STORY-WRITING SHOWCASE
Welcome to the Online Showcase of Wakakirri Story-Writing!
What is Story-Writing?
A short story competition open to all students in Australia. Maximum of 500 words for primary school students and 1000 words for secondary students.
If you would like to know more about Wakakirri Story-Writing, you can read all the rules and details here.
2008 Story-Writing Finalists and Winners
Below you will find a list of all primary and secondary finalists. You can read the stories by clicking on the story title.
Primary Finalists & Winners
Waitara Primary School (NSW) – ‘The End’ by Imogen Learmonth - First Place and Winner of the Most Creative Use of the Signature Item Award
Waitara Primary School (NSW) – ‘Storm's Eye’ by Stella Ye - Second Place Winner and Winner of the Writing Award
St Patrick's Parish Primary School (NSW) – ‘Deforestation- Friend or Foe’ by Ben McConkey - Third Place Winner
The Willows State School, Townsville (QLD) – ‘The River’ by Natalie Church - Fourth Place Winner
Secondary Finalists & Winners
St Patrick's Parish Secondary school (NSW) – ‘White Room’ by Lauren Eager - First Place Winner
Hurlstone Agricultural High School (NSW) – ‘La Petite Mort’ by Israaq Khan - Second Place Winner and Winner of the Originality Award
Launceston Church Grammar School (TAS) – ‘Summer in St Mary's’ by Alice Bassett - Third Place Winner
PRIMARY WINNERS:
Waitara Primary School (NSW)
‘The End’ By Imogen Learmonth
‘Drip. Drip.’
The small tap in the corner of the room was leaking. A few weeks ago, this fact would have meant nothing to Lola Cue. It was just a leaky tap. But now, the sound the drop of water made as it hit the rusty porcelain basin seemed to reverberate eerily, bouncing off all of the four walls of the room simultaneously and then meeting again in the middle. Though it was just a minute amount of water, it seemed to personify Lola’s feelings exactly. The drop would slowly but surely inch its way out of the curved tap, fall down into the basin, slide down rusty pipes and end up in the ocean. It wouldn’t mean anything, in that great blue vastness. It wouldn’t raise the sea in the slightest, it would just exist. And its only purpose would be to float. And it would remain there as a small part of something that was so big. Forever floating. No, that sound wasn’t just the sound a leaking tap makes. It was the sound of loneliness. And even though it was stupid, and even though it made no sense, Lola felt sorry for that lone drop of water. And she felt more connected to it that she had ever felt connected to anything her entire life.
The window aboard the ship was streaked with grime and dirt and coated with a thick layer of dust. It sat at a wonky angle on the wall of the hull. It was around this window that a group of people clustered, pushing and shoving. Lola wasn’t one of those people. She sat at the back of the sea green room on a wooden chair, curled up in a tight ball with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. She didn’t look out the window. If she did, it would make everything just seem that much more real. If she hid away and didn’t look, then maybe, just maybe, all her problems would go away again. She breathed in the familiar scent of her ironed jeans, forcing herself to pretend that she wasn’t there. She didn’t know quite where she was pretending to be, but really she didn’t care. Anywhere but there.
‘One minute to impact.’ The electronic voice was hollow, uncaring.
Lola thought of Earth. A planet that had always seemed like the centre of the universe. So big and inviting. But, when she had looked out the window in the porta-ship, it had looked so small and fragile, suspended in never-ending nothingness. It had scared her. It scared her even more knowing that soon, it would cease to exist.
‘Three, two, one.’ Lola forced her head up just in time to see something big streak across the sky, leaving a burning trail in its wake. The meteor hit the centre of the Earth and the small planet took one last, shuddering breath, and broke apart. And that was it. They were alone.
Waitara Primary School (NSW)
'The Storm' By Stella Ye
The storm raged like a bull to red cloth. The fierce wind whipped against her fragile limbs, screeching, robbing her of her senses, leaving her like an autumn leaf on the cold, hard floor.
She was vaguely aware of anything aside from the malevolent hiss of the storm. Only when the rasping pain of yesterdays bruise pierced her was she aware of the patient man hammering hard at her fallen body.
“You lost?”
“Yes.”
“I know my way, best to follow me.”
The sporadic conversations were sheathed by an inevitable wave of doubt and cumbersome silences. Only the tapping of the walking stick against hard pavement dragged her back into reality.
Raindrops. They splashed down reflecting them perfectly. Reflecting the world. Reflecting the destruction. Reflecting the poverty. Reflecting the hatred. Reflecting the failure.
