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August 12, 2020, 10:45:27 am

Author Topic: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread  (Read 1765 times)

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Coffee

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Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« on: December 13, 2017, 09:22:12 pm »
+4
If you're a budding author, this is the thread for you! Post your short stories, narratives, novel excerpts, etc., here. :)

Poet in the making? Click here!

cookiedream

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #1 on: December 13, 2017, 10:21:24 pm »
+6
Here's a short section of the first part of the prologue for a novel I want to write which shall never be published coz my lazy butt can't be bothered writing the very first chapter ;D Ahhh this is kinda embarrassing since it's the first draft, so I might scrap it in the end if I ever do find the motivation to start writing again ahaha

___________________________________________________________________________

Metal clashed upon metal as grunts emanated from the throats of the two fighters. One was a boy in his late teens, with scrawny limbs, who was barely able to lift his sword, let alone hold off the other who was a grown man twice in size in both height and muscle.

The boy's leather boots skidded across the dirt floor as he dodged another strike from the warrior. Red painted the other man's cheeks, accentuating his wrinkles and stress lines, at yet another fruitless attack.

"Stay still, ya slippery bastard!"

"Not as long as I'm alive."

In one fell swoop, the young boy crouched low and rolled under the man's spread legs. Before he could react, the boy lunged forward and aimed for the perpetrator's back…

…only for the sword to clash cacophonously with another metal, which he noticed to be a silver shield thrown from the side.

Taking a step back, he looked towards the direction of the source and laid his eyes on a familiar girl. Her right arm was outstretched in front of her, trembling as if the thin limb held a heavy object for an extended period of time. Sweat matted her reddish brown hair to her pale face as she panted profusely, dirt and blood staining her form.

The boy clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell was that for? I almost got rid of him!"

His expression would have been unrecognisable to the girl had they not been on a potentially five-month-long suicide mission.
"There's no reason to kill anyone out here, Al. It's not worth it, for now at least."

Alistair sighed. "If you weren't paying attention, Valerie, he was the one who- Watch out!"

A man was staggering behind Valerie with a tainted dagger in his shaking hand and, with a lopsided grin, advanced the weapon towards the back of her neck. A moment before it made contact with her delicate skin, Alistair had pushed Valerie out of the way, receiving a cut on his right cheek. After gaining his balance, the boy rapidly turned to the crook and, with all brute force he could conjure, kicked him in the abdomen. The man flew back a few metres and landed roughly on the desert plain with cries of agony.

Immediately after the shriek, Valerie gripped Alistair's arm as they ran away from the barren expanse of land and splattered blood.

"Val, where are we going?" Alistair's voice seemed small behind the sprinting girl.

"No clue."

They kept running, with the sandy winds rushing against their ears in a harsh caress. It became harder to see due to the amalgamation of airborne sand particles swirling in front of them.

A hazy impression of a cave reached their eyes, followed by Valerie quickening her pace and Alistair dragging his feet. The image became clearer, with the jagged edges of the outer black surface and tapered vertex becoming more apparent against the ochre sky.

Valerie let go of Alistair's hand and looked up to examine the immense cave. Either side of the cave's exterior was blocked off by a wall of rough obsidian rock and, looking up, it seemed to reach to the heavens. So climbing over wasn't an option.

"How about we go inside?" The girl turned to him, expecting an indication of his approval.

Alistair snorted. "How about we stay out here and enjoy the beautiful sandstorm with front row seats?"

"…"

"…Sorry, I was trying to be funny. Of course we go inside. Ladies first."

Valerie rolled her eyes and entered the cave with the boy following suit. They studied the cave's interior as they looked around, enchanted by the glow worms on the ceiling that emitted neon shades of light and intrigued by the crooked stalagmites and stalactites. The clacking of their heels ricocheted off the walls in soft echoes.

With every step, their surroundings grew darker and darker until they could barely see one another.

They stopped.

