Sharing Stories
Cultures and Histories
written by Haylee Matthews
As I walk down to the pool gate, I see an eagle circle the pool house and up into the bright, blue, sunny sky. I look up wondering where the eagle might be heading to and why. I run back up the grass covered hill that leads up inside my auntie's house calling for my mum, aunt, sisters, and cousins to hurry up so I can go in the pool. Finally, after what feels like an hour, they all come down.
I jump in the water feeling a nice cool breeze wafting over me as if a kite caught the perfect wind to gently keep it up in the air for a while. My cousins, sisters and I have a challenge running to see who can swim the farthest in one breath. Kaden seems to have won the challenge doing eight laps without taking a breath. "He does have the advantage since he is quite tall." says my sister Mila.
We spent time having fun on the massive blue blown up duck and the brown blow up fighting logs. We played on those for a while until we got bored so then we played a bit of Marco Polo. Later on, we have a handstand competition. A few hours later we all hop out of the pool to eat lunch. After we finish eating our delish ham and cheese toasted sandwiches we put on more sunscreen and wait for l O minutes before we can jump back into the pool.
Soon after we jump back in the pool, we see a snake slithering along the bright green sunlit grass outside the pool gate. I get back out of the pool to jump onto the duck. I jump but end up falling off it. Instead, I am underneath it. Suddenly I feel someone jump onto the duck I am pushed more under. I start panicking frantically trying to push the duck away. I'm drowning. I immediately try to scream for help. I soon realised no one would hear me. Eventually, I am able to come up for air as soon as I come up, I get mad at myself for letting someone jump on me. I could have drowned, and I am quite a good swimmer. Honestly that was probably the scariest thing that has happened to me.In a time like this you always look back on it realising you had control over the situation.
WMIS
written by Oskar Reuben Macdonald
Chara steps aboard the #8 Train. This isn't where she's supposed to be. By now, she should be on the ferry headed to her school on the hill. She stands there in a dizzied panic, auras play across her eyes. Never before has she strayed from her path. She begins to sweat, her skin flushes a deep red, almost mauve. But, as they start moving, she slowly calms herself, rationalises, allows herself to absorb what's around her.
It's hot and humid today, the train's many carriages bare clumps of suited crowds.
A man checks his watch every now and again in apparent hurry. He taps his foot on the ground as if performing a little anxious jig. His hair is thinning on top, leaving a large patch of raw pink scalp open to the public's secret ridicule. On the smooth clearing atop his skull, Chara can see small beads of sweat forming.
The man holds an important looking briefcase, probably filled with important looking documents. But the suit he wears looks cheap and doesn't fit right. The shirt is creased and bulges slightly, exposing the man's middle-age spread. Maybe he doesn't make much money. Or maybe he doesn't have time to worry about such small, unimportant things as appearance, Chara thinks.
To the man's right sits a woman holding her head with her hands. She wears only stark black. Her hair splays over her shoulders, grey and thin. Originally, Chara pegs her as being around sixty until she removes her head from her hands and Chara can see her face unobscured. It looks surprisingly young. Young enough not to have grey hair, at least. Although little cracks and wrinkles spider across her mouth and her eyes, you can tell she isn't really old.
You can see it in the shape of her face, the way she breathes. Having come up briefly for air, the woman sinks her face into her hands once again. Chara sees a certain familiarity behind this woman's eyes, a glint of something she can recognise amongst the foreignness, Watching this beacon's shoulders heave up and down as she wails, Chara is struck by a powerful and intimate connection.
"Where are you going?" Chara asks, a feeble attempt to comfort this woman, as she does for her mother. "What?" The woman, whose name Chara will later learn is Woe, gasps in a strange, confused breath. "Where are you going today?"
"Oh. Just out." A sliver of sunlight catches her tear-stained cheeks, making them glitter. With a short sniff, she lets her head bob up again. Woe hesitates for a moment, carefully regarding Chara.
"And what about you, my child?"
"I don't really know'.
A little chuckle, her lips draw up ever so slightly, causing Chara to smile along with her.
"You don't know?" Chara gives a shrug. "Neither do I, really."
A few suited men file out of the carriages, a grey uniformed line spilling out to the platform.
"What do you mean? Why don't you know?" Chara asks.
"I guess the same way you're not sure either," replies the woman. The suited man looks their way, suddenly interested.
"Why are you on the train though?" Chara wonders aloud Woe considers this.
"You could say... " She chooses each word carefully, hand-picking only the most appropriate. "You could say it's because I needed to escape. Couldn't bear it anymore, that little church." "Church?"
Woe laughs again at Charo's young naYvete, a laugh laced with melancholy.
"Yes, dear, a church.'
​
The girl looks Woe over again, her black clothes, her tears, and the crucifix draped around her neck. It clicks into place. Charo's heart feels tight, her stomach seizes in grief. Of course, not for herself, but for Woe. She isn't sure what to say, her entire mouth feels heavy and dry.
