annacatherine

Australia

Hi :)
My name is Anna Catherine. I'm a high school student in Australia. My interests include history, biology, writing, reading, playing guitar and dancing. My favourite genres of books are psychological thrillers, fantasy and science fiction.

Message from Writer

[ if you want to be a writer, you must do two things: read a lot and write a lot]

Writing is all about speaking from your soul and creating magic with your mind. To write, you must be able to connect with every aspect of yourself and every aspect of other people. You must be able to become someone else wholly.

Published Work

Honey

I never liked the taste of honey 
until you left me with a bitter taste in my mouth;
and i found that if I picked up a spoonful, 
and swished it around my jaw; 
I was filled with sickly sweet instead. 

Ache

There is an ache in my chest and
I can't tell whether it's because I 
ate too much again or whether 
I'm missing the way your body used to 
press against mine. 
 

Him & You

1. He was the lust i craved for; 
he woke the nerves in my skin with 
a single touch. I think it was because 
he was so dangerous to be around. 

2. You are not like him; 
you are comfort and soft kisses. 
you are both easy to be with, 
and easy to oppose. 

3. If i ever tormented him in the way
i torment you he would have grabbed 
my wrists and held me down until 
i submitted to him.

4. Sometimes i think that i 
wanted you to spite him because i 
was just too hurt and starved 
for someone to love me. 

5. Sometimes when I look into your 
eyes I see him. He looked at me the 
same way you do; with wildfire
in your eyes. 

 

Self-Respect

Measures of self-worth

1. When he places his hands on you, 
do not flinch; even though in your dreams 
he wraps his hands around your neck and 
squeezes. 

2. Ball your fists. 
You were born a fighter; 
do not let them tell you otherwise. 
Do not let them belittle you 
behind your back. 

3. Study until your mind is a jumble 
of facts; do not let emotions distract you 
from the task at hand. You must be the best
to make them notice you. 

4. Lose yourself in the history of the world; 
read and listen to anything you can get your
hands on. You will not regret it when the 
adults underestimate you. 

5. Step out of your comfort zone. 
Stand your ground when they tell you 
that it is not appropriate for a woman 
like you to speak. You can speak. 

Self-Respect

Measures of self-worth

1. When he places his hands on you, 
do not flinch; even though in your dreams 
he wraps his hands around your neck and 
squeezes. 

2. Ball your fists. 
You were born a fighter; 
do not let them tell you otherwise. 
Do not let them talk about your sister 
like that. 

3. Study until your mind is a jumble 
of facts; do not let emotions distract you 
from the task at hand. You must be the best
to make them notice you. 

4. Lose yourself in the history of the world; 
read and listen to anything you can get your
hands on. You will not regret it when the 
adults underestimate you. 

5. Step out of your comfort zone. 
Run through the woods until your ankles 
burn from never-healed injuries. Lift the 
weights until your muscles burn. 

Poem

I was born as a product; 
a unity between a blessed angel, 
and satan's right hand man. 

I was taught to be humble, 
to praise those who gave up their time. 
to dance with the gods. 

I was forced to withstand pain so great, 
as my body ripped itself apart because
an angel and a demon cannot love. 

I was a mutilated product, 
a heart filled with blackness, 
but a soul filled with light. 

A poem

There is a person in my bed and 
they sleep so peacefully, 
as if they are unaware that 
they have broken into my house 
and thrown my books everywhere 
and swam in my pool. 

I did not let them in but 
they sat at my doorstep for hours 
and begged me to let them in 
to make things right between us
but i did not want him to see me like this 
so i locked the doors and dreamt. 
 

Part 4

There is a girl in my class and
she barely ever talks anymore and 
i haven't seen her laugh since last February 
and i'm worried that i did something wrong 
because i told her i loved her the other day and 
asked her out and she said yes 
and even though she holds my hand and 
smiles whenever i look at her 
but i still feel like something 
is wrong 

There is a boy in my class and 
he has this beautiful red hair and 
he's lovely because he's so nice but 
sometimes i wish he could be rough and bloody 
and beat boys up that talk about my 
breasts but he's never been 
violent and i should be grateful 
but i'm just not. 

