There it lay. Arms spread wide. While the nails pierced its skin And into the hard wooden board beneath. Faces turned green, Or was it the sky? Then as the scalpel sliced its skin. It seemed to scream out: "My God,why have you forsaken me." Then I remembered the crucifixion OfChrist... But this rat's got no chance Ofrising From the dead. T MOLLOY Form 3K THE GRASSLANDS A dazzling desert of diversity. The black ofthe fires, the white ofthe earth, Two mammoth stripes that pave the tortured terrain Making the hills look like zebras. And the rocks,natives that ride the untamed beasts Troublesome. It's path lies before it. Hindered by obstacles man casts before it... For how long can this majestic beast continue to gallop? STEPHEN CRAIG {Winner ofthe 1994prizeforpoetry) MYFATHER BEGAN ASA GOD He caused my birth, I caused his death. He tailored my personality, I refused to wear his fashions. He initiated my academic education, I decided to end his satisfaction with life. He insisted on my learning. He never bothered to teach me. He insisted on my talking, He never cared to listen. His money built an expensive house, A home was what I longed for. His power forged an empire, A family was my prayer. He said he loved me. The relationship was convenient. He said he loved me, I hated him. SEANLUBBE Eorm 5A THE GHOSTSOFOLD KEARSNEY Every Sunday night,at exactly seven o'clock,the organ in the chapel at Old Kearsney starts to play.All the peo ple hear it. They all become so frightened that they hide under their beds. Even when they are far away from it, they still hear it playing. This is the actual story. Every Sunday night Lady Hulett wakes up from her grave.She is not as pretty as when she died.Her skin is rotten and as white as snow.Her once beautiful frock is torn and filthy. Hereyes are pure white and are as big as golfballs.She starts to play the organ loudly.This w^es up the dead. All the bodies that are buried in Sir Liege Hulett's graveyard clamber out of their graves, all rot ten and full of dirt, moaning and groaning like school boys having to attend chapel. The howl ofthe wind sounds like the chattering voices ofthe boys as they sit down in their seats. All this time the old organ is playing. When at last there is a hush of the wind,no noise is heard exceptforthecreaking sounds of the preacher approaching the pulpit. The preacher is SirLiege Hulett.Hestands tall and proud.Theonly thing different about him is that his clothes are new. He is wearing a tuxedo. He greets everyone and starts to tell them about his past and how he died.Everyone is inter ested. Finally he says thattoday is the anniversary ofhis death and to commemorate it he must sacrifice a child. There is a roar of cheering like an airbus passing over the chapel.A sea ofhands appear and wave aboutin the air. Sir Liege hushes them down.He announces that his vic tim will be takenfrom Haley House atthe new Kearsney. There is a flash oflightning and suddenly all the ghosts are at Haley House. Sir Liege knocks on the window three times . . . With a flash I am awake. It is only a branch tapping on the window.Iturn over and fall asleep ...carefully. JONATHANACUTE Eorm I SCHOOL The easiest way to remember school is the smell. An old,leathery smell, reminding one of shoe polish. And the assemblies. The noise offive hundred pupils scrap ing their chairs across the floor,and,in your first years, the sight ofthe stone-faced staff ascending to the stage. That sudden fear, the feeling that you are in trouble for no reason at all. Sinking back, and trying to disappear into the yielding foam chairs. And afterwards,the sense of well-being which made yourfood taste twice as good ...That is school. D. TURNER Form 2W 1994 COMRADES MARATHON Bacon and Eggs frying, their scents wafting over the road,tempting us.Red and white tape restricting usfrom spreading out and enjoying the Comrades to its fullest. Ratheraletdowncompared to previous runsso wecould not spend the day sitting with our parents and frying our breakfastand enjoying the day with ourfamily.The traf fic cops were very tense, uptight and generally un friendly. They would not allow us to spread so that we could all see. Sticks were used to hit our feet if they touched the tarmac. The other side of the road seemed like acompletely different world,people spread out with plenty ofspace and freedom, whilst we were confined. a.SHEPHERD Form 2 42 Kearsney Chronicle 1994
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