Posted in competitions

Winter Writing Comp winners! (2012)

Congratulations to the three winners from our 2012 winter story-writing competition.

UNDER 7s WINNER—Finn Canham

The Great Escape

One day there was a fluffy rabbit called Caramel. He saw the most fattest and juiciest orange carrot!

He came up with a plan. The plan was that he dug 1 metre down. Then he put his plan into action. But there was a rock, if he went around it he would lose his path so he dug up but there was a rock. He had to go backwards and dig up.

He ran over to the orange carrot and he realised it was so big that he couldn’t carry it home so he ate half of it. Then it was the size of two orange carrots. That was good because the rest of his family was two other rabbits. Caramel was the only baby they had.

He carried it back down the burrow and went home. Then they enjoyed their lunch, it was orange carrot soup.

UNDER 9s WINNER—Celine Ng

The Desk

I am waiting in anticipation for the classroom door to open. It’s the start of 2012 and I’m starting Grade 4. My ex-best friends are hanging out with Belinda. Since we had a fight in Grade 2, they have been ignoring me. My new teacher comes into the classroom.

“Sorry class, I left the key to the classroom in the staff room!”

Yes, Mr Brown’s class. He is the funniest teacher in the whole school. I’m crossing my fingers that I have a great desk. Back in Grade 2, I scribbled in my desk but my teacher caught me. I closed my desk and gave my most innocent smile. When I opened it, the scribble had disappeared! Believe me, it’s creepy!

The best bit is hunting for your desk at the start of the year. My teachers always place our nametags on the desk to let us know where we are sitting. I open my orange desk and guess what I saw? That’s right, I saw the scribble I made in Year 2. How queer. The teachers must have misplaced the desk when they were cleaned at the end of last year! I sigh thinking of the times I had in Year 2. Sitting at my old desk has made me nostalgic. If only I was wiser back then. If only I could send my young self a message to wise up. I sigh again and wrote myself a note:

Dear Bonnie,

You might not believe this, but I am actually you 2 years older. I remember having trouble with friends in Year 2; so, if you have any trouble, feel free to ask me for advice!

Signed: Bonnie from Grade 4.

I shut my desk thinking how silly I am trying to write to my 7-year-old self. After I have prepared my stationery for the day, I open my desk to retrieve my book to read and I am flabbergasted by what I see. The letter that I wrote to my old self has disappeared and in replacement is a reply with my 7-year-old writing, big and messy.

Dear Bonnie,

I made a mistake. Now my friends don’t like me anymore. I was trying to have fun and when Emma was about to sit down, I took her chair away. She fell and started crying. Help me think of a way to make up for that joke.

Love Bonnie.

Hmm … I have to help young Bonnie think something to repair our friendship again.

Dear Bonnie,

Write a sorry letter to them or make a sorry card. Otherwise they might hate you for not saying sorry.

Love Bonnie.

After news session in class, I go back to my desk and find another note:

Dear Bonnie,

Thanks for all your help. Cassie, Emma and I are best friends again.

Love Bonnie.

Emma and Cassie run towards me and give me a big bear hug. They hold my hands and for the first time in a long time, I feel popular.

UNDER 12s WINNER: Ellie Rose Fisher

Shipwreck

The sun’s strong, amber fingers found their way through the skylight, onto the cheek of the sleeping girl. Elizabeth Fleckfeather stirred and opened her sea green eyes. She could hear the sea churning and birds singing their songs to the morning, see her room—a jumble of books, socks and swimming awards—feel the warmth of the sun on her cheek and smell salt and books by her bedside.

Elizabeth sprang out of bed and to her dressing table. She scraped her hair into a scruffy bun, pulled on her moss green swimming costume and woke her dog, Rosie, from her wickerwork basket. The girl and her dog sprinted downstairs to the back door, where she unlatched the handle and pushed.

A wave of fresh, salty sea air came through the door and greeted the girl. Elizabeth thought she would never tire of that smell, salty and fresh of the sea. She skipped down the gravel path, flanked by silver birch and olive trees, her dog running silently at her heels.

She came to the dunes, took the rabbit track she wanted and found herself on a rocky cliff top. She went down the rivulets the rain had made in the rock; all the way down to the beach. There the sun sparkled on the water as if it were made of crystal and the sand of crushed diamonds. Elizabeth dived into the ocean. The sea was so very cold and the girl shivered in delight as it penetrated her skin—it was a lovely sensation and one she would never, ever tire of.

Elizabeth swam deeper and deeper into the sea, nearer and nearer to the old shipwreck. She’d heard tales of the old shipwreck—that it was haunted, the sailors’ bones were still down there, that it had the power to suck you under the water. Elizabeth had always disregarded these tales and dived near the old wreck every day. This day was no exception.

The wreck was slimy with seaweed and algae and was covered with lichen and moss. Shells like coils of toothpaste and white paint flecked the ship, which was crumbling apart at the planks. Small crabs and other creatures scuttled in and out of the port holes—glass now gone from age and sea water.

Elizabeth dived into the wreck, under the deck, swimming through curtains of tiny, bright orange fish and dodging several long wavy black eels—deeper than she had ever been before.

Below deck it was gloomy and she could only see a few centimetres ahead of her, so it was not very surprising what happened next.

Elizabeth was just about to leave the murky depths, when it happened. There came an ominous whooshing sound from the corner, where a large hole rotted. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and the sight that met her eyes made her scream. Water filled her mouth and she was sucked into the hole—out of this world.

Well done Finn, Celine and Ellie Rose! These three talented writers have received a certificate and a $20 book voucher.

If you’d like to enter our spring writing competition (or the 2012 design-a-cover competition), check out the competitions page on our website. Good luck!

 

Author:

Rebecca Newman is a children's writer and poet, and the editor of the Australian children's literary blog, Alphabet Soup. rebeccanewman.net.au.