WriteOn 2022 | Preparatory School

WriteOn 2022 | Preparatory School

WriteOn is an annual writing competition open to all NSW primary students in Years 1-6 held in association with the State Library of NSW. It is designed to encourage students to develop their writing skills; they were asked to compose a short, imaginative piece using an image as the stimulus.

Photography by Louise Whelan

Only one entry per stage is permitted for each school. This year boys in Year Two, Four and Six worked with Ms Gooden and Mrs Bryce on their responses to the image above. The Prep School has chosen imaginative responses by Enzo H. (Year 2), Joseph O. (Year 4), and Chenyu L (Year 6) to enter into the competition. Good luck boys!

The entries below showcase the development of skills as students experiment with ideas and expression. Through responding to and composing texts from PK to Year Six, students learn about the power, value and art of the English language for communication, knowledge and enjoyment. By composing and responding with imagination, feeling, logic and conviction, students develop understanding of themselves and of human experience and culture. They develop clear and precise skills in speaking, listening, reading, writing, viewing and representing, and knowledge and understanding of language forms and features and structures of texts. (Source: Nesa K-10 English syllabus)

Fiona Evans | Head of Curriculum

A day at the Fair

Enzo H.

Grass is green
kids are keen
toys are dangling
and yellow bells are ringing
it is windy
and it is breezing
in the cold wind
it is freezing
toys are dangling high
in the sky
people are playing
where flowers are growing
it’s been fun at the fair
like there’s magic in the air.


Another Day, Another Hour

Joseph O.

“Another day. Another hour”
Where the dull panda has no power
Everyone chooses
But also loses
Always leaving him feeling quite dour
“Another day, Another hour”

It made him feel quite dim
Every harsh comment strived right through him
Always despised because of his black and white skin
Staying there, always in
“Another day another hour”

Time goes by
Sitting there with a sigh
Gloomy days
Sunny days
All days are the same
“Another day, another hour”

7 kids walk along
One curious, one fun
One attentive
One alert, one perfective
One a risk-taker
One a player
Will anyone choose the panda?

The little girl picked the one she sought
She picked the panda without a second thought

“Another wonderful day, another wonderful hour”
The panda seemed to enjoy his novel tower
He would lie around and enjoy the warm sun
Playing with the girl and having fun!
Another wonderful day, another wonderful hour, another wonderful world.


Upside Down

By Chenyu L.

The echoing begging of many.
The aching urge to see,
Colours of red and white,
A hearty laugh, the carnival
The warmth of joy
It welcomes all,
Embraces all.

Across the bridge, I happened to see a cracked and roughly carved name, ‘Melissa,’ upside down like a trail that veered into darkness. In the gloaming, the run-down street lights gave a sickly, white glow. The trail of the name leaked into the pavement.

A thought seemed to float to the top of my mind. Then it hit me. It was the girl that mysteriously went missing a few weeks ago. They searched frantically for her but it was all fruitless. She was nowhere to be found. Now her name was before me.

I debated back and forth about following the path, but I decided to trust my gut and ventured forward to the unknown. I was getting restless at one point, wondering if I fell into some childish prank, but something seeped into my vision, a sort of run-down carnival. The front gates were open, but the desolate scene before me gave a foreboding feeling, restricting me from entering. Consumed by darkness, it threw its line towards me and, foolishly, I entered like an animal tempted by bait dangling from a hook.

I crept cautiously through the carnival, glancing at the prizes that have never been collected, the old, discoloured bunting from countless times of rain, all caked in dust and grime. A stall caught my eye. Huddled around it was a group of statues painted as clowns with a smile too big and too friendly.

I suddenly noticed the silence; the loud silence that consumed me. My nerves quickened and I began to jog through the rest of the carnival. There were endless lines of stalls, all doppelgangers of each other. I thought it would never end until I saw a wall and, lined up against it, were two squares.

Two square cages.

A chill ran up my spine as I saw my name carved roughly onto one of the rusted cages.

The cage next to mine had a shaded figure trapped inside, a prey that was foolish enough to fall into the trap. It was Melissa. She stared at me with pleading eyes. I fiddled with the lock but it gave an aura of indifference. It stood its ground. I tried to talk to her. I saw her eyes explode with terror. She was pale and trembling from head to toe.

She screamed.

It was too late.

I felt an ice-cold hand cover my mouth as my vision slowly bled away. Before I blacked out, I heard a laugh, a laugh of joy, a laugh of madness.

The prey had fallen into the trap.

Joy forms terror
Laughs forms screams
Its true nature revealed
Under masks of excitement
Blind as they are, enter without a fear,
And everytime,
Names appear,
Upside Down.

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