还是来接我的。以前认为这
没有什么,现在长大了,我开始了解他为了我所做
出的种种牺牲。爸爸是我不慎跌倒时的一把真正的
搀扶。虽然他对我的爱不明显,但是他总是在我的
后面像一个阴影随着我,陪着我。
我希望有一天我能照顾他,像他帮助小时候
的我一样无条件地守护着他。爸爸的爱就像微风一
样,你不能总是看得到,但你能感觉得到。
These Tiny Hands
Gabriella Deegan P6B
These tiny hands
Are very small.
They are smooth
And very fragile.
They’ve shaken a rattle
And sucked their thumbs.
When they’re older they
Will be big and strong.
These tiny hands will
Write award-winning books. They’ll row boats
In raging seas.
But for now these hands
Are delicate and soft.
These tiny hands will
Catch balls and open doors.
They will play cricket
And drive a boat.
For now they are young
And don’t do much.
When they are older
They will save lives of others,
Hold doors, tie shoes
And raise a glass to their mother.
But for now,
For these hands,
It’s time for bed,
And time for tiny thumbs
To be sucked instead.
The Tree
Gabriella Dickinson F1B
It swooshes silently,
It snaps loudly,
The interminable silence until a screech of an eagle,
The greenness fades to orange then to amber in the
autumn,
Fruits and flowers grow in the winter and only
braches stay alive,
They can grow high and low,
Any they are everywhere around us.
Artwork by Irvin Chau F4A
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It’s A Pirate Life for Me
Sebastian Dickie P6B
As the sun was setting, Jack was in the eagle’s nest.
He did not realize, but a jolly boat was coming around from the side. Jack started climbing down, getting
ready to change positions with the next night watch. Suddenly, the rope started getting tugged down. Jack climbed
further down to investigate. What he found were about three men, one Jack believed was Captain, had a pistol pointing
right at Jack. “Get down here,” said the Captain "and stay here.”
The other man who was already climbing the rigging, stopped and turned around. “Are ye sure Captain? He
could be a threat.”
“Its fine Archers, we’ll tie him up”
So there was Jack, sitting in a Jolly boat, with some ropes tied to him and a cloth over his mouth. The Jolly
boat was drifting away quickly. He suddenly had an idea, and took the emergency oars and smashed them against the
bottom bit of the sail.
On board the Privateer’s dream the crew were fighting against the attackers. The Privateer’s dream’s Captain
had taken the wheel and accidently turned it sideways. Half of his men were falling off the side, and some hung on to
the railing only to be pushed off. He ran inside the ship and opened the chest and grabbed a bag with and threw all the
treasure he had in it, then threw the empty chest at the window, and dived through it with the bag only to see Jack
smashing the bottom bit of the sail. When the Captain dived through with the bag, he had hit the sail, and the sail had a
sharp bit of iron at the top, and it sliced perfectly through the ropes. Jumping up, Jack untied the cloth and took the sail
and took the lamp and tied them together. He grabbed hold of it, and he went up. He knew he had to get the captain off
the ship.
He landed perfectly on the deck, and took out his cutlass and faced the first man, who Jack remembered, was
Archers. Jack dived behind a barrel, than saw what he could do. He found a gunpowder keg and took a handful and he
also took a lamp. Archers saw what he was doing, and took cover. Jack threw the gunpowder at the water stores and
threw the lamp at it. The lamp broke on impact, and the fire in it exploded the gunpowder, which made the water
release. Jack looked backwards and dived and stood up. But water current was too strong for Archers, and he fell of
the boat. The next one was easy. Five crew were fighting the second man, and Jack climbed up the rigging, cut a rope
whilst swinging down and he kicked the man. The Captain was different. The last of the crew were fighting him, and
Jack fought him. There was a lot of slashing but eventually Jack hit him with the back of the sword off the ship.
After, the crew found their Captain and put him in the ships jail. Jack was elected Captain afterwards.
Artwork by
Zoe Bruwer F2A
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Butterflies!
Reem Thakur P6B
When at home, alone I sit,
I see myself falling into a bottomless pit
But then I gaze at the sparkling skies,
And dream about butterflies.
