Das seltsame Buch - Académie de Nancy-Metz

Montag, den 18. Februar, 23.40 Uhr
Premier prix en allemand : Julie SCHMIT
Das seltsame Buch
Gestern hat meine Mutter mir ein Tagebuch geschenkt. Es ist das erste Mal, dass ich darin schreibe.
Ich stelle mich vor : Ich heiβe Anna. Ich bin ein junges Mädchen, das 15 Jahre alt bin. Ich wohne in
Berlin mit meinen Eltern und meiner kleinen Schwester.
Ich werde meinen Tag erzählen :
Wie jeden Morgen gehe ich in die Schule. Ich treffe meine zwei besten Freundinnen: Jade und Clara.
Wenn wir in der Klasse sind, kommt die Schulleiterin mit einem neuen seltsamen Mädchen. Sie sagt :
Hier, das ist Selena, die neue Schülerin. Ich hoffe, dass ihr nett zu ihr sein werdet.
Selana setzt sich hin, ohne zu sprechen. Sie hatte sehr helle, fast weiβe und sehr lange Haare. Ihre
Haut ist blass wie Schnee. Alle Leute denken, dass Selena eine Hexe ist. Während der Pause, spricht
niemand mit Selena, also gehe ich zu ihr, sie liest ein groβes Buch, das einem Zauberbuch ähnelt. Ich
frage sie : Was ist das ? Gleich schließt Selena das seltsame Buch und sie sagt mir : du sollst dir dieses
Buch nicht ansehen, es ist sehr gefährlich !! Selena läuft weg.
Meine Mutter sagt mir oft, dass ich zu neugierig bin, aber hier will ich wissen, was dieses Buch enthält !!
Nach der Pause spreche ich mit Jade und Clara über das seltsame Buch und ich sage, dass ich das Buch
Selena wegnehmen möchte. Ich erkläre meinen Plan.
Nach dem Unterricht laden Jade und Clara Selena in eine Bar ein, um sie kennen zu lernen..
Ich folge ihnen. In der Bar sagt Clara wie abgemacht zu Selena, dass sie einen Tintenfleck im Gesicht
hat. Also steht Selena auf und geht in die Toilette, um sich zu waschen. Währenddessen nehme ich das
Buch aus Selenas Sack und ich laufe damit nach Hause.
Zuhause esse ich, mache mein Hausaufgaben, sehe fern und gehe in mein Bett, ich nehme das Buch von
Selena und ich öffne es … NICHTS !! Es gibt nichts, die Seiten sind leer !!!! ich kann es nicht glauben
!!!!!!!!! Ich schlieβe das Buch.
Jetzt liegt es auf meinem Nachttisch, ich habe ein ungutes Gefühl … ich habe Angst vor dem Buch.
Morgen gebe ich es dieser Hexe zurück. Ich werde schlafen,denn ich bin müde.
Gute Nacht mein Tagebuch, bis Morgen.
Aber der kommende Morgen existiert nicht mehr für Anna, sie ist während der Nacht gestorben.
Lianen sind aus dem Buch hervorgesprossen und sie haben Anna während ihres Schlafs erwürgt …
Die Moral von dieser Geschichte ist, dass Neugierde ein schlimmer Charakterfehler ist.

Premier prix en Italien : Marine Welter
Una strana bottega
Molti secoli or sono, un ragazzo chiamato Francesco Melzi, dai capelli biondi e dagli occhi azzurri,
varcava la soglia di una strana bottega. Questo non era il suo primo tentativo di entrare, ma ogni volta un
uomo dall'aspetto severo l'aveva cacciato via.
Ora era entrato, e con curiosità poteva guardare i numerosi libri che coprivano le pareti. La bottega era
composta da due locali: nel primo, abbastanza ampio, lo spazio era occupato da un mucchio di apparecchi
strani mentre nel secondo, più piccolo, c’erano una scrivania ed una biblioteca dagli scaffali pieni di libri,
di piantine e di manoscritti.
Francesco si avvicinò alla scrivania e vi scorse un enorme libro posto su un pulpito. Sulla copertina lesse
le parole «orbil ocigam». Non capendone il significato, pensò di aprire il libro quando ad un tratto entrò
l’uomo che già conosceva… Egli l’aveva già avvertito a proposito del libro, ma adesso era troppo tardi!
Francesco alzò gli occhi e si accorse che molte persone lo stavano circondando quasi imprigionandolo con
il loro cerchio rumoroso e minaccioso. Spaventato, egli fece segno che tutto andava bene e volle
andarsene aprendosi con difficoltà un passaggio tra la folla. Vide allora nella stanza vicina una macchina
insolita che stranamente ticchettava e girava molto rapidamente. Sbalordito, uscì sulla strada soleggiata
e calda e prese a correre verso casa sua…
Nel mezzo del cammino, alzò gli occhi e scorse molto alto nel cielo un’altra macchina ancora più strana
della prima. Ora si trattava di una specie di enorme uccello bianco che percorreva il cielo attraverso le
nuvole. Si fermò e restò immobile pochi minuti poi scosse la testa e riprese a correre.
Incrociò una persona… due persone… tre persone… tutte avevano in mano un pezzo di ardesia che si
accendeva e dove sul quale era scritto l’alfabeto. Francesco ignorava a che cosa potesse servire
quest’oggetto… Più andava avanti, più era stupito e preoccupato da ciò che scopriva: a destra stavano
immense case di circa 12 metri (cioè di 39.372 piedi), incollate una all’altra; a sinistra, nella vetrina di
una bottega, i personaggi di alcuni dipinti si muovevano e si succedevano scene fantastiche: chi parlava,
chi faceva dei giochi, chi presentava piatti cucinati…. Tutti questi quadri animati erano illuminati con
candele che non si consumavano mai... Questo era troppo! Francesco non ce la faceva più a capire dove
era e perché tante cose strane gli stavano intorno… La gente non era più vestita come prima, strani
macchinari lo circondavano e le case erano di un’ altezza impressionante.… Francesco si chiese
improvvisamente se la spiegazione non stesse nella strana officina in cui era entrato e decise di tornarci.
Si girò e corse in direzione contraria….
L’uomo severo lo stava aspettando! Ansimando, Francesco si scusò di avere aperto il libro malgrado il suo
avvertimento e gli promise di non esser mai più tanto curioso. L’uomo guardò Francesco e gli disse: «Devi
ubbidire, certo! Ma devi anche conservare un po’ di curiosità! Solo così farai progressi nel conoscere e
crescerai».

Francesco guardò di nuovo il libro sul pulpito e notò una firma sull’ultima pagina: «Leonardo Da Vinci». Si
accorse inoltre che le parole della copertina si leggevano dalla destra verso la sinistra e significavano
«libro magico»… Così Francesco diventò l’assistente di Leonardo Da Vinci.