Part 3

There is a girl in my class and 
sometimes she doesn't talk for days 
because her mind is so filled with 
equations and facts and i think 
sometimes she doesn't have space 
and sometimes i think about the day 
we kissed but she never brings it up 
and i think it's because i told 
another girl my first kiss was a mistake and 
i'm so sorry. 

There's a girl in my class and 
she has blonde hair that always falls
in her face and sometimes i brush it 
away from her cheeks and she 
seems to think that it's just a friendly 
gesture even though we kissed last year 
and i placed my hand 
on her thigh and i know i could have been 
happy with her. 

Part 2

There is a girl who sits next to me in class and 
she wears pearl earrings to school 
even though her mind is a hurricane 
of depression and never being good enough and 
i envy that she manages to hold the 
weight of the world on her shoulders 
and i want to kiss her better 
but she's always had her eyes on 
that boy. 

There is a girl that I am friends with and 
she loves to tell horror stories and 
listen to music that screams to her soul 
and yesterday she cut her hair 
but it looks so good on her and 
i want to tell her i am in love with her
but she's never been interested 
in anyone, especially not me. 

 

Part 1

There is a girl in my class with 
awfully long hair and whenever she 
comes to school it's in 
braids and it's so pretty 
but i could never tell her 
how i feel because i'm 
a sinner and she 
is a saint. 

There is a boy in my class and he 
has long blonde hair and 
whenever he touches me 
i feel the electricity in the air 
but i could never tell him 
how i feel because he uses 
other girls and could never 
fall for a do-gooder like 
me. 

The Vistas Beyond

The park

The park behind the house glistened in the early morning light; the sun bounced off the plastic equipment in rainbow fragments - giving the playground an ethereal appearance. The flood was suddenly over. Rain and water alike had slipped from the parkland and into the streams behind it, leaving only memories of the destruction it caused. 

Writing Resolutions

2019 Writing Goals

Writing Goal: This year, I plan to complete the manuscript on one of my novels. I want to have completed a first draft by July and finish editing by November this year. I want to submit my novel to publishers in late December or early January 2020. 

Craft Goal: I want to work on my characters this year. I want them to be characters that people can relate to, cry over and support them through their journey throughout the novel. I am going to work hard on making my characters seem realistic, and giving them positive character arcs. 

Living People

A little insight on a character :)

Character: Etta Parker
Book: The Children of the Nuclear War 
Find this story on wattpad: annacaatherine_


What is something about your character that no one knows?
Etta gets upset easily but hides it underneath a mask of toughness. She finds it very hard to connect to people and make friends because of this.

What is his/her favourite time of day?    
She loves the early morning. This is because of the mist in the air, and the view of the sunrise. The air is cold in her lungs when she runs through the forest. 

Who is his/her closest confidant?  
She only ever goes to her friend Ivy for help, but tries not to rely on her too much. 

What is something s/he collects?
She collects ferns and flowers from the forest floor, which she keeps with the stuff she finds while being a mechanic. 

What was his/her last nightmare about?
Etta has a recurring nightmare about the nuclear war...

Tiny Love Story

Love Story: The Reckless Boy & The Quiet Girl

This story of love first began when a teacher told a boy that a certain girl would never, ever fall in love with him. The boy was reckless and wild; often letting profanities spill from his mouth as he refused to do yet another mathematics test. The girl was quiet and did well in school; being told from a young age that girls were to be seen and not heard. The boy intrigued the girl and they soon began talking. The boy wanted to join the military. The girl wanted 12 children and her own bookstore. They surprised each other with abilities they didn't know each other had. But this story does not end in marriage, or eternal love. 

Love is like a #fire

I feel the burning in my heart.
A passion that cannot die like
wildfire that will consume everything
in its path, and i know that it will 
destroy me. 

But I want it, 
to feel the heat in my
cheeks one last time, 
to experience the rush of 
adrenaline, burning through my 
veins when our mouths
join together. 

I will accept the smoke, 
that fills my lungs and I am 
choking but I know that 
it will be worth it
in the 
            end. 

Always you

You have been gone for so long. 

It's your birthday today, and I wonder whether your family is gathered together, whether your mother has made a cake, even though you're not there. Do her hands tremble when she thinks of her youngest son, who ended his life with one silly mistake? And do your brothers think of all the times they convinced you that sneaking out would be okay - that they would cover for you until you got home? How would they have known? 

