Stories
We publish thousands of stories each year, all written by our brilliant students. Here’s a selection of what they’ve been writing across our workshops.
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Wire
By Athraa, Year 10
I can see wired lips, refugee faces, the wire shapes of their faces. They look like they want to say Help! This is the story of a woman who had...
Áo dài: Not Just a Dress
By Sunny, Year 10
Áo dài is the traditional Vietnamese dress. It’s a part of my identity. Each ‘dress’ is unique. With intricate patterns carefully sewn to tell stories. There’s no gender separation with...
Summer Sales
By Sireen, Year 10
Spices permeate the air as locals flock to surround the summer sales at the Tripoli markets. I’m squeezed between multiple bodies, struggling to inhale the humid summer breeze. A warm...
Grandma’s Treasure
By Sireen, Year 10
My grandma loved jewels. Not the small dainty kind. No. My grandma lived by the phrase ‘Go big or go home.’ Emeralds, diamonds; her eyes would glitter like a magpie...
Thobes
By Misk, Year 10
Black embroidered fabric. Red jewels hand-sewn. Chiffon sleeves. Olive green trim and orange embroidered flowers. My aunties sit on floor cushions, surrounded by Turkish tea cups and ka’ak. Their hands...
Spectrum
By Misk, Year 10
What colour represents me? Am I an ocean blue or a princess pink? Does the colour green make my chocolate-coloured eyes pop or should I play it safe and wear...
Secret Hideaway
By Katy
As Azrael floated in the darkness that surrounded him, he imagined the perfect place to build his secret hideaway. With a mischievous grin, he began to summon something so dark...
Sydney Dragway
By Sebastian, Year 7
My Dad introduced me to Brashernats. Here, so many mullets and beers and all these people exuberant to Brashernats. There’s always at least one hundred people that are fat and...
Might You Know a Place by the Way it Smells?
By Kirsten, Year 9
After Sydney Smells Like Might you know a place by the way it smells? It’s lovely having a place so dear to you that you can recognise its smell, isn’t...
Sweet and Savoury Kaldereta
By Kirsten, Year 9
In Fatima Ashgar’s poem “Smell is the last memory to go” the fragrance of citrus and jasmine knocks the narrator back into the arms of her mother as it evokes...
Pasta Scented Memories
By Elijiah, Year 9
In Fatima Ashgar’s poem “Smell is the last memory to go” the fragrance of citrus and jasmine knocks the narrator back into the arms of her mother as it evokes...
A Quiet Curve of a Scarcely Used Track
By Edward, Year 9
after Amy Lowell’s “Spring Day-Bath” The day is bright but cool on the eyes. The smell of the ocean is in the air. I stare along the track, listening for...
My Mind
By Alen, Year 9
My mind is sapphire and scarlet sunlight. A bright sage stone with shamrocks and shadows. It wears wilted war clothes with caps and covers. Shimmering and shining in the shattered...
Mum
Mum is Kenya Mum is the feeling of walking Mum is the scent of roses Mum is the taste of Mandazi Mum is the sound of “are you hungry?” Mum...
My Mother Hears Me
By Anushka, Year 11
Her arms pulled me in close until my small body was enclosed by hers. I felt my mother kiss the top of my head, resting her chin there. Her heartbeat...