Deuxième prix en italien : Melek Demir
Una pagina al vento!
Ho quattro anni di crediti non saldati nei ristoranti lionesi. I miei genitori si sono tenuti per diciassette
anni la Renault 4L per potermi iscrivere in una scuola privata che io ho marinato senza vergogna.
Ero molto impegnata a fumarmi la vita sognando amori immaginari. Il mio snobismo è sempre stato
inversamente proporzionale alla mia socievolezza. Non sono mai stata molto amichevole, ma durante gli
anni di cui parlo sono diventata del tutto autista, davvero.
Sono una lebbrosa (non quella di Claudel che sarebbe piuttosto mia sorella; ma quella di Montherlant,
praticamente), la figlia di padre Goriot (e certo anche della madre Goriot). Il mio principe azzurro è un
algoritmo che alle volte trovo un po' complicato.
Pensavo che mi sarei stufata degli specchi, ma al termine di centinaia di migliaia di ore di contemplazione
invece no. Quando mi guardo, mi accorgo che la mia carnagione ha assunto un colore giallo come i miei
sogni. Ho voluto aromatizzarli con la violenza per compensare la mia paura, che si è trasformata in
mollezza e apatia. Secondo me, questo significa non fare concessioni.
Per non volere fare concessioni senza ostinarsi, è stato necessario “includere” molto. “Includere” cioè
impadronirsi dei pensieri di chi invidi per pensare come lui ed essere sicuro che pensa come te. Ho
cominciato con l’invidiare le cose belle, poi ho invidiato ciò che le mie bellezze invidiavano ed ho finito
con l’invidiare il potere di essere invidiato. Invidiando il potere sono riuscito ad impadronirmi di pensieri
che fanno paura e questo ha fatto scappare i vivi che mi stavano attorno.
Il romanticismo come qualsiasi sistema cerca il mezzo per iscrivere in una continuità momenti che hanno
lasciato un segno. Ciò implica chiudersi sotto vuoto. Il maniaco del sistema infatti non accetta che alcuni
di questi elementi possano non essere integrati nel suo sistema.
Ma ammette che gli occorrerà tempo per stabilire tutte queste connessioni. E non vuole essere
disturbato durante il suo lavoro. Quando ci si chiude, ci si indebolisce, e per arrestare la decadenza
occorre ingannare la noia. Ingannare la noia, vuol dire mantenere vive la ragioni del proprio desiderio,
occorre personificare: aggrapparsi ad una struttura evolutiva a coordinate fisse.
Far tacere, mettendolo da parte, l'amico fittizio che incarna l'altro implacabilmente simpatico, che ti
viene incontro e non urta che l'imperfezione della sua progressione, e che può recitarlo finché sente
che queste coordinate sono soltanto l'incrocio tra due strutture che si compenetrano, avente per base
delle coordinate tanto solide ma così diverse, una fedeltà all'altro e non a sé stesso, e sé stesso in
equilibrio sul limite di questa fedeltà dorata.
L'oro più bianco, l'oro più pesante, l'amico che viene incontro, l'innamorato accanto: ci sono accumuli nei
piccoli interstizi. Per fedeltà al momento il romantico cade in un pozzo senza fondo: giura che utilizzerà
tutti gli accumuli per fargli un corpo, ma cambia, si deforma, si perde per recuperare un momento che
nell'intervallo ha perso il suo proprietario. A patto che il proprietario in questione non sia già in questo
pozzo. I vivi se ne sono andati ed io ho dei vuoti.

Lei strappa la pagina dal suo diario, si sente più leggera, liberata da un peso, ha scaricato tutti i suoi
pensieri su questa piccola e sottile pagina. Aveva riempito questa pagina con astio, per liberarsene.
Scrivendolo. Seduta sul balcone, osserva il sole alzarsi, anche oggi andrà a lezione, ad ascoltare il
discorso falso dei professori che come sola evoluzione nelle loro vite, vedono aumentare le loro delusioni
amorose, così triste.
Piegarsi alle leggi di un a società che non sa neppure dove sta andando, che ti dice di seguirla di entrare
nella norma.
Forse un giorno lei ne avrà abbastanza delle regole. Forse si ribellerà? Forse lei sorprenderà? Tanti sono
quelli che lei aveva avvisato, giovani come lei, tutti avevano finto di non sentire, esattamente come lei
prima di capire tutto. Peggio per loro! Lei allunga la sua mano nel vuoto. Lasciare o non lasciare?
Lui l’aveva avvisata a proposito del libro. Ora era troppo tardi! Suo nonno !
Non aveva voluto ascoltarlo, ora comprendeva. Il libro della Vita, che si ripete ancora ed ancora. Non
siamo altro che foglio strappato al vento, siamo fragili ma ci battiamo senza sosta contro quest'ostile
invisibile nemico che è la vita, voliamo ma mai troppo lontani dal suolo. Che fine farà dunque questo foglio
di carta?Finirà nelle mani di qualcuno? E lei sparirà senza lasciare traccia, in segreto? La ricorderanno?
Chiuse gli occhi e si prestò al gioco, il gioco della vita.

Premier prix en anglais, catégorie seconde : Lucie Gutman
He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late…
I was sleeping on the sofa whereas my parents were packing their bags. My little sister, Enola,
was playing in her bedroom. The house was very quiet, but suddenly, somebody rang at the door. I
stayed on the sofa; waiting for someone to open the door. My mum asked me to go, so I stopped my nap.
Behind the door there was a girl, who was around 15 years old, like me. She was carrying a big bag
“Hello! I’ m Lena, the babysitter!” said she.
which looked very heavy.
“Good afternoon! My name is Nathan; I think you want to see my parents! I’ll go and find them!”
“Yes, thank you very much.”
I went to find my parents but a big noise could suddenly be heard.
“What happened?” I said.
“Nothing, I just dropped my bag!”
“Oh, it’s true that it looks heavy… Do you want me to take it?”
“Yes, that would be very nice! Thanks.”
I invited her in, I put the bag in the living-room and I went to find my parents. They said that I
could go to my bedroom; they wanted to explain to Lena her job for the weekend. So I went to my
bedroom to play videogames.
At 7 pm, my parents went to the airport so I stayed at home with the new super baby-sitter! I went
into the kitchen to get back to my kingdom. Lena was cooking and it smelt good.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I am just cooking a little something for dinner, are there things that you don’t like?”
“Not particularly!”
“Ok, it’s easier for me! I will feed Enola. Can you stay with me please? Because she doesn’t know
me, so she can be afraid of me.”
“Yes, if you like!”
We fed Enola, after, Lena put her to bed. Enola loved Lena; she didn’t cry when she put her to
bed, she was very nice. So I decided to be nice with her too, perhaps she deserved that. When she
came back, we ate together. And I spoke to her about my parents’ library. We had a big library, with
many books, I’m proud of it because it is like in a film, a beautiful library with sofas and tables to work

on. She was very interested and she wanted me to show it to her. Then, I said that I would do it after
dinner. We ate and I cleared the table. Next, I led her to the library.
Then, she pushed the door, a very strange thing happened: all the shelves fell suddenly! All the
books fell, all except one. It was floating in the air, as if it were suspended by a piece of string. I was
scared, this book was the Book of the soul, it was very dangerous, my father had forbidden me to touch
it. The only thing that I knew about it was that it had killed my aunt. Lena was walking in the direction
of the mystery book.
“No! Don’t go!” I shouted. “This book is dangerous! It killed my aunt! Please come here!”
“What? The book which killed you aunt? That’s impossible! We must try to tidy this room, come!”
She caught the book, and at that moment, I knew that she wouldn’t be able to live any longer. A
white light appeared and it wrapped Lena. I heard her shout, and then nothing. I was alone in the
library. I had warned her about the book, but now it was too late.

16 Baker Street.
Deuxième prix en anglais, catégorie seconde : Ryad Asnoun
That’s where Janet Woods, 25 years old, book addict, must go to buy what she wants: books, books,
more books…. She learnt that an old man sells books almost for free! Because she is a book addict, she
takes her car and goes to London. Her husband doesn’t like reading, so he doesn’t like it when she goes
far for books.
“One day, reading will kill you!”
“ Maybe, but unfortunately for you, not today! Bye! I’m taking the GPS!”
That’s how Janet sets off to London: she is going for a very long trip…
When she is in the right street, she feels a little bit tired (she drove 400 miles only for books!). But
Janet persists and she opens the door of Mr. John Linden, a former librarian. Janet feels in a dream:
the heaven of reading! Mr Linden says:
“ Oh, you came for the books, I suppose…”
“ Yes, of course, I wanna be the first!”
“And you are! You can find your happiness here! Choose what you want!”
A book attracts Janet; she can’t take her eyes off of this book, she is afraid, and she suddenly says:
“This book is…special, right?”
“Well, you discovered it.”
“Please, I want to buy this book.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it killed my father!”
“How?”
“Probably a heart attack.”
That doesn’t stop Janet, and Mr Linden sells it.
“Be careful!” said the librarian.
“Ok, no problem!”
Janet now has the book, but she chooses to visit the city and go shopping: she can have a life outside of
reading!
After that, she stays at home, and she begins reading the book. It is about a little boy who was
assassinated, and the suspects are his parents. Janet would like to stop reading, but she can’t. The book

paralyses Janet; she can’t take her eyes away from this book ; she’s in panic; she tries to move, but she
can’t. She screams before suddenly dying.
He had warned about the book, but now, it’s too late. She had a son, a baby called Bryan… Unfortunately
he will never see his mum again.
Janet’s death is a shock for everybody, but life likes so few things…

