Nat's Workbook

A place to keep all the stories and thoughts i wish to put on here!

Thursday, December 08, 2005

This story is posted in in it's Chamber of Horrors!

The night was the stormiest night I have ever recalled in all my life. The rain was coming down so heavy no one even dared to leave their homes. The thunder struck like a cat of nine tails hitting a condemned man for the worst of penalties. I was sitting in my study, surveying the storm from the window behind my desk. It surely was horrific. My darling wife, Catharine, was sitting in the lounge, knitting. She always does that when she’s fretting about something. My two children, my son Edward and daughter Elizabeth were sitting there with her, playing cards. I don’t know where my dog Harlow was, probably laying on his bed, as he always does. The rain poured down for hours and hours, and I just sat there waiting for it to pass, so I could go hunting to get my family a decent feed for the next day. Finally I gave up and went to my bedroom. My kids had gone to bed hours ago. I thought my wife had to but, noticing she wasn’t there I gathered she was just continuing her knitting.
I awoke early the next morning to sunshine and blue skies. Surprisingly there was no evidence of the storm the night before, I thought as I looked out the window. My children were out there with Harlow. I looked for my wife; she was in the kitchen, making breakfast. I noted her nursing her hand. I enquired her about it but she just said something about knitting. I told her that that cut would be impossible to do whilst knitting, but she insisted on it and changed the subject. Not wanting to fight I just ate my breakfast passively, and went out to hunt food for the evening.

If only I realised then.

It was exactly four weeks after that night. My wife had been acting ever so strangely during the whole time but she insisted it was just a small head cold. Anyway, on this night my wife was out, playing cards with her friends or something, it’s this monthly ritual they decided to start. My children were in the rumpus room with my sister Penelope. I walked outside. The night was perfect for hunting. I called to my sister to take care of Edward and Elizabeth, before I grabbed my shotgun and walked out into the night.
The moon came out from under the clouds and shone brightly. It made me realise how lively the forest is at night. I heard a wolf howl in the distance and my skin crawl. I hated wolves. But that was not nearly as much as I hated werewolves. We once had one in my old town, then two, then four, before the whole town was flooded with them. Only a lucky few survived and fled. I have never known what exactly the wolves are, as the stories are varied so much it is hard to tell which ones are even close to the truth. I know that they are like normal wolves, except are larger and are able to stand on their hind legs at ease. They have huge rigid backs and no mercy. And how they are created, well I’ve only heard of two stories that could be even close to the truth. The first one tells the tail of the devil. In this tail, werewolves were people suffering from mental illnesses usually. The person will go outside to an isolated place and start to draw a circle in the dirt. In the middle of this circle the werewolves would light a fire. He would put on the skin of a wolf which he and only he had killed and rub a magical ointment on his body. Then he would pray to the Devil. At the end of this, the skin of the wolf would turn into their own skin and they would become a werewolf, and go off for their search of prey.

But I think this would be for only the first werewolf, if any. For I believe that a werewolf can only become what they are, by being bitten by another. Once they are bitten, that is it. There is no cure. Once it is found out the person is sent out to be hung, in broad daylight, to make sure that they never feast on another humans flesh. This is what most people believe how werewolves come about.

I listened to another howl. This one seemed closer, and I started to feel anxious of my surroundings. I heard a sound from behind me. I swung around and saw a bush shaking ferociously. I quickly swung my shotgun up over my shoulder and put it in position. The bush seemed to keep on shaking and my feet felt frozen to the spot. Then out jumped…a family of rabbits. I sighed and lowered my shotgun in relief. Wait…I picked my shotgun up again…do I think my family feels like rabbit stew?

I began walking back home, feeling very pleased with myself. My family now had a decent few days of feed ahead of them. I looked around at my surroundings. I liked the way this village looked at night. The way the old cottages looked like something at of a fairytale, and the way the lake shone as bright as the sun on a summer’s day. Everyone seemed to but at ease with everyone. It was then I heard a man’s desperate yell.

I ran in the direction I had heard the yell. It was only two blocks away, near the edge of the forest, where the trees were so close together they seemed like a cramped passageway. I walked down it and at the end I found my good friend being attacked by a werewolf. At least it seemed like a werewolf. It was the same build, yes, but it was slightly smaller, the paws where not as wide, and the facial features weren’t as long as usual. But it was a werewolf all the same. I picked up a large stick and swung it above my head, before throwing it onto the fiend. It turned my way. By now some other people arrived from the village, some holding sticks of fire. They also threw them at the wolf. It stood up on its hind legs, with quite ease, and caught them before throwing them back. The people screamed and ran for shelter. I got out my shotgun and shot at its head and chest, just as the clouds shifted and covered the moon.