I still think about the message that is stored in my notes. I wish I had sent it to you. Then you would have known how I felt.

I miss you.  

2019

New Year Recipe

A pinch of good luck 
and a cup of mistakes.
three galleons of books, 
and half a mug of black tea.
seven ounces of tears, 
with a couple of grams of laughter 
to disperse the pain. 
a mixing of wisdom, 
and one hundred grams of 
imperfection. 

#mystoryq&a

Do you still live where you were born? 
No, I don't. I have moved across three different states in Australia since I was born. 

How many languages do you speak/study? 
I am fluent in English. I can speak fairly fluent German and Indonesian, and I'm currently learning French! I'm planning to study either Latin or Greek next. 

Do you consider yourself a good student?
Yes. I try really hard in school and always make sure to catch up on work and go to homework tutorials if I need help with a question in class. This has really helped me to get good grades :) 
 
Do you play sport? 
It really depends. I have danced for eight years and dance on pointe, but I also play sports such as netball etc for school. Saying that, I struggle to play sport due to several injuries and I'm not the athletic type :) 

Are you religious? 
Technically, I am as I have...

Mixtape

The Soundtrack of my Life

12 songs that represent me :) 

1. The Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy 
2. Just One Yesterday (Feat. Foxes) by Fall Out Boy 
3. 100 Letters by Halsey 
4. Eyes Closed by Halsey 
5. They Don't Care About Us by Michael Jackson 
6. Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by Panic! At the Disco 
7. Talk Fast by 5 Seconds of Summer 
8. Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer 
9. Funeral by Lukas Graham 
10. Morph by Twenty One Pilots
11. Chlorine by Twenty One Pilots 
12. Trouble (Stripped) by Halsey 

My December Writing Competition 2018

December

It's the first day of December and I
wake up to the song of the beetles. 
The Christmas beetles,
always come out at this time of year. 

It's the first day of December and I 
make chocolate pancakes
to mark the beginning of 
a new season. 

It's the first day of December and I'm 
already clammy skinned, 
the heat simmers outside. 
It's always so humid. 

It's the first day of December and I 
have traded my school uniform for 
singlets and thongs. 
The festive season has already started. 

It's the first day of December and I 
plan to say goodbye to the city 
and join my friends on the 
beach. 

It's the first day of December and I 
want to surf, 
to feel the waves underneath my board. 
The salt water has never felt so soothing. 

It's the first day of December and I 
put up the Christmas tree, 
and don the angel 
on the top. 

It's the first day...

A collection of Haikus: The Moon and the Sun.

The moon in it's strength,
could not hold us in her hands, 
we were too stubborn. 

The humans are gone, 
They think the world is ending. 
It has just begun. 

We were so tired. 
From running from our own sins. 
We destroyed the world. 

The sun contracted. 
Then expanded in glory. 
Earth was not our home. 

Library Magic

My first library

I used to go the Stafford Library every holidays. I would borrow out the maximum number of books, then come home, and read them all before the two weeks ended. It was my own special tradition. I kept going there until I was 12, when I had read all the books in the library. Good times. 

Gods

I asked the gods if I loved him, 
and they responded with a sigh. 
They never liked those type of questions, 
lovers always questioning why. 

They told me to be faithful, 
even as he walked away, 
but the last time I put that kind of trust in a man, 
they laughed and took him away. 

The gods are always angry, 
for they have never loved the way I have. 
They do not understand that
to love so deeply, 
the broken hearted always dies. 

I asked them if I loved him, 
and this time they responded to me, 
resounding screams of 
no, NO 
I've never felt such agony. 

So I took their advice and loved him, 
stayed faithful when he yelled, 
the gods, they crashed a car one night, 
and laughed as I sobbed near. 

For a women should never open her heart, 
to two men she could never be with. 

Why #DearGod

Heavenly Father, 

is that what they call you now? I'm in need of great assistance and you don't seem to be answering my prayers. So forgive me Father, but I will write a letter and attach it to the nearest angel in hope that you will respond. 

I want to know why you let my family struggle. Why you let us lose thousands of dollars in broker fees so we could get a mortgage to keep our house. I want to know why my mum's ex-girlfriend drove past our street the other day, windows up, rolling past our house. Was she going to hurt us? The family she left so easily after 10 years of raising children who weren't her own? 