Premier prix en anglais, catégorie première : Melek Demir
Dust Eaters
Minnesota, (A.K.A : the North Star State), U.S.
We all imagine ourselves as the agents of our destiny, capable of determining our own fate. But do we
truly have any choice when we rise? Or when we fall? Or does a force larger than ourselves bid us to go
that way? Is it evolution that takes us by the hand? Does science point our way to us? Or is it God who
intervenes, keeping us safe?
What the hell am I doing with my life? Well, I just want to connect, make a link with people, share
something; I want to feel needed, useful. I want to leave some sort of track of my passage on Earth.
Why is life so hard with me? Why can’t I connect with people? Oh, right. It’s because I’m dead.
I wish I could introduce myself but I don’t remember my name, I think it is something that begins with
a B or a C but it’s all I have left, it’s kind of a bummer. I don’t know since when I have been that way, a
day, a year, but you’ll just have to take it or leave it, I guess?
I have flashbacks sometimes but I don’t know if they’re real or just made up fantasies. Do I have a girl-
friend called Clara Morgan? Well, it doesn’t matter, right now there is a high probability that she got
eaten already.
But you know I remember one or two facts about my human life even if I startle myself sometimes; try
not to look idiot when you’re actually fighting with your own reflection on a mirror. It turns out that I
am blond haired, pale like a dead man –Jokes! – A pretty young male with blue lips and blood-shot blue
eyes with a terrible posture. I am well preserved, which is a good point when you’re dead because I’ve
seen some of my kind getting seriously rotten! The only spot on this handsome picture: I limp and walk
as if I were on the movie video of Thriller with MJ’s zombie staff.
I mean if you’re still alive, stay at home at all costs. Or else you’ll end up like me or like the guys that I
ate… I wish I had been transformed into a hunter in a heroic way, like saving a hot girl or sacrificing
myself to save others, but I just got caught in the public toilets. Nothing glorious. Nothing to be proud
of. Skip that part.
It’s hell on Earth, mate. Chaos is everywhere there is no mouse hole you can hide in; I talk from
experience as a former human being and a new hunter, I mean even if there was somewhere you could
hide in, humanity is going to an end so… better get eaten sooner than later, right? The fact is when
you’re near the end of the world, it is pretty hard to choose which way you’re going next, I am already
Dead but it’s not that bad, I’ve learnt to live with it.
I remember going through some serious messed up things and you know what? Getting bitten by an
over-weight old granny who had lost her dental appliance, dude, it changes you. Even now as a half-dead
half-alive, I still can’t get over it, it’s a freaking trauma! I managed to save myself but it was only to
end up in the arms of an old massive black cop!

I survived, somehow. But the nightmare wasn’t over. It was a matter of life and death, constantly on
alert, no safe place. Nature took its own rights. I think it was its punishment for us, too idiotic, too
cocky, and too disrespectful to our Mother Earth. Man, I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, I mean we’re
all dead, right!? There’s no reason to hurry or be worried since the worst actually happened right? Darn
it! That’s some colossal responsibility to be a moral creature!
Thing is, the dead ones still do the same things as when they were alive, the security guy has got enough
strength in his left arm to raise it with the metal detector when I go through. Preventing violence, when
you’re a zombie yourself, ironic, isn’t it?! They’re not even trying to understand where that plague came
from…!
I mean I am no hero or an X-man, I can’t fly, but I don’t feel pain and my organs reconnect easily –
sewing them back together with some string isn’t a problem since there is no blood in my system- not
losing them is enough, but that leaves some possibilities according to my situation, right? I could, for
example, okay? Jump through a window from the Willis Tower? No one will complain since I am already
dead, they won’t even notice!
Since this weird plague took place, the whole society has just imploded. Man, do you remember what
chauvinistic pigs men were? Well it is the past. I’ve never thought I’d tell that but women are scary; like
really, really, scary…. Feminists took the power, women are leaders and the remaining males are soldiers
or slaves, it’s the same, but in my opinion they kind of deserved it.
The day my little zombie routine ended was a normal day, I wanted to change and actually did something
for my life to be different, that day was my first baby step towards change. I went to the shopping
mall and sat next to my best friend, who’s able to think too since he responds to me. It’s a black albino
with green eyes, in his twenties, he wears his usual jagged suit, I call him Morpheus. We even have
almost a conversation sometimes!
-….Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuurghtttttt ?………… (You ready?)
-……Uaargh...Glurpinoui?........ (We don’t really have the choice, do we?)
-……Uuuuuh…….aAaaarght!...... (Come on, man! I know it’s hard but we need to eat too!)
-……Hum….Hum…….. (Yeah,yeah.)
-…Mruuuualuuublooondyyipp….!....... (Look even the blond girl is coming….!)
-…..Morphhhhhhhozjk!....... (Morph’ !)
He is planning on leading a small hunting party to the city and is currently trying to make me have a
relationship with a zombie girl, which I disagree with, with all my un-beating heart and might.
He used to be such a philosopher! The first time we met he told me about the irony of the zombie
situation: like newly-born babies, everything is an adventure for us, a conquest, everything is funny, but
we can’t smile, ‘cause our lips have rotten off, and yet, since he fell in love with that Dust Eater, he has
said he wants me to feel the same way towards someone.

Seriously, that guy lost it, falling for a Dust Eater? God dammit, I have seen everything in my life! Dust
Eaters look like dead green half-lizard half-human hybrids with rotting flesh on their bones, they are
seriously fast, wolverine and strong enough to lift a truck. They will eat anything with a heartbeat. I
mean, I will too, but at least I’m conflicted about it. And he is worried because I do not have a
girlfriend?! And you know how he fell in love with a Dust Eater? By freaking saving a book!
Writing isn’t just about using letters, it is a way to communicate, it is the biggest and the most useful
part of my memory, how can you, humans, understand that inside that body still remains a human soul if
we can’t communicate? That’s what Morpheus and I were thinking when that iguana tried to absorb our
last hope: “Learn how to spell with phonetics! Kids spelling book!”, we wanted it so bad and yet that
brainless thing was destroying it with her slobbery fangs! ‘Cause of course Dust Eaters are dumb pieces
of muscle, so wanting to make a sandwich with paper and human flesh is normal for them! Ready to
fight, Morphy and I looked at each other deep in the eyes, words were pointless, there were about
twelve Dust Eaters in that library, we were surrounded by the nest, like one man, we dashed in the same
direction. The skirmish in the library began that way.
Morpheus jumped on her back. Yelled at her to drop the book. I blocked her arms. She tried to chop my
head off. I got clear. Morpheus caught her jaw. He had warned her, but now it was too late! He gave her
a firm and bone-crushing hug. The book fell, I caught it but her tail projected me on the wall. She
became furious and shook her head in all directions. The other Dust Eaters heard the fight, I could
hear their footsteps, and they were coming! I pushed the bookshelves on the monster. Her comrades
entered the battle. Three Dust Eaters attacked Morphy! He bravely bit back. I crawled to the
electricity generator and shut it off. Something tried to crush me on the wall. Suddenly the windows
exploded, humans came in, I tightened the book against my chest. I found my way back to Morpheus,
totally shocked against the wall, the iguana –first Dust Eater- protecting him from the female soldiers!
I pulled the sleeve of his suit, that idiot was not moving, come on! A human noticed us. I pulled him
behind me. He struggled!
-“Hey! Don’t move! Hands in the air!”, shouted a scary blond girl.
Morpheus woke up and looked at me. I looked at him. We looked at the girl. We looked at each other.
We stuck our tongues out of our mouths and –tried to- grin, took to our heels and ran like hell! Laughing,
it is the only cure that could save our world.

