By Lucy Tirahan
Week two's topic was 'freedom in movement'. It is important for me to explore current issues with the students and how we can discuss them through creative writing.
As a starter activity I asked them if they could take a bridge anywhere, where would it be? As a main activity I showed the students pictures of refugees in boats as we discussed the refugee crisis
(I suggested that maybe if you asked one of the refugees where they could take a bridge to, their dream place may be in a safe country like ours). I then asked them to write a piece from any perspective but the refugees themselves. I got pieces from the perspective of the boat, life jackets and many other interesting points of view. These pieces are particularly compelling and moving.
If you could take a bridge anywhere, what would be at the end of it?
I was standing on the bridge and I wasn’t sure where to go.
All the sudden I heard a voice, it was a whisper like the wind.
"Jump off the bridge into the magical dome.”
So I leaned forward, I looked down and I closed my eyes.
I was ready.
If I could take a bridge to any place of my choice…
It would lead to the grand, gold gates of Heaven towering above me as the sweet, angelic song of the angels floats in the nice, warm air. They approach us with a calm, soothing light following behind each of them as they pick up a large shimmery key and open the gates of Heaven.
It is filled with kind angels all enjoying their afterlife with scrumptious food and all the luxuries anyone could have ever dreamed of. Angels enjoying a short nap and angels competitively playing bowling. Angels sewing dreamcatchers and angels watching their loved ones.
Then, we make our way to a huge rainbow encrusted with rare jewels such as Pearls, Rubies, Emeralds, and Sapphires. And there was the moment we had all been waiting for; my dad ran up to us, arms wide open, and ready to give us all a great, big hug.
I was stuck, lying on the sofa – bored. The programme on TV was peppa pig... *sigh*. I decided to go outside to make a bridge (out of knex). My friend was eager to help but... No I was going to do this myself. I told her that this was my idea.
Finally, I had finished it. A bridge that can expand. Would I be able to walk on it? I was and every time that I stepped it would expand even more! This was magical. I had made this - myself.
My dream has always been to make a magical planet, with wands, cloaks, witches, wizards and etc. I decided to build a rocket.
If there were a bridge to take me to one place, any place, this is what it would be…
It would be a bridge to take me to the magical times of Harry Potter. Where I would be a student myself of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, I would live as a wizard’s daughter and the trio (Harry, Hermione and Ron) would know and accept me as their good friend. I’d experience the books but this time in reality, and I’d get away with the fact that I belong to this ordinary muggle world where none of this exists. I’d know what would happen.
I have read the books and watched the movies, now it is time to be in it. Off and away!
I wish there was a bridge which connected to the houses of your loved ones and your ancestors so you could find out who they were and what they were like. Then I would want it to end at an area full of doors of my ancestors and current relatives.
Most doors were full of laughter but some full of sorrow. Joyful occasions filled the lengthy right hand side whereas on the left a shorter corridor full of sorrow. On the left there were memories of when my ancestors died and the fear of World War 1 and World War 2.
On the right there were memories of little babies being born (ooh, there’s me) and family members returning victorious after war. Was this true or simply a figment of my imagination?
If I had a magical bridge I would want it to go to candy world. A land where candy never runs out! There is lots of pink candy floss as silky as luscious hair. I would want to invite all my loved ones and build a ginger bread house. It would be on top of clouds.
What I don’t know is what is at the end of the bridge. Could there be a leprechaun carrying a pot of gold? Maybe there could be a rainbow at the end of the bridge? What do you think?
Writing about the refugee crisis
She wore me and comforted her foot on my sole. Fear and terror filled her face, from down here I could feel her heart beating rapidly, pleading only for freedom, peace and relief. BOOM!
The aftermath of an exploding bomb left an echoing silence which deafens everyone. Alarm occupied her face, they were near. Very near! She sprinted, leaving behind the dilapidated and destroyed city. I look ahead away from her water raged in front of her whilst she jumped on the orange inflatable boat along with a hundred other people. The boat heaved and continued onward, away from this warzone, away from this living hell.
She was a little girl, a very little girl. Tears exploded like the bomb that had a few seconds ago. She had left her parent, left them behind. She glanced back with rivers of tears. A bomb exploded, just where she lived. Just where her parents dwelled.
Now how would you feel in the boots of a refugee gasping desperately for dear life?
Today wasn’t an ordinary day, today was an extraordinary day.
I could hear children crying, mums and dads struggling, dogs barking and the aggressive ocean waves.
I was frightened.
What Am I?
I watched from above, apprehensive, scared. I was creeping towards them, I didn’t want to but this was it, this was the most horrifying moment of their lives and I would have to make it even scarier.
I had no choice *sigh* they were heading to a place called the United Kingdom a place where my friends and I would cry a river. A tear dropped from my face. I didn’t want to cry but the thought of the silencing bomb, which deafened all those people living them. The aftermath - a village ruined, families destroyed, houses crumbled. “BOOM!”
I was super sad. I had to do it I was feeling very heavy and weak. No one could hear me.
I wrap myself tightly around a refugee guarding his life. He cries, as his family gets left behind - yet he is ready to start a new life in England. I am full with air; unable to breathe. This boy puts his trust in me to save him if he may fall out of the boat or worse- to drown. If he was to fall out, I would help him stay afloat above the water and able to breathe unlike me. Except, I know I can hold my breath for somebody who needs it. I hug him tightly as I am the only company he has left and the only hope of safety he has.
I cannot crack under pressure or fail to save him for I can help him pursue his dream of living in England and having a calm cosy home to live in. He is one of the lucky people travelling to England because I know, my country, will help look after him with all the support and counselling he needs after travelling from such disturbing scenes and watching members of his family drop dead in front of his eyes. My sister, the sea, pushes them across with all her might but I know she too, can save herself from being upset and creating a storm.
My brother, the boat, carries them across despite being very heavy, I know he can do it also.
Well now, I must go, for we are approaching land, I will soon be deflated and packed away ready for another day.
Bombs fell, surrounding my house, on which I worked on for so long, ruining a house I took a whole 5 minutes to build! People were fleeing left, right and centre. The sky which I used to fly in no longer blue but a dusty brown, the streets no longer full of people, none of my cousins (the sparrows) flying nearby, the place no longer my home. The people, whose garden which I resided in, were leaving carrying some food and clothing so I took a leaf and put all my food inside and followed them.
I heard the young person shout “Look mummy that robin is following us.” But the mother rushed on, I wouldn’t blame her there’s a war going on. AHHHHHHH! ...
Suddenly, I heard children crying, people shouting in the distance. I didn’t know what was happening. I could see news reporters urging to gather enough information to produce for the news.
Then there was a deathly silence, but it didn’t last long. I felt like I was being trampled on.
Then my neighbour beside me told me about foreign people coming over… What could that mean?
Our Creative Writing Teacher
I'm a student in year 12
who is passionate about writing and hopes to become successful in the industry when I'm older.
I am lucky to have been provided with many opportunities throughout school to explore this skill and take it further. Writing is often seen as an unstable career but many people have inspired me to stay committed to something I love and to keep my drive, purely because it is with drive and dedication that you can overcome what is deemed impossible.
I wanted to do something which would inspire younger years to take up creative writing, as I truly believe it is an art that can help you develop many skills and force you to think outside the ordinary.
I also believe that younger people have not been provided with a sufficient platform to make themselves heard, this blog is an alternative platform. I now run a creative writing club with Heston West Big Local once a week where I work with students aged 11-14 on creative writing pieces.
They are all incredibly talented and each individual manages to write from a unique perspective. Each week we will upload their work, I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy working with them.