Some+of+our+writing

Have a read. ..

__Am I Beautiful Yet?__ My clothes are baggy, They don't have a size That fits a bag of bones, Am I beautiful yet?

I exercise more than I should, My bones ache with no support, A sip of water before I carry on, Am I beautiful yet?

My ribs are clearly visible, My arms and legs are twigs, Don't be rough; I'm extremely fragile, Am I beautiful yet?

Put another dollar in my money box, I'll get a few nips and tucks one day, Maybe //They//'ll be impressed, Am I beautiful yet?

I don't eat anything at all, But I need to lose another kilo. Hmm, maybe two. Am I beautiful yet?

Maybe my mirror is lying, Or have I gained weight? Enter the bathroom and close the door, Am I beautiful yet?

I'm doing all I can, I wear the latest trends, I do everything //They// tell me to, Am I beautiful yet?

by Sharn Hortin

__Goodbye, But Not for Long__ by Tim Glyde

After putting the last of the dishes from lunch on the kitchen bench, grandpa turned to me and knelt down and held me closely by the shoulders. I knew what he was going to say. He whispered ‘today is the last day you can have them my dear’, nodding my head ‘I know papa’ he then stood up slowly and walked to his bedroom, but before entering he turned around and waved his hand telling me to hurry. I ran to my room and grabbed the littler shoe box from under my bed, I opened the lid and they looked up at me. I shut the box and quickly ran down the stairs, quietly opened the tall timber door, stepped outside trying hard not to make a noise. I glanced back inside the house and to the top of the stairs was grandpa’s room, I could see him spying on me through the door, grinning, I smiled back at him. I pulled the door closed and ran as fast as I could across the loose gravel road. I stopped and looked up at the blazing sun, then looked across at the huge green meadows and saw where I was going to and begun to run as fast as I could again still holding on tight to the small shoe box, trying had not to shake it. I ran thought the meadows, the long grass brushing my legs. I came to my secret spot just over the first hill, surrounded by beautiful tall tress. I placed the box on the small clearing I had made in the tall grass. I got down on my knees and opened the box. I gently put my hand into the box and they crawled onto my palm, standing up they looked up at me as if a baby would to its mother. I spoke in a soft voice, ‘it is time now, it is time to go’. It was time for them to be free. The caterpillars softly wriggled in my hand spelling out ‘goodbye’ I placed them on a piece of bark lying on ground, I picked up my box, still kneeling I whispered ‘goodbye’ and slowly started walking back home. I stopped, and looked up at the sun again and five butterflies fluttered past, glistening in the sun. I smiled.

The shed was silent in the late afternoon sun. The air was hot and stale with the smell of sheep and sweat. The shears hung from the roof on electrical cables. They were now clean of the bits of fluff and blood that have covered it. There were blood stains on the long planks of weathered wood where the shears had cut the skin.
 * __The Shearing Shed__** **by Hannah Irwin**

In the entrance there was a large steel door. The walls and roof also steel were held up by strong wooden poles. Against these walls, two large tables sat. Leaning on one was several brooms. Wool was caught in the brushes. The holding pen close by was unswept, scattered with droppings and the wood was covered with scuff marks.

__Darren’s Story by Sophie Gilbey__ //This is an extract from early in my fantasy-adventure novella. It’s about group of kids who discover they can each control one of the earth’s elements, water, earth, air and fire. . .//

Darren looked at his watch. 3:10, crap! he thought, and quickened his pace to a fast jog. Tanya would home soon, and his Mum would kill him if he didn’t get there in time, he would rather being hanging with his friends, not baby sitting his 11 year old sister. Darren looked at his watch, it had been a gift from his father, the small gold watch had been passed down from father to son for the last 5 generations. The watch said 3:15; Darren groaned and went faster still. He passed a white wooden gate with a sign that said ‘beware of the dog.’ Darren caught a glimpse of bright green grass, that looked like it got watered every day, and a small black and white Jack Russell doing his business. “Americans!” he muttered under his breath with a bitter taste in his mouth and an angry lump in his stomach. ‘They might not have come from a country that was in the worst drought seen in 10 years.’ He thought sourly ‘I mean Australia is the driest continent in the world and they still think that it’s all right to waste good drinking water for their front lawn.’ Darren passed other houses all of which had either dirt, brown or dead grass, he felt proud of his fellow Aussies. He rounded the corner to his street and nearly ran straight into a man walking on the footpath, his skin was covered with black clothing with only his face uncovered, Darren never saw his face, but he later remembered thinking how white his skin was, and hot he must have been in his black clothing. ‘damm I’m going to crash into him’ he thought desperately, putting up his hands to protect his face, but the man seemed to move as fast as lighting, he managed to spin out of the way, but not fast enough, as he span he moved his right arm too fast and hit Darren in the back of the neck, hard. Darren with the added speed of the hit, smashed into the ground, the fall winding him, and his neck hurting where he had been hit. Darren gasped for breath and slowly got to his knees, his hands in front of him supporting his weight, he looked up, looking for the man to apologise. The man wasn’t there, Darren stretched his neck looking around him for any sign of the man, but the man was no where to be found. ‘Oh well, can’t count your losses.’ He thought, he than looked at his watch and groaned, it said 3:24. ‘Time to bolt’ he thought bitterly. He got to his feet and began to running the last few houses.