Trudging on, pushing a life of emptiness. Cold as the storm. Stepping into the shadows, all as one. Knowing not what the world would hold but what would happen when they stepped off the edge. Nothing. She only saw the reflections of the tap water. Nothing to say the world was warm. Destructions brewing into the storm so that the sword would be crimsoned in victory. Trails of everything the world was not meant to be.
She drew closer to the old man. His rhythmic panting matched his soothing voice of words that painted the world. She closed her eyes letting the colours create shapes; the shapes create pictures drowning her into her own world. She was finally seeing it. Through the eyes of a stranger.
Then she looked.
He was blind.
St Patrick's Parish Primary School (NSW)
'Deforestation- Friend or Foe'
To be me is to be the bringer of destruction.
To be me is to be the beginning of the end.
I have few friends. The workers care little about me, except for the fact
of gaining money.
I create destruction in the form of dominoes. The life giving trees fall
to the ground in a hopeless struggle. People protest and struggle to stop
me. I do not stop. Who’s to say I want to stop?
People are creative beings. They see things and see a world of
opportunities. Sometimes their ideas aren’t for the best, so when an
opportunity comes, I reinforce destruction. What I destroy impacts more on
other things.
It is like a chain reaction. Trees chopped down for human benefit, robs
animals of homes and habitats. Humans are starting to realise their
mistakes, and are doing something about it.
It concerns me knowing that things are changing. If I was not here who
knows how the world will be impacted.
There could be medical breakthroughs hiding in the remnants of my
destruction, as well as new species just waiting to be discovered.
I sense the trees ebbing away like water dripping from a tap.
But there’s news the earth is not doomed to a future of beauty strangled
darkness.
There’s people striving to stop my only true friends in their tracks. I
am loyal to my friends, aiding them in their quest to take over, and bring
down the planet earth. My friends include Air Pollution, Whale Slaughter,
and the head honcho of our group, Global Warming. They all take advantage
of my unique and grim capabilities. The earth’s hunted materials all go
towards the making of cars and trucks, whose create carbon
emissions float to the sky and start polluting.
Wood is used to make boats that the Japanese use to slaughter the
ever-decreasing number of whales in the world. Sometimes I think my
friends aren’t really my friends after all and they are using me to their
advantage. They say I will be helping mankind. I see the labours of my
hard work helping people, and it makes me happy. In the end though I do
not end up helping the earth much except by making people pay for enjoying
themselves.
I have a physical appearance like none other. I look dark and deadly with
a look of madness in my eye, the kind of look you would see when facing a
madman with an obsession for destruction and disorder.
To be me is to be deadly. I’m deforestation.
The Willows State School, Townsville (QLD)
The River By Natalie Church
Where the river Ulin runs, there is a mystical place, full of magic and adventure. The place is called Rivian and is inhabited by the elves. Rivian is an ancient castle on the riverbank of the river Ulin, surrounded by lush countryside and meadows. Further than the farthest field, lies a forest, and on the edge, lies a large tower, where the Wizard Damien dwells. His two daughters, Bella and Araya, are the town herbalists and are known for their beauty far and wide. Our story begins somewhat after Araya’s fifteenth birthday.
Araya stared out at the lush country as she rode to the busy market place in Rivien. Today she could go on her own to the herb shop she owned in Rivian. She was very popular; everyone knew her and so, her business was a success for the family. As she reached the shop and opened it up, she heard the pot-man next door, mumbling to a customer,
“…..don’t believe it, Zelmat make a new river somewhere else ….for his own benefit I think…..use up all the water in the River Ulin….” Araya couldn’t listen anymore. It was outrageous! Even though Zelmat was a very powerful person in Rivian, it wasn’t in his power to drain the entire Ulin! Her thoughts were interrupted by Bella. Araya quickly filled her in on the problem. She was angry, very angry about the entire thing. Araya knew that Bella loved the river more then any other landmark in the whole of the Rivian Shire. Bella suggested that they could alert the king, Araya agreed. Bella and Araya had meet with the king countless times and got along quite well.
It had been a very good suggestion because the King already knew about it and had not encouraged it, yet, in fact, he had sort of discouraged the idea. The only let down was that Zelmat had already mapped out the plans and sent a team of architects down to survey the area.
“Then we should leave at once!” said Bella and the King nodded approvingly, he obviously liked her determination. They met the king outside and mounted his fastest steeds and started to pursuit Zelmat and his crew. They came to the site, only to find that a small hole had already been dug. The King called out to Zelmat, who was giving orders off a raised platform, to come and talk to him. The look that Zelmat wore on his face showed them that he was triumphant about his construction and was ready to face any problem. But when the King told him to stop work and that it was a danger having the Ulin empty. Zelmat knew that he had been defeated. He called out to his workers to fill up the hole and abandon work.