At first I thought the bullets had worked. The werewolf let off a deafening howl. It seemed as though it was in agony. It stood, grasping its head with its two paws, moaning and groaning so much that I could not understand what was happening. Then it started to shrink in size. Its paws turned to hands and feet, then the legs and arms, then the body and the head. No…it seemed impossible, how could this be? The werewolf was not a werewolf. It was a she-wolf. It was Catharine. I couldn’t breathe. I knew the penalty for being a werewolf or she-wolf. She was going to be hanged.

I know now that the cut Catharine ha d received was not from her knitting, but from a werewolf. She had been out to fetch some fresh water from the well before morning when it struck. I only wish I heard her scream. I also know that werewolves do not mean the things they do, it is just bad luck. The worst luck. But now she’s dead, and I’m left to take care of Edward and Elizabeth and Harlow on my own, and I just can’t help thinking, if only.
The Art of the Traunt!

Every one of us has had a day when we really don’t want to go to school. But some people take this to heart and don’t go to school. They may pretend to be sick so mum or dad can let them have the day off, or pretend to go to school and then go off to the shops. This is known to schools and teachers around the world as truanting or truancy. And it’s getting more and more common.

The definition of a truant or someone who truants in the English dictionary is “a child who stays away from school”. Other words for it are to “skive off,” “skip class,” and the most well known term “wag.”

Reasons for wagging differ from different people, wether they’re boy or girl, if they are in a gang or how life is at home. They could be doing it to fit in and be cool, or because they find school just too boring. Other explanations are they are feeling angry about something (either at home or school), they feel there are better things to do with their time, their friends do it, they want attention or even they have learning disabilities and find it easier to just wag.

What people who wag don’t realise that there are people that worry about them. Schools know when you’re not at school and they know if you were there the period before and not now. And if you keep it up the school will contact your parents and ask just where exactly you are. If you wag to the shops or something, what will you do if something happens to you-like you get kidnapped or you get hit by a car? It may seem farfetched but it can happen. What will you do?

If one of your friends is wagging, help them out by telling them not to go, tell them the risks, and if they still don’t listen to you, don’t go with them. There is nothing more you can do. They should respect your decision. And if they don’t and call you a coward, what have you lost? Obviously someone that isn’t really a true friend.

It is said that around one in twelve kids don’t turn up to school every day in Victoria. Don’t be one of them.

This is my first post in quite a while. Hope you like it!!

I think that you can never really know what the future will bring. Sure horoscopes and fortune tellers may try and give us a glimpse, but really, how much do we really believe of that is true and how much do we believe is horse fodder. How do we know if this person, telling us what is going to happen, is truly real or is a scam artist? There is no way of knowing, and this is why we rarely take these things to heart. But what is someone knew our future? Knew what would be around every corner you tun, every street you pass? And what if they told you? Would you try and change it? But how could you if they see what is going to happen anyway? Everything, I believe, happens for a reason, and all these things path our way to what we are suppose to be through are lives. Tough times may be hard to understand, but with each of these times we grow stronger, and we grow more thankful of the better times.

I’ve been going through a lot of hard times lately, and I often have said to me ‘If only things go back to the way they were before.’ But all of a sudden I realised that I don’t won’t life to go back to how it was. I was lying to myself. What I thought I had wanted I don’t want anymore. Maybe I grew that day, I’m not sure but what it made me see more then ever is as much as I thought I was getting punished, I was getting taught a lesson. That thing’s may not always turn out how you originally thought it would, but that isn’t nessesarily bad. I may have thought that I have loss something, and should mourn that loss, but now I think that it was something I had to lose for the better. And the real things I had wanted to stay the same haven’t changed, just the backdrop of which I see them. I now feel free, as though I was being strangled and then suddenly let go, like I can now breathe the earth’s air once more, and I can see more clearly, and I can go on with my life.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

To Love Veronica Bee

To love Veronica Bee is the newest book in the newest category of books: Pop Fiction. Books that are in this category are made especially to interest teenage kids. They include thinks like on-line games, animation, artwork, multimedia music and more! Some of the students and teachers from Latrobe went to the opening night of this book on the 3rd of November to see what it was all about. What we did find was a bunch of cool activities and games you could participate in all to do with the book. Then we watched a slide show that showed what other kids had done with the book. They had made singing rocks, dances, games, artwork and songs! The night was full of fun and a very great insight of what we may be able to do next year. The website on this book, where you can see and experience some of the things we did is
The End of Year Concert 2004!!!