After a few moments, Valerie heard a brusque scratching sound. A small flame soon licked her vision, illuminating the boy's hand and the area close around them. Alistair held the lighter underneath his chin and twisted his face, crossing his eyes and stretching his jaw wide open, only to fall upon ignorance. His shoulders slightly slumped.

They reached the end of the dark cave and, shortly after, noticed bright streaks that outlined large boulders of rock that composed the wall.

"Hey, you think we can break through this thing?" Valerie clenched her fist.

Alistair locked his fingers behind his head and glanced at her, eyes half-lidded and lips curved in a smirk. "Didn’t know you had a bulldozer in your pocket."

Val pushed some of the tinier rocks, which easily fell outside and bursts of light entered the cave. "We'll start from the smaller rocks, which will destabilise the larger rocks. We'll work our way up, dealing with rocks of increasing size."

The boy's stomach grumbled and he looked down at his abdomen, glaring through his shirt. "It'd be highly appreciated if you could shut up and not whine for the next few exhausting hours." Or it could be days, he mused, as they both started work.

---------------------

Streams of blinding light emerged one ray after another, increasingly larger, through the shaking serpentine crevices until the cobbled wall burst from its rigid state, tumbling down in stocky pieces.

A voice, between pants and groans, echoed in the depths of the cave. "See? We don't…need a Bulldozer: Pocket EditionTM… for a task that just needs…effort, skill and pure determination."

Under the illuminating sunlight, which orchestrated dancing dust particles, came stumbling forth a young girl and boy, alike in attire yet different in temperament. They both wore cream ragged shirts under a brown cardigan, with dark brown trousers and leather boots. Belts were tightened around their slim waists, where on the side were the holders for their sword and daggers. The girl had a mess of wavy coffee brown hair that touched her shoulders, which accompanied her large russet eyes. The boy had ash brown hair, similarly messy, and gentle honey orbs.

Alistair shook his head as he huffed and puffed. "That's the thing, Val…I tried to tell you that…at the last minute I found that…there was an opening near…where we were standing…but you wouldn't listen."

The girl halted. Slowly, she turned to the boy. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

As though the words smashed themselves into her bruised skin and heavily weakened muscles with sadistic pleasure, she collapsed and drowned in the long spiny grassland brushing against her porcelain cheeks.

Walking to her side and sitting down, the boy chuckled with mirth and gently placed a hand on her head. He ran his fingers through the cascading chestnut waterfall. “Wake up, Val. There’s not much time left.”


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Balloon

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #2 on: February 02, 2018, 05:44:45 pm »
+3
ok, so this is my second post and I'm actually really confused as to how I'm suppose to use this thing. i'm kind of a little terrified of technology in general but I'm trying my best... anyway I'm an 11th grader and I wrote this piece a while back so it would be great if anyone could critic it and stuff since I'm aiming for 4 unit English. thank you so so much... also im experimenting with writing styles so yeah

