7/06/12
Outside sitting in the snow edition
Location: School
Last Sentence: “The world is not always a forgiving place, but
sometimes it is.”
Object: Fish
Authors: Scott Allan, Damien Taylor and Regan Stokes
Scott
The kids swarm to their classes, a mad rush under the drone
of the bell. It pierces their thoughts and all turns to mayhem. They swarm,
slide and squish past each other like fish escaping fishermen nets. The chaos
feeds the puffer fish, he watches through his office window in great delight.
“A bunch of fools”, he thinks, and he glides back to his desk. A mountain of
paperwork, but the puffer fish accepts this; it is worth it. Now he is
the
puppet master, he has the control and he has the respect.
A small child knocks nervously at the door. His eyes weep,
his parents will be furious, he has never been in trouble and he stands waiting
at the principal’s office. The door creaks open and the puffer fish waits
grinning. His hair sleeked back greasily and his eyes were wider than golf
balls. The kid, a mere tadpole, starts to cry. He didn’t deserve this. Outside,
the other kids sweat, dreading their time in the puffer fish’s cove. Screams
followed by whimpering, they can only imagine.
The puffer fish loves this moment, he now has the power. He
ponders how he shall punish the tadpole. His spikes protrude out sharply. He
strolls over to his cane, still grinning like a madman. Gripping the cane
firmly he makes his way to the pathetic whimpering tadpole. Its eyes look up
towards the glorious fish in mercy, the moment awaits. As the puffer fish
raises his cane he stops. Their eyes lock in the duel, the tadpole does not
back down. A moment of realisation, clear and beautiful thought, the puffer
fish knows he is wrong. The tadpole shows all the features of his younger self.
The cane descends as the puffer fish deflates to his true self. His greasy
smile turns warm, genuine and true, and a sole tear is shed. The tadpole sighs
in relief. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.
Regan
Seven years ago exactly, I would have been eating lunch with
my friends at Cashmere High School. By then we would have claimed the back of W Block as our social territory, or at least part of it as a group of Year 12s had already established the space as their own. They played hacky and sometimes smoked
behind the bushes. Since we were only Year 10s they were the tangata whenua so
as their guests we respected the area and our two groups co-existed peacefully.
Behind W Block we had our own concrete ramp (complete with
eaves to huddle under in the rain), a sprawling tree to lean our bags against
in the summer, the external part of a sawdust machine to sit and rip our shorts
and skirts on, a grass area large enough to play a small game of football,
and a row of trees that lined this grass. It was these trees that inspired the
game of High Stakes Football.
High Stakes Football
involved taking turns kicking the ball as high as possible up into tall trees. It was a
perfect game because you cannot lose; the ball either tumbles back to earth
or lodges itself in the branches, with both of these results usually producing
a round of cheers from all participants. If the ball was stuck, the general
sequence of events that followed was:
1.
Throw another object up at the tree to dislodge
the ball. This was usually another ball (upping the ante further) or someone’s
schoolbag.
2.
If approach #1 failed, send someone (usually
Tom) up the tree to collect the ball.
Year 10 (2005) was a significant year because I:
·
Discovered The Pixies, thus opening up my
musical appreciation to a new and great variety of bands
·
Watched Fight Club for the first time
·
Had several interesting relationships
·
Made many close friends
In our Y10 maths class there was a goldfish kept at the front
of the classroom. One day the goldfish was gone. Our teacher was upset and told
us that a student had flushed it down a toilet. I think I was shocked at the
time, but a dull kind of shocked like it didn’t affect me as much as it should
have. This is why I write this story. I am sorry, poor goldfish, for your fate
at the hands of humanity.
I went to a school of fish from 2004-2008. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.
I went to a school of fish from 2004-2008. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it is.
Damien
Tena Koe bro. My name is Matthew Gibson Kahurangi, but you
can call me Tiu (short for Matt-chew). I’m getting up and going today. Gonna
make it to school. It’s hard when I wake up, no one cares if I get ready or
not. They’re just hung over from last night. Must be my day today; found five
bucks on the ground, and got me a Osler’s pie on the way to school. Mean
breakfast. I don’t like coming to school; none of it is important. But I like
to see the people. Nothing would happen otherwise; I would just stay at home. I
go from class to class when I’m here, but they want me to learn this confusing
stuff that has no value to me. The white boy gets it though. He always knows
what old Ball-head and White Witch are talking about. That would be mean; to
know. I like that boy, he’s crack up. Kind of just funny. He aint like the
other bros. Have some jokes with him. Some of the others don’t like him cause
he’s smart and white and that. But he’s cool. He could be Maori if he wants.
There’s another person I like too. Nan. She’s awesome. Always looks after us
and the little fullas. She’s real smart too. Knows about all that stuff we
don’t learn at school. But, she don’t want me to leave school. I could get
heaps of money working at the docks. My uncle works there. Has to be there at 6
in the morning and work hard till 3pm, but he’s gotta mean Holden. Always
shouting down at the pub too. I wanna do that. I think I will leave soon, but
don’t wanna disappoint Nan. I know she knows what she’s on about but I’m sure
she would want me to help with money and that. Yeah, that sounds right. I’m
gonna do it. I’ll save heaps then buy a heatpump. Nan would never be cold at
her house again.
...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................
...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................
...............................................splirchz.........................................piff........................................................
...............................................splir......
Fhark. I stop and think. That was an interesting day for me
then. And now. These fish don’t have a say, ae. They just get scooped up and taken
here. Then I take this knife and stab their guts, then throw it in the drum.
May be life is easier that way; no choice. I look at the metal box with fans on
the wall and think. The world is not always a forgiving place, but sometimes it
is.
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