On Tuesday, 9th November, the school held its annual end of year concert. On this night, all the bands come together on one night to show what they have accomplished during the year, with the help of Lou Rossini, Wayne Simmons, George Infanti and Patrick Broadband, who all teach music at the school. There were a number of bands performing on the night including an ensemble of three high schools, (Latrobe, Diamond Valley and Lalor North) a Greek band, two rock bands singing the latest in music, a flute solo, a woodwind ensemble, a brass ensemble, a drum ensemble and A funk rock pop band. One of the main moments was when school captain of Latrobe Ryan Cammeliri played for the last time with the school with the funk rock pop band. But I personally think the best part of the night was the finale. As suggested by Emily Temple, all the bands came together to play ‘Eye of the Tiger’, sung by Winona Diaz, Emily Temple, Alana Wilcoks and Georgina Nicou . It was a great night and was enjoyed by all.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

To save one's life-Part 3-discovering the enemy

Marcy had set off once again on the now snowy track of the Yalton Mountain side, now her back pack weighed down way more than before, filled with treats and food guides, and a couple of food containers too. Holton had also given her some more provisions, as well as a snow parker to try and keep her warm in the freezing wind. But now she had a companion that seemed to glow in the mist that stood in caution as he stood out into the open. Marcy patted it in confirmation.
“Its okay, its okay,” she whispered, “don’t be afraid, you’re the one that is supposed to protect me, not me you.”
Daltoni nodded. He then shrugged her off patting him and indicated his head toward his back. After checking if he was sure, and Daltoni nodding vigorously, she leapt onto his back. Her body relaxed when she took the load of her back. As soon as she was seated upright, Daltoni stated to gallop, catching Marcy totally in surprise, nearly falling of the animals back, but managed to stay on. Daltoni was running as though it was getting a run up, faster and faster, toward the edge. ‘What was he doing?’ Marcy thought. ‘It’s trying to kill me’, she thought in a panicking gasp. She started to scream, and tried to pull herself off the horse, but all of a sudden she was strapped in by invisible straps, and she knew it was the end of her…
Daltoni flew high into the air. Marcy, who had her eyes closed, opened them curiously when the feet ceased to move. She was soaring with the clouds, and for a second she thought she was flying to heaven. But then she came to reality when two wings from the side were hitting against her sides. She looked down and saw to huge silver wings, and wondered where they had come from. Daltoni did not have wings before. She looked at the animal as if she was waiting for an explanation, but one didn’t come. Marcy realised this must have been because of it concentrating. How wrong she was.
They came out of nowhere. Huge beasts that came out of all directions. They had what seemed no face, but when they got closer you saw parts of ones, slightly rotting in the sun. Maggots were crawling all over their faces, and when came near their mouth they ate them with satisfaction, just to see them crawl out of the nose or eye sockets. There were no eyes. One moved out of the clouds and into the sunlight. Marcy made a weak smile, reassuring herself that light made them disappear. But it came out of the sun a few moments later, only a couple of metres away from her. She screamed and dodged a rotating scythe that swung at her. One of the monsters flew a bit pass her to gather speed. She took this opportunity to rummage through her back pack and grabbed a sword which she swung up into the air just as one was flying from behind went to grab her, decapitating it in a explosion of dust. She roared in fulfilment just as she heard a deeper roar from beside her. The dust was flying together and it reformed, sneering at her as a tonne of maggots flew from its mouth. She ducked and indicated Daltoni to go down.
“I thought you were supposed to protect me from these monsters!” she screamed at Daltoni. Daltoni suddenly flew faster, going in all directions trying to loose the Wajars. Suddenly Daltoni squawked and a moment later Marcy could not see it, nor her. She realised he must of turned invisible. But the Wajars were still on their tail and Marcy soon realised they could still see them. She yelled at Daltoni for more help, and he acted quickly. He dived at the ground, so fast Marcy swore she would fall of his shoulders, but she kept her grip. The Wajars were coming at a fantastic speed. But then, in a flash of light, Daltoni dived into the water, soaking Marcy from head to toe, but when she surfaced, the Wajars were gone.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was nightfall, and the effect of not sleeping for over forty-eight hours was starting to take its toll. She sat next to the fire she had made, shivering in the cold weather.
“Why didn’t you help me earlier?” she asked Daltoni, who just looked at her pointedly.
“How am I,” Marcy continued, “supposed to feel safe at night when you can’t even protect me during the day,” she said in a sudden burst of anger but then when Daltoni hung his head down, she went to pat him.
“It’s okay, I’m sorry. But you don’t know how it feels when you know your days are numbered. There is just so much I want to do, and haven’t done, you know?”
She looked at him and chuckled. “And now I’ve sunk so low I’m talking to an animal. But,” she said starting to smile, “it’s the best animal I’ve ever known.”
Daltoni nodded satisfied. He sat there, looking down at Marcy, as she fell into a long and well deserved sleep, and thought the same thing.