What plans do you have for me Father? Why did you make me chose between two passions - two subjects that gave me reason to wake up and catch the bus to that ghastly place. I tried to fix...

Him & You

He was the fire that
burned through my veins. 
He was passion and lust, 
and when he called my name, 
I would want him forever. 

You are the opposite, 
comfort, and soft kisses, and 
oh how we fight. 

Sometimes I think, 
did I want you in spite of him? 
Was I too damn hurt, 
too starved for love, 
to think? 

Because sometimes, 
I see you, 
but I think of him. 
I remember the way he looked at me, 
wildfire in his eyes, 
and in yours, 
it is the exact same. 

 

Novel Writing Competition 2018

My father

My father was shot when I was eight. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just holding my hand. When we heard the gunshot, he wrapped me into his body. His body fell on top of mine. I could hear his last breath. I could taste blood in my mouth. He held me so tight. I screamed as he died, his body slouched in an unnatural way, his hand holding mine. It wasn't fair. He didn't do anything wrong. The police just didn't like that he was black and I was white. 

It was just mum and I after that. When I came home, bloodied and crying, she knew what had happened. She just held me, telling me it was okay over and over again. We buried dad that afternoon, mum digging a hole in our backyard. He looked like he was sleeping. There was no funeral. A week later she passed out in the garden. I cried and cried,...

#WARNING!

If I had to wear a warning label, what would it say and why?

~~


Warning: DO NOT ENGAGE 
They call me the bringer of bad luck, 
for the month that I was born, 
20 children were killed, 
a terrorist bomber stuck them down. 

Warning: DO NOT BEFRIEND 
For after a year or two, 
you will find more flaws
than attributes. 
It is hard to let go of me, 
when I'm terrified of neglect. 

Warning: DO NOT SYMPATHISE 
My mother cheated on my father, 
and my step mum cheated on my mum. 
When you apologise for my hardships, 
you will be taken aback by my laugh. 
I was taught to not care. 

Warning: DO NOT BECOME LOVERS 
For I fall easily, 
for boys and girls alike. 
They hear whispers about my first kiss, 
a girl, no less, 
and my first love, a boy, 
who died. 

Warning: DO NOT
I am the riot, 
I am the storm. 
Those who want me...

IMPORTANT NOTE

Hi!!
Sorry to bother you guys but please please please leave a review on my analytical essay! 
Thanks, 
Anna x 

You #ICBYPoetry

When I think of you, 
I think of the pain you caused, 
the bullets that pierced my hearts. 
I should have never let my guard down. 

You were everything to me, 
but I should have thought better than to believe you. 
I saw all the girls you tossed aside. 
How stupid was I to think I was the one. 
 

Five Endings

Alternate endings

1. He loved me, but I could not love him. 

2. This is not a happy story. This story ends in heart break. 

3. "I love you," I whispered. But he walked away. 

4. There was no words to describe the pain in her chest. 

5. He heard a scream. Her scream. 

Here are some alternative endings to a story I've written. It's about a young couple who could never be together. They were too different. Their paths crossed at the wrong time. 

Analytical Essay

The novel, 'Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' demonstrates themes of humanity, innocence and friendship through the eyes of a Nazi Commandant's son who has just moved to "Out-With" for his father's job. Bruno's family move from their house in Berlin with five floors and a banister, and his three best mates for life called Martin, Daniel and Karl, to a small house that outlooks a fence with thousands of people who look miserable. Due to Bruno's adventurous nature, Bruno meets a young jewish boy named Shmuel who lives on the other side of the fence. The two boys become close friends quickly, even though they are unable to break the physical barrier between them. At the end of the novel, Bruno steps under the fence to help Shmuel find his father, which ultimately results in the deaths of both the boys. John Boyne uses Bruno's innocent perspective to teach readers about what was really happening at "Out-With" through techniques of...

Letters

He wrote me letters that smelt of spring, 
pressed flowers and 
lemon drops. 

I wore a pink ribbon in my hair, 
my dress smelt of his cologne, 
people tell me I should 
be careful. 

He has a fighters spirit, 
but a loving heart. 
Bruised knuckles, 
and brushed back hair. 

