Write Up Your Street

A new magazine of young writers’ Belfast stories
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Please send via www.fightingwords.co.uk
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1

Cover Ilustrations by: Eileen Neill
Dear Reader,
The first Fighting Words NI Youth Writing Zine
is about finding inspiration in Belfast. These
stories and poems see the stuff of our everyday
lives through a new lens and turn them into new
writing. These young writers know a different
Belfast. Peace Walls are now places for inspiration
and art though they still divide the city. The
violent nights are over. The Troubles are a history
they have not lived. Their portrayals of Belfast
City help us share understanding of places we can
all be proud of.
Sometimes the quietest people in the room
carry power in their pen instead of their voice.
This magazine shows that the young thinkers,
visionaries and creative leaders are here, brought
together in print. The young writers are putting
up their hands and showing their presence
through all the streets and quarters of the city.
It is inspiring to see so many contributing and
helping creativity to grow and spread further.
Maybe you have a friend or sibling or child whose
writing is in here. We hope you enjoy it and come
to understand better the power of words. Maybe
next time you’ll be the one nervously awaiting
other eyes on your own work.
Somerset Maugham said, “The problem with
new writers is that they’re all over 60.” But
these pages are full of new Belfast writers with
a head start of about 50 years.
To the young writers, Congratulations! It’s a big
thing to see your own writing in print. You begin
to see that your contribution matters and you
can speak out and write your way into change. If
you ever feel like your voice doesn’t matter, that
your opinions have nowhere to go, you should
put pen to paper and create a world where you
can speak and share your story. Some people
may judge you; they may turn their heads and
ignore you, but one person, at least one person,
will feel touched by your words. So, write about
what matters to you, in a way that feels right,
and remember you can make an impact. You’re
already doing that.
Writing as a young person is difficult. It is tough
to share your work when it is often so personal,
and confidence, inspiration and voice are hard to
find. But as scary as it is, seeing your writing let
loose into the world for the first time in print is
exhilarating, and it builds up your confidence for
more. We hope all of you continue to harness this
power throughout your lives and use it to fight
for what you believe in.
This is only the very beginning of your writing
journey. Writing is always a diamond in the
rough, constantly evolving and reshaping, like
Belfast itself. Your writing is solely, uniquely
you and at the end of the day that cannot be
measured, judged or ridiculed. Never let fear
or the opinions of others shape your work. You
are always at the helm with your pen; never let
anyone tell you otherwise.
Sometimes the quietest
people in the room carry
power in their pen instead
of their voice.
Let your inner creativity shine. Push through
your barriers, immerse yourself and let go. Find
the magical in the mundane, inspiration where
others feel jaded. Find your very own write to
fight. Let everyone know what Fighting Words
means to you.
From
the Fighting Words Guthanna Oga - Young
Voices panel: Patrick, Kaila, Rachel, Tara,
Eden, Éire, Darragh, Michael, Eabha, Wiktoria
and Emily.
2

Fighting Words IRE and NI
Guthanna Óga
Young Voices Manifesto
Fight for the Write!
We will Empower Young Writers on
the Island of Ireland and Nurture their
Creative Self-Expression, especially
as they grow up with decreasing
opportunities to do creative things.
We will Connect up young writers
and provide a Supportive, Positive
Atmosphere that Protects Creative
Headspace, where everyone can be
Different, can be Themselves; where
success is not academic or economic,
but on their Own Individual Terms;
where creative writing is not just a
dream or a fantasy but an Enriching,
Empowering and Important Path
through Life.
Fighting Words NI is a creative writing centre for children and young people.
Since 2015 we’ve been a force for creativity
in Belfast and beyond, providing over 14,000
creative writing opportunities for schools, youth
groups and young writers aged 6 to 18. We
have delivered hundreds of free Storymaking
Workshops, Write Club Meetings and special
projects, all supported by our amazing volunteer
mentors. We want to show every young person
in Northern Ireland that creative writing is all
about joy, imagination and creativity.
Our patrons are the acclaimed writers Glenn
Patterson, Roddy Doyle, Nick Hornby, Lucy
Caldwell, Paul Muldoon and Dave Eggers.
In our workshops, school groups and community
groups produce chapter 1 of a story through
suggesting ideas and voting on them, leading to
a cliffhanger that propels them into chapter 2,
which each of young people write themselves.
Write Club, Playwright Club and Word Warriors
are facilitated writing groups for individual
young writers after school.
Thank you to Belfast Harbour for believing in
and supporting this project and to Ian from
Me, Him and Her Design for all the design work.
3

A Wee Poem
Kaila P. (15)
4
Take a Dander round the city,
Our home sites look fairly pretty,
Yet we use these turn of phrases,
Our dialect goes on for ages,
What’s The Craic, you’ll use a lot,
It’s probably Ninety if you’re not,
Your Mate may ask, How’s Your Ma?
You Know Yourself, How’s Your Da?
Think I came up the Lagan in a bubble?
Grab your Guddies, don’t start no trouble,
We say we’re Foundered when we’re cold,
We’re Scundered after we’ve been bold,
The Christmas Market has a Helter Skelter,
Your Man on there’s a Proper Melter!
Bloody Eejit, So He Is,
So I am and So I Did,
We’ll go for a Yarn and a Wee Poke,
See that car, isn’t that some Yoke?
When we’re stressed we’re Up To High Doh,
Is that right? Apparently So,
At’s Us Nai coming off the Westlink,
Use Your Loaf to have a think,
Here Be’s Me and Here Be’s She,
Anybody want a Wee Drop of Tea?
People often cry, Oh Mummy!
Wee Buns aren’t meant for your tummy,
Pass City Hall during your stay,
A Knuckle Sandwich means run away,
You can’t be a Chancer and a survivor,
Anybody looking to Lend Me a Fiver?
Catch Yourself On, you’ve got to Wise Up,
Quit Melting My Head and give me a cup,
We Belfast folk do love a wee tea,
Look, there’s the fella! What About Ye?
Go ahead, Big Lad, he’s proper class,
Hasn’t that Wee Girl a bit of sass?
I’m All Bizz for my Mate’s Mate,
Awk Mummy, it’s only half past eight!
The Big Fish hasn’t learned to swim,
Your Man’s Dead On, I know him,
He’s a Geg, won a hurley shield,
But was he born In a Field?
Our words don’t know what to do,
Belfast speech hasn’t much of a clue,
But while our sayings don’t always fit,
Our wee city Keeps Her Lit.

Illustration by:
Sinead Farry
Places To Visit in Belfast
Ruby J. (13)
Belfast has lots of places to go
Some places are high some places are low
There are the mountains tall
And parks so small
All of these places you may not know
But I know you will know the next ones so...
There’s the Titanic, so great a historical place
There’s the SSE where there’s concerts,
And hockey players race
There’s the town where you can get all sorts of things
You can even get diamond rings
There are even more places so you should come
There are even places to fill your tum.
Come to Belfast, it’s the place to be
Come to Belfast,
there’s so much to see.
5

Home
By Molly A. (13)
I don’t understand, you say.
How can such an awful place
mean something to you?
Let me explain.
You hate this place,
you think it’s scary,
You call it a country of war,
You don’t understand, you can’t
Feel the love I harbour.
For this awful place is my
Home, and I belong here.
Peace is good but I don’t want peace,
I only wish to lie here,
Listening to the breath of my home,
The sounds that shaped me,
Lie with me and listen.
Hear the Orangemen with their
Drums and their trumpets,
the swish of
Batons lingering as they march on.
Hear the church bells and choirs,
listen to
The chatter of churchgoers.
Hear the sounds of my city,
The raucous mobs
screaming and laughing,
Hear echoes of bombs and gunfire,
Hear it all and understand,
That it is me, a part of myself,
I will never change.
No, you say. I’m scared.
Open your eyes. No,
See through mine.
See my home, my haven,
Filled with sights of churches,
For Catholics and Protestants,
See the homeless, the gangs,
See the policemen with their guns.
See the murals, see the flags,
See the spides and the protestors.
See it all and try to comprehend
That I am it and it is me.
This place of war is my home.
It’s filled with memories,
My best days, my treasured friends,
Lie here with me.
Feel as I feel,
Hear what I hear,
See through my eyes and perhaps,
You’ll know what Belfast means,
To me.
The City Hall
By Jana A. A. (P6)
Belfast City Hall is the civic building of Belfast city
council located in Donegal Square, Belfast, Northern
Ireland. It faces North and divides the commercial
and business areas of the city centre. City Hall opened
its door on the first of August 1906. The new city hall
was designed by Alfred Brumwell Thomas.
6

St George’s
Market By John L. (11)
On a Saturday morning walking
through the iron gates,
The sound of the jazz band greets us
straight away.
People gather to munch a breakfast
“Belfast bap.”
The crepes stall sizzles as crepes fill
With sweet and savoury delights.
Delicious cakes and pastries,
Sugared aromas scent the air,
Homemade lemonade and raspberry
iced tea,
Or a foamy hot chocolate will complete
your glee.
People are enjoying cappuccinos
Or a good wee cup of tea,
If you wind your way down the aisles,
You will pass and find places where you
want to be.
Aunt Sandra’s is the home of sweets
And perfect, “Belfast fudge.”
Organic vegetables,
And cheeses from around the world,
Homemade jams and chutneys,
A flash of fish in orange, silver, pink,
Lobsters with gigantic claws, destined
for a dish.
As I walk through the local craft stalls,
And the band music fills the air,
St George’s Market is a great place to be,
Maybe, I’ll see you there.
Illustration by:
Alexander McCormick
7

Chapter One:
Captured in a Lemon.
St. Oliver Plunkett PS P5
Mittens the cat was chilling in the sun in Lenadoon
park. He got stuck in a lemon. He was trying to eat a
lemon and someone put the two halves together and
taped it up, then he got stuck.
BLAST! Mr. Dragon’s spaceship had wrapped up
Mittens. Archer, his best friend, came to Lenadoon
park and opened the lemon and let him out.
“Thank you!” said Mittens to Archer.
8
Then, Roxy the dinosaur
called Mittens and Archer
and asked them if they
wanted to go to Waysub for
some lunch. Mr. Dragon
wanted to steal all the food
from the world and he
didn’t want anyone else to
take it. He flew to Waysub
and locked them in but
they found the back door
and escaped...

