The annual school short story competition run by the Northland Branch of the New Zealand Society of Authors was run earlier this year.
Judges Fraser Smith and Patricia Fenton said they saw merit in all the entries and wanted to acknowledge the courage and commitment of the teachers and studentswho took the time to participate in this year’s competition.
There were two sections - Year 7 and 8, and High School. Here are the Year 7 and 8 winners:
When you take the time to glance out the classroom window, you see normal things. Trees, grass and weeds. Just ordinary plants. But when you look closer, you can see there’s more to it.
Beyond the mossy, aged fence there is a wild world of overgrown plants. Grass waiting to nourish animals, fallen trees like soldiers in a war – a war against grass, that is. Strong trees border the road, providing shelter from the outside world. But what lives here?
By the edge of the rushes, a dark, moist world lies. Dappled frogs croak. Dragonflies buzz, darting in and out of weedy skyscrapers. In the safe, warm tree hollows, woodlice scuttle, desperately trying to block out the noise of partying magpies. Worms fight against the sparrows, willing them to become vegetarians.
Despite the war and decay, life goes on. There and here.
Ava Rintoul McCready .
SECOND PLACE
A Typical Morning in the Pen
Ava Rintoul McCready* Arapohue School
Lazily, I stretched, listening to the birds singing. A call startled me, breaking the peace. Peanut-Butter — an impatient calf — aimed a kick at the offender, only to end up putting a dent in the pen wall.
“Annoying little calf!” he mooed crossly.
“Don’t mind her,” I said.
I got up and poked my head out, disturbing the magpies who had decided to perch on the fence post. Up tottered a small, brown calf looking hopefully at me.
“Milk?” she called.
“No!” I said, nudging her away from me.
The moment that pesky Nutella had arrived, she’d been nothing but trouble to me and my friend Peanut-Butter. She was quite young, and still in the mindset of getting milk from her mother. With eyes like melted chocolate, she sure could pull one sweet face though.
Yawning, Peanut emerged from the warmth of our pen.
“Are those weird, two-legged creatures here yet? I’m starving!” He was not a morning person.
“Milk?” called Nutella, nudging me. I kicked out, just missing her face. Ignoring her pitiful calls I poked my head into the meal feeder. Nothing! Me and Peanut scoffed it all last night.
Finally! Those two-legged things were here.
“Oh heck, it’s all of them!” I cried.
We ran up to them, poking our heads through the gate. Eagerly, I searched for the white magic that filled my stomach with its warmth. I sighed contentedly, as my mouth found the teat.
When we arrived, I checked my watch. We were five minutes late - the auction had started.
The first horse to be auctioned was a wild, unbroken black stallion. He was the horse of my dreams.
Just at that moment, I spotted my friend, Izzy. I waved. She didn’t see me. I waved again. She saw me but didn’t wave. I was confused. Why wasn’t she waving back?
The auctioneer shouted “Sold!”
To whom, I wondered. Nobody had bid. Then a horrifying thought struck me. He had thought I was bidding! Oh no! I had bought myself a horse. Dad was going to be furious. I smiled at him weakly. I was in for it now.
We borrowed a horse float and took the stallion home. On the way, I asked, “Am I going to be grounded?”
Dad laughed. “No, you didn’t know any better. And anyway, he’s a beauty. He could be a great racehorse and we could make a lot of money.”
He was interrupted by an unearthly scream, and the sound of the stallion pawing the trailer floor filled the air.
Dad looked at me. “But for now you’ve got a whole lot of work to do, young lady.”
Third Equal
The Hues of Twilight
Charlotte Robson-Gooch, Matakohe School
Blackness began to swallow up the world, leaving the flames dancing devilishly, as neon orange illumination cast a sparse light across the hill. Fog drifted through the bush like grey ghosts.
Giant blue eyes locked onto her target, her little black pupils enlarging until her irises were only thin rings of sapphire blue. The creature’s tail swished cunningly, her back end wriggling as her ears pricked up like a nail to a magnet. She moved in slow motion, her paws padding silently over the moss. The sound of the trickling river reverberated through her ears as she stalked her prey, the fallen autumn leaves crackled and crunched faintly under her paws. The trees swayed softly, morepork calls echoed through them as dew settled daintily on the forest canopy.
Suddenly, like an ultrasonic bullet, she darted forward and just before she was upon her bewildered target, she shot high into the frosty air and landed on her twitching foe. Her tiny razor-sharp claws sank into her prey. The furry little beast violently stabbed her fangs into the animal.
As the struggle to be free began, trepidation trickled through her prey like poison seeping into blood. Pain shot through the creature’s minuscule grey body, squeaking vigorously, before it was too late …
The whirl of wings from above caught the killer’s attention. The attacker’s head shot up in alarm. Her grip on the prey loosened. The creature wriggled free and scampered off into the now quiet bush.
The flames died down, and she gazed in the direction of her escaped prey.
* As the entries are judged anonymously, and schools may submit more than one entry per student, the judges were unaware that first and second place had been awarded to the same young writer. The judges’ decisions are final and cannot be altered once names are revealed.