Soaring after planets and threading through clouds,
Flapping their wings over the peaceful crowds.
Their colours and patterns are kaleidoscopic, as soft as silk
Though their antennas are wet and soggy, like a cow's milk
I dream that I can fly too, fluttering my wings like long lashes,
Flying high about mines covered in deep ashes,
Dawn shows its face, the sun starts shining,
The sky makes a thundering sound, a lot like a child whining.
The time has come for me to put down my wings
As from the tower, the bells start to cling.
I try to fly once more, but my dreams are gone,
As I realize I am only human, I feel forlorn.
I wave goodbye to my striking friends,
With a heavy heart I knew that the night had to end.
Artwork by Emilie Parlett F2B
Artwork by Jasper Plowman F3B
Griffin
Georgina Yeo F2A
Be heedful of the immortal griffin
Lurking inside a cave,
It will devour you for its tiffin
And even if you fight it, it will send you to
your grave.
Its soul is black and vile,
Striking fear into your heart.
Shrieks will be heard for many a mile,
As villages are torn apart.
Go slay the griffin if you dare,
But it’ll catch you in a flash
It’ll grab your legs and yank your hair.
Then down its gullet you’ll go with a
splash!
So if you go walking near a cliff,
Don’t stop to catch your breath.
The griffins’ monster not a myth,
It giving the air a foul stench of death.
Artwork by
Sharon Chu
F1B
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A Sacred Treasure
Marianne Kuhl F1A
“… in Lockhart Harbour.” Said the man at the tourist centre to Sebastian. “Yes. Three centuries ago, Captain
Jay buried his treasure in Lockhart Harbour-well, what is now called Lockhart Harbour.” Sebastian thanked the man
and left. He and his parents had arrived in Sacred Village just a few weeks ago, but Sebastian was bored already. He
was looking for something exciting.
He walked towards Lockhart Harbour, the place where Captain Jay had buried his forgotten treasure.
Sebastian lived close to the harbour, so from his room, he could observe the sea. He went to the shed in the back
garden and took a shovel.
The man at the tourist centre had told him that the treasure was buried right under the bridge that led to the
main road. But he had also told him with a very serious tone that nobody would ever dig up the treasure. Sebastian
went down the little steps and arrived at the area where Captain Jay had buried his treasure. Sebastian had a weird
smile on his face as he began to dig. He was going to get his hands on that treasure. He was not afraid of the man’s
warning.
An hour later, Sebastian had found the treasure and brought it home. It was a tiny chest with a magnificent
necklace and a pin made of gold inside it. Sebastian went to sleep with a huge grin on his face.
In the middle of the night, Sebastian woke up to find himself being pulled to the window by some strange force. He
looked out of the window and saw a misty pirate ship with ghostly figures of furious pirates. “Put back my treasure
where it belongs or this will be your last night.” Said the Captain of the ship. Sebastian was paralysed with fear. Like
an automat, he took the little chest and went out into the night. He took the shovel once more and dug a hole. He
carefully placed back the treasure and covered it up. He looked up from his work and saw Captain Jay-or rather
Captain Jay’s ghost- looking at him. The fierce man smiled at the young boy and said: “Greed in such a young boy!
What a shame! You can go now. But don’t ever think of doing this again.” And with that, the ghost of Captain Jay
disappeared.
Barney’s Bike Ride
Lachlan Peters F1A
One hot, dry summer's day, on the 23rd of June 2014, Barney Johnson was out on his light weight, aluminium
road bike in the north of France, preparing for an Iron Man in Sydney, Australia. He went to France because of the
harder terrain, which would be better training in preparation for the Iron Man in December.
Near mid-day, a brown rabbit suddenly ran in front of his bike. The rabbit bounded from a small, narrow hole
by the side of the road. To avoid hitting the small rabbit, he drove himself into a ditch beside the road and doing this,
he hit his head on a tree and knocked himself out cold.
When Barney regained consciousness there was a young man in dirty, khaki, army fatigues and heavy, brown,
old fashioned, leather boots. The young man seemed to be the same age as him, being 29, but looked tired, hungry
and skinnier than him. When Barney looked up, the young man said in a kind voice “Bonjour, ne bougez pas”.