He then flew to space.
When Mittens and Archer were escaping, a plastic
footlong sandwich fell on top of them and they were
trapped underneath it. Luckily Mittens had a dinosaur
head, so he bit through the plastic and they escaped.
“Lets team up and find Mr. Dragon” said Archer.
They got away and went to the Half Moon Lake to
feed the ducks. They got tired and realised that a
restaurant had opened called Pencil’s Special Kitchen.
Archer hopped on Mittens’ back.
Mittens could carry Archer because SHE COULD FLY.
They flew to find Mr. Dragon. Once they were flying
on Mittens’ back, they saw Roxy falling from the sky.
Roxy fell into Sainsbury’s.
Roxy screamed, “I think I
broke my back!”
Roxy had broken her
back, and went to The
Royal Hospital.
Roxy saw a powerful
stone in the hospital in
section 3, and wanted to
see what it would do.
Then, Mr. Dragon
appeared in the hospital.
He said to Roxy, “When
you’re better, I am going
to come and get you...”
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Chapter Two:
The Dangerous, Magical Stone
Mercy Primary School P5
Mittens and Archer got one of the nurses from the hospital to take them to Ardoyne
Library which was close to the hospital.
They were looking for a potion to help their friend Roxy the dinosaur get better.
They scanned the non-fiction section and they found a shelf with these titles: The Royal
Hospital Spell Book, Wonderful Wishing World, The Medication Book, and
The Powerful Spells.
They took all the books off the shelf and put
them on the carpet to read them.
“Mittens, look!” said Archer, shocked. “I’ve
found something about the stone. It’s a
dangerous stone and it will kill everyone!”
“Oh no, I don’t want that to happen!” replied
Mittens. Suddenly the book disappeared in
front of them.
“What just happened?” Mittens said in a
surprised voice.
10

Seconds later, arrows showed up on the floor. Archer said, “Let’s follow these
really neon arrows on the ground.”
The arrows took them to Mercy Primary School Library. The school was
closed and they broke in and busted down the office door. They sneaked up the
corridor, and they ran into Classroom 11.
They found the book about the magic stone in the library corner.
They opened the book and discovered that Mr. Dragon had ripped out a page.
Suddenly they teleported down to the school basement, where Mr. Dragon was
waiting for them.
“Give me that book now!” he shouted…
11

Chapter Three:
The Final Battle
Leadhill Primary School P6
Roxy was walking on the trails around the Henry Jones Pitches, to help her back get
better. Roxy tripped over a muddy stick and picked it up.
Whenever Roxy picked up the stick, all
the mud fell off and it was sparkling and
he knew it was magic. He started to heal
way faster, and got a forcefield around
herself. It was a big blue octagon bubble
and had purple sparkles on it.
The dragon suddenly appeared and
snatched the stick from Roxy. He had
smashed the magic stone. When the
dragon snatched the stick with a very
angry face, he set it on fire with his heat
ray. The dragon had broken the stick
because he thought he was powerful
enough by himself.
The dragon said to Roxy, “Ha, now none of us can do
anything with them magic stick”, as the forcefield went
away, but Roxy’s back was still healed.
“Where’s Mittens and Archer?” Roxy shouted in a confused
voice, because he was very worried about them. Roxy saw
some of the dragon’s footprints, so they followed the trail
into the trees.
Mittens was trapped in a big rusty metal cage in the middle
of all the trees by the trails and didn’t know what to do.
The dragon had melted the key, so they had to make
another key. Archer saw something shiny in the woods, and
went to see what the shininess was, and it was the cage that
Mittens was stuck in.
12

Mittens said, “Help, help, I’m stuck in
the cage!”, as the dragon was coming
back, following Roxy, to see what was
happening at the cage.
Roxy said, “I’m coming to help you!”
Mittens replied, “The key is melted, you
have to make a new one!!
Roxy tried to make a new key out of
magic wood that can turn into whatever
you want it to be. It didn’t work because
the dragon had broken the stick. Instead,
it turned into a magical wand that could
help you go anywhere you want.
They wanted to go to the enchanted forest
so then they could make a key that would
fit.
Archer came into the enchanted forest
and the dragon got teleported as well. So
Archer used the wand to make a magic
cage for the dragon.
Because the dragon was in the cage, he
couldn’t use his magical powers anymore,
like his heat-ray, to break out.
He said “I want to be free, let me out of
this cage now!”
“No way, you’re staying in there forever!”
Illustrations by:
Sam Savage
13

Two Tulips Dancing in
The Wind - Titanic Quarter
Amie McA. (17)
A March evening had never been so bright.
The docks were blessed with a breeze that
stung my skin with its nipping fingers, but I
welcomed it against the air that burned with
the blistering sun. The astounding building that
imitated the Titanic’s shape towered ahead,
soaking in the sunlight.
It wasn’t long before I found my place on the
mirage of green, near the glistening water.
I was surrounded by the giggles of giddy
children running happily around in circles
with a delighted ignorance of the weight of the
world, and stolen glances of lovers in a world
of nothing but themselves. Distant laughter
loitered through the space, harmonising with
the melodies of the life buzzing with a static
vibrance of happiness. Even though I was alone,
that static saturated my bones, loosening my
limbs into a state of relaxation.
The water reflected the sun’s stunning waves,
dispersing them everywhere, through the
dandelion’s dazzling wings flown by the wishes
of the souls scattered through the area. They
glided through the air with the waft of laughter
and speed of smiles. Solitude in this place is a
sanctuary; left alone to observe others’ lives, love,
and smiles; to experience them vicariously for an
evening sunset.
The wind caressed my hair from my eyes. How the
radiant orange bled into the blue in a gradient, the
clouds whisking away as they retreated home.
I inhaled deeply.
The fresh air flushed through my veins,
enriching them with raw oxygen and dust of
pollen that is only obtained outside the tainted
air of cages and walls. The scent of nature
infiltrated my senses, clearing my mind of
pollution. The poisoning sweetness of petrichor,
the intoxicating innocence of buttercups, the
sobering saltiness of the sea.
I felt everything.
From the air migrating through each blade of
grass that stood with their peers in millions, the
dew delicately kissing my fingertips that grazed
the earth, to the wind whispering it’s symphonies
to me.
It took mere moments before my mind was
stolen away.
The soil and earth beneath me anchored my
body to the physical world, but my mind wafted
wonderfully free through the air, skidding
through the grass, to the rush dipping in the
water, and the frisbees whizzing back and forth.
I was in the company of two lone tulips, dancing
in the breeze with a glee that glided through the
earth and infected everyone that dared to touch
it. Their petals fluttered and flattered each other,
touching once every now and again, an elegant
dance that is exclusive to nature. My heart was
struck in a bitter sweet stab. A flower’s life is a
short one; they bloom with the beginning of a
season, and wither as it washes away. But these
flowers were not alone, and they celebrated their
life while it lasted.
I smiled and lay back, spreading my limbs on the
grass. The clouds constructed their whimsical
whisps way above the world, the imagination
collaborating to animate animals and far off
faces. They observed the life below them, familiar
fondness laced with a nostalgia, a collective
memory everyone has.
In an instant the world was simultaneously
magnified and reduced in a dizzying electric
sensation of the wonder I was witnessing: I was
living, no matter how passively. People can often
feel as though they are unimportant in life, but
here, everyone is connected and contributes, even
through the air they absorb. It is a common wish
to be remembered beyond one’s life, to leave a
mark. But the present passes away swiftly and we
neglect to acknowledge the gift it really is.
14

Illustration by: Hannah Armstrong
This is life.
We should not live for the future, but for this
moment.
The earth may not remember the imprint I make
upon it, but I will never forget the impression it
left on me.
The burnt orange blaze that spread through the
sky twinkled in the eyes of people passing by,
leaving with their laughter and liveliness as the
quiet crept through the area.
People ditched as the darkness leaked through the
air, but the darkness is when we can see beauty
best; it is time for the stars to shine.
The night encroached on the dusk, encompassing
the world in a citadel of stars.
I faced them, and the world went absolutely quiet.
Orion, Cassiopeia, Lepus all greeted me with their
sparkling delight.
There were only a few others that remained on
the grass, most people leaving with the warmth,
as the cold infected the air with a potency that
was often mistaken for an icy inhospitality, when
really the cold does its best. Yet, as the stars
smiled down at me, every molecule of cold drained
from my body, flooded instead with an internal
warmth that streamed through my limbs.
It was a safe feeling I had only felt a handful of
times in my life.
The feeling of being home.
Any remaining light leaked from the sky as it
became an alloy of a deep violet and indigo that
sparkled and swirled against the stars as the
world soared through space. My fingers caressed
the planet beneath me as I watched the stars
above me; sandwiched by an ethereal and earthly
beauty.
I lay there in an absolute and astonishing awe
that shot reverberations through my heart and
straight to my soul.
And in that moment, life felt infinitely beautiful.
15

Titanic
By Amelia F. (P6)
Titanic
By Charlie McG. (P6)
100 years ago, the Titanic sank. This
building was built to resemble the
Titanic. It is also where the Titanic was
made. It is a place where boats dock
and there are even some buildings such
as W5, Subway and more. It is very
famous because of the Titanic.
Titanic
By Cara F. (P5)
Titanic area is a place where you can go
for walks and you can go bowling, go
to W5 and the cinema. And if you take
a big walk you can find a park. And you
can go into the Titanic building itself.
The Titanic Museum
By Lacey McK. (P6)
Over one hundred years after the birth
of the world’s most famous ship,
Titanic Belfast is the best historical
place to visit when you come to
Northern Ireland. Bask in the history.
The Titanic hit an iceberg and sank
during her journey in 1912. At the
Titanic Belfast, you get to discover the
sights, sounds, smells and stories of the
ship as well as the city that made her.
16