I’m going to get you, as the reader, to imagine an imaginary and completely hypothetical scenario; think of it as being an actor, acting as a fleshed out and complex character in your mind, living a life that’s not yours and you might end up being mildly thankful that it isn’t, because some things you might pretend to be doing might not be something you would actually do and that, in all honesty might be a good thing.
So imagine this;
You are a slightly shorter than average 19 year old male, but you like to think you look taller because of how thin you are. You can choose the colour of your hair (I’m not a particularly picky narrator) but please make it an exotic colour, maybe a pale purple or a muted orange (you always were a romantic at heart) and you try to dress as fancily as you can afford (which after you pay your share of the rent, isn’t much) and you always wear a tweed bracelet, in fact you take care of it almost religiously.
You are coming back from a part time job, dancing with the wind to some music only you can hear, making sure you don’t step on any cracks in the path, (you aren’t superstitious, its just a game you used to play with someone you once knew). Its not a particularly wonderful day, in fact its cold and looks like its about to rain. You don’t mind the weather, you find it almost adventurous, you play another game with yourself, imagining that you are a protagonist in your favourite fantasy novel hiding from some dark wizard that concocted a spell that gives him the power to control the weather.
 You amuse yourself with that for a while, until you abruptly stop next to a bench facing an old park with brocken swings and a graffitied slide (you pass by it every Monday afternoon and Thursday night so you subconsciously wonder why you feel the urge to stop today). You sit on the hard wooden bench and while looking at two blue birds racing to a tree, and a flood of bottled up memories surfaces.
You are six and looking with awe at the slightly bloody knocked out tooth in your hand, you were climbing up a tree trying to reach the clouds because you honestly believe that was where feathers of birds grow and you thought that maybe you could borrow some so you could play with the baby birds for awhile (you had every intention of returning them later, honest). But even though you didn’t find some wings you found something that might even be slightly better.
Because you see, while you were looking at the pearly white specimen, already wondering how you would strike up a deal with the tooth fairy (because you don’t realize the importance of money and would maybe want some mint lollies instead- you justify to yourself that it isn’t really candy so how could she refuse) someone snuck up behind you.
“whatcha lookin’ at” the voice had the squeaky high pitch sound of a boy around six or seven, but it was strange in the sense that some letters were more pronounced than others.
You look at him and he looks at you. It is in that moment you know that it was fate (or it might be destiny- you never could tell the difference) that brought you together and you were never letting go.
Lets jump a little forward in time, you are nine years old and laying under a tree. The same someone is sitting next to you. Lets give him a name, lets call him something simple, maybe Jack (but he was anything but simple to you) you are telling him a theory of how the teacher is actually secretly a duchess in hiding, waiting for the right moment to regain her rightful place and how she is going to use the class as her army when you hear the first of many name callings.
“Oh God, your such a weirdo” that was not said by Jack (sweet, kind Jack who shared his mints when the tooth fairy didn’t leave anything under your flat, hard pillow) it was said by a girl.
The girl at first glace was pretty but if you looked at her long enough, you could see that her golden hair was thin and her blue eyes were too close to her nose. But that isn’t what you saw when you were a nine year old boy. You saw a girl who all the teachers showered with praise say that you were weird with all the disgust a pre- teen girl can muster. So with tears in your eyes you ran. But Jack was running behind you and you thought that maybe that was all that mattered.
Let’s jump ahead again, you are twelve and starting high school tomorrow. You might be a little scared but your mostly exited, because this is a new stage in life and it all seems like a fantastic adventure. You and Jake have it all planned out, this is your time to shine. But plans are rarely followed and fate is a fickle maiden that enjoys toying with its subjects.
Jack slowly grew up but you couldn’t seem to. You believed that stars were bottles of childhood dreams left unfulfilled, winking teasingly at the monotonous adults the wishers have become. But Jack become interested in things like girls and became more invested in studies of numbers and how the atmosphere is becoming more polluted day by day. Try as you might, you never could remember textbook answers and while you floundered, Jack flourished. You were happy for him, honest you were but you might secretly wish in your heart of hearts that you could go back to a time where you both believed in the impossible and where Jack ran after you instead of the other way around.
So that is how a friendship diminished, not by spectacular proclamations of hate, but slowly decaying through the inevitable journey of maturity.
You are now brought back to your time, sitting on the old decaying bench, thin pale hands pulling at the tweed bracelet (the one he gave you at your fifth friendiversary) looking at the depressingly dark cloudy sky as tears mixing with rain as they flow down your face.

laura_

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #3 on: June 22, 2019, 08:20:48 am »
+3
Hello guys! Apologise that this is raw and unedited but thought that this thread could use a little bump.

Wandering Flowers
They uproot themselves bit by bit and begin to walk about. They teach themselves to balance on newfound feet and wander with stems swinging by their sides and golden locks drawn to the sun. They walk along unpaved road, over rocky valleys and grassy hills. As each root slowly pushes forward they carry themselves to a new beginning. They chase after the sun on the horizon line, only stopping to rest under the subtle glow of the moon. And when they think that they have journeyed just the right amount, the dig the dark earth and reroot themselves in the dust.
but there’s only so much shrinking a girl can do before she disappears

laura_

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #4 on: June 25, 2019, 07:04:42 pm »
+3
Just a little something...