To save one's life-Part 2-Finding a friend

Marcy fought the ranging winds and pouring rains that were on the way to Yolton. She was growing steadily more tired as the day went on, but did not give up. For she knew the Wajars may be watching her. She knew that falling to sleep would be giving her to them, sleeping meant dying. And dying was not an option.
Finally she made it to the top of Yolton’s canyon and to the small cave the sign “Weldon’s Place.” It was not easy to find. She had spent at least two hours looking for it, growing more and more tired, and thinking more and more that Zonnet may have made a mistake, that finding this door would be her death wish, until she stubbed her toe on it.
She knocked on the door with three loud knocks and waited for about a minute or so. Then someone answered the door. It was a tall man with large sturdy shoulders and a mop of brown hair that joined onto his moustache which joined onto his beard which reached the floor. It was a strange sight. Marcy looked this man up and down and soon came to the conclusion why he was living in a cave. He was a caveman. She realised that she was staring at him and drove herself to speak.
‘Is this the place where Holton lives?’
Are you him?’
‘Eye. An’ what is it that you are wanting?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Marcy said nervously.
Holton stared at her for a moment.
‘Zonnet sent me here,’ Marcy rearranged her words.
‘Eye, Zonnet. Come on ‘n come out of ‘hat freezing weather.’
‘Thank-you kind sir.’
Marcy walked into this huge circular room made completely out of stone. Holton walked right through the room and into a tight corridor.
‘Wot was it about then?
‘Wajars,’ Marcy said boldly.
‘Oh nasty folk. Follow me then ‘n we’ll fix it up good ‘n proper.’
Marcy followed Holton down the skinny winding corridor, passing hundreds of different doors wondering what lay inside them. Finally after ten minutes of constant walking, Holton stopped and fiddled with something in his pocket before pulling out hundreds of keys. Some of the keys were old ragged ones, others shining new ones and even multicoloured ones. Holton found a really old brown key that looked as though it was supposed to be silver a long time ago, but now it looked as it would break any second. He turned the key and signalled Marcy inside.
Marcy received a huge shock as he opened the door. The room was hundreds of feet tall and the same amount wide, and had huge cages that went up to the roof, and was around 100 times bigger than what Marcy had already seen.
‘Come along now,’ Holton said, ‘we don’t wanna be here all day, so we?’
Marcy nodded and followed in silence, looking around at awe in her surroundings. But when she reached the first cage, her attention was directed elsewhere. Huge creatures towered above her, creatures that she had never seen before. Holton grabbed a bucket that was as big as Marcy and filled it with food. ‘Bout time to feed them anyways. You just have a look around. Try n’ finds one you like.’
Marcy walked around the hundreds of cages, peering into each one. Some of the cages had huge towering dragons that roared as she passed, other were combined animals with three or four heads. One of them had a body of a dragon and a head of a lion, monkey, tiger and dragon with three legs. They were strange sights. Holton was muttering things to her as he went in and out of cages to feed the animals.
‘’Memba to find summit that’ll protect ya,’ he’d say as she looked at a tiny one with the face of a tiger and a body of a dog. Finally, at the very end, she came across something that spoke to her. It was a majestic animal with a head of a lion without the ears, and a giant horn in the middle of the head. It had two huge round eyes and four huge powerful hooves that she was sure could knock down any harm that could come their way. It had a long tail like a horse and had the colouring of a sticky date pudding, light brown on the main but with dark chocolate colour oozing down the side. Holton caught up to her as he went in to feed it.
‘Beautiful ain’t he?’ he said, catching her by surprise. ‘Answers to the name of Daltoni. Named after Deltona you see. Beautiful colouring. And that horn, that horn contains powers we can only imagine. But don’t be afraid. Go on, feed him’.
Marcy wandered into the cage hesitating slightly, but tried to hide her fear behind the large food container she now had in her hand. She stretched her hand out to give it a pat, but then had misgivings; she knew not to disturb an animal when they had their food. She poured the food into a large silver bowl the animal had before it as a mixture of nuts and bits of bread fell forward.
‘Mainly a vegetarian see,’ Holton said, ‘will eat meat now and then though, when it’s hungry”
Marcy nodded and lifted up the now empty container. She looked at Holton before looking back at the creature.
“Can I pat it?’ she asked.
“Go for your life” Holton said smiling.
Marcy moved her hand slightly forward then stopped, before finally giving in to her fears. If she was to own it, she should not be afraid of it. She stroked him on the back, letting her fingers run through the silky fur. Daltoni looked up at her and nuzzled her. Marcy grinned.
“I think you’ve been chosen,’ Holton whispered to her.

To save one's life Part 1-Marcy's discovery

Marcy quickly glanced down the dark streets of Deltona and before facing back toward her predator. She gasped and glanced down the streets once again. Taking a slight step forward as the ground began to tumble at her feet. She had no choice. The enemy was getting closer and closer, so with one last defying gulp she leapt into the ground. She screamed as she fell into the blackness, screamed like she had never before, but she could not hear herself, or she could see or feel was darkness, the hole was swallowing her, swallowing her whole, and as she could feel it close around her clammy body she tried to push free, but she was to weak, there was nothing she could do…