Tell me

Do not tell me that I am pretty, 
tell me that people turn their heads when I walk into the room, 
that I hold myself so highly, 
that people cannot bare to love me. 

Do not tell me that I am smart, 
tell me that I twist words beautifully, 
that you agree with me before you know what I asked. 
Tell me that I'm the temptress in disguise. 
 

Novel Writing Competition 2018

My father

My father was shot when I was eight. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just holding my hand. When we heard the gunshot, he wrapped me into his body. His body fell on top of mine. I could hear his last breath. I could taste blood in my mouth. He held me so tight. I screamed as he died, his body slouched in an unnatural way, his hand holding mine. It wasn't fair. He didn't do anything wrong. The police just didn't like that he was black and I was white. 

It was just mum and I after that. My poor mum. When I came home, bloodied and crying, she knew what had happened. She just held me, telling me it was okay over and over again. We buried dad that afternoon, mum digging a whole in our backyard. He looked like he was sleeping. There was no funeral. A week later she passed out in the garden. I...

Kingdom

They called her a liar, 
when she came to them, 
cloak tattered, 
she wanted to take her kingdom back. 

They said she could never have ruled a kingdom, 
rulers were ragged from battle, 
scarred and calloused and lame. 
She took off her hood and showed them the scar down her face. 

They turned their heads, 
she would not be fit for a wife, 
not when she was a delusional, 
not when she was mutilated beyond repair. 

They sent her back to her home, 
and years later,
she came back with an army, 
bloodied and bruised, 
she came to burn their kingdom down. 

Dangerous

Did it scare you that we were too young to be dangerous?
That we were too quiet,
too intelligent,
too humble.
Did it scare you that we, mere children, had the power to change the world?
When you, an adult, could not?

Everyday Magic

The Gods

They held the spears in their hands. Dark circles under their eyes. War paint. They were tired of the constant fighting, the battle against the gods. Everyone knew they couldn't hope to defeat those who created them. But they tried. Day after day. They would not be held captive. They would not submit. The ground shook as the gods arrived. They raised their spears. 

Turned to Stone

Died

I saw him in my mirror today. He looked just like he always did; the scars on his knuckles freshly opened from a fight, his hair messy but pulled back. I turned around to hug him, to feel his arms around my shoulders. But he wasn't there. 

He had died. 

Don't you remember? 

In the House

Drop Dead

There's darkness here.
It constricts my chest,
squeezing the breath from my lungs.
My hands clutch at my heart. 

I clutch at my heart and wail. 
The noise sounds foreign, 
otherworldly,
alien. 

There's blood in my mouth. 
Was the blood mine, 
or someone else's? 
I tell myself that I bit my lip. 

This hallway smells too clean, 
for there is darkness on the other side of the wall. 
I don't want to go back, 
I can still taste the smell of rotten meat. 

I see him, 
my lover. 
He's covered in blood, 
just as I am. 
 

Once the World Was...

Origin Story

We were made in likeness of God, 
pure and prudent, 
eager to please our Father. 

He turned us into robots,
was it for his own greed? 
He wouldn't let us fall. 

I fell in love,
an angel, like me.
He had golden hair. 

I followed him everywhere, 
the rest of us did too. 
We thirsted for his imperfection. 

He told God to let us go, 
we were not his slaves.
We angered the creator. 

We were thrown from the heavens, 
the fire tore off our wings on the way down. 
Many good soldiers died. 

There was only two of us. 
Me and 
him. 

We lived in sin. 
For how else would we thrive,
in a world full of perfection? 

I had children, 
sinners like me. 
He worked in the fields. 

I grew old.
The only punishment from being thrust from heaven. 
As I took my last breath, I whispered. 

"I don't want to go home" 

I am

I am the storm cloud on your birthday, 
the messy room that you never clean. 
I am dehydration in the sun, 
and frostbite that stings. 

I am the old man in the city, 
that asks you for change. 
I am a little girl in poverty, 
who hasn't eaten for days. 

Believe me when I say that I am, 
I am the dirty dishes in the sink, 
I am a dark room, 
I am tears and fighting and sorrow. 

Trust me when I say this,
I am not the person for you. 
 

