WORRY NOT

WORRY NOT

-          Life has never been a straight line.

-          You plan  but God decides

-          You need to remain focused, if ever, you will achieve any goal in life.

-          Worrying can be good or bad in one’s life, but it’s what we live with all the time.

-          Worrying can motivate you to work extra harder, in order to over come the planning item.

-          But , worrying can be a burden if , you are  worrying over issues you can not control.

-          Worrying about weather, sickness, death, God’s controls, should be avoided, since you cant control them.

-          Worry not, if it does not concern you.

-          Worry not if it‘s out of your control.

POLITICS OF THE STOMACH

Tormentors have always used the politics of the stomach to get their way.

They starve you to death, if need be, unless you give in to their demands.

All over the world some employers coercive their workers to give in, to their demands at the peak hour of the lunch break.

 A meeting drags on until lunch break, where then, the employer asks for the workers to make resolution before they break for lunch. Usually the resolution will be arrived at very fast so that the workers can go for lunch.

Good thinking; never make major decisions on an empty stomach. Lunch hour, is   a no go zone as, far as decision making is concerned.

                                                                                                         

A student’s lesson just before lunch is either rushed over by the teacher, and at the same time students hardly understand what is being taught.

You can get your way, through the stomach.

UNPREDICTABLE WATERS- this is life

UNPREDICTABLE WATERS- this is life

Life is no longer the same irresovable jigsaw puzzle, I cannot solve it,  all is changing as I age.

Day by day everything had widened blurring my sight and enclosing my ears in darkness.

I bumped and fell every minute into my own dark shadow.

I was a mere machine controlled by my own, they told me to do it, But disapproved how I wanted to make it through those unpredictable waters whose tides always pulled me backward and downwards.

They wanted to help me, how? By cheating those narrow strings that twisted around each other to make the words “MIND”.

Those strings were narrow passages concentrated with confusion and dark blank thoughts. These thoughts became nightmares and deepened the wounds in my brain to become trenches in the trench warfare that worsened those days to become death days.

All  I knew was that the next step I would take was the “quit game “ option, I was no longer interested in the “new game” or “refresh” options they were too far to reach and I was too weak to stretch or just to keep the “never give up “ spirit.

Slowly and steadily my mind burned into the ashes and smog that  told me to give up , and that I was never in anyone’s mind  and in no one’s sight until the true me awoke from that long hibernation I was unaware of, I woke her up and distorted her sleep .

She was better than me and one day I asked her “how did you do it? “ and what she told me solved the riddle- like puzzle , she had told me as she smiled“ you have always known it, what you know is what I do , discover it yourself. “

The deep wounds in my mind slowly recovered; after all, there is no incurable wound and those narrow strings became thick twists of fine yarn that elongated with ‘DNA’, Discovered New Abilities.

My timid weak feet now took the liveliest steps to discover the new lands that had always been there.

All I had shed the red and tears that had drowned me into defeat before were now crumbles that were to be crushed and avoided , they were the stairs to hell but now , there was nothing that could now affect me because I had protected myself with a strong ozone layer that I call “ TALENT “.

Remember! The shell I use does not hide me from what’s out there, it enlarges and exposes me to the outside world with the help of taking opportunities, what I did to achieve success. Trial and failure is not what should put you down every time you try it should act as a stepping stone to move in front the path of success.

Done By Richa

WHAT A LIFE

It’s business of the stomach,

I wonder, all businesses are directed to satisfy the stomach.

Do we eat to survive or, we survive to eat.

Will my stomach ever get full?

I am full or do I just imagine am full.

I work so hard to get some money , then I buy food  and  satisfy myself ( fill my stomach)

Then am happy, but two hours down the line, am back to square one, hungry and needing more food.

Am I a slave of my stomach?, I wonder !!!

Oblivion

Oblivion

It must have been years since I saw you! Screeched violet. “Oh my! you look taller  and thinner , damn girl you look hot!

Violet could  not believe that Annette was  standing in front of her .Annete wore a ripped denim jeans  with a white  crop top that sectioned  her torso. Her hair gleamed and her face shone. Her big blue eyes never looked any better. Her eyes tingled with excitement and happiness while her smile stretched from one corner to the other.

The last time violet  saw Annete , was way back in high school, during prom , to be exact. Violet remembered how Annete looked emaciated and frail. Her cheekbones were drooping , her skin flabby, her  eyes half closed. She vividly remembered how Annete blue dress looked so big on her. How it sagged from her shoulders’.

But now Annete looked like a model working for vogue. She had life in her eyes and she looked beautiful,  to say the least.

“What happened to you?” asked violet

“What happened to me?” wondered Annete

You look so beautiful and successful. Let us go grab coffee at that shop down the street “Violet suggested.