Marcy woke suddenly, covered with sweat, and out of breath. She took a few moments to take in her surroundings, before, lifting herself erect, and looked out of the window. It was still dark. She lifted one leg out of the bed and placed it on the cold wooden floor. She took the other out and did the same, slowing lifting herself up and walking across the room to the window. She forced it opened, and hung her head out of it letting the cold wind chill her face. The streets seemed unoccupied by a living soul, though Marcy knew the dangers that really roamed there. She pulled the window shut once again, and sat down on her bed. She sat there for a moment or two, picking up a glass of water that sat on her bedside table, and took a sip, before going out into the long corroders of her home. She knew she would not sleep again that night. She would go and see Zonnet.
Zonnet was a tiny man, no taller than three feet tall, with white tuffs of hair coming out of his ears and eyes and anywhere else imaginable. He had a tiny wooden cane that he carried wherever he went and which Marcy knew was no ordinary cane. He answered the door, looking extremely tired and irritated, looked Marcy up and down and said wiping his eyes; ‘Come in.’
The house itself was so tiny that Marcy had to practically crawl into the doorway, but it did open up a bit after that. Zonnet went straight into his kitchen, and less than a moment later, he reappeared with a pot full of steaming tea. He poured two cups of tea and picked up his own, sniffed it, and put it down again. Marcy watched him in silence.
‘So,’ Zonnet said finally with a sigh, ‘what was it about this time?’
Marcy took q sip of her tea and put it down again. ‘You make me sound like I’m a pain, I don’t mean to be. It’s just; you always know how to interpret them and well…’
‘Get on with it,’ Zonnet said refilling his cup that was now empty.
Marcy told him about her dream. About the ground falling from beneath her, and like it was trying to swallow her whole, and the predator that she could not describe. Zonnet just nodded when she had finished, before taking out a long wooden pipe and lit it, puffing the smoke into the air.
‘This may come as a shock to you, but this is not a good sign. This is a sign of danger. This certain dream, or others that are similar to it, represent that the evil Wajars are after your flesh and blood.’
‘Wajars?’ asked Marcy, filling up her tea once more.
‘Wajars are like those stories that someone may have told you to try and get you scared shitless as kids. They are devourers of the night. They come and suck you insides out of you leaving you as a rotting corpse. I know this may be hard for you to digest dear, but you are walking down a one way street.’
Marcy sat their staring at him. She wanted to kick and punch him, let all her anger and distress out but she didn’t.
‘But I don’t want to be walking down a one way street,’ she spat out at him. ‘There has to be another way.’
Zonnet smoked his pipe as she sat there in silence. Finally he spoke.
‘There is one way,’ he said slowly. ‘You must leave here immediately though. You must go all the way up to the other side of Deltona, to the Quinton Mountains. But this will be hard to do alone. You will need to sleep for Quinton Mountain is a long way away. You must first reach Yolton and find a small cave on the side of Yolton canyon. It should have a small post and the side saying “Weldon’s Place.” Knock on the door three and only three times and wait. Go inside when someone answers and then ask for Holton. Tell him that I have sent you and he should give you further instructions.’
Marcy swallowed hard. She was covered in perspiration. She was not expecting this little dream to mean so much. Part of her wished she hadn’t told Zonnet. Zonnet was watching her, for any kind of movement, and it was at least five minutes until she nodded slightly. ‘Will I need any weapons,’ she chocked through her mouth that felt like it was clogged with a plug.
‘Possibly. I shall give you all you need’ Zonnet got up suddenly and walked into the kitchen once more and came out, not a moment later with all she would need in a large backpack.
‘Remember; never sleep until you reach Yolton’.
‘I won’t,’ she cried.
Marcy steeped out into the freezing frost of the early morning. Putting the hood on the back of her jacket, one of which Zonnet had given her, and ran for her life.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

To Fiona Hudson,
Hello, my name is Natalie Hogan and I am a student at Latrobe Secondary College. We were given a piece of yours in English and I would like to talk to you about it.
In your piece, “Guess what? The homeless want shelter!” I would just like you to know that I agree with you 100% that the Government are wasting money on surveys that have obvious answers. It is absurd to suggest fridge magnets to tell the homeless their rights when they probably do not have a fridge. It just makes them angrier at the government, and what point is that? What a waste of money!! You are right in thinking that the draft copy of new standards should be made into a blanket. It will be much more of assistance that way.

I do wish, however, that you could have verified exactly what the government should be doing, and what they have done. Obviously you yourself may have some ideas on what would be the proper thing to do, and I would like to hear them, I would have also liked to have seen some sort of comment from either a homeless person or the government to either testify to what you have said, and how the homeless feel or claim otherwise.
Yours Sincerely,
Natalie Hogan.

Red Death

The once beautiful town of Edenhawk lay in utmost despair. The town had once the noise of children playing, people wandering up the many streets and horse’s hooves, pulling along carriages with love struck couples but now, there was silence. It was enough to make anyone crumble to see such lows, especially if you were that ruled this place. The prince, Prince Prospero, had not intended for his perfect city to crumble in despair.