To a smart boy

how is it possible, 
    that a smart boy like you
fell for a monster, 
        like me? 

You

I can't tell you how it felt, 
to stand behind your coffin 
as it drove through the crowd, 
on your way to be buried. 

I could not tell you because I couldn't bare to look, 
for you were inside that white box, 
mangled and bruised, 
clothed in your favourite sweater. 

No, I could not tell you, 
for I broke down as they drove you past. 
I could not bare to look 
because that would mean saying goodbye. 

Monster

They sewed our mouths shut
        and stripped us of our identity 

then they ran in fear 
       when they realised they had created monsters 
        

People

They said we had to change the world, 
to fix the damage they made. 
So we rebuilt the world in our own image, 
made people kind, intelligent and brave. 

They laughed at us, 
utopia was just a childish fantasy. 
We shook our head, 
and tried harder to prove them wrong. 

But it didn't work, 
oh, but how we tried. 
And as we returned to the darkness, 
they laughed and waved to us for the last time. 

For they knew what we didn't. 
They had seen the wars, the fighting, the shootings. 
We were naive in our thinking, 
for people have always been selfish. 

Whisper

A whisper from the gods, 
brings me to my knees. 
They tell me that I am the chosen, 
that I am to kill the weak. 

We were made to be warriors. 
To hunt with spears and knives and swords. 
Conquer any world that tested our faith, 
we were made of courage. 

 

Shaking

There was another car crash today in the news. Teenagers. Just like you. They had stolen a car. Just like you. They crashed into a house, straight through a brick wall, into someone's lounge room. The damage was horrendous. I didn't think anyone could survive a crash like that. But they did. All of them did. Unlike you. 

The crash caused me to start shaking. It's been happening a lot since your death. My friends are worried. Sometimes I start shaking and I can't stop. They wanted to send me to a psychologist, but I insisted that I was fine until they left me alone. You would understand why I can't see one. All they've ever done is make me worse. And after all, the shaking only happens when something reminds me of you. 

 

Speech Writing Competition 2018

A presentation to Mark Zuckerberg and the board of Facebook to put an end to all online cyberbullying in the wake of teenage suicide.

 
The headline took my breath away. In bold black letters read the title: ‘What I wish I told my cousin who took her own life.’ As I scrolled through the article, a video played, showing face after face, all victims of cyberbullying. Teenagers. Emma Falconer, barely 16. A snapchat took her over the edge. Jessie was given numerous death threats through social media. She contacted police, but they didn’t step in. And then there was Libby Bell, Jessica Cleland, Amy “Dolly” Everett. All taken from us too soon. The word is swept up in the cyber-storm epidemic. One in four teenagers have been harassed online. Thousands of people are bystanders, letting this trauma occur in our young minds of today. It’s disgusting, revolting, totally sickening! Mark Zuckerburg has turned his back on us. He's encouraging teenagers to end their lives by letting this occur! Zuckerburg, you are the problem. 

So, what exactly is cyberbullying? It is the act of...

Personal Essay Competition: Making Change

You never know what you had before it's too late

This morning I woke up. The sun shone through the blinds as I made my bed. I wrapped myself in a dressing gown and walked to the kitchen. My bare feet were cold against the wooden floorboards. I swallowed my pills, eight in total, as I checked the notifications on my phone.

I had sixty-four messages. All from different people, people I hadn’t spoken to for years. What was the occasion? I was not popular. It was not my birthday, nor was it the first-year anniversary of my second serious relationship. Curious, I opened my phone.

You were dead.

You were in a car accident. Your friends were drunk and underage. They stole a car from someone’s home. You were in the backseat. You didn’t wear a seatbelt.

The driver lost control and drove off the road. There were no skid marks, no indication that they hit the brakes. Burnt rubber grinded against pavement. The crash woke the whole street....

Your Ideas for WtW

Write the World

What do you most value about Write the World? 
Definitely the community! You guys are all so nice and supportive :) 

What would you like to see Write the World do differently?
I would like write the world to maybe recommend other people's profiles that relate to yours so you can read their work! This would help new profiles to get noticed :) 

Are there any changes you would make to the site?
I would create an option to do chapters of a book instead of having to publish separate chapters. Then it would be easier to compile work! Also, I'd love if we could create our own groups! 