Titanic Quarter
Jamie H. (Year 9)
One day Dylan and Jack were taking a walk down
to Titanic Centre. But Jack was scared to go down
because he was afraid of water.
He said, “Dylan I’m too scared. I’m afraid because
I fell in the last time.”
“Stop being a wuss,” Jack said. “You won’t fall in.”
“Okay,” said Dylan. “What’s the worst that can
happen?
They got off the Glider and walked over to the
Titanic Centre and it was oddly quiet but they
thought nothing of it until they heard a voice say:
“If you take one more step you will regret it!”
Titanic
by Bree (9)
The Titanic is a great place,
To get to the dock is not a race,
Peaceful, wonderful, a brilliant sight to see,
While you’re there, take a good look at the sea.
The Titanic set sail in 1912, a beautiful boat,
But, oh, after a few days it did not float,
It left Belfast docks and set out to sea,
The beautiful sight seems amazing to me.
The cobbled streets where the trams used to go,
Where all the workmen to work did go,
Oh, it looked like a dream,
But it did not come out as beautiful as it seemed.
Dylan thought and then continued walking.
But then he and Jack got sucked up into the
Titanic Centre. They went through a portal and
ended up on the Titanic.
At 1:30am on the 14th of April 1912. They knew the
Titanic had sunk at 2:00am.
So Jack and Dylan needed to make a plan to get on
one of the rafts.
But when Jack and Dylan tried to run, they
couldn’t run normally!
They looked at each other and they were old men!
They started to panic, but they saw a raft on the
side of the boat. So they climbed over the gate
and sat on the raft just waiting for the iceberg to
hit.Twenty minutes passed and there it was: the
huge iceberg.
Illustration by: Ben Claxton
The boat hit it, and it started to sink, but luckily
Dylan and Jack were held up by the raft.
Lots of other people started to jump in and
somehow they got out of there safely.
Halfway back to the shore there was another
portal and the two boys landed back in the Titanic
Centre. They ran all the way to their Glider stop
and got the Glider back home.
Dylan and jack will never go there again.
17

Illustration by: Ben Claxton
Samson and Goliath
By Matthew D. (Year 10)
As is often the case here, our bible seems to the fore.
This time it is cranes that have entered folklore.
Hair not Samson’s weakness,
Nor a slingshot Goliath’s demise,
But both giants; twin brothers in steel, and
Krupp’s work still amazing to our eyes.
Towering above our city, proud of Belfast’s name,
Gateway to a film future – new industry, new fame.
Standing tall together, you are mirrors of the past,
But you guard a harbour of possibility,
Oversee an ocean that is vast.
18

H & W Cranes
By Matthew K. (Year 9)
Patrick and Francis were going to work
on the Harland and Wolff cranes. They
were told that the bottom of the cranes
needed a bit of repair. They would have
to go and get some of the sheets of
metal to place onto the cranes. Patrick
got into his van and went to find the
materials.
When Patrick got to the materials shop,
it looked like it had been abandoned for
decades. Patrick was confused because
he was at it not that long ago.
Patrick went inside. There was nobody
there. All the shelves were empty and
there were spider webs everywhere.
Patrick got a wee bit frightened so he
said to himself, “I’m going back to
the van.”
When he got outside, everything looked
abandoned. He couldn’t believe it. All of
the cars and buildings were overgrown.
He sat down on the overgrown bench in
shock. He just didn’t know what to do.
He looked around and found a working
car and decided to drive around until he
saw a person. He went up to them and
asked what year it was.
“It’s 2074,” the person said.
Patrick couldn’t believe it. How could
he have travelled 51 years into the
future?
He didn’t even talk to the person. He
just got in his car and drove off.
He thought to himself, “If I went into
the abandoned materials shop; if I
tidied it up and made it look new again,
would I go back to the time I came
from?”
So, he tried it. He put all his effort into
tidying it up. He got into it. Then he
closed his eyes and he heard a familiar
car going.
It had worked. Or had it?
The Cranes
By Oisin and Luis (P5)
As big as the Titanic,
As tremendous as Windsor Park,
Bringing Belfast together.
As yellow as the sun,
Lighting up the sky.
19

THE WORD WARRIORS
DAILY NEWS
17th October 1996
Giant shark causes
chaos in Belfast’s
Titanic Quarter
Earlier this morning, a giant
shark called Bruce was seen
eating the Belfast Cranes as
people screamed and ran away to
board a ship going to Scotland.
By: Word Warriors Reporters - Photos by: C. Cavanagh
One terrified bystander, Mary Smith,
said ‘It’s the most frightening thing
I’ve ever seen in my life! It had at least
500 teeth!’
According to eye-witness reports, a
brave 7 year old boy ran up to the shark
and shouted ‘Go away, you’re scaring
all the people of Belfast.’
The mayor of Belfast, Wayne
McFarland, is quoted as saying: ‘The
shark seemed startled that somebody
was standing up to him when he was
almost the size of a double-decker bus!’
The boy’s name is Gus and Mayor
McFarland is considering a punishment
for Gus for standing up to the doubledecker
sized shark who then turned
into a triple-decker sized shark.
However, the shark chomped up Gus
before he could receive his punishment.
It seems that the shark reached its
double then triple-decker size after
nuclear waste was poured all over it.
Gus had been regarded as the area’s
only hope and so now the atmosphere
is one of, largely, hopelessness, with
few locals remaining…
20

The Albert Clock
Stephen McC. (P6)
Albert Clock is a tower situated at
Queen’s square in Belfast.
Located close to another well-known
landmark, the Big fish.
Belfast has a few well-known
landmarks but this is the most famous,
eventually completed in 1869 by the
Fitzpatrick brothers.
Restoration was completed in 2002 to
fix the tower’s faults. The clock was
damaged in a bomb explosion on the
6th January 1992.
Clock was made by Francis Moor of
High Street. Lanyon, Lynn and Lanyon
were secretly given the contract.
On the tower there is a Prince Albert
statue. Construction in 1865 cost
£2,500 but today would cost £196,000.
Known to be 113 feet tall and made of
French and Italian gothic styles.
Illustration by: Corinna Askin
21

Salmon of Knowledge
By Aoife, Lilly and
Lola (P5)
By Lewis and
Liam (P5)
By Fadlullah and
Charlie (P5)
Guardian of the Lagan,
Staring at pedestrians,
Like a commander,
Looking at his regiment,
Eyes brown, like rusty old
chains,
Storyteller,
Tiles like shattered glass,
Wise,
Stranded on land for years,
Staying peacefully silent,
Like a graveyard.
A tiled newspaper
With historical markings,
Wise,
Blue and white body,
As beautiful as the sun
On a spring morning,
Gigantic in size,
As strong as an ox,
Two murky eyes,
Staring scarily at passers-by,
As blue as a crystal stone,
Protector of the Lagan.
Like dull metal,
As strong as a stone,
Skin like a puzzle.
When the light shines on,
It glows.
By Beshta, Maria
and Serah (P5)
The fish is as blue as the sky,
Shining and dazzling.
Like a shark,
Fierce and frightening.
Like a puzzle,
Difficult and confusing,
As smart as Einstein,
Intelligent Genius!
Illustration by: Siobhan Dignan
22

By Muirinsola and
James (P5)
By Aminata D.
(P5)
Looking over the city of Belfast,
Like a hawk stalking its prey,
As beautiful as the high sky
On a sunny morning,
Knowledgeable,
Like the famous Albert Einstein,
Each tile with an amazing story to tell,
Colossal in size,
As blue as the waves of the Pacific Ocean,
Standing silently on the banks of the Lagan.
The Big Fish is a ten metre long (33 ft) statue
which was constructed in 1999 and installed on
Donegall Quay in Belfast, Northern Ireland, near
the Lagan Lookout and Customs House. The Big
Fish image appears on tourism material related to
Belfast and Northern Ireland.
The Big Fish
By Pearse C. (Year 9)
I got the Glider into town today and ended up
beside the Big Fish. As I walked up the steps, I
fell forward and banged my head.
When I woke up, I was inside the belly of the
Big Fish. In front of me was a steel cylinder with
the words “TIME CAPSULE 1999” written on
it. Below this, in smaller writing, was another
inscription:
“TO BE OPENED ON THE 1st OF JANUARY 2099.”
I lifted it up and unscrewed the lid. Inside was
a plastic see-through bag. I prised it out and
opened it. Inside was £10,000 and a letter.
“Oh yeah!” I shouted.
After extracting the money, I fanned my face with
the bundle of notes then danced about in glee, but
again I fell and knocked myself out.
This time when I woke up, I was clinging to
Samson, one of the huge Harland and Wolff
cranes that dominated the Belfast skyline…
23

Botanic Gardens
Elisha B. (17)
I started going outside everyday
I like the colour green
I have plants to tend to now
I look after them while listening to Amy Winehouse
I like the colour green
Not to cope but to enjoy on a winter afternoon
In the Botanic Gardens with a bottle of ice-cold water
There’s a worm trailing itself
To and fro through tightly bound dirt and rock
I like the colour green
Not to observe but to breathe in and taste the humidity
I collected a petal and pressed it in a book
I’ve never done that before
I started breathing slower, moving slower
I enjoyed the idle time
I like the colour green.
Illustration by: Orla Mallon
24

Belfast is Mine
by Alfie W. (13)
Of History And Culture It Seems To Be Sure
But Under The Surface There Is No Cure
For An Issue That’s Happened Since Day One,
The Day That Belfast Begun
Violence On The Streets, Europa’s Blown Up
When the Protestants And Catholics Couldn’t
Make Up
Paramilitary Sprawling, Armed Police Gunning
So People In Belfast Had To Start Running
Bombs Blown Up While Trying To Get A Bike,
Because Britain Doesn’t Know Our Plight
Or Understand How We Got Here
Or Say “Belfast Belfast, Lend Us Your Ear”
But The Culture And Love Gives Us Hope
So We Will Never Truly Mope
So While I Hate The People For All their Crimes
It’s still Belfast, And Belfast is mine.
Stormont
By Macy T. (P6)
The Stormont Estate is in East Belfast,
Northern Ireland. It was built in 1921 at a
cost of £1.7 million.
It was originally designed to house the newly
formed government of Northern Ireland and was
officially opened by the then Prince of Wales, on
the 16th November 1932. Parliament Building, as
it’s known to the people of Belfast, is the home
of the Northern Ireland Assembly which was
established under the Good Friday Agreement.
The Stormont Estate is a major tourist and
visitor attraction. It is open to the public and
entry is free.
Craigavon House
(Where Northern Ireland originated)
By Casey W. (13)
As Sir Carson stood on the steps
He spoke of the future
And blood debts
This place would become
Free air of the north
They travelled to sign their name
By foot or by horse
A whiskey millionaire
That made the plan
To draw a line
Around the six counties of the land
Then became the Northern and the South
Just a written speech and a orator’s mouth
The Covenant and Solemn League declared
People and their voices were heard.
Sir Carson’s signature would be the first
And all who attended at Craigavon House.
25

