The Mercy of War – Evie Irlam

Bombs go off
Ash rains down
Sirens Blare
People fight
People die.

Clouds of smoke full the sky like a blanket from hell
Soldiers scream at people to evacuate in an attempt to preserve what is left.
Of course it doesn’t work – even if they had anything to go they couldn’t leave.

People fight.
People run
People die.

Boundaries Part 1 – Holly Jenkins

Enter
Months
Perform
Talent
Questionable
Support
Love
Breath
Cry
Love
Breath
Cry
Grateful
Breathe.
Home
Stay
Friends
Formed
Safe
Lie
Fake
Uncomfortable
Stop
Uncomfortable
Joking
Repeat
Boyfriend
Stop
Repeat
STOP
Leave
Gig.

Boundaries Part 2 – Holly Jenkins

She came to support me and be my best friend, and cry and laugh when I sang her song and hug me for so long, when it was done.

She made friends and formed bonds and wrote down all the social media handles she could fit in, written onto her hand with the intention of lasting images.

You made this intention come true, conversed, until I left and it turned to irritating her with your thirst, cursed to be near you for the worst evening of unwanted male attention.

She sat in her dress with legs crossed thumbs twiddling in distress, I wasn’t there but I have to stress she made it extremely transparent that your advances were not a success.

She didn’t want to go outside, she mentioned her boyfriend countless times, and the fact that you think your actions were fine makes me sick.

She didn’t tell me sooner because you were my friend, she didn’t want it to end over something she intended to keep hidden.
You repeat your actions again, I name you in front of your family and friends so they see you through the lens that every other woman will see you through, until the end.

Noise – Riley McMullen

I put down my glass of water as the noise from outside my house’s front door got louder and louder. The water began to tremble and my spine followed suit.

Every night for the past few months at 11:32, the sound will begin.

So far I’ve been too frightened, too afraid to venture outside of my room, not even past my little daughter (Katie)’s room.

Katie didn’t seem to hear the noise, and I was very grateful that it was so. I wouldn’t want her to hear this. I then decided, for Katie’s sake if not my own, to investigate it- to destroy it.

I left my comfortable, safe bedroom, went down the stairs and reached for the handle.

Cake cats – Max Ross

Resting, warmth spreading into the glass of the stovetop,

The perfect scent draws in visitors, tearing away the cloth veil,

Curled fangs strike into the spongey vulnerability,

Pricking needles tear away at the first layer,
Then the second,
Then down to the greased metal of the tin’s bottom with grateful sinking bites,

Before they slink away, the baker arrives,

Monty, Mabel; down! Bad cats!

Forest – Harrison Jones

A beam of light penetrates the cavernous forest
Well, its no forest anymore
The sun has risen but its no less dark
Their boots crunch as they have all night
They shout in a language I don’t know
I grip my rifle
Idiot
They are gone now
I grip my rifle
The darkness that takes me is brighter than any sunrise in this place
Its embrace is warmer than any summer I’ve seen here
As the light fades, I’m more alive than I ever was here

Found Footage – The Ancient Creature Chronicles – Ethan Davenport

Damien played the VHS tape, and what he saw made his blood run cold. It was Luke, alone somewhere deep within the forest – bleeding, covered in scratches. Before he could watch any more, he gathered all of Luke’s friends to watch too – Chester, Annie, Willow and Iassabella – and they all watched together, frozen with fear. The tape showed Luke breathing heavily, before struggling to get his words out.

‘There’s far more to this island than anyone could have realised… I’ve seen things I can’t explain. I will try to document anything I find out here, and I hope, to anyone who finds this tape, to share it with anyone you know. As for me-‘ a horrifying, scream is hear in the distance, ‘as for me, I’m not sure I’ll make it through the night…’

The tape begins to distort, and now shows the ground moving swiftly by, and the group can see what appeara like faces watching Luke as he races past the trees, and as he starts running out of breathe and slowing down, the camera turns to the direction he was running from, and the torch he had been carrying reveals a dark figure had been following him, and the closer the thing approached, the more the tape distorted. He began to run again, his breath was heavy, and the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs sent shivers down everybody’s spines.

Luke’s leg got caught on a root, and he fell down a steep slope, and slammed into a rock at the bottom, and the same ghastly scream was heard once again.

The Life of Being Famous – Amelia Joyce

L: Morning Billy
B: Morning Lilly
L: Come on, get up
B: No
L: We’re having bagels for breakfast
B: Ok, I’ll get up

B and L go downstairs, and start eating breakfast. It is not bagels.