The coffee shop looked vintage. The walls were painted jasmine. The tables rein and the chairs  indigo. The shop looked like a rainbow dropped in it. Coffee seeds littered the floor and the shop smelled of freshly harvested cocoa seeds. Rows of sweet looking desserts filled the shelves . Velvet cakes almond cupcakes, chocolate filled doughnuts, sprinkled filled biscuits; brown looking doughtnuts chocolate chip cookies all filled the shelves.

Violet had her stomach rumble. She suddenly felt hungry. She sat on the chair closest to her and ordered an espresso with a chocolate chip cookies as an accompaniment;

“So what have you been up to” asked violet

“after school , I was admitted to san Fransisco Mental clinic due to my  long battle  with depression. I remember , I started doing coke  and I was so addicted to it. That’s a story for another  day. Any way , so I was  in the clinic  for a few months like 6 months  and I could say  that  was my changing point. I got out looking and feeling better. Immediately after I left  the clinic a magazine  hired  me as a model and from there , things just happened. Now,  I signed to vogue!”

 Annete chirped “ what have you been up to ?”

“my life is not as eventful as yours. I went to Stanford , got a PhD in biochemistry. I later worked  as a professor in Harvard  and am still working there “Violet answered.

“ I feel very lucky sipping coffee with a Harvard professor” laughed Annette.

The afternoon slipped  away very quickly and violet was soon walking Annete to her sleek matt convertible parked  on the sideway. They embraced  in a warm hug as they said thee fare well.

By Anne Wambui

AGONY

AGONY

It is said that bonds are ever lasting, especially the ones that are wired through the heart. Bonds do not necessarily need to be related through blood. There are special bonds that are attached through the heart for instance friendship.

It all started when I used  to live with my younger brother at cliff house . On a fine Saturday evening, I received a call from my best childhood friend, James Bavard . He told me that he was going to visit us the next day, early in the morning.

I could  not sleep the whole  night. I tossed and turned, all night pretending to be asleep. Something was keeping me awake , it was  all excitement . The moon laid a ghoulish glow through the window, reminding me of my childhood horror stories. I used to share with James. I did  not realize that I had  gone into a sound sleep soon, with all the memories of James.

Next morning , I waited patiently for James , as  the city had subdued to silence. The wait was getting too long. I would take short walks from the sofa to the door, thinking about  how I was going  to spend my time  with him. Would he still be the same James ? Would I hug him or give him a handshake , when he arrives ? With so many rhetorical questions  flooding into my mind , I was getting more impatient  as time went by.

I was advised by   my younger brother to have some patience and have tea, but no ! I told him that I would take tea with James, when he arrives. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door that made my stomach church with, excitement. I knew it was James.

I ran quickly to the door and fumbled with the door knob, as it begrudging creaked open. A wind – powered breeze passed me, giving me a cooling effect. As I was ready to welcome James , I suddenly saw a man  with a  black hood  and a knife  on his left  hand  , stabbed  James  on the back. James was dead. I was shattered like gas, my best friend had been killed. I gave  a groan in pain of agony.

Till now , I have  not gotten the reason as to why  James  was killed , whoever killed  him was  very cruel and inhumane . This death of James only gave me agony.

By Arpit Srivastava

BOARDROOM WARS

The board meeting had been dragging on for now.  Men in black sat in rows. Their hands clutching their pens tightly with their elbows straight on the hardwood table. Their eyes intently  focused on the graph in the screen. They all looked monotonous with all of them middle aged, grey hair, saggy wrinkled skin, bushy eyebrows  and drooping eyebrows, But  Hawkins stood out, his  hair coal black gleaming with  the  fine oil, his  skin flawless and smooth, his beard clean shaven , his body youthful and his clothes exuding confidence.

His seat was the biggest, his pen the fanciest and his position in the company the highest. From a tender age, Hawkins has always wanted bigger things…… Bigger  toys , bigger phones , bigger rooms . He was never satisfied with the little things. He instead chose to seek happiness in the finer, bigger and expensive things in life.

Hawkins, an orphan who was taken into a foster home has accomplished a lot for his 23 years he has endured in this world. He has met the most influential people, ate the fanciest food, interacted with powerful personalities and has gotten rid of a lot of people who came in between him and his success. At his age he should be chasing girls by day and partying at night. At his age he should be living in his friends’ caravan and going out of town just for the fun. But here is running the biggest multinational firm in the world, an achievement that he is proud of.

He has always been different, At kindergarten he could solve trigonometry better than a senior. In middle school, his teacher called him delusional and overly ambitious when he told his class that he would be a millionaire at 22. A dream that was long accomplished.