‘I cannot stand this!’ he would cry, gloomily looking out on his land through one of his palace’s many windows. ‘I must get away. I want to live my life, not be stuck here with nothing to do.’ He looked out the window. There, he saw a family, running for life. But why? He leaned in closer to the window. A man was staggering after the family, crying. Prospero now had his nose touching the window’s pane. The man collapsed blood all over his head and body, seeping out of any gaps there was; the sight was just unbearable. The prince pulled his head away from the window and sighed, ‘another casualty for the Red Death.’

The Red Death had been told to have struck in many ways, but none as gruesome as the truth. It seeped out of anywhere it could; eyes, mouth, ears, anywhere, but it came out so quickly and so violently that the person would die in just thirty minutes. The cause of this plague was unknown, as well as how you received it. The Red Death was feared among all the lands, arriving on unsuspecting towns and cities, and throwing the life out of all in its path. This was something Prince Prospero couldn’t stand, so he decided to save the people he could, by building a huge castle with everything anyone would ever need, making sure, that there was no way the Red Death could enter. Then, he invited one thousand of the finest people in his land to share in the wining, dining, and entertainment. This, he knew, could never fail. Or could it???

The day had finally come and he and the one thousand others waited by the gate of his castle. “Prosperian Castle” he had named it, after himself. He had arrived in a motor car, which he had ordered from England and, to ensure he was safe, drove it himself. Once he’d arrived, he opened the door to the castle, let everyone inside and threw the key away, where it fell in a lake, hundreds of metres deep.

‘Nothing will wreck my floorless plan,’ he said to the anxious men and women around him, ‘we are safe.’

Five or six months went by with endless partying, drinking and entertaining, each night with a more exciting event then the last. Many had forgotten the world they had left behind, the relatives and friends they had left to suffer. There was no need; they were having the time of their lives. Prince Prospero amongst them. He had, in fact, met a girl he fancied with golden hair and deep blue eyes, with whom he danced each night. He had never thought she’d be the first to go.

It was a stormy night with dark cloud looming over the castle, but nobody there knew, they were dancing at a masked ball that the Prince had organised. People came in the fanciest gowns and suits, laughing and chatting together doing whatever they pleased. It certainly was the perfect night. The prince was looking at them all grinning, he's perfect plan had worked. They were all going to live. They were free from the dreaded plague that came into their lives, and had all they wanted in life. Nothing was ever going to go wrong. It was then they heard the scream.

The scream came from the powder room on the side of the hall. People started towards it, their minds full of worry, what was it? What could get into this castle?

The prince led the anxious crowd toward the powder room. He had attempted to shrug him off a couple of times, but they were anxious, and they had to see what was behind the walls. The prince walked slowly toward it, grabbing a plate for protection. Just as his hand went toward the knob on the door he pulled his hand away and said: ‘I would be rude to go into a lady’s room’.

A plump man name Sylvester Roddle seemed to have grown tired of the prince’s dawdling, and, knowing someone was in need, barged the door down. Inside lay Louise, blood draining out of her face and eyes, dead.

Gasps came from all around the room, some people fainting, other screaming, and the rest just staring at her in utter horror.

‘How could this happen?’ Sylvester cried, pointing his finger at her mangled body. ‘You assured us we’d be safe!! But…THE RED DEATH HAS RETURNED!!!’

‘That’s…well that’s utter nonsense,’ Prince Prospero said in bewilderment at such a suggestion, ‘nothing can get through these walls! Guards, take this traitor to the dungeon!’

‘Dungeon?’ another cried, ‘never did you mention a dungeon was within these walls. Have you gone mad? I have the right mind to leave sir!’

‘Leave?’ the prince cried hysterically ‘Leave? Well that’s impossible! You see in this castle, if you cease to remember, there is no exit or entrance! We are all destined to die!’

‘If you do not recall,’ a lady said from the crowd, ‘there is a dead body on the floor, and we can’t just leave it there!’

‘Well then we’ll throw her out. Because apparently, Louise did mean anything to you. But she did mean a lot to me. You see…,’ said the prince, returning back to normal with intense grief, ‘I was going to ask her to marry me tonight. I guess my dreams are just going down the toilet.’
He pulled out the ring and placed it on one her limp fingers.

‘Excuse me for disturbing your grief your highness, ‘said a timid voice from the corner, ‘but can isn’t there plumbing or something to make trash go away that the pericyte or whatever it was could’ve got into?’

‘The pericyte! We must find it! It may have already escaped this room!’

‘You majesty!’

One of the many in the crowd was pointing toward a mosquito, flying passively in the air, about fifteen centimetres above the prince’s left shoulder, the prince looked around desperately to face the creature, and then he met it, his face white as a sheet as it flew down toward him. Prince Prospero ran from it, waving his hands around in an attempt to scare it away, backed into the crowd, and closed the door.

