º«¹úAV

º«¹úAV’s award-winning writers

Have you ever dreamed of being an award-winning published writer? Jessica (Year 7) and Emma (Year 8) have. They recently won the Nan Manefield Young Writer’s Award.

Standing out from the crowd in the Nan Manefield Young Writer’s Award is hard. This annual competition is for young writers aged between 11 and 18 years. It’s overseen by Stanton Library and North Sydney Council, and submissions are judged by a panel of professional authors. Each year our English Department actively encourages º«¹úAV’s budding poets and authors to enter the competition. Not only does it help to hone their writing skills, but it can also be a launchpad for their imaginative journeys.

Of course, it’s hard to come up with a winning entry, but this year, two º«¹úAV students topped their age category.

Emma in Year 8 was the winner of the 13 Years category in the 2020 Nan Manefield Young Writer's Award with her short story, A Piece of Home.

A Piece of Home
By Emma (Year 8)

I scramble to find the last few pieces, determined to finish it before dinner. I can almost hear the sound of the ocean waves lapping against the shore and feel the warmth of the glowing sun as it begins to dip below the horizon, creating a symphony of colour across the sky. It was a beautiful jigsaw, making me wonder why it had been hidden away in the attic for so long. Filled with satisfaction, I lift the last piece and carefully press it into the waiting hole. Without warning, I collapse and am engulfed in a silent darkness.

Jolting upright, I open my eyes to see a crimson sun setting into the horizon. I look down at my hands buried in sand. Beads of sweat meander their way down my forehead and leap to the ground. I frantically look around, horrified as I suddenly realise that I am inside the jigsaw. The sunset, the beach; everything is the same.

I slowly get to my feet and a fresh wave of fear washes over me as my eyes survey a dense forest blanketing an island. The only sign of life is a run-down lighthouse, separated from the shore by a line of rocks with dagger edges. This is most likely my only chance of finding help.

Each rock is engulfed in a slimy coat of seaweed and moss. As I precariously lurch from one rock to another, the sun continues to sink below the horizon, stretching the shadows and fading the daylight.

I can now barely see my feet below me, as I finally reach the lighthouse. Carefully, I push the weathered door open on its broken hinge and am swallowed into a foreboding darkness. I fumble along the wall for a light switch, but my fingers find only peeling paint.

I reach the base of a winding staircase fitted with rotting floorboards and peer upwards into the ominous darkness. Placing each foot carefully, I begin to climb as the warped wood groans at my presence. My body drags my legs behind it, but I finally reach the top. Trying to catch my breath, I gaze at the vast ocean enshrouded in the shadows of night. A shard of moonlight spills into the room from a sky now speckled with stars.

Without warning, the floorboards groan yet again but this time I hadn’t moved. Frozen in fear, I hear it again. I can feel my heart racing in my chest as I slowly creep over to the top of the stairs. The creaking of the floorboards is becoming louder with each step. Sweat starts trickling down my neck.

I peer down the spiral and spot the silhouette of a hunched figure climbing the stairs. As I look closer, my breath quickens. The figure is not human, snarling and crawling on four legs. Sharp, dagger-like claws pierce the wooden floorboards with every step. I frantically look around, hoping to spot any sign of human life; any sign of hope. The creaking of the stairs is rapidly becoming louder.

Suddenly, I spot a jigsaw laying on the ground. Although it is unfinished, I can make out the image in an instant; an image of my house. There is only one piece missing from the jigsaw. As adrenaline floods my body, I scan the room knowing this jigsaw might be my only way home. The figure has almost reached the top of the stairs, their deep growl and heavy breathing now audible.

My heart leaps as I spot the final piece of the jigsaw, resting on the ledge of one of the windows. I hurriedly grab it and run back over to the jigsaw, fumbling to fit the piece in the remaining hole. The figure rounds the final corner, just as the final piece falls into place. My breathing becomes shaky as the figure comes into view. In that moment, I collapse to the ground and am engulfed in darkness.

My eyes flutter open. Frantically, I look around and let out a cry of relief at the familiarity of my bedroom. Shaking, I approach my desk and look down at an incomplete jigsaw. I glance one last time at the alluring sunset before my trembling hands scoop the pieces back into its box, silently vowing to never touch it again.

Jessica in Year 7 was the winner of the 2020 Nan Manefield Young Writer's Award 12 Years category with her short story, Veritas.

Veritas
By Jessica (Year 7)

Legend has it, that if you were to go to a tower, not very different to crumbling ruins of what was once Rapunzel's, you would come across a thick oak door, with iron hinges, and a brass eagle knocker. Open that door, and you would find yourself in the Sorcerer's Chambers. Bookshelves reaching towards a ceiling painted with peeling clouds, and discoloured rays of sunshine, filled with mouldy books with moth-eaten pages, full of spells and curses, poisons and antidotes. Upon the Sorcerer's desk, lies the most important, and most dangerous, of them all. A massive book, with a deep blue cover, and faded gold lettering, spelling out one word. Veritas.

It has been stolen, and forgotten, remembered and hidden and found, passed from one greedy hand to another, over the centuries, creating a bloody trail over the pages of history itself. From King, to doctor, to duchess, to beggar, to witch. They all had something in common: none of them lived very long. Danger and treachery always managed to catch up with the book. After all, the higher you rise, the further you can fall.

So, what makes this book so special? So dangerous? So powerful?

It's in the name. Veritas. Truth. Only the truth can be written within Veritas. If a lie, half-truth, mistake or deception is to be penned on its pages, Veritas shall change the present/past/future, change the course of history, to make it true.

Just imagine how unstoppable one would be, if only he had his greedy hands upon this book!

King Stephan, the ruler of half the world, was the first ever recorded owner of Veritas. His reign was ending, and he knew it. More and more rebels attacked his borders, from inside and out, every day. Imagine how different life would be today, if he hadn't set out his inks, and begun to write

The Rebels are dead.
Kind Stephan rules the world.
King Stephan is loved by all.
He is the richest in the entire empire.
Long live King Stephan.

…And so on. With this book, he simply could not be stopped. Until he was. His own daughter, Maybelle, stole Veritas as he slept.

Maybelle is the fairest of them all.
Maybelle is the Queen.
Long live Maybelle.

So Veritas travelled the world. In the pockets of thieves, the trunks of princesses, the coats of scientists... And now, though impossible, it has found its way into your arms. Sitting right in front of you, motionless, upon the Sorcerer's desk, begging you to open it. Do you?

You could wish for anything.

Beauty.
Power.
Money.
Beauty.
Health.
To live forever.
People to love you.
Climate change to end.
The world re-ordered however you desire.

Whatever you want. You could rule the world! But let me warn you: be careful what you wish for. There is a reason King Stephan, Maybelle, or any of the books' previous owners did not last. Veritas has unimaginable power, but with power comes jealousy, and spite and no matter what you wish for, you will never be truly safe with Veritas.

Veritas means truth.

And the truth cannot be erased, no matter how much you want it to be.

What do you do next?

A huge congratulations to both girls. Our English Department – and indeed the rest of the School – are very proud of you. Check out the Stanton Library website to access an eBook of the stories and poems of the Winners, Highly Commended, and Commended young writers.