Deuxième prix en anglais, catégorie première : Imen El Abdani
What we see is not always reality
Everybody started to buy it, compulsively. -A crowd like this has never been seen, even during Black
Friday shopping frenzy!- A reporter was speaking next to the people in lines in front of the biggest
bookshop of the city – The army has taken action to keep things in order: nevertheless, it is still quite
difficult. Sorry, we have to disconnect now, the store has opened its doors and it’s impossible to
communicate!-
Then everybody started to walk into the bookshop by pushing, to go in faster, and the reporter was
compelled to interrupt the connection with the studio as he was pushed too.
Their gazes were gleaming as if they were hypnotized; Jamie couldn’t believe her eyes: what in the
world was happening? She joined the people in the queue to see for herself what the book that
everybody wanted to buy so fast was like. When she arrived, she noticed that the book department was
oddly bigger than the last time she had seen it, then she twitched and rushed to buy the book too, all of
a sudden; she came round only when she stepped out of the bookstore.
A tramp who was sitting in the street talked to her when she passed by him –I see that you are still
lucid to think with your own mind, you absolutely must not open that book, or better still if you throw it
into the river and don’t think about it anymore! Listen to me young girl, this is a conspiracy of the
government to dazzle people with a new chemical substance and establish a new world order: I was
working at the research center on this before and when they learnt that I disagreed with their
methods, they kicked me out and intimidated anyone who gave me a job, in order to turn me into a
beggar. “This way, nobody will believe you” they said… I informed various people but they didn’t listen to
me and now it’s too late to do anything! Hey, where are you going…. hey!-
The girl was scared and curious at the same time when she was running away. Once she arrived at home,
her brother was entering with that book in his hand too. Shocked, she said before any greeting -Did you
see the crowd for this book? Someone told me that it was a conspiracy created by politicians, it’s a sort
of hallucinogenic stuff that blinds people – He suddenly replied -Stop saying foolish things and come
here, we’ll read it together! The shop assistant said that the more people read it together, the funnier
it is, I like having fun! If only mum and dad were here… It would have been better! I can’t wait, let’s go
to the living room-
Her curiosity overwhelmed her and she followed her brother. When they reached the end, they
suddenly started to have spasms all over their bodies; Jamie at that time remembered the beggar’s
words: he had warned her about the book. Now it was too late.
When she woke up, she found herself without any top wear and what was more incredible was the fact
that she had grown… wings!
She looked at her brother and he had wings too! The situation was unbelievable: everybody who read
the book found themselves with a pair of butterfly wings. Little by little, the society started to adapt
to the new condition, whoever had beautiful colors and a particular style of wings was considered a part

of the high-class and people who didn’t read the book bought it too because they felt different. Jamie
was asking herself –Did we go back to history, to the aristocracy and social classes period?-
The dictatorship of those who had the most beautiful wings dominated in schools too: there were
groups of students based on this, and bullying increased. The feature of the clothes adapted to the new
fashion and everybody started to care more about what they were wearing; there was someone who had
tried to cut his wings off but they looked like any other part of the body, so it was as if he was trying
to cut an arm or an ear and it was difficult, as well as really painful!
Jamie lost her words in front of a world like this. When she was looking for the beggar to ask him for
some help, she suddenly felt a pain in her back and fainted. When she woke up she found herself in her
bed and she hadn’t wings anymore; it was early in the morning, her mother entered the bedroom – Well,
do you plan to sleep today? What about your performance? Weren’t you going to be the main
butterfly?-
She was perplexed: was all of that a dream?
Meanwhile a scientist was boarding the plane to fly to his new workplace. Everybody at the laboratory
was waiting for him and for the project that could probably change the world that we all knew in 2013.

Troisième prix en anglais, catégorie première : Claire Spingardi
The Book
I woke up with the shrill sound of my alarm clock. Ugh, I was tired…I didn't want to go to work that
day. As if I had the choice…I got up, yawning. I put some coffee on the fire and had a shower while it
was heating up. When I left the bathroom the coffee was ready. I slowly drank it. Suddenly I
remembered: I had finished my book the day before. I had nothing to read tonight. Hmm, perhaps I can
ask Christopher if I can borrow something. I’ll tell him about it. I finished getting ready and got out of
my house. I walked into the street in the cold morning, using the same way as usually to the library.
Ah, I was there. I opened the door and entered the small library. Chris was behind his desk, smiling to
me, as he always did.
“Hi, Melody!” Christopher said.
“Hi, Chris. What’s up?” I answered.
“Well, nothing you don’t already know.” He said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” I answered looking annoyed, “Is Marian still angry?”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I didn’t do anything!” He said, “I swear, she was angry before I came
here!”
“Right, right.” I said with an amused tone, smiling. “It’s not as if you teased her every morning. You
don't, do you?”
“No!” he said, his cheeks reddening. “I don’t!”
I laughed a bit. Yes, he loved Marian. But when he tried to talk to her, he couldn't help making jokes
about her. And she didn’t like it, actually. He really tried to please her, but I didn’t think he understood
he annoyed her. Poor boy. He didn’t tell me about it, but he was not discreet.
“Whatever.” He finally said.
“Yeah. Hmm tell me, do you have a book to lend me? I've just finished Shinning.” I said.
“Shinning? By Stephen King?” He said.
“Yup. It was awesome.” I said.
“Humm…I can lend you something. But I warn you, you won’t be able to stop reading.” He said, looking
really serious.
“What is it about?” I asked, a bit afraid of what he'll give me.
“It’s by Terry Pratchett. It’s called “Snuff”. It talks about an investigation.” He said.
“That looks great.” I said.
“Wait a minute! I think we have it here.” He said.
He left his desk and disappeared in the corridor. He came back with the book in his hands. He gave it to
me, with his usual big smile.
“Thanks.” I said.
“You’re welcome” He said, “Have a good time reading it.”
I smiled to him and he gave it back to me. Well, time to work. I went to my own desk and sat down,
putting the book he had just given me in my bag.
Nothing special happened that day. I finished working at 7pm and got back home. I put my bag down, sat
down on the couch and watched TV for two hours. Then I ate a pizza before going to bed. I took Chris’
book and looked at it. Snuff. So let’s see if Christopher is right.
Oh my god. This book is just…just…so awesome! I can't stop reading…eh. He warned me about the book
and now it is too late, I guess. What time is it? 1am?! Oh wow, I thought it was something like 11pm…I
had to sleep now.
Aaaaah! Chris was SO right! I can't stop reading…
Melody, you MUST STOP NOW.

I can’t! Damn it!
Ok, it’s 5 am. I have to get up in 2 hours. Enough now.
Oh god, damn me. I have just finished the book. And it’s 8 am. I was late! I got up, feeling the rings
under my eyes. I quickly put some coffee on the fire and ran to the bathroom. I quickly had a shower. I
brushed my teeth and put some make-up at the same time. I put my make-up in my mouth and I tried to
make up with my toothbrush. Ew, that’s gross! And that hurt…my poor eye! Hey, I must hurry up! And I
didn’t see a thing any more! I felt my make-up roll down my cheeks with my tears. As if I had the time
for this! Oh and whatever the make-up! I’d put on sunglasses today! Oh no, the coffee! I put it in a cup
and drink it in a hurry. Ow, I think I just burnt my tongue! And it boiled, it’s not good! I jumped into my
shoes and got out. Hey, my bag! I went back into the house, grabbed my bag and got out again. It was
raining. What am I doing with sunglasses?! I ran until I reached the library. I finally entered, gasping
for air, with dishevelled hair and an open bag, my book fell out of it. I put it back into my bag and closed
it. Ah, here’s Chris.
“Mel?! Wha-what happened?” He said, panicked.
“You…it’s your damn book!” I said, “Wait. I’m going to give it back to you…”
I searched in my bag. Don’t tell me…I forgot it.
“Great…” I said, really annoyed.
“Um…I guess you liked it?” He said bashfully.
“You can say that…I didn’t sleep at all. That book was too…too…” I said.
“You DIDN’T sleep?!” He said.
“Your fault.” I said, “And I’ve burnt my tongue because of you!”
“Hey, it’s not my fault!” He said.
“Yes it is” I said, “And because of YOU I tasted make-up! Bleh!”
He looks at me, amused.
“DON’T imagine!” I said, “Or I’ll make you taste it!”
He bursts out laughing.
“Damn you!” I yelled at him. That made him laugh even more.
“Well” He said, still laughing, “I’m happy you enjoyed it!”
Meh, whatever. Time to work. I sat behind my desk.
…Huh? Oh no. I…I think I have just slept. I just slept until 11am! Oh god, I hope no one saw me…Ah?
Chris is here.
“Ah, you’re awake” He said, “Don’t worry, I did your part of work today. But don’t get used to that!”
He laughed. I laughed a bit too.
“Hum, yeah” I said, “Thanks, Chris.”
“Heh, no problem. Let’s eat in a fast-food restaurant now, I’m hungry!” He said with a big smile.
“Let’s go!” I said happily.
I followed him out of the library. We were walking in the street when a car suddenly came from
nowhere and hit me. I fell down onto the road and the car crushed my leg. I screamed. Chris ran
towards me.
“Oh my god, are you okay?!” He said.
I didn’t react straight away. I was …shocked. This happened so quickly…wow. I tried to keep calm…
“Ow…I…I guess I can be happy to be alive…” I said.
“Why did you walk onto the road?! Didn’t you see the car?!” He said
Oh. So the car is not guilty. Oh god, I didn't even seen it.
“We’ll heal you, don’t worry!” He said.
He seems panicked. I’m still happy to be alive, even if I just got hurt by a car.
“Chris?” I said, “You…you’re not going to cry, are you?”
“What? No, I…” He said.
“I don’t mind if you do, you know.” I said.
He looked at me, and I saw a tear roll down his face. An ambulance arrived, and the firemen took care