Tranquility in a heart of
Belfast - St Malachy’s
Church
By Adlyn J. (12)
I moved to Belfast last year from India and it
was a very new and foreign town for us. So,
we started to explore the very first day to look
around our neighbourhood. First, we were
astonished by the great artifacts in the Ulster
Museum; my favourite thing about it was the
dinosaur fossils. Then, we looked around near
Queens University and Botanic Gardens.
After about 2 or 3 days, we decided to look around
further from our house. We first were interested
in the shops and restaurants, before we saw a
very beautifully structured church in the distance.
The building was cruciform, cross-shaped. It
looked to be about 100 ft tall and 50 ft wide. We
agreed to see it and the inside was stunning. The
ceiling was covered with a white stucco pattern
and circular descending features. We were moved
by the artwork, sculptures, and the Eucharists.
I wanted to learn more about the place, its
history, so I asked the parish priest about it. He
told me how the Bishop of Down and Connor, Dr
Cornelius Denvir, started the process, looking to
build a third Catholic Church back in the 1830s.
Then, in 1839, a Presbyterian linen merchant,
Mr Adam McClean, agreed to lease a parcel of
land for the building of the Catholic Church. The
agreement was signed on the 1st of May, 1839,
and the land near Donegall Square South near
the White Linen Hall (now replaced with the City
Hall) was rented for building the church.
The priest told me that the competition to
design the church was won by Thomas Jackson
of Waterford who employed Messrs Rossan and
Campbell as builders. For interior design, Mr.
Peter Lundy was chosen. Dr Denvir hoped that
St Malachy’s would be the Catholic Cathedral
of Belfast and wanted it to accommodate 7000
worshippers, but finances tore these aspirations
to the ground.
On the 3rd of November 1841, also the feast of
Saint Malachy, the foundation stone for the
church was laid. As we talked more, I learned that
during the Second World War, the church was
damaged by an explosive during the Blitz from
the German Luftwaffe. Within a minute, nearly
all the windows were blown out. The frames had
been carved from solid oak but, because of war
and rationing, it was impossible to replace them
with wood. As an alternative, the new window
frames were made of pre-cast stone.
I noticed that at the top of the church on the
second floor of seats, stood a beautiful organ. It
was so nice to listen to it every time they played
it. The priest had something to say about this
too: the organ was made and built by the famous
Telford family from Dublin.
When built in 1845, the church had a bell that
was too loud and had to be muffled by coating in
felt. Then, in 1868, it was replaced by a new one
which is still chiming with great reverberations.
The church has paintings and statues including of
Saint Malachy himself.
This church is located on Alfred Street, which
brought back memories for my dad. He had a
cousin named Alfred who passed away due to a
brain injury in 2010. The street would make my
father reminisce about the times he spent with
him. Although I’ve never met him, by all the
stories I’ve heard from my grandparents and my
father, he seemed like he was a great guy.
I’ve lived here almost a year and St Malachy’s
is probably one of the most beautiful places I’ve
ever been to, though I’ve still got many more
places to see. I wish to explore more of Belfast as
it is a very pretty and unique city.
Was it meant to be?
By Malak K. (13)
I suddenly woke up. Why was I dreaming about
the Titanic again? Why the Titanic especially? It
was the third time in a row that I was dreaming
of the ship. But why? I had never been to the
Titanic even though I live in Dublin. I kept trying
to remember something that was giving me the
urge to go there, but I wasn’t able to think of any
reasonable answers. It was still 4:00am in the
morning. I felt scared to go.
26

I tried to go back to sleep but I wasn’t able
to. I was very nervous and also excited to find
answers. But answers to what? I got up and got
my favourite book and sat beside the window.
The sky was pure black and the stars were
shining through, lighting the way. I sat there and
read for half an hour looking out the window, just
like 3 years ago when I found out I was adopted.
I actually had memory loss at the age of 10. I had
been living a lie for most of my life. After I found
that out, my relationship with my adoptive family
was never the same.
I opened my phone and checked the time. It
was about 6am so I got dressed. I got out of
my college apartment and into my car. I was
now thinking It is a stupid idea anyway. What
interesting things would I find at the Titanic?
Even though I needed a break from college and
just…everything.
I started the engine and started heading to Belfast.
This is it, I thought, I am really going. Everything
seemed very quiet which made me quite nervous. I
was afraid of something happening to me. I hadn’t
told anyone I was leaving.
During the drive, I was getting very curious about
my past life and about my real parents, trying to
remember everything, but I couldn’t.
I was only half an hour away from Belfast. My
nervousness crept back to me. I reached an
open McDonald’s and ordered a cheeseburger
and a milkshake. Though it’s not a good idea to
eat a burger in the morning, I was starving. I
parked my car and began to eat, even though I
was starving a minute ago I couldn’t finish my
burger. I felt as if my stomach was shrinking. I
started feeling pain in it. I kept trying to convince
myself it was just in my head and I was totally
fine and nothing was wrong with me.
I arrived in the Titanic Quarter. I had seen
pictures of it but it looked much more beautiful
in real life. I got out of the car. The cold breeze
was making my cheeks turn red. I started to walk
around until I reached the ships. I stood there.
I got closer to the railings. Everything felt so
familiar.
one by one: my childhood, my family, a life
changing incident, My worst memory.
I collapsed to the ground. Can this really be what
happened? Can this be true? I couldn’t believe
what I was remembering. People were looking in
my direction. I was the centre of attention.
My life changed so suddenly, but why? I wasn’t
able to understand why anything happened.
That day my twin sister Sally, my mum and I had
gone for a walk near the Titanic building.. When
we stopped people surrounded us and one of
them was familiar.
Then it happened. My life changed forever. We
saw my mum fall in slow motion and the man
threw me and my twin sister Sally into the water.
He was the reason for my memory loss, for
everything that went wrong in my life. Why us?
Why mum? What was the reason that he did that?
I was filled with fury and pain, for us, for mum.
He was heartless.
I had so many things going through my brain.
Where is my twin sister now, has she died or is
she still alive? Can she remember me? My whole
life was ruined and my family was destroyed. In
seconds I lost everything.
I was still on the floor, I felt too weak to get
up but I forced myself. I had forgotten about
this place. This had been my happy place, my
favourite place. I remembered all of the happiest
memories, memories of me and Sally playing
together.
I turned around to leave, then I stopped in my
tracks hearing a voice. “Lily is that really you”.
Someone was in a wheelchair who looked exactly
like me. “Sally?” I said, not believing it was her.
We hugged each other. My twin sister is here,
here with me.
Sally and I sat together looking at the amazing
view in front us. We reunited in our favourite
place, The Titanic.
Then…My memories came rushing back to me,
27

Cavehill Seasons
By Trystan M. (13)
Whenever Belfast comes to mind,
what do you think of?
I think of the Cavehill mountain top,
covered in snow in the Winter,
with the nice cold air.
In Spring it has the sweet-smelling flowers,
with the bees out buzzing about,
hunting for honey.
In Summer you have
the scorching sweltering sun,
glistening from the
top of the mountain.
Now comes Autumn time;
leaves start to change
to a gorgeous brown, red and
yellow. The whispering wind
starts to become colder as
Winter approaches.
Cavehill
by Fraser W. (Year 9)
In the Autumn, conkers fall,
At the top you can see it all,
On the hill there’s lots of caves,
Steps, grass and a face.
The Belfast Highwayman
By Kai D. (Year 9)
On a mild night in July, myself and my best
friend Joe, decided to climb up to the top of
Cavehill, the mountain that overshadows the city
of Belfast.
Halfway up, we noticed something out of the
ordinary, an X dug into the dirt.
Being curious, we dug up the earth with our
hands and discovered a wooden chest. Hghly
excited, we opened it. Inside, it was filled with
gold, gems and expensive jewellery. We looked at
each other and smiled.
“We’re rich,” I said.
When we turned around, a ghost on a horse
was behind us. “I am Naoise O’Haughan, the
Belfast Highwayman,” he said. “Leave my
treasure alone!”
Our smiles quickly faded. Dropping the chest, we
hurtled down the slope of the mountain.
When we got home, we told everyone about the
ghost on the Belfast mountains, but no-one
believed us. Instead, they laughed and called
us crazy.
Naoise O’Haughan (1691–1720) was a
highwayman in County Antrim, Ireland in the late
17th and early 18th centuries.
Napoleon’s Nose,
the face is called,
As it looks upon us all.
Belfast Castle on the hill,
Look for cats sitting still.
Illustration by: Eileen Neill
28

Napoleon’s Nose
By Brodie R. (Year 9)
Me and my mate walked up Cave Hill to
Napoleon’s Nose and we were halfway there. We
took out our picnic and looked out into the view.
A little while later we started walking again and
we got to the top and looked out at the world.
My mate wandered off and five minutes later he
shouted, “Brodie! Come Quick!”
I ran towards the bushes and there was a chest
and a genie lamp. We opened the chest and
there was £100,000,000 pounds! We started
jumping up and down and hugging each other.
We grabbed the chest and the lamp and started
making our way down.
A good hour and a half later we got to my house.
We split the money 50/50 and we started looking
at the lamp. It made a weird noise and a genie
came out and said, “You have three wishes.”
My mate wished for a car and he got a car. I
wished for a car and I got a car.
Then Naoise O’Haughan booted down my door
and he and his horse came in. He said: “Where
is my treasure?”
Cave Hill’s Queen
By Patrick MaG. (16)
Carved off slopes of slumbering crag,
Slices of weathered limestone and slate,
Crimson crevices bleeding through,
Antiquated guardian of the lough.
Feathers adorn the sleeping mountain,
Speckled grass cascades,
Trails, hollowed caves peer through mist, haze,
Twisting labyrinths of green.
Corridors of twigs, decaying leaves,
A tree-confined ladder to the crown,
Its bottom rung at suburbia,
Its top leading to flowered town.
The honey-laced scent of Easter lilies,
Encircled by rings of leaved green,
A column of water is dancing,
In the shadow of Cave Hill’s queen.
She studies the map of our city,
Her keep looms over our channel,
Our roads and our cranes, our astonishing lives,
Our stories observed by a castle.
I rubbed the lamp and said, “I wish this day had
never occurred.”
Then the next day everything was back together.
I phoned my mate and said, “I’m never going up
there again,” and he agreed.
29