‘Why does it have to be a devilish creature so hard to destroy?’ he wept. ‘That vermin would bite any who attempts to destroy it.’

‘Your majesty,’ cried a person in the crowd, quivering with fright, ‘we were all in that room with Louise, we may have the disease!’

‘But,’ cried Sylvester, pointing out the prince, ‘only one touched her!’

Everyone stared at the prince, petrified. The prince looked down at his wet, clammy hands. Had he the Red Death inside him? Was it only a matter of time before he would also meet his fate? Impossible, he thought, shaking the idea out of his mind. Or was it?

‘We must break the door down!’ he bellowed at the crowd, ‘grab anything you can! We must escape!’

‘But…’ started Sylvester

‘THERE IS NOT TIME TO QUESTION ME!!!’ Prince Prospero grabbed a leg of one of the tables in the room and charged at the door. All others followed, grabbing whatever they could, and charging at the door. The impossibility of breaking down the door before them never crossed their mind. Their greed was overpowering them. Their greed of leaving all their friends and family to rot as they eagerly went through the castle doors, having the time of their lives, then waiting to be treated the same in the open world. All they cared for was themselves, no one else.

The door never opened. The greedy people that lay in the walls of that castle perished, one by one. All but the prince. The prince looked around at the piles of mangled bodies, going slowly insane. Maybe it was the thought that his perfect plan had failed, maybe it was the knowledge that he was to die, but while he was growing in insanity, a small mosquito landed on his shoulder, and lay his mind to rest.

An Obituary for Christopher Reeve

Many Words can describe Christopher Reeve but the only real appropriate one is Superman. From being Superman on the big screen to being a quadriplegic, unable to move from the neck down, he really was the true man of steel.

It was nine years ago since the tragic horse riding accident of Christopher Reeve, when his horse fell short on a jump, and Christopher went head first into the ground. He was confined to a wheelchair. Husband to Dana Reeve and father of three, Christopher was contemplating suicide.

But he kept on going. Christopher went on to do astonishing work for stem cell research. He talked others in his condition out of suicide by telling them what was out there, and that there was still hope, even thought you could hardly move. He never gave up. But last week superman Christopher Reeve died with heart failure after a long battle. He will never be forgotten.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

These pieces are from memorabilia of my childhood. The first one is my years in Kindergarten when I was living in NSW. Enjoy!!

I don't remember the year or so I spent in kindergarten very well, but I do remember little things that happened during that time. I remember my kindergarten teacher, a lovely lady by the name of Jenny. She had shoulder length hair that was bright red and I cried when I had to leave her. Sleeping was what I did most there. I slept overtime all the time and I remember mum picking up once. I also remember, for some strange reason, that there was a prickly plant outside our house and that Jeffrey pricked his finger on it at some stage. Dad also stood on a bee once or twice in our front yard but other than that, I can't remember my house much at all.
I also recall a little white two-seat car that dad use to have and used to pick us up from school which had kangaroos at the front. Dad picked us up because mum used to work very late and go back very early in the morning. I think she worked in a hospital. And the final thing I remember, for some bizarre reason, is a cricket bat in a hallway.
This next piece is a very brief summary of our four day trip from my home in Brisbane to Melbourne in the year 2002

We woke up around dawn in a large hotel in Queensland, and left for the road practically straight away, I think. This is because I do not recall every moment of our move down to Victoria, only a couple of highlights actually. But I'll see how I go.
Our first major stop was in Newcastle. Of course there were other little pit stops for food etcetera, but I cannot remember every single petrol station or take out we visited. Anyway, we spent a night or so in Newcastle with our friends Ray and Lizette who took us out to meet and greet old friends, since we had lived there before, fed their dog, Mr. Toby and Inky, and set of around Sydney and to Albany. It was at this time we had a detour. Jeff was very sick. But even with stopping every two minutes we got to Albany, where I think we stayed at a motel or something, and set out to Melbourne. And that was my move.
My First Day at Secondary School!!!

I woke up bright and early on a Thursday morning and looked sadly out the window. I hardly slept at all last night. My stomach was churning with nerves. But mum was shaking me around and pulling all my covers off my bed so I slowly and reluctantly got up and into the warmth of a shower in a desperate attempt to wake myself up enough to face the day.

After my brother (Jeffrey) and I were ready for school, with me in my oversized uniform, we set out for school. I didn’t want to go. What if the people I had met on Orientation Day didn’t remember me? What happens if I get lost? But then I remembered my brother and my cousins. They’d look out for me. But that didn’t stop me from walking into the school terrified.

After waiting around for about half an hour near the library, we were gathered into the gym where we had a school assembly. After Mr Mac had made his welcoming speech, and a few general reminders, we were put into our class and given our timetable. It had a vast array of subjects: English, Science, and Maths, English again, and double Wood in a variety of different rooms. But, since we were still in Orientation, we only did a few of the subjects and spent the rest of the time on computers doing stuff like profiles and typing our timetables.