What types of prompts or competitions would you like to see more of?
Ahh! I'd love if there were prompts or competitions that were fantasy related. I love writing fantasy but there's never any prompts. I'd also love if there were more poetry competitions :) ALSO I'd love if there were...

IMPORTANT NOTE

Hi :) 

So I really need your help! I'm doing an audition (acting) and I need a script to perform! I usually do scenes from Romeo and Juliet but this is a really important audition and I want to do something unique that will help me stand out. It would really help if you could put a link to any scripts below or point me in the right direction! 

In other news I will be starting to compile my collections of poems and put them on this site! 

Thanks :) 

Unconventional

My Lover, My God

hes here 
       my lover 

my best friend 
          
                    they whisper about him 

is he the gospel 

        the god 

   for if he is 
                        i will be religious 

 

Water Drop

Droplet

Drip! 

I come from the sky, 
hurtling through the air, 
amongst others like me. 

Splash! 

I hit the pavement, 
meeting with my brothers. 
There are so many like me. 
We crowd together, like a wave, 
and fall. 

Falling. 

Falling. 

Falling. 


I'm in a whirlpool, 
a body of people, 
like me. 
We come together, 
rushing out the floodgates. 

Crash! 

We're here. 
Home. 
There's so many of us, 
a body. 
An ocean. 

The Island

The prompt: 
You are on a island, how you got there well you have no idea. As far as you know this island is abandoned, but soon you discover that some strange thing is inhabiting the small chunk of land in the vast ocean. The longer you stay on the Island the more you discover, not only about how you got there but about yourself.  




I feel the heat of the sun on my back as I wake. The heat spreads through my body, warming me up and relaxing my aching muscles. What day is it? I can't remember, but it has to be Saturday. Otherwise my alarm would have gone off way before the sun had risen.

I roll over and immediately open my eyes. Sand? I scramble to my feet. Where was I? There was sand. Lots of sand, surrounding the entire island. As far as I could see, there were no animals. No life. Banana trees are...

Speech Writing Competition 2018

A presentation to Mark Zuckerberg and the board of Facebook to put an end to all online cyberbullying in the wake of teenage suicide.

 
The headline took my breath away. In bold black letters read the title: ‘What I wish I told my cousin who took her own life.’ As I scrolled through the article, a video played, showing face after face, all victims of cyberbullying. Teenagers. Emma Falconer, barely 16. A snapchat took her over the edge. Jessie was given numerous death threats through social media. She contacted police, but they didn’t step in. And then there was Libby Bell, Jessica Cleland, Amy “Dolly” Everett. All taken from us too soon. The word is swept up in the cyber-storm epidemic. One in four teenagers have been harassed online. Thousands of people are bystanders, letting this trauma occur in our young minds of today. It’s disgusting, revolting, totally sickening! Mark Zuckerburg has turned his back on us. He's encouraging teenagers to end their lives by letting this occur! Zuckerburg, you are the problem. 

So, what exactly is cyberbullying? It is the act of...

180

The Perfect You Can See

From a young age I was taught to be compliant, humble and quiet. I was told to say 'please' and 'thank you' whenever I wanted something and 'I'm sorry' whenever I did something wrong. I became well mannered; never speaking out of line and always thinking about my actions. From the outside view, I was the perfect child. I never complained. I did my homework before it was due. I even looked after my younger sibling like a mother would. Other parents would compliment my mother on how well she raised her kids. After all, while their kids played in the playground, screaming and throwing sand, I would be sitting on the swing quietly. Peacefully. Everyone just assumed I was perfect. I smiled and laughed like any other kid, so I should be happy, right? But in reality, the fear of doing wrong was consuming. 

As I became more aware of myself and my surroundings, I began to suffer from...

Invisible (2)

February 5, 1972. 
I walked to school today. 

The rain poured down in large droplets, causing me to shiver. I wasn't dressed for this. By the time I walked through the school gates, my hair was soaked. What once was delicately soft curls was now a frizzy mess. I sighed, wrapping my hair into a ponytail with the hair-tie on my wrist. At least my outfit was still cute. 

Maria was standing at my locker by the time I got through the crowd of students. She looked amazing as always, with her flared denim jeans and Afro. In her hand was the local newspaper. The Marina 9 had sent back pictures of Mars from space and Maria was so excited. Maria was amazing at science and mathematics. She wanted to become an astronaut. Personally, I found it boring. Fashion was more my thing. 