"Oh." She manages to muster.
They pull up to a lonely station, situated amongst nothingness. They are the only ones on board anymore.
Woe leans over and, so gently, caresses Charo's forehead with her lips. Without speaking, Woe stands and leaves. Chara watches her walk away, further and further until Woe's frail form dissolves into the heat of the day.
​
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BUCKLE UP
written by Natalie Kayssecker
After an ordinary day me and my mum and our family friend went for dinner. Sharon offered to drop us off, and once we got to her van and she put me in the front seat. She put my seatbelt on and she closed the door. The problem was that she didn't check my seat belt. Turns out part of the seatbelt was hanging out of the door.
As we drove off, I felt that my belt was getting tighter and tighter. My skin became blue, my veins popped out of my skin, it became visible. The belt grew tighter and tighter and pushed me harshly toward the seat. It felt like I had no more oxygen left in me.
"Mum! I feel that the seat belt is becoming really tight" so I started to worry before something worse happens than it already is. Mum looked at me from the seat behind, and immediately noticed something was wrong and told Sharon to stop the van. My veins popped up. I couldn't breathe normally, and I couldn't get out. I was stuck as if I was a statue while my Mum friend Sharon noticed she was looking for a scissor while in shock.
My Mum was holding the belt away from my chest so it wouldn't press tightly onto my chest, so I was able to breathe. There was no use on the phones to call the ambulance, Mum's phone was dead, and Sharon's phone was at home. She couldn't find the scissors, so Mum and Sharon went around asking people for their phone to call the ambulance, but no one was there. I was still struggling to breath, and no one had any sharp object to cut the belt.
Luckily, an ambulance drove right past us, and Mum yelled and tried to get the ambulance's attention. They noticed and got out of their vehicle and Mum obediently asked the paramedic to bring scissors. They found it and cut the belt off, that's when I had a massive breath of relief and panicking. They put me in the ambulance truck and drove me to the hospital. It turned out since there's an extra belt part that was stuck around the van wheel, and it was going around the wheel while Sharon was driving. She found the scissors at the very end and luckily I was okay.
DO YOU BELONG?
written by Diksha Chowdary
Tara walked out of her class; her bag slung over her shoulder lazily. Dragging her shoes across the tiled floor, she turned into the corridor, only to be met by a pair of hands yanking her into a class. The door shut as her back was slammed against it harshly, a loud groan escaped her lips.
She opened her eyes to see a duo of girls, each one staring down at her with disgust and disdain. "Can I help you?" Tara deadpanned, raising a brow at the girls.
The next few moments were a mere blur. She was at the mercy of those girls, blood dripped down her face as she winced in pain. Her head wasslammed to the wall repeatedly as a hoard of words clouded her ears. Their voices grew distant as the door to the empty classroom shut, leaving her there. The words 'You don't belong here, brown girl' stuck out the most.
Tara dreaded coming to school every morning. One step into the school gates and she could already feel the insults thrown at her like colours on Holi. Each insult hurled with a significant amount of malice behind them, ingraining themselves into the core of her memory.
Tara had grown used to putting up an iron wall to ward off the insults. She dragged herlethargic body through the school halls, the rush of excited chatter growing louder with each passing step. By the time she got to the classroom door, the shrill bell had rung three times before it fell silent.
Tara's grip on the straps of her backpack tightened as she sucked in a thin line of air, stepping into the class hesitantly. She navigated her way through the students to her table, blocking out the incessant chatter.
The teacher finally walked in and fulfilled the daily tradition of spending the first few minutes of the period shushing and ranting about class behaviour that never seemed to improve. And thus, another 77 minutes of torture began.
It had been about a half a year since Tara had immigrated to Australia. Moving to the country was a dream fulfilled for her parents. The place provided a liveable environment, job opportunities, better education, better living conditions...lt was heaven on Earth compared to the slums. Tara had a background of living in the ghettos of India, shanty houses tightly packed together giving no space to breathe. The cacophony of honking automobiles, cars and motorbikes beeped endlessly like an orchestra without a conductor. Not even face masks could save you from the murky, polluted air. Years of saving and hard work helped her family get out of there to Australia, to a better place to call home.
Yet despite being here for quite a bit of time, Tara never felt welcomed. Her family had moved into a white neighbourhood, and she had been sent to a white school. Being discriminated against for her skin colour was a foreign experience, she never understood the logic behind it. In the slums her priority was poverty, she had no time to deal with who was darker or lighter. However, she was used to ignoring people, so she did exactly that.
As the bell rang, she got up from her seat and left to recess. She walked past the hallways to the courtyard swiftly.