Cavehill’s Monster
By Isabella H. (18)
It was a day like any other. A young couple,
Mark and Fiona, were preparing for a trek up
Cavehill, to climb to Napoleon’s Nose, named
due to its apparent resemblance to the famous
general’s silhouette.
“Mark, this was a great idea,” the young girl
said. “Yeah, we really needed a break; school has
been so hectic lately,” Mark replied.
They began their climb. When they reached the
first cave, they noticed someone there. It was a
woman, wearing a dark green dress and a grey
cloak. She had blood red eyes. The mysterious
woman stared at Mark and Fiona.
“Leave, now,” she said. “This is Abhartach
territory. If you remain, I fear you will be in
mortal danger.”
Fiona grabbed Mark’s Arm. “What’s an
Abhartach?” Mark asked. The woman’s eyes
narrowed. “The Abhartach is a monster, a
malevolent creature, a vampiric goblin who
terrorised Derry during the fifth century. He
caused numerous deaths with his magic. I saw it
all... predicted some myself. On three occasions
they tried to kill him, only for him to come back.
A druid and a chieftain stopped him temporarily.
But he escaped.”
“You need to leave. Now!” she said pointing
at Fiona. “What are you talking about?” Mark
yelled. “You sound ridiculous!”
The woman raised an eyebrow and continued
calmly. “You have my warning. If you value your
life, you won’t proceed any further. However, I
can’t stop you.”
The woman, realising her warnings were not being
heeded, turned away and vanished into the fog.
Fiona was shaken by the encounter and for
a moment considered turning back. But she
didn’t want to let a strange woman in cosplay
ruin this trip.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked. “Still processing
what happened?” “Yeah I’m fine. Just a little
shaken.” Fiona responded.
They continued on their way, but the overall
mood had changed after the encounter. They
started to feel hungry so they stopped by the
second cave on Cavehill and laid out their
picnic. They made small talk while they ate and
discussed school.
They heard noises coming from the bushes.
At first they ignored them, but eventually
Mark’s curiosity got the better of him and he
investigated. Fiona awkwardly waited for Mark
to come back, when suddenly a dog with golden
eyes came running out of the bush and jumped
excitedly around Fiona.
She petted it, saying, “Aww, hello there cutie
where did you come from?”
“The Púcapool, where else?” replied the animal.
“I gotta say, you’re real silly for coming this far.”
Fiona screamed in disbelief. Before she could do
anything the dog shape-shifted into an old man
and placed his hands on her mouth.
“No need to scream I’m just your friendly
neighbourhood Púca,” he said. “Besides you’ll
alert the Abhartach if you don’t calm down”
This was the second time she heard of the evil
goblin. Could it be real? she thought.
The Púca sensed her confusion and responded,
“You know, the Abhartach; also known as my evil
twin.” It chuckled. “Just kidding, no relation, I
just wanted to see your reaction. I don’t know
if you are aware, but the Abhartach would hunt
down and drink the blood of innocent souls like
yourself. Centuries ago, a chieftain grew tired
of this and asked a druid for help. The druid
told him in order to kill the Abhartach he must
get a sword made of yew wood and bury him
upside down. He should then place a boulder on
top of the grave to prevent the creature from
rising again. So, it was done and the grave was
surrounded by hawthorn and rowan bushes, the
most sacred of trees.”
30

Illustration by: Eileen Neill
The Púca paused. “A month ago that changed.
Someone must have removed the stone.” He
snatched her hand, “Follow me to safety.”
Fiona pulled her hand away. “This can’t be real!”
she shouted.
She closed her eyes and stumbled back into a
bush. Then she heard Mark call out, “Fiona what
happened!?” She looked up to see him standing
over her. Fiona looked around; the Púca had
vanished. “Hey, did you see that old man?” She
asked Mark.
“No?” Mark responded.
Good she thought. It was just my imagination.
“We should head to top of the hill,” Mark said,
helping her up.
They packed up the picnic. To Fiona’s relief
they walked mostly in silence. Mark seemed
determined to reach the top and showed no
interest in discussing the incident any further.
Finally, they reached the third cave. As they
walked past it, they saw the woman from earlier
in the distance.
She let out the most chilling scream Fiona ever
heard, making her jump. Mark seemed unaffected
by the sound. Fiona was glad when they arrived at
the top of the hill. At last, the trip is almost over,
she thought. They walked over to Napoleon’s Nose
and took in the view.
“I’m so glad my plan worked.” Mark grinned. “It
was touch and go for a moment. Not to sound like
a Scooby Doo villain, but what with that pesky
ghost and the interfering Púca I really thought you
would do the sensible thing and flee.”
Fiona turned to him, confused. Her eyes widened
in realisation.
His smile became sinister as he leaned in for the
kill. The Abhartach clamied his latest victim.
31

The Boy in the Cave
By Frank W. (9)
Everyone was talking about it. There was a lion
escaped from Belfast Zoo, and someone thought
they’d seen it on the Cavehill.
I’ve always loved the Cavehill. It’s where I feel
safe and calm. You can see the whole of Belfast,
the SSE arena, the city, my house and even
Scrabo tower and the Mournes on a good day!
That morning I was up early and ate a good
breakfast, getting ready for my adventure to see
if I could find the lion. I left my mum a note
telling her I was heading out for a walk and
wouldn’t be back ‘til late.
After a couple of hours, I arrived at the cave on
the hill; the second one, not the one everyone
knows about. As I looked up at the entrance
to the cave, I heard a strange noise inside, so
decided to make the treacherous climb up to
see inside. Just as I was nearly there, my foot
slipped. The last thing I remember was a hand
grabbing hold of me.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a boy about
my age looking out of the cave with a pair of
binoculars. He turned round abruptly and saw
that I was awake.
“Oh! Uuuuhhh... hi my name’s Connor, what’s
yours?” “I’m Dan,” I said. “I’m here hunting
for the lion on the loose. Why are you so pale?
Are you ill?” Connor gave me a strange look and
then said, “Quick! Look! There’s the lion!” I ran
over to see where he was pointing but the lion
wasn’t there.
Connor just shrugged. I had a feeling he was lying.
After nearly a whole day of lion hunting with
nothing to eat but half a packet of digestives I’d
managed to sneak on the way out, I sat down on
a half-rotted old bench and was just about to ask
Connor to slow down. But then I froze; there was
the lion no more than a stone’s throw away from
me. Just before I fainted, I saw Connor stand
right in front of the lion and it seemed to just
put its head down and quickly turn away.
Next thing I really remember was being back
in the cave. Connor had lit a fire and as it
was getting dark, I started to think about the
warmth of my bed and my mum shooing me off
upstairs…
I had a dream that night. It was about a ring,
a golden ring, and it was on a hand. I slowly
looked up to see who the hand belonged to, and I
saw a boy about my age with a strangely familiar
face. It was the face of Connor. I screamed and
woke up drenched with sweat.
“What are you screamin’ for?” asked Connor.
“Nothing, sorry, just a stupid dream,” I said.
I awoke again at about 6am when it was still
chilly and dark. I looked over at Connor who
was still sitting in the same position he’d been
in several hours ago, looking at me with a sad
expression. He said, “Dan, you have to go home
now. It’s not safe for you to be here. Finding a
lion is not a game for little kids.”
“What?” I shouted. “I’ve done all of this for you
to say, ‘Go home?’ I mean seriously, I’m sorry I
ever met you!”
Angry and fighting back my tears, I took one
last look at his pale face before stomping out of
the cave.
A while later, I was feeling seriously sorry for
myself. I’d never really had a friend before,
and Connor was only really trying to help me. I
decided to go back and apologise.
As I climbed back up to the cave, I saw Connor
moving around. The fire was still lit from the
night before, but to my horror I watched him
walk right through the middle of it without even
flinching! At that precise moment, everything
started to make sense.
I remembered that when I asked why he was so
pale, he had faked seeing the lion to avoid the
question, and I realised that I had never seen him
eat or sleep. And then there was the weird time
when the lion saw him and ran away. That was it.
Connor was a GHOST!
32

I didn’t know how to react. I could run away
and not return, or I could push myself up and
confront him. I went for option two.
So, I got up and stammered in fear, “I-I-I know
what you are, Connor. You’re a ghost! Why
didn’t you tell me?” Connor just stared at me.
“It’s true, I am a ghost,” he said. “My mother
died when I was five years old, but before she
died, she gave me a ring which had been in her
family for hundreds of years. I wore it every
day as I promised her. At least I did until a few
weeks ago, when it fell off as I was climbing up
to this cave, just like you did. Only that time
there was no hand to grab me when I fell. I can’t
go to be with my mum while the ring is still lost.
I need to find it.”
I let my mouth gape at Connor in disbelief and
slowly said, “I had a dream about that.”
“Of course,” I promised him quietly. As I put the
ring on my finger I watched sadly as Connor’s
smiling face backed away towards the cave.
“I’ll always be here if you need me, Dan,” he said.
“Thank you.”
And with that he had gone. I realised I was all
alone. Finding the lion somehow didn’t seem
important anymore, so I decided to head for home.
When I got home my mum was sitting with a
tear-stained face in the kitchen.
“Oh Dan,” she said, “I have been so worried. I
was sure that you had been eaten by the lion or
had ended up falling from the cave like that wee
boy a few weeks ago.”
“What wee boy?” I asked.
“There was a boy about your age, had an awful
fall climbing up there on his own a few weeks
ago,” she said, “such a sad story. The radio said
he had no parents and no friends, and he was
living in a children’s home.”
“What was his name?” I asked.
“I can’t remember,” she said. “I think it began
with C….”
“You what?” said Connor in amazement.
“Never mind,” I said, “Forget the lion, let’s find
your ring!”
I started searching through the gorse bushes.
They were scratching my hands, but I was
determined to find it.
I called out to Connor and in a blink of an eye he
was already by my side, grinning at the sight of
the ring. “At last,” he said, “I can rest in peace,
but only if you promise to wear and take care of
this ring for me.”
Well, that’s the end of my story. As for the lion;
apparently it had turned up back at the zoo
the next day acting very strange and walked
straight back into its cage. I’ve been to visit it
in Belfast Zoo and whenever it sees me, it puts
its tail down and turns away, just the way it did
that day when Connor stood in front of me. I’ve
also been back to the cave on the Cavehill to see
if I can find Connor there. I’ve never seen him
again, but I know as long as I’m wearing that
ring, his hand would be there to catch me.
Illustration by: Eileen Neill
33

Around Belfast Castle
By Sophie H. (13)
The cat garden has cats to find,
Sitting around are nine.
A park full of trees of different kinds,
but many made of pine.
The spiral stairs going up to the castle’s sides.
A play park down the road is where all the children go.
Folks also get married, the grooms and the brides.
The swings in the play park keep you at a simple flow.
The castle was built in the year of 1870.
In that year, they held dances and afternoon tea.
Abseiling is a way the castle made money for charity.
It may be high and cold,
but you’ll have fun, guaranteed.
Illustration by: Corinna Askin
34