of me. I saw the driver wasn’t hurt. That’s good. Ow…my leg hurts. Before I entered the ambulance, I
said to Chris:
“Don’t worry for me…it’ll be ok…”
I could see he was worried. The ambulance took me to the hospital. The doctor healed me and I ended
up alone in a room, my leg covered in bandages, in a plaster. I looked at my cell phone.
“You’re ok?” From Chris.
“Yes” I answered, “The doctor said I’ll be back in a week.”
“I’ll come to see you later. Don’t you dare to die before!” He said.
“Lol ok” I answered.
He’s really nice. He always makes me smile. So I waited in that boring white room. The TV didn’t even
work.
…And I had nothing to read.

Premier prix en anglais, catégorie terminale : Tom Cartau
He had warned her about the book. Now, it was too late.
« The culprit isn't always the killer »
Cassie loved reading. It was a real passion. She often went to a little library called “Mr Linden's
Library” when she went back home. On that evening, she had not planned to go to this library. But it was
raining a lot, and she had no umbrella. Therefore when she saw the neon-sign “Mr Linden's library”, she
decided to enter to be protected from the rain, and maybe to borrow a book.
-“Hello Mr. Linden !
-Oh Cassie ! It's a long time I haven't see you for a long time ! How are you girl ?
-I know, I haven't got much time anymore, with my A level to prepare. But I miss reading so...
-If you want to choose a book, take your time, I close in one hour”.
Mr Linden was an old man. He had a stick and when he walked, the sound of it echoed in all the shop.
Cassie liked this sound. She found that it gave a magical feeling to this place.
Cassie began to look at the books. When she was in a library, she was like a child in a toys shop. She was
excited, delighted. She could stay long hours to search the book she borrowed. She took a book, read
the summary and put it back on the shelf. She continued to search and suddenly, she didn't know why, a
book attracted her attention. It was a little red book entitled “Who is the murderer?”. She took it.
What was strange was that there was no author and no summary. She decided to ask Mr Linden.
-“Sorry Mr Linden, can you say me what this book is about?”
Mr Linden looked up from his desk. He looked at the book, and suddenly looked strange.
-“Oh... You shouldn't take this book Cassie. It seems to be a dangerous book. Everybody I know who
took this book had lots of problems....”
-“What ? What sort of problems? And what is this book about?”
-“I've never really read this book. I think it's about a serial killer. And the people who have read this
book... are dead !”.
Cassie didn't believe in this story. How could a book make people die? It was unbelievable. She was very
curious, and decided to borrow this book, despite Mr Linden’s piece of advice. There must be an
explication to these deaths. But she was sure, that she didn't take any risk.
When she was at home, the book she had borrowed intrigued her. She decided to read it just then. She
took the book on her desk, sat on her bed and began to read. In fact, it wasn't an ordinary book, with a
story, with paragraphs… There were a just few lines per page : a name, geographical coordinates, a date
and an hour. On the first page : Mark Winston, N050°45’47” W001°18’42”, 11/06/12 21h. On the
second page, there was one sentence : « The murderer isn't always the person who kills“. Then another
name : Julia Parwok, N050°44’47” W001°18’42”, 11/07/12 21h30. On the next page : “Who are really
these people?”.
It was a good question. She decided to search on the internet who these persons were. What she
discovered astonished her. These persons had all died in strange circumstances, at the hour and in the
place mentioned in the book. The police thought about a serial killer. How Strange! , Cassie thought. She
decided to read the rest of the book. There were two other names. The last sentence surprised Cassie
: “What’s the link ? ”

The link… Cassie began to search. A link…A link… Yes of course ! One month between two victims. +30
minutes. +000°01”00’… the next… Let’s see … No it’s impossible…
Cassie looked for the place on Google Earth. Oh no ! It’ impossible !...
On her sheet of paper, she had written : Today, 22h30, home. The next victim was her.
It was 22h15. She was frightened. Her parents were not at home this evening. She was alone. She ran in
her parents’ room, took her father’s gun. She stood in front of the door, ready to fire. And she waited.
22h20. 22h30. It was now. 22h35. 22h40. Nobody. It wasn’t possible. A killer who was so accurate. He
is here. He must be here. Nobody. 22h50. She calculated again. Yes here…22h30…A killer so thorough…
She was alone at home. And the killer was in there. He had to be! It was horrible, but there was an only
explanation. She was the killer. She didn’t remember this. She had unconsciously killed all these people.
What could she do ? Go to see the police ? No. She was afraid. She was a monster. She couldn’t live with
that. Therefore she raised the gun to her head, and fired. Cassie, the nice girl, had killed Cassie, the
murderer.
After the gunshot, the door opened out.
No she wasn’t the murderer.
The noise of stick echoed in the room.
She was a victim. She wasn’t the culprit.
The real culprit took the book, and left. The culprit isn’t always the killer.
Some days after, a man walked into Mr Linden’s library. Suddenly, he saw a strange book. There was
just a title : “Who is the murderer? ”.

Deuxième prix en anglais, catégorie terminale : Gaëlle Peltier
Dream or not ?
'Once upon a time, in an Irish Forest, a nation of elves lived in peace with nature.'
'What a boring story !'
'Let me finish !'
'It doesn't matter. I know what will happen, a horrible man will arrive and a brave elf will fight and win
and find love, a happy ending !'
'How can you know ?' I have just begun.
'Your stories always end like this.'
'Maybe I've changed my way to tell them...'
'Really ?'
'Yes'
'I don't believe you !'
'So, you want the real one ?'
'YES !'
'The scary one ?'
'Yes, please, tell me !'
'OK. This is my story, me and Mr Oldurn.'
'The way that you got your injury on your cheek ?'
'Yes, listen to me...'
Wednesday December 12 th 2012
7.03
A lovely blond girl was waiting at her bus stop early in the cold morning. She had her hat and her
scarf, a big coat and boots. She was ready to confront the hard day she had. The only thing that made
her happy was that she had finished reading her last novel and it was time to borrow a new one ! The
bus finally arrived and she took it.
11.40 am
The time had come ! At last ! The first hour of free time in the day !
-' Isaya ! Come !' Someone called.
The blond-haired girl just smiled and followed her best friend, Swan. They went to the school
library of their high school.
The two girls had met the year before. They had immediately become close friends and finally
best friends.
Isaya and Swan just entered their favorite place : the library ! They found some places and sat
down. They immediately started to look for the perfect book. Isaya went to the end of the library with
the strange authors' names. As usual she was amazed in front of all the different world and all the
different stories which were just waiting for her. She noticed a strange but attractive book near the
floor. She bent down and took it. At that time she didn't know it was the worst thing to do but she
borrowed it without listening to the librarian. There were no words on the book cover, a mystic book...
6.40 pm

Rain. It was the only thing that Isaya was thinking about because she was at her bus stop under
the rain without any umbrella. Then she realised that she couldn't read because of the rain.
'Oh ! My saviour !' she thought when she saw her bus. Once she was in it, she took out her mysterious
book with a little smile on her face.
Flash-Back
'Hello ! I want to give back this one and to borrow this one', Isaya said.
'Yes. Hum. This one ? Are you sure ? The librarian asked'
'Obviously ! I want it !'
'This one isn't a good book... No one who borrowed it came back but the book came back...' he
whispered.
Isaya hid her laugh.
End flash-back
6.45 pm
Isaya took her book and opened it. The librarian had warned her about the book, now it was too late...
Gently a luxuriant vegetation started to appear on the bus seat, everywhere near Isaya. She looked all
around her and a look of horror formed itself on her lines while she discovered that she couldn't move
any more. She was obliged to see this transformation unable to do anything. When the whole landscape
became an equatorial forest, Isaya could move. She started to panic and ran at top speed but there was
no path between the big trees and Isaya got lost. Her clothes were torn and dirty. She was still holding
the book when suddenly a noise tore the silence behind her. She turned back and saw a strange
creature. It was half human half snake. It had the figure of a man but the skin and the appearance
belonged to a snake. It showed its fangs and Isaya screamed and started to run faster than ever. She
heard the noise of it in her back. She wasn't accustomed to being in such a dense forest that's why she
stumbled and fell on the ground. The horrible animal jumped onto her and she felt its fangs on her
cheeks and her neck. After that, she passed out because she was too scared and because of her
injuries...
Saturday December 15 th 2012
12.30
The first thing Isaya was conscious of was that she had an enormous headache. Then she heard
a little bip, bip... And she managed to open her eyes at that moment she realized that she was in a
hospital... She tried to remember what happened and the horrible forest came back to her mind. All of a
sudden a doctor entered her room and smiled at her.
' What, what happened ?' Isaya asked
'Someone gave you drugs and you injured yourself while trying to escape your hallucinations,' the doctor
said.
How ?'
There was a syringe on your seat. You felt nothing because of the cold, all your body was numb'
'Oh my god...' was the only thought she had...