At lunch, our group from orientation met together once more; Lauren, Marlee, Pippa and me, and sat on these three rocks near the cooking wing. Here we ate and chat away till the bell before declaring that place ‘THE rocks.’ Then we had wood with Mr Deylan when we started a pencil box before heading home, tired after a long day. That was my first day at secondary school.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

Why is the world so cruel?
Why does not one day go by when someone is not punished, or deserted?
Why do so many die of hunger, when other die of gluttony?
Why do people spend away their money on happiness they cannot be found?
Why do children left lost and forgotten as their parents fight to be the superior of the other?
And why am I the lonely one watching the world go by?

Sunday, July 18, 2004

I'm a BUG!
I ran into the room, perspiration running down my face. I had to see it for myself. I had to see the magnificent mirror that lay in that room, that told all but lies, for it would answer any question you lay before it and I had many questions. I looked down the corridor and jumped from pillar to pillar and peered into each and every passage in the room, for even a glimpse at the mirror. It was very had to look for something that you have no idea what it looks like, let me tell you that. But when I got to the end of one of the corridors, I noted tiny golden-framed window hanging to the left. It was simple but elegant, with the golden frame curling around the mirror as if it was a very hungry cat, hanging round the owner in a desperate attempt to be fed. I went up to the mirror, and, my stomach writhing with nerves, I went to ask my first question.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, ‘I paused, thinking hard, ‘who is the most beautiful...’
I gasped, and ran up to look in the mirror. The glass seemed to start getting foggy and started to whirl around a bit but, quite clearly, staring straight back at me, was nothing but a butterfly.
The butterfly had glittery purple and yellow wings that glistened in the light in the room. It had small two antennas sticking out of my blondish-brown hair. My hair! I was the butterfly. After I digested this awkward news, I decided to continue asking the mirror the question I had started
‘Mirror, who is the most beautiful insect of them all?’
 ‘You are Miss’
‘Good so I know you’re working,’ I said turning from the mirror.  ‘Now why am I a butterfly?’
I turned to face the mirror again but to my astonishment, it had disappeared.
It was then I first paid real attention to my surroundings. It made me jump with fright. I was next to a gigantic metal pole, which I saw when I looked up was connected to a big wooden platform. I pondered what this may have been for a while until a remembered my wing and decided to fly up and investigate. The only trouble was I didn’t know how to fly. But then I came to my senses. I took a running jump while concentrating with all my might on flying, and found myself being lifted up into the air. It was a wonderful feeling. My stomach felt as though I had left it on the ground but I did not care because the rest of me felt on top of the world/ I reached for the top of the funny platform and after walking up and down it for about five minutes, I realised I was on a chair. But how? It is way bigger that I had ever seen, before I noticed the desk. Was it possible that I could have fell into Jack and the Beanstalk by accident?
‘Giants,’ I whispered terrified. I flew around in circles in agitation. ‘No way, giants don’t exist. They were just made up for fairytales that’s all. They don’t…’
I paused in mid though. A sound was echoing from somewhere, I couldn’t tell where, but it was so loud I thought my ears would burst. The sound had just started to go down when…
BANG! The wall opened and I quickly flew out of the way as foots the size (or what seemed like the size of houses. I screamed but I’m sure I couldn’t be heard over the racquet. I looked up and saw with fright-a class of grade sevens! I flew for a safer place behind a scrunched up piece of paper in the far corner of the room. I had to get out of there. If not, I would’ve been dead butterfly before your next breakfast. My head was swimming. Then I saw my freedom, the way that I would escape. But what I couldn’t believe it was so simple. In the middle of the wall, for some unexplainable reason, there was a hole. I looked back at the giants, who all seemed to be looking the other way. I took my chance and flew toward it. I was free, I was FREE! The outside world was coming closer and closer. I had made it, I was free, I had made it….’
I had a bloody big bump on my head, that’s what I had. I’ll tell you the shortened version. I flew into some kind of force field that denied me from getting outside and now I was lying on the sill below it. How come I hadn’t seen this force field? But now, with my head throbbing, I realised there was only two ways to get out-the door, or in a glass container suffocating as a kid used me as a science project to decapitate me or something. That was not an option. I had to get to that door.
I flew into the air, narrowly avoiding several huge noses. They were like enormous caves, and I was keeping on thinking they were more doors. I was half way across the room when a vast head appeared right in front of me, swatting me with its huge car like hands. I dodged it and just missed it. I was heading for the doors, I had made it! I had conquered the classroom! It was then I ran into another glass screen.
“Not another window”, I thought.
But it wasn’t a window, it was a glass bottle! I was suffocating; I was going to die…
I woke up with sweat all over my body. I was lying in my bed. I quickly looked down at my hands. They were human! It was just a dream. A horrible dream.