Coláiste Feirste
By Méabhá Ní C. (12)
Coláiste Feirste, my school, is i gcroí
lár, or, the centre of the Gaeltacht
Quarter in Belfast. In the beginning, it
was called Meánscoil Feirste.
Meánscoil Feirste was founded 30
years ago in 1991 and opened with
only nine pupils. I started off located
in the Cultúrlann on Bóthar na bhFál,
or, the Falls Road. The Cultúrlann
itself is in what was the old Broadway
Presbyterian Church which opened in
1896 and closed in 1982.
Then, in January of 1999, the Meánscoil
moved to Teach Ard na bhFeá, or
Beechmount House, further up the Falls
Road and changed its name to Coláiste
Feirste. By that point it had 300 pupils.
Teach Ard na bhFeá was built around
1777 and today is the oldest house in
Belfast that’s still in use.
Let me start from the beginning.
When I was younger, it was only my
Daddy who could speak Irish in our
house. My Daddy went to the first
ever Irish primary school in Belfast,
Bunscoil Phobal Feirste in 1984. It was
built in the first ever Gaeltacht area,
Bóthar Seoighe, or Shaws Road, in
Andersonstown. Over those years he
started teaching me some Irish. My
mummy started learning Irish too, just
by listening.
Then I went to Scoil na Fuiseoige, my
primary school, which was founded
in 1993, also in Twinbrook. I had such
amazing teachers in Scoil na Fuiseoige.
But when I was in P5, covid hit.
Just like everyone else I had to do
home-school. I hated it! I finally
got back to normal classes and my
swimming sessions in primary seven.
That year went by so fast. It was very
exciting, as I won a second place in a
writing competition for my story ‘Game
Changer’. I was so happy getting to
visit the Lyric Theatre and to meet with
a real live author!
Today, 245 years on from 1777, I am
one of around 900 pupils in Coláiste
Feirste, my favourite school, enjoying
my classes through Irish and all my
afterschool activities. So far, I’ve tried
the music club, the cookery club,
S.T.E.M. club, the Gaeilge football club
and athletics.
Truly, Coláiste Feirste is the centre of
the Gaeltacht Quarter in Belfast, but
most importantly, it is i gcroí lár mo
shaol – the centre of my world.
When I was finally old enough, I
went to the closest nursery school to
my house, Naiscoil na Fuiseoige in
Twinbrook. I also do music classes
there every week!
35

Belfast Zoo
By Adabelle B. (P5)
Belfast Zoo,
Where there’s wildlife all around you;
Penguins, foxes, bears, and birds,
When you see them,
You’re lost for words.
While the birds perch on branches
And the penguins are eating fish,
The bears are giving bear hugs
While the foxes’ tails swish,
Although they’re inside, sealed
And safe from day to day,
I wonder what it’s like for them.
Would they rather be away?
Do they miss their mommies,
the snow or the sand,
The forests and hilltops,
Their old homeland?
The Zoo
By Jana A. (P6)
The zoo is very beautiful.
I love to go to the zoo.
It makes me happy.
I hope to go again soon.
36
Illustration by: Corinna Askin

Crumlin Road Gaol
By Gabrielle L. (13)
They first arrived in 1846,
Men, women and children in chains,
Entering a world of black basalt.
Were their lives ever the same again?
Grim were the cells,
Scant was the food,
The rule of cold and damp and flogging,
Ending now and then with a noose and burial in the yard.
Suffragettes protested,
Even from their cells.
Political-claiming prisoners passed through,
With an escape or two.
The prison closed (what else?) its doors in 1996.
Now you can come and see (and leave) “The Crum.”
Gone are despair and shackles,
Replaced by concert or seminar.
Who knows what ghosts and spirits are still confined,
And not just on the paranormal tour?
The Waterworks
By Ella O’K. (13)
The Waterworks is a good place to walk
and an even better place to talk.
The ducks are always there if you want
to have a chatter.
Although they make a clatter,
when they totter
into the water
to catch the bread
that has been thrown over their head.
In the park there are lots of children
playing,
While their parents are gently swaying,
Listening to other mummies talking
And watching different people walking.
37

Windsor Park
By Bailey W-M. (P6)
Windsor Park is famous because of the
national football team that plays there,
Northern Ireland. It is some people’s
favourite landmark in Belfast for many
different reasons. Chelsea and another
famous football club have played there
as well. Lots of other teams from
the NIFL (Northern Ireland Football
League) have played there, like Linfield,
Cliftonville… I could go on for ages.
Windsor park can also hold up to
32,000 people. Can you believe that?
By Cormac McC. (P6)
It’s a football stadium and I like
football. The colour is striking as
well as its size. Linfield and Northern
Ireland play here.
Illustration by: Kate Murphy
Crusaders
By Kasey W. (8)
I play football for Crusaders, Shore Road
They are the best team in the world.
It isn’t far from where I live,
I can hear the crowd cheer and sing
There are over 3,000 seats, all with a great view,
From the big stand and the small stands too.
You can hear slow and fast trains chugging past,
You can have some food and drink and a great laugh.
38

Davitts GAC
By Mason B-Mc. (P6)
The reason I want to write about Davitts
Is because I like sports like football and
soccer. It’s a famous football pitch in
Ireland And I like how the pitch looks.
I always hear the Davitts players playing.
I hear the whistle always blowing.
By Khalid O. (P6)
Davitt’s a famous gaelic pitch. As I hear
the matches being played in Davitts, I
wonder who is playing and the score of
the match. As the sun rises, I ask if I
can go to Davitts more and more. This
wonderful pitch, so amazing and lovely,
it’s basically like a dream come true. From
what I have seen, the seniors make a calm
and excellent team and the young one will
make great memories.
w
Dunville Park
By Gabriella K. (P6)
Illustration by: Sinead Farry
I miss the rocket slide in the Dunville Park.
It was the best!
I love it in the Summer
When they have a Dunville fun day
with bouncy castles, slides, candy floss,
slush puppies, food and a jumble sale.
39

The Theatre Life
(at the Rainbow Factory)
By Grace K. (15)
Excitement rushes through me as the car reaches a stop.
I find myself smiling,
As I run towards the building.
A special place.
A place that has raised generations of young stars.
A place I call home.
Voices sing through the halls,
As ideas start to flow wild;
A sense of pride running through my veins,
As the spotlight dims.
In a flash it’s all over.
I rush to the fresh, freezing outdoor air.
Spending time
With those I now call family.
As we return,
Voices are yet again
bouncing off the walls,
longing to be heard.
Sweat runs down as heavy heartbeats fill the room.
Pliés lead into pirouettes,
As ball changes become barrel turns,
Dancers fill the building with their passion and love.
40

Linen Hall Library
by Tiffany Murnaghan (18)
The scent of coffee, tea and old trees;
pages upon pages surround me.
The eyes of Robert Burns following,
the soul of Heaney sitting across from me,
as I read the biography of Mary Shelley.
On the shelves there are worlds of politics and war,
but also portals to the realms of fantasy,
and it’s the stories of dragons and wizardry
that are more to my fancy.
The Irish Fairy Book in my arms looks holy.
Don’t get me wrong, however,
there is love for the non-fiction.
Here tells us of past conflicts and tension.
Photographs, murals, articles help to envision
life before the decision.
To a reader it is somewhere heavenly.
It welcomes the literary mind silently,
and implores you to explore its variety.
A place of history and literature,
that is Linen Hall Library.
41

What in Tarnation?
A story about writer’s block, based in Carnegie Oldpark Library
By Emma S. (17)
The pen finally snapped. Stygian ink
bled a river from his fingertips onto the
worn, pale paper. Mortimer had been
scrawling notes and ideas for the new
season of the show he was working
on the past five hours. He wanted to
scream as loud as he could. He wanted
to throw the table, push over a shelf
or two. Anything to break out of the
monotony that had struck his life and
his writing over the past five years.
But of course, these actions would
have one forcefully removed from the
library, or worse, alert the malevolent
creature drooling above him that he
knew was there. So instead, he quit his
chair and entered the men’s bathroom
across the way to retrieve some paper
towels to clean the mess that had
become his work.
Mortimer can’t remember exactly
when the creature had first appeared,
but it was around the time his show
had begun to jump the shark. He had
first noticed it sculking across his
peripherals, following him around
as he attended meetings and wrote
scripts and story arcs. He had begun
to feel it inching closer and closer for
quite some time, its ravenous eyes
hungrily watching every movement
before latching onto his shoulders with
its bony talons and pulling its inky,
serpentine body above his head.
He had tried to get others to see the
creature, to remove it, or even just
confirm he wasn’t going mad, yet
none could see the wretch that clung
parasitically to his form. His shoulders
had been dead for about three weeks,
but there was little he could do about
that now.
As he entered the bathroom to collect
the towels, he looked at himself in
the mirror; the miserable fluorescent
light illuminating all he could see
and drowning all he could hear in its
incessant humming. That brighteyed
young man that had once taken
Mortimer’s place in the reflective
surface, who was so driven by his
aspirations to become an author, had
passed away behind a desk in some
derelict writer’s room.
On the quiet occasion the creature
entered his thoughts, Mortimer could
do little but allow the smarting sting
of hopelessness and grief to infect
each chamber of his heart, and get on
with his day, attempting to ignore the
taunting grin the creature had stretched
across its lipless face as it licked its
backwards teeth beige with rot in
sadistic delight.
Exiting the bathroom, he had noticed
that the floor he was on was permeated
by what would otherwise be silence, if
not for the rhythmic, humid breathing
of the creature slobbering over him. It
was pressed cheek to cheek with him
now, significantly obscuring his ability
to listen for signs that someone else
42

may be in the library. He knew they
wouldn’t be of help.
However, another human soul might
prevent him feeling entirely hopeless as
the creature’s wet, slimy tail slithered
up his back, resting on his shoulder
before reaching across his chest and
meeting again on the opposite shoulder.
Anxiety had begun to play a staccato on
his sternum. Feigning calm, he began
to wander the shelves, inspecting each
book to see which held significant
weight. He pressed his hand to the knot
of his tie in an attempt to put space
between the monster’s constricting
tail and his carotid arteries, restraining
himself from shivering when the cold
ink met his skin.
The monster’s breathing turned into
gasping as its mouth widened. In his
peripheral, Mortimer could see its
independently moving teeth drum along
the roof of its mouth as it prepared to
bite down into his cranium.
Mortimer lifted an encyclopaedia into
his hands. He pretended to drop it,
gauging its weight as he struggled to
catch it. Spit trailing down his face and
blood flow being restricted to his brain,
he opened it as though he were to read
it, but slammed it shut and whacked the
monster across its face.
43