The day just seemed to drag on. We had mathematics first. Yawn. Maria was in the class...

Funeral

I went to your funeral yesterday. 

There were so many people there. They filled up the entire church, standing in aisles and at windows outside the church. You would have been surprised at how many people turned up. You never understood the power you had to draw people to you, to influence people's lives with little more than a smile. I loved that about you. 

When the service started, I was amused to find that your family had hired a pastor for the service. You were never religious. The pastor talked about what a great tragedy your life had been. How you'd always lived life on the edge and risked everything for a good time. That you hadn't lived long enough to find happiness. What a joke. I'd never seen you unhappy. Your life was fulfilled - a never ending adventure. You wouldn't want us to feel sorry for you. 

Your mother spoke first. She wore sunglasses to cover her...

Open Prompt

Invisible

 
The school halls were just like any other day.

Off-white paint flaked off the walls, and graffiti shone brightly against the dark locker doors. Students milled around, gossiping with their friends and heading to class.  It was a timeless cliché. Tyler Crawford stood there guarding his ‘supposed territory’ with the rest of his mates. They thought they were the top of the food chain.

I stood, dejected by my locker, and awaited the return from my friend, Maria. Maria always seemed to be away from school. Last I heard, she was sick, with a dreadful fever. The bell rang, piercing the school buzz. I headed to class, knowing that it was another day that I would be alone. Asher stood only a few centimetres from my face. I had liked him for a long time, but he never acknowledged me.

It was as if he didn’t see me. At all. Not that I was surprised, not really. I’ve always...

Impermanence

Earth

The Earth, it changes: 
Once our own utopia. 
Now a place of hell. 

Sounds Assail Me

Sounds Assail Me

It is wonderous, 
to hear the whispers of the ancient trees. 
They talk of the lands where animals ruled, 
when the air was clean. 

It is chilling, 
the shout of the storms. 
Droplets hit the ground like a slap, 
stinging the ground with its betrayal. 

It is eerie, 
to hear the animals of the ground. 
They snicker and yip,
howl and cry. 

The poem is adapted from [Oodgeroo Noonuccal's 'Sounds Assail Me']
 

10 Second Essays

Wisdom in 10 Seconds

1. Do not judge people for what they have done, but what they are doing now. 
2. Tell that person you love them before the world takes them away. 
3. Do not share secrets that will bare a heavier weight on another's shoulders. 
4. Always spend a little money if it will help your happiness. 
5. Do not rely on others to make you joyful or they will leave. 

Personal Essay Competition: Making Change

You never know what you had before it's too late

This morning I woke up. The sun shone through the blinds as I made my bed. I wrapped myself in a dressing gown and walked to the kitchen. My bare feet were cold against the wooden floorboards. I swallowed my pills, eight in total, as I checked the notifications on my phone.

I had sixty-four messages. All from different people, people I hadn’t spoken to for years. What was the occasion? I was not popular. It was not my birthday, nor was it the first-year anniversary of my second serious relationship. Curious, I opened my phone.

You were dead.

You were in a car accident. Your friends were drunk and underage. They stole a car from someone’s home. You were in the backseat. You didn’t wear a seatbelt.

The driver lost control and drove off the road. There were no skid marks, no indication that they hit the brakes. Burnt rubber grinded against pavement. The crash woke the whole street....

Open Prompt

Invisible

 
The school halls were just like any other day.

Off-white paint flaked off the walls, and graffiti shone brightly against the dark locker doors. Students milled around, gossiping with their friends and heading to class.  It was a timeless cliché. Tyler Crawford stood there guarding his ‘supposed territory’ with the rest of his mates. They thought they were the top of the food chain.

I stood, dejected by my locker, and awaited the return from my friend, Maria. Maria always seemed to be away from school. Last I heard, she was sick, with a dreadful fever. The bell rang, piercing the school buzz. I headed to class, knowing that it was another day that I would be alone. Asher stood only a few centimetres from my face. I had liked him for a long time, but he never acknowledged me.

It was as if he didn’t see me. At all. Not that I was surprised, not really. I’ve always...