B: I thought we were having bagels
L: Do you want coffee?
B: Yes please

They finish breakfast and start walking to school when suddenly they freeze.

B: What are you doing?
L: It’s a statue
B: And?
L: It’s a statue of you.
B: Me? No it’s not.
L: Yes it is, just look closer.
B: Oh, it is me. But how?
L: I don’t know
B: Am I that famous
L: I guess so

They keep walking on

B: Look – it’s a statue of you
L: Oh how I loooovvee being so famous.
B: Same here

They arrive at school and are surrounded by a crowd of other students

S: Sign my shirt!!!
L: Here
B: Here

They sign a shirt, a tie, a piece of paper, a book, a hat, a show, a skirt…

B: Guys stop!
L: Give us some bloody peace

The students move away

B: I hate being famous
L: Same here.

Another Night – Lola Chard

Bang. Crackle. Scream. Repeat.
Another day has risen
Scream. Yell. Cry
The cycle is repeating
Smash. Crack. Break
Another family business obliterated in a second.
Wail. Cry. Yell
A mother searching for her child.
Snap. Break. Fizz
The fire is spreading.
Cough. Wretch. Wheeze
The Gas masks are on
Pounding. Shouting. Screaming.
Everyone running for their life.
Bang. Cry. Splat
A lifeless body lay there on display.
Hide. Whisper. Quiet
Praying that maybe. Just maybe
Whimpers. Shaking. Pain.
We might live to see morning.

How beautiful it is to drown – Ethan Robinson

As you slowly drift deeper, your eyes begin to close.
Slowly counting to 10, you centre yourself.
A flow of sweet memories fill your mind.
A teardrop forms in the corner of your eye.
Nobody can tell though, by this point the water is seven stories deep.
The liquid pours in, as the air escapes out.
You draw your last breath.

Thats not the only drowning going on here.
After the funeral your family drown too.
Your mother drowns herself in tears
Whilst daddy drowns himself in Jack Daniels
You’re gone, so they don’t want to blame you.
Even though it all stems back to your death.

It’s not fair you died
Too much to live for
Too much to care for
Too much to experience
But also, Bob was the one that pressed the button.
And Bob got out.

She – Beth Harding

The ship had been hit.
The starboard side of her bow, according to some.
All would be okay, they’d reassured everyone. “Just put your lifejacket on.”
But the ship had been hit. The ship that would never sink, they’d said.
They’d promised.

We watched with solemn faces as the last lifeboat was lowered down to the ocean, forcing ourselves to be glad that the feeble, confused children and their panicking mothers were safe, but also secretly despising those aristocratic, privileged passengers who’d received the very best cigars every evening and private butlers to their door.

We caught each other’s eyes amongst the chaos of frantic people and took off our now pointless life jackets, kicking them aside, slowly breathing in and out, gratefully inhaling the cool, salty air; the precious last breaths we were sure to take.

Our instruments fumbled in our hands as we lifted them up and began to play for the very last time. Our bows glided gracefully along the strings like butter as we played with clarity, the gentle notes rising above the cries of the stranded passengers, blending together to create a gorgeous harmony.

We played for the selfless fathers who’d given their lives to save their children and wives. We played for the crew down below who’d tried their best to keep the ship going. We played for the third-class passengers who didn’t get a say in surviving or not. We played for the old woman who’d found herself a spot on a bench in front of us and smiled with tired eyes as she listened to our music, calmly humming along to our tune, liked she’d blocked out the rest of the world. And we played for the captain, who’d refused the lifejacket and insisted to go down with his ship.

The world somehow felt smaller the longer we played, as if it was just us musicians in a circle of acceptance like no one but us was there. As we reached the last four bars of the song we caught each other’s eyes nodding goodbye. Our final notes were full of grief, hope and death, but mostly love. Love for the final admiration of the world. The beauty of the night sky and the ocean, of the cool air blowing in our faces and for the dying ship we stood on, her body weighing down and insides filled with freezing water. Her windows smashing and corridors flooding as she sank below the surface, her short life ending as our bows trilled the last note and lifted off the strings.

Ice – Emily Gascoigne

We sat huddled
penguins on the ice
breath simultaneous
condensing
freezing
icicles from our lips
hands joined in peril
clinging seaweed.
the boat sails over the horizon
We wave
in our thoughts
our muscles
blood and skin
Chilled. fossils
rescued from the ground
by Hell frozen over
our eyes die
watching waves recoil
heavenly blankness
with no noise.