Dear Ciara,
As soon as I got to the SSE Arena I could
feel my heart thumping, as it was my first
time. I got my snacks and made my way
to my seat. Suddenly everyone jumped up
and the crowd roared! ‘GIANTS! GIANTS!
GIANTS!’
Then they all slammed back down into
their seats. I could physically feel the
excitement bubbling inside me! But who
was going to win?
My question was soon answered of course.
At 5:00 the Giants scored!! A 7-2 victory!
Tough loss for the other team. It was the
BEST day ever! Maybe one day you could
come? I’ll go with you of course!
SSE Arena- A
postcard from
Queen’s Quay
By Aoibhe F. (P6)
Speak to you soon,
From Aoibhe
44

45
By Hamza J. E. (9)
…
…
’
…
…
…
…
’
…
…
…
…
’

Lowwood Primary School
by Casey (9)
Lowwood is the place to be
Why don’t you come and see?
We have lots of great fun,
And we always get lots of work done.
My teacher is fab.
She is not too drab.
She loves all the kids
And bats her eyelids.
Our teachers are great.
They greet us at the gate.
We walk in with smiles
And we come from miles!
St. Mary’s Primary School, Divis Street
Patrick C. (11)
afe and sound in our amazing classes.
raveller families, where tradition is part of the school,
agnificent children, where we can always be more.
mazon gift cards: You win when you score!
omanian culture is what we learn from our friends.
ears of fun and adventurous memories I will take when I leave
t. Mary’s Primary School will always be my happy place.
Quality Meats Butcher shop
by Alfie (9)
Quality Meats is a butcher’s shop.
You can get a nice pork chop.
Sausages, beef, chicken – hooray!
It’s on North Queen Street at Tiger’s Bay.
46

Yorkgate Railway Station
by Kelsey McC. (9)
My nanny and I go to catch the train.
We’re off to Bangor again!
The station was opened in 1992.
It is older than me and my sister too!
Yorkgate Railway Station is the way I’m going to go.
With my sister and my nanny, off we go!
When the station was opened, I bet there were
Not lots of people and the train was slow.
Now it is faster, and travelling by car is the way to go.
And it was slow, but now it’s fast.
It was really small before, but now it’s big.
They’re making it bigger for more people too.
Then lots of people can see more of a view.
Illustration by: Niamh Scullion
47

Peace Wall - Cupar Way
By Nikita S. (P6)
The famous Peace Wall divides the Falls and the Shankill Roads in the west part of
Belfast. The communities are separated by a wall up to six metres high with gates
along its length that are kept locked at night.
The artwork painted on these walls talk of harmony, but with messages of revenge
and apprehension. What could happen if the wall was broken down again?
A city that is healing after The Troubles.
The streets are quiet. Sounds of gunshots and bombs are silenced in the streets,
but they remain separated. Everyone I speak to in Belfast refers to the city’s
violent conflict as ‘The Troubles’ or ‘war’.
More than 3,500 people were killed and half of the deaths were in Belfast. The
bitterness between the communities stays in place like a magnet.
The Peace Wall
By Sophia O. (P6)
The Peace Wall was made in 1969, and since then it has been really popular.
One of my personal thoughts is the Peace Wall was a very special place to go and
get some advice on what to do on your artwork. The Peace Wall is really inspiring,
as so many people spent their time painting here. The reason I picked the Peace
Wall is because I’m very obsessed with artwork, and this painting gives me an idea
of what to paint next when I have no idea.
48

The Ulster Museum
By Rachael J. (13)
Nestled in Botanic Gardens
Classically revived Ulster Museum
An ideal escape from dreary days
Entertainment and engagement for all ages
Enter the maze of astounding variety
A taste of what’s to come
A Spanish shipwreck showcase
Discovered treasures, unexplained disappearances
A mummified mystery always enticing
New discoveries with every visit
Periodic elements in many forms
With quizzes and puzzles to test your knowledge
Aardman creations, “Night at the Museum”
Special events to tempt new patrons
Taxidermy, fossils, replicas of creatures past
A hands-on experience is encouraged
Top floor art exhibitions
Goya, Rembrandt, “What’s the artist trying to say?”
And, of course, the gift shop
A little something to enhance the memory
49

Ulster, Botanic
and Ice Cream
Lorcan McC. (12)
Walking through the Garden, excited but calm,
The sun rains down its rays, forcing me to put on a balm.
The building rises up before me, modern and new,
I still enjoyed going there, though everything I knew.
The entrance is bland, no friend for a cordial greeting,
But my family and I shall soon go on a greeting.
Walking into the main hall, my sister running,
My heart is like electricity, it’s humming.
We walk up the ramp, the lizard awaiting.
My mum speaks of my posture, my back begins straightening.
We look up at the beast, our eyes in awe.
Outside a crow begins to caw.
Walking through the place filled with joy,
We see the creepy mummy, who is definitely not a boy.
We see old, so very old, deer, we have loved;
We have loved them through their tasty flesh, which we have killed.
Seeing the aquatic wonders, forgetting how false they are.
A couple of drunks walk by, just out from the bar.
The rocks are always boring, they just seem so afar,
Heading towards the exit, the door ajar.
Dad suggests we take a walk; the idea is met with applause.
Round the gardens we go; my sister constantly demanding a pause.
Approaching the house as warm as the rainforest,
the flowers blooming outside.
Walking as long as we want, our time we bide.
I suggest ice cream; we go to my favourite place.
Nugelato; the name seemingly means grace.
Sitting down, ice cream in hand,
Our relationship is tight in love, a secure bond.
Illustration by: Jill Clerkin
50

The First Day
(Victoria Square)
By Teagan R. (15)
You met me there,
when winter’s cold claws sank into the shoulders
of every person who dared stand in its way
under a decoration by everyone else overlooked.
By the fountain,
I watched you dart between motion blurs
under stuttering lights of red and green,
fixated only on the glow of our shapes.
Into the square,
where a little kid was crying by shop windows,
jabbing an insolent finger at a singing bear;
we laughed because we knew how it felt to want.
Rises the lift;
realising how small the human form can seem
when you’re above the world like a deity,
over a sea of lights and people you’ll never know.
A coffee shop;
a vain little mermaid flicking her tail as we sat,
laughing, making up stories about passersby,
the outside cold but ourselves warm.
The station looms,
a skeleton in the closet of a perfect day.
Train whistles from afar, ever the reminder
that as much as I wish it, I won’t be here forever.
51

Belfast Covid
Collaboration
at the Royal Victoria Hospital
Charlotte McG. (13)
Belfast
Cancer Centre
by Evie (9)
COuld it be over this pandemic hell?
COllective working, we all stay well
COlourful rainbows on every pane
COnverging together despite the rain
COlleges and schools, all online
COmpanies closed for such a long time
COvered faces are all we see
COping alone, it’s the way it must be
COnstant news of dead and doomed
COughs and sneezes empty the room
COmrades all afar must stay
COntagious virus you stay away
COffee shops with empty seats
COunting the days until we meet
COming to terms with work from home
COmmunities must stay alone
COmplex microbe that we cannot see
COnfusing the QUB experts, it’s a mystery
COcooning the old and sick we must do
COntacting them risks this fatal flu
COvid induced social distance
COngrats to all but such a nuisance
COmmitment to care and cure of the sick
COnstant exposure RVH, you take such a risk
COurage and kindness to all we must give
COvid, it’s us and not you that must live.
In Belfast City
There’s a place which is great.
People go if they feel sick.
The Cancer Centre is truly a gem.
Everyone is welcome
And my mum works for them.
The NHS is the best.
We all stood and clapped.
When they needed a rest,
They kept on working through
Covid-19.
We are grateful for everything.
Illustration by: Doris Noe
52

The Making of Bob’s Wish
by the Fighting Words Word
Warriors (Ages 8 to 12)
One day Bob, who is a flying sausage,
and the bread twins Crummy and
Bready decided to go on a quest to climb
up the H&W Cranes.
“Nearly there!” said Bob.
They came from The Bethany Chip
Shop. They had been eating too many
chips and said “I’m full. Let’s go hiking
to get into shape.” They decided to
go there because they saw something
strange on top of it. The strange sight
was also in the news. It was big but it
looked like a sandwich.
Bob said, “I can try to get into that,
because if I do people will finally put
sausages into sandwiches.”
They wanted to go into the bread
because they were hungry because it
took them two days to climb up there
using grappling hooks. When they got
to the top, they had dust in their eyes.
As they were climbing up, their feet
slipped and the last thing they saw was
a hand grabbing on to them.
It was Arianna Grande. She was doing a
concert up there in music-proof glass.
She eats Crummy and Bready. Bob is
so mad, so he buys himself two other
pieces of bread from the shop on the top
of the crane. They were called Larry and
Gary…
Illustration by: Sinead Farry
53

The Rise
By Bayan (P5)
The Rise sculpture is so bright,
It has made the street light.
As lofty as a building,
It stands there at night.
It has an amazing beauty,
It is such a delight!
It’s as wide as a house,
much bigger than a mouse.
The Rise sculpture…
I might go there tonight!
By Lucas Courtney-Manning
One day a small young boy said goodbye to his
father before he went off to raid. The young boy
was called Spin. He lived with his mother, father
and three siblings, Pjorni, Astrid and Olaf.
The Balls on the Falls
By Gabriel and Yusef (P5)
It is as giant as Old Trafford,
As spacious as school,
As strong as a hydronic press,
Round as the Earth.
It sparkles like a diamond ring.
It is as giant as Finn McCool.
It is as shiny as a sparkling star!
By Abdalla (P5)
As big as an aeroplane,
As hard as concrete,
As tall as a building,
As bright as a star in the night sky,
As complicated as a puzzle,
And as beautiful as fireworks.
After he said goodbye to his father, he went to
do his chores. His siblings also went off to do
their own chores. As Spinn was doing his chores,
he wondered what his father was doing.
BANG! He heard a loud sound from faraway. He
grabbed his father’s telescope and saw a fight.
He called his mother, Freya, and his siblings and
told them about the fight.
His mother grabbed the telescope. ‘It’s your
father!’ she exclaimed.
‘We must help him,’ said Bjorn.
‘We can’t go out there! It’s too dangerous!’
said Freya.
‘But we can find out where the fight is,’
said Astrid.
‘It’s at Broadway’, shouted Spinn. ‘We must go
there then!’
Illustration by: Ben Claxton
54

