Literary Journal Issue#5 2011 - Cranbrook School

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BENCHMARK Mighty Beowulf King of the Geats Damaged and dying, Grendel disappeared into the darkness. Unaware of the threat that remained, the Danes celebrated. Yet as night fell, they felt the fury of Grendel’s mother. She came in a rage to wreak revenge and before dawn, they found Aschere, dead on the floor. ‘Time lost lamenting is time wasted. Let us avenge our friend!’ screamed the furious tribe. Brave Beowulf led the way to the lake where deep below, Grendel’s mother lay in wait. ‘Death or destruction, I will face my fate!’ cried Beowulf as he leapt to the lake. He plummeted into the gloomy green depths. The icy cold water grabbed his breath away. Suddenly something tight grabbed his chest … Beowulf was dragged into an underwater cave. Gasping and gagging, he found himself face to face with a hideous hag, Grendel’s mother. The clash of steel and the striking of claws raced through the echoing chamber. With a silver flash of the sword, Grendel’s mother was slaughtered. Her bloodied head lay crimson on the dark floor. Beowulf turned to see Grendel in shock and With one sweep of the sword Grendel’s head rolled beside her mother’s. As Grendel’s blood bubbled to the surface of the lake, Beowulf’s companions gasped in horror. Suddenly out burst Beowulf with two heads held high. The companions raised the head up on spears and cheered Mighty Beowulf, King of the Geats! Roly Storch Year 7 5 In Grandpa’s House My eyes shoot open in the gloomy dark, Slowly adjusting to the light. I quietly slip out of the warmth of my bed, Suppressing the urge to shiver. My bare feet touch the ancient floorboards that creak and groan; ready to bend and break. As I stumble blindly to my bedside desk, grasp a beacon of hope and switch it on and smile, my trusty flashlight is dependable. I creep towards the towering obstacle, Trying to hide my fear. Turning the knob for all eternity … until finally the door swings open. this is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house, I have waited for, all my life. Poking my head out into empty space, I check the coast is clear. My body doesn’t make a sound as I step out into the corridor. I raise my flashlight to my next destination; thin beams of light cut through darkness. As I tip-toe down polished floors my heart’s thumping loudly; adrenaline pumping. Stopping in front of my second obstacle I pause to catch my breath and breathe deeply, in and out. I press my ear against Grandpa’s door, feeling the icy cold. My heart skips a beat as I hear the rumbling of the old man’s snores which guarantees my success. This is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house, I have waited for, all my life. I can barely contain my excitement right now, but I need to stay focused. The hardest part dawns and looms silently in the darkness ahead. I set out into the obscurity, guided only by my flashlight. I search and search and search in the dusty corridor but I can’t seem to find it. I can almost hear the laughing now
POETRY fading in the darkness. Suddenly, something touches me! I nearly faint on the spot. But yes, oh yes. I’ve found it! The dangling cord to the attic above. This is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house, I have waited for, all my life. Tugging hard with all my strength, I conquer my last challenge. The stairs come down majestically, hitting the floor with only the softest of thumps. As I grasp the hand rails, my knuckles turn white. Torch in mouth and destiny in hand, I slowly ascend into the blackness above, still not believing this is happening. I pull myself up onto the attic’s floor, dust covering my body. On all fours, I turn around, and looking, I gasp, ‘I see it, I see it! It’s really here …’ The forbidden door of Grandpa’s attic. This is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house, I have waited for, all my life. I stand up, full height and chest broad, to Grandpa’s forbidden door. It’s a good foot bigger than me. I tingle with excitement. I see the burnished brass knob reflecting in the torchlight and I can’t help but laugh. ‘I’ve fooled Grandpa, I’ve fooled Grandpa, at last I’m finally here.’ I step forward and swing the door ajar … The air is still, quiet as usual, as I shine my torch to the door. But the door remains black; no light gets through! As a great roar fills my ears and my feet are pulled off the ground, I’m sucked into oblivion, falling and falling and falling. This is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house, I have waited for, all my life. I’m hurled back out of the attic’s door. My body is thrown across the room. I sit up, head spinning, dizzy beyond thought and I lurch to my feet, holding the wall, not thinking clearly. I’m still in Grandpa’s attic, just the way I left it. I’ve lost my torch, but I can see. Light comes from the window. I cast the blinds open and squint in the light … And the horror seeps in that I’m caged. This is the night, this is the night, in Grandpa’s house … I had waited for, All my life … Michael Turner Year 7 Winner of the Year 7 Poetry Prize 6
Page 1: Literary Journal Issue#5 2011
Page 5 and 6: Contents Editorial ................
Page 7 and 8: EDITORIAL this year’s winners and
Page 9: POETRY Well Groomed Ba-ding! ‘Chr
Page 13 and 14: POETRY Study Fishing You don’t wa
Page 15 and 16: POETRY Traces Vestiges Left in sand
Page 17 and 18: POETRY The Meet Anticipation, fear
Page 19 and 20: POETRY The Painter At midnight, in
Page 21 and 22: POETRY The following poems were cre
Page 23 and 24: POETRY A Rebel From the moment I wa
Page 25 and 26: CREATIVE WRITING Write-a-Book-in-a-
Page 27 and 28: CREATIVE WRITING Write-a-Book-in-a-
Page 29 and 30: CREATIVE WRITING CALLUM: You should
Page 31 and 32: CREATIVE WRITING He could now hear
Page 33 and 34: CREATIVE WRITING The Unseen Foe Amu
Page 35 and 36: CREATIVE WRITING Amun finally burst
Page 37 and 38: CREATIVE WRITING discovered that yo
Page 39 and 40: CREATIVE WRITING ‘That water bott
Page 41 and 42: CREATIVE WRITING An excerpt from Th
Page 43 and 44: CREATIVE WRITING Conversations with
Page 45 and 46: CREATIVE WRITING ‘Then why are yo
Page 47 and 48: CREATIVE WRITING ‘Yes. But ...
Page 49 and 50: CREATIVE WRITING was beginning to r
Page 51 and 52: CREATIVE WRITING Macquarie smiled,
Page 53 and 54: CREATIVE WRITING Macquarie offered
Page 55 and 56: CREATIVE WRITING the office. ‘One
Page 57 and 58: CREATIVE WRITING to keep the storie
Page 59 and 60: CREATIVE WRITING ‘You don’t nee
Page 61 and 62:
CREATIVE WRITING ‘Did you get my
Page 63 and 64:
CREATIVE WRITING who fled the crime
Page 65 and 66:
CREATIVE WRITING When Charles Dicke
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM The
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM An
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM Sir
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM Sid
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM rhe
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM of
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LITERARY AND CULTURAL CRITICISM A s
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Above Aidan de Lorenzo ‘The Depar
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79 Left Alexander Young ‘Tale of
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Above Daniel Moran ‘Alibis and Op
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LANGUAGES practically irrelevant ..
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LANGUAGES ‘Cicero was awarded the
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LANGUAGES Above Max Maunsell ‘The
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LANGUAGES Above Derrick Fang ‘Dra
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LANGUAGES Below Kim Gallagher ‘Th
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LANGUAGES Above Hugo Martyr ‘Scho
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HISTORY What role does memory play
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HISTORY The issue arises as indicat
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HISTORY form the collective memory.
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HISTORY throughout Caesar’s life
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HISTORY large number of reforms bef
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Literary Journal Issue#5 2011 - Cranbrook School

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