She kept saying that. And he kept believing her. I had to sit there and watch him walk into her trap all over again. I am screaming at him; jumping up and down to get his attention. Don’t do it, I beg him. Watching her destroy you will destroy me. He agrees that she is hurting him but he can’t seem to stay away. She is too addictive. The happiness is magnified with her. Every high feels higher but that means that he has further to fall when she lets him go again. There is only so much catching I can do. My patience is growing thinner and my arms are getting weaker. Why can’t he see what’s right in front of him? I am waiting for him but all he wants is her. And it’s too late for me to stop him this time. I just have to walk away before it breaks me as well.
but there’s only so much shrinking a girl can do before she disappears

Einstein_Reborn_97

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #5 on: May 17, 2020, 09:17:43 pm »
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Another thread on life support... :o
I wrote this short story for a competition last year. I really liked it...but my English teacher said that it could be better...so I submitted a different one that she thought was of a higher standard.
I'd like to hear what you think! :D

The Island

I was having one of my favourite dreams, laying down on a soft, sandy surface with my hands behind my head. My tired feet were being caressed by the cool, refreshing waters in which they were gratefully immersed. The soothing sounds of the gentle waves and the cool breeze brushing against my skin were working together to relieve me of all my fatigue, all my troubles, all my anxiety and all my tension. The billions of stars that usually light up what would otherwise be a pitch-black night, were out in full force; creating a graceful sight that my eyes cherished lovingly as I gazed upon them. I was alone in my paradise, free from people, free from responsibility and free from all the insidious things that were gradually driving me towards insanity. I wished to remain lying on this beach, in this tranquil state, detached from a lacklustre life, withdrawn from memory, frozen in time.

Rousing from my sleep, I was astonished to notice that I was still within the peaceful setting of my dream. As I was contemplating whether I had actually fallen asleep within my dream and if so, how I felt so physically revitalised, it suddenly dawned on me that the environment around me was completely real. I had not been dreaming about the mesmerizing scenery that surrounded me. For a moment, I remained motionless, transfixed on the vast ocean in front of me, deep in thought as I tried to comprehend this dreamlike reality. Then, I was engulfed in panic.

My eyes, like hungry dogs, were frantically consuming every visible detail in an attempt to make sense of my surroundings. I was completely bewildered. I had no idea or hunch as to how I had found myself on that beach in the first place. In fact, my last vivid memory was dozing off in my office at work shortly after having a shouting match with one of my colleagues. As I scurried away from the water, in a manner reminiscent of my cat, I noticed that there seemed to be no road or path to exit the beach, what lay ahead of me was a colossal amount of palm trees and accompanying shrubs. Trying to look beyond all the trees, I could not distinguish the glow of any street lights nor see any buildings. The palm trees were so tall and their leaves so long that I could be certain that I was not at the local beach. There were no voices nor were there any signs that other people had ever set foot on the sands of this place. In order to avoid being driven into madness by my ignorance, I climbed to the top of one of the taller trees to get a better view of my location. I nearly fell to my death as soon as I had discovered the nature of my predicament. I was not on a beach, nor was I in a forest or jungle. I was on an island, isolated from the rest of the world by the expansive waters of the ocean.

As I despondently descended from the peak of that tree, I finally understood what is meant by the idiom ‘Ignorance is bliss’. I sank to the ground in utter desolation, failing to grasp reality. I had hoped to be detached from my miserable life but I could never have predicted that it would happen in such a drastic and literal fashion. Once again, I found myself lying down on my back, facing the multitude of stars that still shone above me. Although this time, I was not preoccupied with relaxation but rather significantly overwhelmed with sheer disbelief.