Barney didn’t understand what the young man was saying but he could tell that he was trying to help him because
there was a friendly smile on his face. They then sat down and ate some rations that the young man had and then with
the help of the young man, Barney staggered up and they both started trying to fix the broken aluminium bike. The
bike had a bend in part of the frame and a deformed wheel.
Eventually, Barney set off to finish his training after having a miming conversation with the young man.
Barney still had a long way to go and less time to finish since it was nearly sundown.
At nightfall, Barney finally got to the village he wanted to get to, putting his bike near the old cobblestone car
park outside the local village bar to get a well-earned drink of brandy. The moment he stepped into the bar, he noticed
a black and white photograph on the wall, just above the bar counter. Near the bottom of the picture, he noticed that it
said in black handwriting “In loving memory of our son, Jean-Pierre. 1896-1917”. Barney recognized that this was
the young man who helped him fix his bike. Barney asked the barman who it was and he said, “That is my
grandfather who died in the First World War”.
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Comparison and Contrast of Joseph Strorm and
Uncle Axel: The Chrysalids.
Aarmann Mohan F3A
Joseph Strorm and Uncle Axel in The
Chrysalids have affected the choice of David’s actions
in a number of ways. Joseph Strorm relies on set
opinions, he accepts facts without questions and he is
blinded by religion. He may be cruel and nasty to
David by using physical violence on him, whereas
Uncle Axel is humane, open-minded and is a lateral
thinker. He tends to question things and guides David.
This essay will focus on how Joseph Strorm and Uncle
Axel play an important role towards David’s actions
and how they affect his life.
A strong theme in The Chrysalids is religion,
the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling
power, especially a personal God or gods. Uncle Axel
does not believe in the religion of Waknuk as he had
stated in the novel.
“You start asking yourself: well, what real
evidence have we got about the true image?
You find that the Bible doesn’t say anything to
contradict the people of that time being like us,
but on the other hand, it doesn’t give any
definition of Man, either” (Wyndham 63).
Uncle Axel is a lateral thinker. A very strong example
of this is of people who are atheist these days. People
who are atheist believe in evolution and Science.
Uncle Axel does not believe in his religion and this
affects David as David sees Uncle Axel as a fatherly
figure. After David speaks to Uncle Axel of the
“image of God”, David later starts to believe that
liberty is essential to life. The exact meaning of
liberalism varies with time, place, and circumstance,
and with who is using the term. The term can apply to
government, social behaviour, economics, religion or
other areas (“World Book L.12” 228). David is
starting to realise the importance of liberalism of
religion and social behaviour especially when his
father whips him so that he will spit out the truth about
Sophie. “The reality is that organised religion doesn’t
seem to work. It turns people into hateful lemmings
and it’s not really compassionate” (John). This means
that people like Joseph Strorm who believe in the
religion of Waknuk have made people hate each other.
If Uncle Axel was not there for David, David might
have started to believe in the religion of Waknuk. He
does not show sympathy and concern for others. “A
religion that takes no account of practical affairs does
not help to solve them is no religion” (Gandhi). This is
what the religion of Waknuk is like; they are making
things for the worst and not for the better and religion
supposed to improve the lives of the human
population. This is what Uncle Axel helps David
realise that the religion of Waknuk is not going to
make things better, but instead make things worse.
A very dramatic sequence in The
Chrysalids is when David runs away because he is
actually a deviation. “Without deviation from the
norm, progress is not possible” (Zappa). This is
what Uncle Axel believes, this is shown when he
states, “Nobody, nobody really knows what is the
true image of God” (Wyndham 64). But Joseph
Strorm, David's father, says he knows the true
image of God and that anyone who is not the image
of God is sent by the devil and is a mutant. Uncle
Axel is a sailor who has travelled many places,
explaining that many places believe that deviations
are normal and states, "In one place they don't think
you're properly human unless you have webbed
fingers and toes” (Wyndham 62). Unlike Joseph
Strorm, he thinks that the true image is about who
you are as person rather than based on your
appearance. He also thinks it's wrong to take
"offences" away from their homes to the Fringes.