'What kind of amazing story !' Isaya had a smile
'Sleep now, it's time !'
'OK mom ! Good night !'
'Good night,' said Isaya before leaving her daughter's room'
When she was alone, Isaya crossed a finger on her scars which hurt for a moment before she went to
bed and fell asleep... On the book one word was written : Mr Oldurn

Troisième prix en anglais, catégorie terminale : Vincent Di Caro
Mr. Linden's Library
Lizzie Hupston was a lovely girl of sixteen. She had a thin figure and an angelic face : a fair skin
complexion, arched eyebrows, big glittering brown eyes, freckles on her aquiline nose, sunken cheeks
and luscious lips. Silky curly dark hair fell on her sweet shoulders.
She wasn't only cute, but brilliant and smart too. The kind of girl that every single boy dreams of
having. But Lizzie wasn't like the other girls, shy and reserved, she wasn't interested in having a
boyfriend, she had other things to think about. Well-mannered thanks to her father, a pastor, and her
mother, a teacher, the passion of reading had been instilled into her from an early age.
She attended Predtson high school near the little peaceful district of Lincoln Height, where everybody
knew everybody and where children ran in the street with their red cheeks.
However, in that peaceful district, there was a strange street, the 25 th street, where it was preferable
not to venture.
At the dead end of the street, there was a big squalid home with ivy on the façade, a sinister and dark
gate and shutters always half-closed.
As surprising as that may seem, someone was living in it. It was an old home-loving man whose face had
never been seen. Children in the street called him the Boogeyman.
One day, Lizzie was going to her friend’s, Jessica, to do homework. On the way back home, she met two
rascals :
“Look at that… Hey you! Where are you going like that?”
“Hum… I’m going back home!”, said Lizzie shyly.
“Where do you live?”
“It's none of your business!”
“That's ok, don't be nasty! Let us accompany you!”, said one of them.
“I… I prefer to be alone !”
“Oh, really? I don't care, you don't have the choice!”
“Leave me alone!”
“Keep cool! We just want to help you, you know?”
“That's enough, let me go, please...”
Lizzie went away, walked fast, but the two daredevils followed her. Panic-stricken, Lizzie ran as fast as
possible, but they were running too. She rushed into the 25 th street. She was face to face with the
dead end, completely exhausted and out of breath, she put her hands on her knees, turned round, and
saw the two guys approaching her. She closed her eyelids and prayed. They were coming closer and
closer, and she was praying more and more. She had tears in her eyes when suddenly :
“Get the fuck out of here!”
It was the old man from the 25 th street. He hadn't minced his words. The two rascals were running off.
“You deserved it!”, screamed Lizzie.
“Are you all right?”, asked the old man.

“Thanks to you, yes! It takes a lot of courage to do that, you're my savior!”
“It's nothing, boys will be boys… Don't stay here you're going to catch cold, go back home and be
careful!”
“Hum… I don't want to be rude but... Can I sleep with you tonight? It's dark and I'm afraid to go back
home alone!”
The old man seemed a little embarrassed:
“It's… It's freezing cold in my house!”
“I don't mind!”, she said.
“I... I have no bed for you!”
“I don't mind!”, she added.
“I have no…”
“I'll make do, don't bother!”
“You're tough!”
She answered with a little smile:
“You have hit the nail on the head!”
“Oh… In that case, it's a waste of time, welcome home!”
“Thanks!”
Lizzie entered the old man's home.
“Make yourself at home! ”, he said.
They were both sitting in a kind of living room and the old man started a more intimate conversation:
“What's your name?”
“My name is Lizzie Hupston, my friends call me Hermione because my passion is reading, like Hermione
in J.K. Rowling's work and I live in the 23 rd street and you? I found you a little bit… mysterious?”
“If you don't like it, you’ll just have to lump it.”
“I'm sorry…”
“There's no harm, it's my fault I dislike talking about myself...”, he said.
“Why?”
“Ha ha, you're inquisitive… Well, my name is Mr. Linden, I have travelled all around the world with Didi,
the love of my life. She loved reading, like you. And one day, on the 13 th of April 1989, Didi had an
accident. Since, I haven’t been the same…”
“Oh... I'm sorry”, she said nicely.
“You're welcome!”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You must be joking! Of course you can my sweetie, ask me!”
“Hum… What happened on the 13 th of April 1989?”
“Follow me…”
Lizzie and Mr Linden went in an immense library next to the living room.
“You see, Lizzie, it's like when Didi was still alive, it was her secret garden, nothing has moved.”
He pulled a big book on the second shelf in aisle 1B, “you see, that book is the reason why Didi is now six
feet under ...”
“I don't understand…”, said Lizzie, worried.
“Forget it... But promise me never to read that book, I'm serious, you are the only person to know
that…”
“Okay, I promise...”

“Well, now it's time to go to bed, come on!”
Lizzie and Mr Linden returned in the living room.
“You can sleep on the sofa, I’ll go upstairs, good night Lizzie, see you tomorrow!”
“Okay, it's very nice, thanks for everything!”
Lizzie didn’t manage to sleep. So curious and excited, she was thinking about the book in aisle 1B, what
could it contain? She decided to steal it. She tiptoed as far as the library and stole the book.
The next morning, Lizzie went back home, in her bag, there was the book from aisle 1B.
In the evening, before sleeping, she took the book out of her bag and started to read it.
The story was about a girl who was killed by ivy in her sleep.
The story was so engrossing that Lizzie read it until she fell suddenly asleep, the book open, in front of
her.
During the night, ivy slowly grew out of the book.
Lizzie never woke up.
He had warned her about the book.
Now it is too late.