Deep into oblivion, it took a thunderous roar to spur me into consciousness with a surge of adrenaline pumping through my body. I had never heard anything so ear-splitting and terrifying in my life. I tried my absolute best to be vigilant but my knees were trembling too much and my heart was beating too fast. I was petrified. The sound embodied rage, a promise of death coming swiftly. I could feel the blood draining from my face as I remained rooted to the spot. I would have remained quaking with outright fear had I not heard the second roar. Somehow, it was louder than the first. It seemed to shake the earth as though it was pleading for the heavens to open. Around me, there was nothing to defend myself, not a stick or stone. The third roar was Thunder itself, in all his might and with all his fury. I bolted faster than I had ever done before, not sure what I was running from and to where I would go. I could hear the beast begin to chase after me. Each footstep shattered the ground below it. As I ran out of breath and out of land to run on, I collapsed to the ground, awaiting my imminent death.

The creature was getting closer and closer as I broke into tears. All of a sudden, I remembered what I had been doing before that wretched nightmare began. I recollected myself, wiping the tears off my face.

“Very funny, Patricia…and I’m really sorry for what I said.”

After a while, I heard the voice of a woman, who sounded like she had just been in a fit of laughter.

“It’s about time…I hope you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Subsequently, the world looked to be encased in total darkness. The creature ceased to exist, the wind stopped blowing, the sound of the waves disappeared and everywhere was silent. After a few seconds, a series of bright ceiling lights began to illuminate a massive room. I saw a large glass window on the wall that revealed a group of people sitting behind computers, speaking to each other. I then heard a computer-generated female voice say “Your virtual reality simulation has ended. Thank you for using Simulation X.”
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The Cat In The Hat

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Re: Official ATAR Notes ‘Post Your Creative Writing’ Thread
« Reply #6 on: July 24, 2020, 02:26:52 pm »
+3
Background: this is part of a novel I'm planning and I couldn't resist writing a bit; any feedback you like to give is appreciated, even criticism; I'd rather not just 'I hate this' but anything that jars or feels off about it, please say so! I beg anyone who is getting annoyed etc. by this to tear it to shreds, if they wish :) . Italics in-story are either emphasis or Adira's thoughts. I wasn't really happy with how this turned out, it was different, the way she reacted was different, and she herself is a bit different from what I envisaged, but because I haven't written the rest I expect it'll turn out better when I write it again. At this point, the main character has been in prison where they're trying to change her opinions that are slightly illegal, and her father, who was a specialist in changing people's opinions, effectively betrayed her and her family by deciding his job was more important than his relationship with his daughter. Thus, she's barely talked to him since because of emotional baggage left over from then (neither has she called him father or dad, only 'him' or 'sir' or whatever); that was a while ago, not sure how long ago because I haven't fixed where in the story this goes. He is now sick with some respiratory illness, probably pnuemonia, and her sister Emily comes up to her to tell her he wants her to come in.

"Adira." Emily was walking out of the shadows, her warm golden eyes full of concern. "He wants you."

Adira flushed and then the colour receded, leaving her white faced. "He does?"

Emily nodded. "Please go to him."

Adira hesitated, struggling with herself. How can I go to him? How can I face him? "I'll go."

Emily was silent as Adira walked slowly and erectly past her. As she went to go out of the room, Emily said suddenly, "Adira?"

Adira turned at the door, her face pale but determined, a confused expression on her face, as she raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you."

Adira went out without another word, not trusting herself to speak. He wants to talk to me. All thought of his asking for her forgiveness, something that she had longed for almost ever since his betrayal, was gone from her head, leaving only fear. The walk to his room seemed both impossibly long and terribly swift; she found herself staring at the door, struggling to calm herself.

"Adira? Is that - you?" His voice was hoarse, quiet, with frequent pauses to catch his breath. Fear struck at her heart. I don't care about this man, yet the tie of blood still holds.

Is he going to die?

