The winning story was about a couple who were impacted by Parkinson's. Photo / 123rf
The annual school short story competition run by the Northland Branch of the New Zealand Society of Authors always attracts lots of entries.
This year it was judged by Fraser Smith and Anne McMichael.
A record number of 154 entries were received from a range of schools throughout Northland.
The judges said that all the stories on the short list displayed originality, were engaging, and showed an impressive understanding of word choice and structure.
These are the winners of the Year 7 & 8 category.
First place
She Got Away by Rachel Tan from Huanui College
Morgan and Allie fell in love in spring, beneath the willow tree in the school’s garden. Blooming lilies surrounded them, bushes swayed with the warm breeze. Morgan remembered it vividly. His friends had hidden nearby, snapping a picture of the scene – one he kept as his lockscreen.
Morgan pursued sport; football, his passion. Allie was his number one supporter, her cheers his strength. She, however, was an indoor soul – a book nerd through and through. She always complained of stiff limbs, though Morgan never thought much of it. He had never seen her in PE, never in sports.
Lately she had grown restless. Sleepless nights, trembling hands. When Morgan asked, she snapped, “It’s nothing.”
Yet she began to miss school more often. Slowly, she pulled away. She was right there, within reach, but felt so far. Morgan watched in silence, longing for the girl beneath the willow. He threw himself into football instead.
Then the news came, and it broke him. Parkinson’s. The signs had been there, and he had brushed them aside. He thought she was untouchable, eternal in her quiet brilliance.
She slipped away slowly, piece by piece. Her voice grew softer, her hands weaker, her body betraying her spirit. Morgan stayed by her side now, every match, every cheer echoing in his memory. He whispered the words she once gave him, hoping they reached her still.
By the time spring returned, the willow tree stood heavy with blossoms. Morgan looked at the picture on his phone – two young hearts in bloom – while the girl he loved rested beneath the earth. He had been too late, foolishly blind.
And Allie was gone. His Allie was forever gone. The only proof that she once roamed the earth was her left-behind belongings and the memories he’d shared with her.
Second place
Not a Disaster After All by Holly McIntyre, Springbank School
“Argh!” I sputtered as mud splashed up behind the galloping cow, splattering my tired, grubby face. Crusty, dried milk stuck to my front, hay clung to my back, and bruises throbbed on my toes from sharp hooves. I had a lot to learn. I gritted my teeth, and ran, full tilt across the paddock, chasing the troublesome creature.
If only my past self could see me now.
Just last month, I contentedly sank into bed with my headphones on, thinking about school, friends and shopping, when, “Posy!” Mum called. “Come down here!”.
I groaned, trudging downstairs.
“Your Dad’s brother, Uncle Bill, died and has left a farm,” she said upon my entrance.
Obviously, I was confused. “What?”
“We’re the only family that wants it.”
“But I don’t want it!” I exclaimed.
A farm. Mud. Animals. No Wi-Fi. No shopping malls. No friends. This was going to be a disaster.
The car trip was long – muddy roads, cows everywhere, and an ancient farmhouse.
The next morning, a rooster crowed outside my window. Then came the chores – chickens flapping and squawking, calves stomping on my feet, and mud everywhere.
“How am I going to survive?” I muttered.
Days later, something changed.
A cow bolted. I ran after it. Mud splattered my face, and I ached, but eventually I cut it off.
I skidded to a stop, panting. My new clothes were ruined; and I smelled worse than the calves. Struggling with the gate, I shot one glance back, then started towards the farmhouse, realising I had caught a cow, run like a cross-country champion, fought with calves and chickens, and had a tiring day.
Then a sense of achievement flooded me. Maybe I was cut out for this farming life.
And maybe – just maybe – this wasn’t going to be a disaster after all.
Third place
White Feathers at Parihaka by Israel Wright, Harvest Christian School
I hear soldiers’ marching feet and the hatred on their tongues, cruelty on their minds. Nobody notices me.
The white feathers on the rangatira stand to greet the soldiers. They proclaim peace, yet the soldiers’ guns proclaim war.
The white feathers are full of hope for peace, full of steadfast courage, but the white feathers underestimate the soldiers’ lust for land. Peace is too much to hope for from untrustworthy men. Peace is pure; whole. Distrust doesn’t feature in wholeness. The courage of the white feathers only stalls destruction.
I wish I could be blind to this, yet the feathers’ hope feels like an illusion, delaying the truth. Hope is in contrast to reality and saves our spirits. I must choose which is better for me – a first world where we accept war is coming, or a second world, with the same war destined to be, yet with hope in this brave resistance. Only to have this hope crushed by reality. These introspective thoughts feel like a curse.
In our situation on Earth, hope is all we can grasp to believe for a better future. I choose the second world.