By Rubie M. (P6)
Rising out of the ground,
Sometimes I feel
Like it’s following me.
Once I found a pound under it.
I think that means good luck.
Perhaps the Rise is good luck too.
By Saorlaith (P5)
I’m light, I’m bright
Glowing in the dark
Protecting the light
Like a star
I’m bigger than the moon,
I’m big and bright and white!
By Emmanuel, Hamdi, Kaiden
and Hussein (P5)
Cars zoom past,
Like bolts of lightning.
Colossal in stature,
Like a confusing triangular maze,
Pieced together.
Standing silently at night,
As proud as peacock,
Like a giant circular white rock,
As stunning as a new diamond.
The spines surround RISE,
Like animals guarding
An enchanted forest.
By Carter and James (P5)
The ‘Balls on the Falls’
Stands so very tall.
From far away,
It’s like a massive golf ball.
It’s round and white,
Full of delight.
An amazing sight,
It lights up the night.
In the day,
It’s a pretty display.
By Kamr and Neilly (P5)
From a distance, a gigantic golf ball, anchored
between two buildings.
As hard as a sledgehammer.
Circular, like planet Earth as seen from Mars.
A towering structure, overlooking Broadway.
Belfast’s iron Ferrero Rocher,
Surrounded by hedgehog spines, illuminating
each triangle.
55

From Unicorn to Human
By Coláiste Feirste Year 9
Well lads, what’s happening? This is Jimmy the
unicorn from Ballymurphy. Today, I’ll be telling
youse about my life. I’m 6’7” and very romantic.
My greatest wish is to become a human because
I’m terrified of horses.
However, I got framed for robbing a bank, but
really I was trying to stop the Hooligan Hooves,
a horse gang centred in Ballymurphy. The police
are racist against unicorns and the Hooligan
Hooves bribed them to frame me. I went into
hiding in the hills.
Up in the hills, I met John, and we quickly
became friends. John has glasses that give him
laser eyes, but his legs don’t work ever since the
Hooligan Hooves paralysed him from the waist
down when he saw them committing a crime.
I had no idea that the police had thrown a
tracker on me as I was galloping away, until
they came up to the house and arrested me
and sent me to prison. I spent a few days in
a claustrophobic cell, and everybody in the
other cells laughed because they’d never seen
a unicorn in jail before. My girlfriends bailed
me out for £100,000. The charges were dropped
when John showed up with CCTV from the bank
robbery. With the bail money returned, I paid
for John to have surgery on his legs.
I went back to my hut, leaving the ladies behind.
I love them, but I had to leave them. John sent me
a letter to come round to his house, but when I
got there, the Hooligan Hooves had John hostage,
threatening to break his legs again unless I help
them turn into humans as well, using a unicorn
potion created by my dad who was a chemistry
teacher. The Hooligan Hooves didn’t know that
the cure only worked on unicorns.
Illustration by: Niamh Scullion
56

Painting The Broken Future
By Fighting Words Good
Relations Group (ages 12 to 16)
“I hate Fern!”, shouted Fred.
Fred and Fern used to be friends, before Fern
turned against Fred. Fred had painted a story just
one year ago and Fern was upset about it. Fern
had accused Fred of being a fraud who had lied
about his paintings predicting the future.
“You’re a fraud!” exclaimed Fern.
Then Fern went home and drew a completely
different picture to that which Fred had drawn.
So, Fred then accused Fern of changing the
future on purpose to make him look bad and
ruin his image.
Fred had predicted that the tree in their orchard
would grow taller, but Fern got really mad and
changed the picture to show that the tree would
die. Fern had received a prophecy when he was
a child saying that if the tree grew tall, then he
would die.
The tree was in an orchard on an island in the
centre of Belfast Lough for protection. Both Fern
and Fred got their powers from the tree, so if the
tree died, then both of them would be powerless
and die. Suddenly, the tree was dead. The massive
fish had eaten it.
Did the tree die because they went against each
other’s drawings?
Illustration by: Orla Mallon
57

Horseriding
By Windsor Women’s Centre and Footprints Women’s Centre
Afterschool Clubs (ages 8 to 10)
Jessica was sitting in her front garden when her
best friend April came to visit.
April said to Jessica “Do you want to go horse
riding?”
They went to April’s house to get money for
their horse riding lessons that were happening in
Botanic Gardens. When they got there, there was
a very pretty golden tabby cat.
April said: “Look at that pretty little tabby cat,
let’s take it home.”
They realised that the horse riding was actually
closed that day and felt really sad, but then they
remembered that they had a birthday party to go
to at the Grand Opera House!
It was Mark’s birthday party, and he was turning
13 years old. Mark was the cowboy that lived
across the street from Jessica.
So they all go and sit on a pink sofa, when the
sofa in the Grand Opera House says: “Oi watch
it! You’re hurting me!”
They were so surprised that they got up and ran.
There was a play happening at the Grand Opera
House starring May McFetridge, and everyone
was very shocked at the noise of the children
screaming at the talking sofa.
Then they realised what they were screaming at
and they also ran out.
Suddenly, April said: “Oh no! The cat has ran
away, out of the cage!”
Illustration by: Lauren Campbell
58

The Amazing Life of Doughy
Who Lived by the River Lagan
Lagan Village Youth Group (ages 8 to 11)
Once upon a day, there was this octopus and it had ten legs.
Our hero’s story then begins with Doughy the donut.
He was round with two eyes and two legs and sugar coated. He was
about the size of my mother. Doughy lived by the water in Belfast
in a donut house made from bubblegum. There were boats and fish.
The water reminded Doughy of his best friend, Louise, because the
water was blue and Louise was also blue.
Doughy remembered the last time he was talking with Louise:
“What’s your greatest wish, Louise?” Doughy had asked.
Louise had said: “My greatest wish is to have a peaceful world.”
Doughy was walking along daydreaming. Suddenly, the octopus
jumped out of the water and grabbed Doughy. He put his tentacle
through Doughy’s donut hole and tangled him.
Suddenly Louise appeared!! She was a hot cup of tea…
Illustration by: Conor Brannigan
59

Well Mate, Someone’s Goldfish is Missing
Belmont Road Tesco
Youth Initiatives East and West
Belfast (ages 12 to 15)
Somewhere in the 25th century…
John was returning from holiday on Naboo in the
spaceship. When he landed, he said, “Home Sweet
Home.” He felt welcomed being in a familiar
location again. Whilst away, he felt happy but
homesick. He missed his ancient goldfish.
The year was 2513 and Tesco had taken over the
entire UK.
“Knock, knock,” said John ironically.
Adam was listening to music on the Tesco
speakers when the closing time message came on
to mark the end of the day. He was busy cleaning
his technologically advanced armour.
“Well mate, what’s the craic?” said John. “How
was the holiday?”
“Fantabulous, got heat stroke on the first day,”
complained John.
“Don’t you wish you were on holiday with
me, mate?” “Nah, mate.”
“My heart, mate, it’s broke into a million
pieces,” said John, and then he croaked it.
“Aww, mate not again.”
Adam got on his headset and called his team of
robots to clean up the mess and resuscitate his
friend.
Adam lived in an old Tesco supermarket. It was
still blue and red, and he had renovated it to
be homely. John arrived on his electric, golden
special scooter, the Lambretta. It was the last one
on Earth!
The digital sensor at the door scanned John’s face
and notified Adam he was there and let him in.
“Where’s my goldfish, mate?” said John when he
came round. “In the food aisle.”
John and Adam walked round to the food
aisle together.
“Well, he isn’t there.” “He was.”
“He hardly grew legs and walked away, mate…”
Illustration by: Molly Sam Bailes
60

Mission Impawsible
for Fox
By Strandtown Primary School,
Ms Johnston’s P4 class
There was a girl called Violet who had a horse
that she could speak to! She had everything she
wanted, except a diary. So she went down to the
woods and said to a fox, “Okay big guy, please
can I have a diary.”
The fox half knew Violet because he knew
Violet’s horse.
The fox replied very excitedly because he had
never been on a mission before.
“Yes! I’m excited for this. I’ll just check down the
Belmont Road. But I don’t have any money.”
“Just steal it!” said Violet in a nervous voice.
The fox said, “But isn’t that illegal?”
Violet said, “Just try and be super sneaky.”
The fox was crossing the road when he jumped
with fright. It was the first time he had ever seen
a car, it was going at eighty miles an hour!
He jumped over the car and said, “That was close,
I almost got run over!”
Illustration by: Sinead Farry
61

Over 300,000 Residents
Young Belfast Girl (17)
Over 300,000 residents,
none that match your presence.
I can forget the violent nights,
the unforgettable fights,
the drugs dealt,
the emotions felt,
the generational trauma,
the opposite side drama,
just having a walk in the dark,
picnic in Falls Park,
relaxing by the Lagan,
good things can happen.
You remind me that when I find a rock
I shall not toss it away,
for there could be beautiful crystals on the inside.
Belfast is my rock that I break apart.
You’re the inner beauty,
of this city that holds my heart.
Illustration by:
Talitha Taylor
62

THANK YOU
If you would like to submit a
piece of writing for our next
youth writing magazine, please
visit www.fightingwords.co.uk/
publication-opportunities
The theme is HAPPINESS. We want
to read about happiness in all its
forms, perspectives, flavours. The
deadline for submissions is the
20th of November 2023.
With enormous thanks to all of the Fighting
Words dedicated, generous and talented
volunteer mentors and illustrators. You
make all of this possible.
And thank you to all the parents and
teachers who helped their children submit
writing to the magazine.
Massive thanks to Ian from Me, Him
& Her Design for your kind generosity
in putting the publication together and
making it look great.
@fightingwordsni
fightingwords.co.uk
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And to our funders the Department of
Foreign Affairs Foreign Reconciliation Fund,
Tomar Trust, and of course to the team at
Belfast Harbour for funding this special
magazine project.
We hugely appreciate donations of any
size to help us keep on giving children and
young people a fun and supportive space
for creativity without judgement. If you
have ever witnessed one of our workshops
you’ll know the special power they have to
imaginations, bravery and joy.
If you would like to get involved, we
always need more volunteer mentors to
help children find their creative spark.
When you finish reading this zine, please
pass it on for someone else to enjoy.
This is a Fighting Words NI publication
©copyright Individual contributors, 2023
Edited by: Niamh Scullion

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