"Yes, sir." She knew the words had come out stiffly, stilted, but did not realise how much until she saw his face, drawn and tired and hurt. "Did you want anything?" Adira's voice softened a little, but it was still hard and tense.

"I...." He paused, obviously struggling to know how to say whatever was on his mind. "Talk... to me."

"Certainly, sir." The swift pain crossed his face again at her words and Adira wondered, with a flash of irritation, if he expected her to bear him any love, even as her father, any longer. He betrayed us! He can't expect any love from me. As soon as she thought it Adira felt ashamed. How childish I am, holding grudges like a kid. "I assume you know what has been happening around home recently?" The words felt odd in her mouth, as if home was not the right word. Which it wasn't, she reflected, it was no longer her home, and yet....

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she said, "Was that all you wanted?"

He tried to smile, painfully. "I wanted a little more than one sentence."

Adira wished she could retract her words, could say she hadn't meant them, had meant it only to find out why he had asked for her specially. When she hadn't even visited him since he fell ill. When he had betrayed her.

The shadowy room, whispers like shadows at the edge of her hearing, like the shadows in her vision. Her father, stepping out of those selfsame shadows. The way he spoke her name, almost convincing her he was an innocent bystander on her side.

With a shudder, she tried to forget the memory. "Sorry."

"Are you - all right?" On the last word he began to cough violently; she supported him through the paroxysm, though touching him sent revulsion through her like a river. When he had finished, and lay back exhausted, Adira stepped hurriedly back, glad to be a little away from him, and hoping he had forgotten the question he asked.

No luck.

"Are you?"

"Um...." The word caught in her throat, and she tightened her lips, trying to still their quivering. "Long time no see."

He understood. "About that...."

She drew back a little. Still the memory was bright, the memory of when she realised why he was there.

"You betrayed us! Don't you care?" Not even enough energy to shout, just a broken whisper. And on his face there was no remorse, merely annoyance.

"Adira?" His voice was oddly gentle, even when she reminded herself that he was ill and wouldn't talk normally. Odd. "Adira...."

"Sorry." Is that all you can say? she thought with a sudden surge of disgust towards herself.

"I know what you're feeling."

You can't! she wanted to scream at him. You can't and it's all your own fault, for doing this, for breaking apart our family! I never knew you but this, this, was nothing like what I expect of you!

"And, Adira? I wanted to say...." He was silent for a moment, catching his breath. "Sorry."

She grew still. What?

"I'm sorry for what I did. For how I behaved. It was... unpardonable."

Adira found there were tears in her eyes and suddenly knew that, though she had always wanted him to grovel and beg for her forgiveness, that she didn't. That it didn't need to be said. "I know. It's all right." The words were all wrong, because it wasn't, but she knew he would understand what she meant. Because they were family.

"How can I make it up to you?" he rasped. "How can you ever...." Once again he broke off to cough.

Adira hesitated, torn between two different parts of her nature. At last she spoke and the vindictive, darker part of her went away. "I said it's all right... dad."

Her father lay back on his pillows and smiled, weakly. "Thanks."

At that moment Neil [a doctor who is their friend and Emily's uncle (she was adopted)] entered the room. "You should go, Adira," he warned in a low tone.

She was sobbing quietly, but managed to say, "All right," and, half-blinded with tears, stumbled out. There, Emily was waiting.

"How did it go?"

Adira looked up and at that moment everything seemed right.

Emily was regarding her with a steady, compassionate glance, not speaking.

"Okay," Adira managed to say, "I had a bit of a talk with dad, and it was good." I will never fear him again, not because of that.

She felt, suddenly, like she could fly; as if a great weight had been lifted off her; as if, with one blow, great chains had been struck off her.

Adira felt free.
VCE 2018-2020
2019: HHD 3/4 (31->?), dropped Chem before 2020
2020: Maths Methods 3/4, English 3/4, Texts and Traditions 3/4, Revolutions (France/Russia) 3/4
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