He does a lot to protect David because he doesn't
want him to feel out casted by the people of his
society who have a strict idea of what the true
image is. By using the information that Uncle Axel
has gained from his voyages around the world, he
helped David flee from Waknuk. The Telepaths
flee before they are captured. Anne blames them
for her husband’s death. Despite the risk, David
thinks that things will blow over. David and the
other Telepaths get a warning to go. David’s father
and his men pursue them all the way into the
Fringes until they meet the Sealand people, who are
also telepathic and rescue them.
Uncle Axel and Joseph Strorm also have
greatly affected David’s character from the start of
the novel to the end of the novel. In the end of the
novel, he becomes a tough person who has dealt
with many problems and becomes wiser over time.
This is proven when David states, “I was a normal
little boy, growing up in a normal way, taking the
ways of the world about me for granted. It is hind-
sight that enables me to fix that as the day when my
first small doubts started to germinate” (Wyndham
5). With Joseph Strorm whipping him, he had
learnt how to deal with real cruelty and this helped
prepare David for his journey to Sealand. On the
run, David experiences many adult situations. His
love for Rosalind is developing. He has a parent-
like relationship with young Petra. He tries to
protect Rosalind from his uncle’s less-than-pure
intentions. He now knows how to deal with issues,
may it be love or some physical activity. Also,
Petra is too young to protect herself, and to
understand what is happening to her. David must
look out for her to keep anyone else from finding
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out about her, but since she is so strong, she is also a
threat to all of the other telepaths. David now acts as a
‘fatherly figure’ to Petra, once again he has realised
how a young naïve boy develops into a man. A quote
that proves this is, “It takes courage to grow up and
become who you really are” (Elton). This quote
describes David’s life as David did not have the
courage to run away and if he just gave up in the
middle of each and every single issue he had, he would
not be who he was at the end of the novel. In
conclusion, David has become hardened and matured.
He is no longer the little boy he was.
Throughout The Chrysalids, Uncle Axel and
Joseph Strorm prove that they have changed the
decisions David takes and how they have affected his
life. David is a changed man; he has gone through a
lot of obstacles than a regular developing boy would
not have to experience. He has matured in various
ways and has accepted different thoughts; he does not
rely on a set opinion. His actions are a perfect example
of evolution. David has become more open-minded,
compassionate, persistent and brave. David has
matured by taking the step by running away. He also
has been more open-minded about different religions
and has learnt to accept people as they are. The
Chrysalids includes many humane themes, such as
evolution, superstition, religion, cruelty, punishment,
lack of personal freedom, etc. David has had some
kind of participation in all of those themes and this has
helped him mature. To conclude, David has become a
real man at the end of the novel. David’s journey in
The Chrysalids is described as, “Strength does not
come from winning. Your struggles develop your
strengths. When you go through hardships and decide
not to surrender, that is strength” (Schwarzenegger).
Artwork by Caoihme Clearly F3A
Artwork by Thomas Brookes F3A
Out of Focus (Extract)
Crystal Tong F3B
Suddenly, when I was scanning my screen
for the last time before diving into my car, noticed
from the reflection of the window a dark and
ominous shadow slowly towering over me and…
That was exactly what I told the police at
the hospital, half paralyzed. I could not remember
anything else except my head hurt like it was going
to explode, I could feel the blood pumping through
my veins, steady but forceful like a bomb timer.
My muscles were sore. Was it the bunch of nice
men? Then I remembered, one of the men was
wearing an odd-looking wristband, it was half-
hidden in his sleeve but even amateur
photographers are sharp at observing for
momentous panoramas. In addition, labelled in
bright orange Korean characters, ‘Gang won-do
prison.’ I knew what it meant. I could feel the
pounding in my head again; the feeling was
familiar yet unrecognizable: just how I felt before
my head got smashed into the window of my car.
My head really hurt like someone set a fire in my
brain. I didn’t want to talk so I told the people to
leave my room. I thought they were genuinely kind
people.
Artwork by Kimberly Katherine Chong F3A
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Dragonfly Digest, Reflections, Volume VI, Edition I,
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