Premier prix en anglais, catégorie BTS : Nirina Randria
The heart has its reasons that the reason ignores
Wangi had finished school. She was used to taking the shortest way to go back home. She
walked alone because she didn’t have any friends except Rachel but on that day she wasn’t there. Wangi
was twelve, a girl like any other girl of her age except that she was a gifted girl and had been adopted
by the Steins who went to China to bring her to Germany.
The Steins lived in one of the most exclusive district of Germany. they loved to be the first in
all categories and were game for anything to reach their goal. They also loved boasting about all they
had and above all about the success of their two sons who were at medical university in England. They
were the perfect family but there was a problem: they had no daughter and in this country to have a
girl was an essential value. So they decided to adopt a girl in China. Why China? Because they wanted all
their friends and family to believe that they pitied poor children in this country and that it was their
duty to help at least one of them even though it was in reality to have a good reputation. Wangi was only
one when she was adopted. Her parents had abandoned her for a reason that she never knew because
she didn’t dare to ask her foster parents about it for fear they should be embarrassed. Before being
adopted, Wangi lived in a poor district with other abandoned children but fortunately she quickly left
this environment. Wangi never experienced poverty and although she lived in comfort, she wasn’t like
the Steins at all. That’s right; she always received affection and love from her foster parents but
although she was only twelve she knew that something was wrong. They hid something…
When Wangi walked, she was used to walking headlong because she was very shy and she never knew
why but she felt ill-at-ease in this country. She didn’t feel at home. After five minutes, she finally
arrived home. When she opened the gate, Wangi saw her parents come back from the back of their
garden with a spade and mud on their faces and on their hands. Mrs. and Mr. Stein came close to their
daughter to hug her. Wangi noticed that they were behaving oddly.
'Hi Darling! How was school today?' Said Mrs. Stein looking at her husband.
'Good! I’m top of my class again!'
'Really?! That’s not a surprise for us anymore! We are really proud of you Wangi!' Said Mr. Stein
with pride thinking about what else he could say about it.
'Thank you dad. But what are you doing with this spade and mud?'
'Oh! Nothing darling…' Mrs. Stein quickly added.
They went into the house. That night, Wangi didn’t manage to sleep. Suddenly she heard a noise from
the garden. After a few minutes, she rose and looked out of the window. Her parents were digging a
hole to hide a kind of book, which she didn’t clearly see. At that moment Wangi wondered if they really
hid something and what…
The day after, at breakfast, before going to school:
'What were you doing last night in the garden?'
Suddenly Mrs. and Mr. Stein stopped eating.
'Whaa…what? Last night?' stammered Mrs. Stein.
'Yes, last night. I saw you in the garden digging a hole for a kind of book',said Wangi innocently.
Mrs Stein looked at her husband before saying:
'Well, yes…it’s a book from a strange person who came yesterday. It talks about weird things
that you don’t have and don’t need to know because it’s only for adults. Moreover you will have a
nightmare.' He said teasing her. 'So, please don’t touch it ok darling? Promise it to us, Wangi.'
'I promise!' Crossing fingers.' It’s not my business anyway.'
They were reassured by their daughter's answer although Mrs Stein knew that Wangi suspected
something. Wangi went to school. On the way she was thinking of the book in the hole. She couldn’t
concentrate in class. She knew that her foster parents didn’t tell her the truth.

After school, Wangi came back home, her parents weren’t in the house. They left a little note on the
table “Darling we’re going to your uncle's because he had an accident. I will call you later.”
After reading this note, Wangi went into the garden to have a look at the place where they had dug the
hole. Although she had promised the opposite, she hastened to take the spade in the garage and started
digging. After a few minutes, she felt the book in her hands. She was scared, she dreaded that moment
but she wanted to know if her parents had told her the truth. She sat in a corner, took the book. To
Wangi’s surprise, it was a book about wild animals. She didn’t understand why he had said that she would
have nightmares and that it was only for adults. She thought for a moment and wasn’t proud of what she
was doing because she had made a promise to the people who had saved her from poverty but something
told her that she had to open the book. Wangi opened it. There was a photo with a letter. Her heart
started beating quickly when she saw a Chinese couple on the photo. She turned the photo “Wangi’s
parents”. She couldn’t believe it. She cried. She didn’t understand why her foster parents had never
shown it to her. Wangi started reading the letter. She began to tremble and cried, cried…She put the
photo and the letter on the floor, closed her eyes. Now she knew why she was adopted.
When Mrs. and Mr. Stein wanted to adopt a child in China, they learnt that a Chinese mother gave birth
to a child who wasn’t like the others because this child had developed something very rare; she was a
very bright child. The couple thought that it was a good opportunity to have a good reputation again
because it was a little girl and moreover she was gifted; so they went to China to find this baby and
when they found her they offered Wangi’s parents a lot of money in exchange of their daughter but
they refused although they were very poor. The Steins insisted but for Wangi it was clear. They didn’t
want to exchange their daughter for money. Unfortunately this family was facing a man like Mr Stein
who wasn’t the kind of person to give up when he really wanted something…
When Wangi learnt with the last paragraph that Mr Stein asked some men to kill her parents because
they refused to give them Wangi, she collapsed and cried with all her soul. The phone rang, it was her
mother. She rose and put the book back in the hole. She rinsed her face, tried to calm down. She would
act as if there was nothing because she was just twelve and she didn’t know and couldn’t do anything for
the moment.
'How are you darling? I called but you didn’t answer…'
'Hi mum! I’m just tired, I was sleeping and I didn’t hear the phone sorry,' she said trying to hide
her pain.
After that day, Wangi always had nightmares about her parents and how they were killed. Every time,
she wondered if it had been a good idea to open the book that day.
He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late.

Deuxième prix en anglais, catégorie BTS : Anaïs Schmitt
Don’t Read it
His name is Josh, and he is forty six years old. Today, he is married with a superb woman whose name is
Laura and has three children with her. His life is beautiful, he built himself his big house and he is a
salesman in a famous firm. However, something makes him sad.
This lack comes from his past. Josh was fourteen when he met Milla. They were young, and they were in
love. During two years, they lived a fabulous story, but one day, a piece of news changed all their life.
They were sixteen and Milla was pregnant. Josh was afraid and believed that he was too young to care
for a child and he imagined his parents’ reaction. Just before this, all his friends had already gibed at
him and he preferred to go away. He thought sincerely that she hadn’t kept the child. He lived in his
grandparents’ house eight hundred kilometers from Milla and his past.
He never called her to know what she did and he led his own life in his new city where he met his wife.
During thirty years, he thought a little about it because he believed that he had no child, and hoped
that she hadn’t kept his child. As a matter of fact, recently, he reflected more and more about it. He
wondered if this child had been a girl or a boy, if he or she would have looked like him. But these
questions stayed in his head and he had no answer.
One afternoon, Ryan, Josh’s oldest son who was studying literature, came home with a new book. In his
bedroom, he had more than a thousand books. He loved reading. This new book was entitled “Alone with
mom “. It was written that it was a real story. The author seemed to be thirty years old, and she had
the same eyes and the same mouth as his father. Ryan read the book while remembering an old story
that his father had told him when he was a teenager. A lot of details reminded him of this story. He
decided to keep this story for himself.
One day, Ryan found his father with “Alone with mom” in his hand. . He wondered how this book had
come here. Josh was looking at the author’s photograph. He looked sad. Ryan asked him why. His father
said, “Do you remember my past story?. He answered “Yes” and didn’t want his father to read the book.
He took the book back but Josh didn’t want to let go. He didn’t know what to do.
Josh read it. It was his turn not to know what to do. He had warned him about the book. Now it was too
late.

Premier prix en anglais, catégorie classes préparatoires : Joris Ayadi
Agog
No event can alter her habit of walking her dog every Monday morning. Christiane loves seeing
her comrade moving in the open air, without any noise. Even when it prompts the unremitting barks of
the neighbour’s dog. Everyone is well-behaved in the Ertegan family, especially the dog, silent, peaceful,
docile.
She regularly inquires after her only son. Well, her son is used to calling her and to seek advice
from her at the same time. On this occasion, he wants to know the accurate dosage of a pharmaceutical
formula against stress. All his studies have brought him to become a high-ranking executive in finance.
Even his mother could not imagine such a thing was possible for her prodigy.
Every Sunday morning, she goes out for muffins while her husband, George, keeps snoring until
the smells of chocolate swamp the house. At the baker’s, Christiane meets Mrs Hermann, the smiling
butcher’s wife, amiable-looking, who is always abreast of the latest gossip about people in the
neighborhood, the latest squabbles and tragedies. She is a smiling busy-body but each smile hides
teeth and teeth-grindings.
When Christiane comes back home with the chocolate-flavoured booty, George hurries
downstairs to savour the muffins and to spend time with his wife, whose heart was conquered twenty
years ago. Christiane suggests an afternoon activity. She is used to looking up garage sales. Indeed, she
always finds time to go to improbable places to unearth books as old as her couple, which deal with
everything and nothing. Whatever has a binding or a bookmark catches her attention. All that enables
her to find her way in the huge book of life interests her.
Christiane walks in the neighboring village where the event is taking place, like a lost ant which
tries to find its colony. When her husband looks away to scrutinise a book about warbirds, Christiane
seems to be attracted to a table. She moves closer and detects the sparkling color of the book edge,
trapped between two others. The women seizes it and discovers a delicate and worn out cover, which
was scrubbed. That covers a forty years older work. First, she is astonished by the lack of title then by
the crude sticker on the book back meant to indicate the price. But on opening the first page,
Christiane is taken aback and reads what appears to be a preface. “Christiane Ertegan, a forty-year-old
woman, native of the East Midlands, is a talented pharmacist, a loving mother and an attentive wife.
While her life has always been organized, the encounter with a certain Mr Agog will overwhelm her
existence. The pledge of total love will devastate her dreary and predictable daily life. The desire of a
new life and her curiosity will finally drive her…”
Christiane turns white and almost falls down. Awe-stricken. George, who has heard the seller offering
water, discovers his shaken wife, who is clutching the strange book.
-What’s wrong, sweetheart ? George asks her.
-There’s nothing, I was just surprised by the age of this book. Buy it.
-Is it the fug of old books which has reached your nose ? George says with a grin and in a reassured
tone.
On the same evening, while her husband is sleeping peacefully next to her, Christiane begins to
read the book and she holds her breath. Then she is astonished by the sentences whispered by the
first pages.
“Every week begins with walking the family dog. That dog is so worn out by time that it cannot
run anymore. The only thing it perfectly succeeds in is causing the provocative barks of the neighbour’s
harebrained dog. (…) A call from her son forces Christiane to remember the accurate dosage. Too many
obstacles prevent him from inquiring himself. What a lack of independence ! (…) The constant meeting
with Mrs Hermann silently irritates Christiane, who cannot stand this frightening and ferocious glance