She placed her bags down on the old wooden bench, hopping on the table that let out a low creak. Flipping open her lunchbox, holding her sandwich to her lips, she bit down on the doughy white bread. A mixture of soft cheese and juicy tomato filled her mouth. So, refreshing yet so... so... bland. Before she had any time to brood over herself, a familiar voice called out and sat next to her, ruffling her hair softly. Tara looked over her shoulder, a soft smile painted on her lips as she looked at her friend... At the one person who didn't see her differently no matter her dark skin. "Hey mate."
YOUR BLIND EYES
written by Zora West
My head hangs low as I stumble down the halls, letting my shirt cover my figure before weaving my way through the crowd. Their blind eyes bore into my side while their dirty words echo around and around my head. I steer myself in and out of corridors, hiding in the shadows, although never fully unseen. My mind unconsciously steers itself away from certain girls with sneers hiding beneath their perfectly curated smiles. Their obnoxious murmurs, pointed stares, and unsubtle laughs loom over me declaring their presence.
The bell rips through the air, temporarily saving me from the noxious people around me. I stumble home, thankful for the walls of the school keeping the monsters at bay.
With my energy drained I collapse onto my bed, letting the safety of my house settle my sizzling nerves.
Another day rolls around where I am forced to sludge out of the house. The only reason for my punctuality being my friend's undying commitment to drag me off to school. My mouth involuntarily curls into a smile at the sight of their bright faces and bouncy steps. I head off to school with a swing in my step and a smile on my face, but it's wiped clean as I see one of my former friends- now bully, striding in my direction.
She greets me and my friends, shooting insolent but veiled comments my way, with my friends by my side completely oblivious, falling headfirst for her charm. I covertly roll my eyes as I try to let her words brush past me, but I know that later they will be the start of yet another boundless storm consuming me until the breaking point.
The saying goes "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" but we all know that's just a fabricated lie, for it is words that hurt the most. Words are the ones that will forever shadow you, as they do to me. You can never erase them, only turn down the volume of their echo.
Weeks pass with her stinging comments and relentless cruelty. With every remark thrown my way I slowly build, brick by brick, an impenetrable wall, acknowledging but not engaging with her asperity.
As I disconnect, giving her less and less fuel, the once blazing fire now only a few lumps of decrepitating coal. She finally surrenders, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes adrift in the howling wind.
The mental scarring remains, slowly fading with time. She will forever be tainted in my eyes while she continues on
throughout her day, unseeing my story. I now pass her in the hall, my dead smiles gingerly begin to blossom as we begin the long journey of rekindling our relationship.
written by Madeleine Harney
The car started and we began driving to the biggest river I knew. Though, I was little and didn't know of that many rivers. But still we kept driving, everyone was bubbling with excitement. I was happy as I slept, played games, stared out the window, and imagined what It was going to be like when we got there. I thought of a small boat, tiny rooms and a few beds. But when we got there It was better.
There were two floors, the bottom with all the rooms and the top with a sitting area for relaxing and looking out onto the beautiful water.
There was even a little boat attached with some rope to the houseboat. It was amazing. We had about three weeks all squished together on the boat.
For most of the holiday it was really warm and sunny, and we spent a lot of it swimming and relaxing in the bright sun. We even rowed the small boat along the river with the paddles, but we did it the wrong way, so we just spun in circles.
We also tried fishing though we weren't really good at it, and we caught an eel instead of a fish.
We were all loving the holiday and the houseboat was great. The top of the boat had a look-over part on the edge. My brother would stand on it, jump off, and dive into the water. But I was too scared, and so the first time I jumped off the top of the boat was after around a week into the holiday.
Then, when I finally thought that I should join in, I walked up and stood on the edge. I looked down and saw the dark water below. I was terrified of what would lie beneath the water.
It was really high but I took a deep breath and dove in. The water was a little cold, but I wasproud of myself for facing my fears.
After I got over how scared I was to jump off the boat I started enjoying the holiday even more. Every morning we would jump off the top of the boat and go for a swim, then every night we would sit up there and look up at the stars.
During the last week of the holiday, we decided to attach the smaller boat to the houseboat and start driving the houseboat. I was sitting in the small boat, and I could feel the boat travel fast, skidding over the water. It was fun and relaxing. It was like I was a flying fish dashing over the river. Then when I
leaned over to look at the water the boat started tipping and with a loud splash the boat went forward.
It started moving down into the deep water below leaving me floating there. I freaked out! I wasn't a strong swimmer so I didn't know what to do. But then something caught my eye. I spotted something red and round bobbing in the water next to me. It was the life safety ring, I quickly clutched onto it and I held on as tight as I could.
I swam back and with fright in my eyes I climbed onto the boat. I dried off and we brought the boat back to the houseboat, the entire thing was flooded with water.
We grabbed some buckets and started emptying the water out of the boat. I was small and weak and with water in the bucket I could barely lift it, though I tried helping... but kept dropping the bucket
From the whole houseboat experience I learnt that you have to be more careful and think before you act, also to face your fears even if you're nervous you should try new things.