anymore. With her angelic smile, the woman is too curious, and too devious for everybody to understand
her ploy, and that she is basically a bad person.”
That cannot be true ! Her life is laid bare on paper, her life written in black ink, black like her
thoughts which do not seem belong to her. Suddenly, an inhuman curiosity overwhelms her along with an
unrestrained desire to discover the rest and to check if the next pages will not lie. She is keen to know
her secret thoughts which are intertwined in her subconscious mind. At this instant, she starts a
deepened reading in quest of herself.
Every evening, she hurries to read, to devour the lines and the pages, to impart the alternative
story she might live. The same questions always pierce her. Who did write that disturbing book ? Was
he able to foresee the future ? Who was Mr Agog whose name comes up every five pages - the person
who, the book had warned her, would bring about an extreme change in her life.
The weeks go by. George gradually worries about his wife’s health. She has difficulty in getting
up, does not smile like before. She looks concerned.
Christiane, her, does not understand. The book deals with a person she does not see, not yet.
That obsesses her mind. That face described by the black ink is absent on any human body she meets.
During any journey that her daily life forces her to do, she watches out for the least sign of the
encounter with Mr Agog. She checks the names of business employees, shelf managers when she goes to
the supermarket. That name is unlisted in the telephone directory. She looks it up on the Internet,
without results. She looks for him. Amid her many hairdressers, among the chemist’s customers. The
book does not reveal any clue, any place of meeting. Only that name, that name she shall find. As soon as
the book talks about dreams where she sees him, Christiane starts to dream of the silhouette of a man
with an elegant perfume. Then the odour of old books gradually swamps the limbs of her dreams.
The relationship of the couple is affected. George feels jilted. He implores his wife and asks her
for explanations about her decadent behavior. Christiane blames work. But she secretly renounces her
life as Mrs Ertegan. Therefore, she lets her dog bark every Monday morning until her husband decides
to walk the dog before it dies of asphyxiation. The rooms lack pure air and lucidity. Now, even Mrs
Hertmann does not exactly know what is going on in the Ertegan house, what is happening to Mrs
Ertegan.
Cloistered in her bedroom, she goes out only to feed or to provide her husband with bedclothes,
as he prefers to stay in the lounge, instead of venturing in the cold marriage-bed.
A good pharmacist, Christiane knows practically all the symptoms of all existent diseases. But
when her limbs obey her less and less, she seems ignorant about what is happening.
Day after day, her health turns sour and sleep has no effect on her anymore. The only thing
which encourages her to open her eyes is the failure to understand what exudes from the cursed book.
One month has gone by since the first reading and all the predictions proved to be true except for Mr
Agog. The deterioration of the couple and the sadness, all was indicated, all has occurred except for
the encounter with Mr Agog, the starting point of a better life, under the invisible smiles of this man
who is still unknown.
The end of the book is imminent. The last page announces that Christiane will be finally
cheerful, after so many efforts and personal torments. But she reads the last lines aloud, separated by
a clear space from the previous ones.
“She looked for her driving force doggedly, the origin of her desire to have a more thrilling life,
the pledge of a bright existence. She had always known that it was Mr Agog and who he was. Her
unconfessed lover. Him, who took her away from there. Him who took her”.
Christiane closes the book abruptly and she stares at it in confusion. Sweat slides down her
neck, the book without a name observes her… She touches the torn cover. The sticker of the faded

price covers it. Quivering, she snatches it and finds out with fear the red ink-carved name of the book,
under the sticker, on the back cover. Agog…
She found it, finally. Her hand seems deprived of strength, the book falls flat on the floor with
an echo. The delusion tricks her, her life is being taken away. Her curiosity has taken her.

Deuxième prix en anglais, catégorie classes préparatoires : Guillaume
Hazemann
WENDIGO
Lori Jones, a 17 year old girl with brown hair, was sleeping in the car when her parents awoke her. They
were about to go onboard of a ferry. They had decided to spend the holidays on a small island in the
area of the Great Lakes, Ohio.
Thirty minutes later the crossing was completed and the family had arrived in the small town of
Blackwater. Loris’ parents had rented a small house in the heights of the island. Lori noticed that she
had forgotten to carry something to read for the holidays. The next morning she decided to go to town
in order to buy a book. She was crossing the single avenue of the city when she saw a small library
where one could read on the sign “Mr. LINDENS’ Library”.
Lori rummaged on the book shelves and she saw a book which looked old and whose title was “Wendigo”.
She was just going to open the book when suddenly a young man stopped her.
“I advise you to put this book back, it is dangerous,” the young man said nervously.
“Why that? How could a book be dangerous? And besides who are you?” Lori asked suspiciously.
“My name is Kyle”, the teenager answered.
“Well, Kyle… I’m Lori”, she said shyly.
“Okay, Lori listen to me. This is one of the books written by George Cane,” Kyle informed her.
“Who is that guy?” Lori questioned.
“Who was. He was a writer who lived here in Blackwater. He had a house on the other side of the
hill. He wrote several books but one day he became insane and disappeared. But it doesn’t matter. The
fact is that his books are doomed,” Kyle explained calmly. “After he went missing, his house was
destroyed and his books were dissipated everywhere in the island,” he continued.
“And to what extends are this book dangerous?” Lori retorted impatiently.
“These books kill,” Kyle completed.
“Okay… Don’t worry about that, I’ll be careful,” Lori answered ironically.
“You don’t understand, all the people who read these books were found dead, the book open
beside them. And the weirdest thing is , each time an object from the story sprouted from of the open
pages,” Kyle explained seriously.
“Stop that, I don’t believe in this folklore,” Lori declared while moving away.
“Please don’t!” Kyle begged. “They are not urban legends, these events really happened but
people don’t want to believe that it’s because of these books”.

Lori bought the book from the bookseller and went up the street towards the heights of the island.
When the night fell Lori went to bed. She was impatient to discover the mysterious book. She read the
first pages. The story was set in a forest of Kansas where teenagers camped. The latter were suddenly
surprised by strange noises. A supernatural creature roamed the wood: the Wendigo. Its shadow
seemed to be that of a tall thin man, but its skin was desiccated and it had long sharp-edged claws. The
creature attacked the camp. It moved very quickly and lacerated its victims the one after the other
Lori was still reading the story when suddenly she found herself literally in the novel. The air was icy.
She heard howls and started to run. She was sheltering behind a tree when she felt cold blades tears
her back. She crumbled on the ground. The Wendigo had caught her. Then it hunted down the last
survivors. A white veil was falling in front of Lori’s eyes while she was lying on a bed of ivy. The howl
ceased and the forest became again quickly quiet.
The next morning, she was found dead in her bed. She seemed to be sleeping. The book was open next
to her and a branch of ivy sprouted from the pages. Kyle had warned her about the book. Now it was too
late.

Les élèves volontaires du lycée Schuman et du lycée
Cormontaigne de Metz ont participé à un concours d’écriture
de nouvelles en langue étrangère pour lequel il s’agissait
d’inventer une histoire à partir de la phrase suivante :
“Il l’avait prévenue au sujet du livre,
maintenant, il était trop tard.”
Très inspirés, les participants nous ont offert des nouvelles
originales et variées qui témoignent de leur goût pour
l’écriture et de leur imagination débordante. Nous les
remercions tous pour leurs efforts et leur créativité et nous
les encourageons vivement à continuer à écrire.