A long the way, Hawkins never found it easy. At 18 years the CIA indicted  him for  fraud . He allegedly stole millions of dollars from the accounting firm, at that time. He was sentenced to one year of jail. At 29 he went behind bars after he failed to repay loans with thousands of dollars. 6 months later, he was  released . After the second time in jail, he came out a different person. His tactics more smooth and his mind quicker he vowed never to go back again.

Hawkins paid full attention to the  shareholder speaking. He knows that this meeting will determine his life forever. His position is jeopardy of being aborted and Hawkins is not happy about It.!

The  man  speaking  in front  of  them  was  fluent  and coherent  and  his  choice  of words chosen  carefully. Tom Wilbroke, the man aged 62 has   never liked Hawkins. He finds Hawkins to be boisterous and intolerable. And today was the only day he could prove to the team of shareholders and directors, today was the only day, he could become the chairman.

Hawkins knew  all about  Wilbrokes plan  and he  was not happy at all . In fact, angry could not describe what he was feeling at that time. Hawkins ruefully smiled as he thought of how he could permanently get rid of Wilbroke . It wont be the first time to murder someone and he knows that it would not  be the last either.

Nothing ever gets between him and his money, NEVER , and  he knows that Wilbroke  has crossed his  boundaries  and  he surely  shall heavily pay for this!!!  

By Anne WAmbui

FREEDOM AT LAST

FREEDOM AT LAST

Jack kept glancing nervously at his watch every other minute. As he looked at the towering prison, several thoughts rushed through in his mind. He looked over at Amaya, his sister and smiled. She smiled back, a nervous smile.

The two siblings were waiting for their father who had been jailed,  eight years earlier . They were just children when this happened. Jack, the first born, remembered it , just as if it had happened yesterday.

He remembered the cries of anguish from his mother as the handcuffs were put on his hands. His sister’s sniffles as tears rolled down her cheeks. He was dazed and could not react. Worst of all he remembered the guilt in his father’s eyes as he got into the police car.

Trial after trial , Jack  come  and watched his father . His father - a thief. He could not believe it. This was the same man who taught him about honour and integrity. His mother did everything in her power to keep him out of jail. Jack knew, however, that his father had done it.

He looked at his sister now, a young woman. Jack wondered how his father looked like. He was sure him and Amaya had changed greatly. They were now teenagers, with their whole lives ahead of them. Jack sighed as he looked at the tall prison gate.

Thunder rumbled and broke the silence .Jack looked up and watched as dark clouds began to swallow the sun. A drop of water hit his forehead and trickled down his nose. The weather seemed to echo his emotions.

Another memory came flooding back into his mind. His mother and sister always visited and wrote letters to his father. For some reason Jack could not bring himself to do either of these things. After a while he realized why. He was ashamed. Ashamed that a man so honorable could do something so terrible.

As the rain began to pour heavily, his heart felt light, liberated. He could breathe properly again. He had forgiven his father. He held Amaya close to him and she smiled back. A happy smile this time. Just then, the gates opened and a man came out. The two waited anxiously as he walked out. Their father had tears in his eyes .Jack and his father said nothing but  just  embraced , in  the  pouring rain.

By Ruth  Morara

WHAT IS LIFE

Life is when you appreciate good things done  to you.

Life is enjoying life today , as if tomorrow will never come.

Life  is appreciating your parents , as being the best parents ever.

Life is understanding yourself , and knowing your limit for today.

Life is knowing , life is never a straight line but rather a struggle to survive.

Life is just life , enjoy it fully, today.

 Tomorrow never comes, and if it comes, it is today.

ksamba

MIND OF A CROOKED TEENAGER

Some people just do not understand  me  but are quick to judge me.

Hear this; Among my family members , three quarters are all working . I mean employed  by big organizations. They are earning good money courtesy of  good education. My two uncles  are doctors, i have a lawyer sister  and an engineer  cousin. So it is expected  that i will become either a lawyer , doctor or an engineer.

Surprise of all; i hate those professions, my dream is to venture into fine art courses. i really enjoy using a pencil and a brush.My parents are not ready to hear anything related to pencil and brush issues. 

They do not understand me , and are trying to judge me , by comparing me to the other members of our family. Good Lord help me!!!!!

THE CROOKED MIND OF A TEENAGER

THE CROOKED MIND OF A TEENAGER

I went into hibernation for few months, due to unavoidable reason, hopefully, am back for keeps. All these time, my mind was never in limbo, but rather, I was busy sharpening my imagination.

We have few weeks, before the year 2017 comes to an end, but I have not accomplished half of what I had set to achieve. For sure, am racing against time, but will I ever achieve my set goals.

One of my set goals is, to conquer my mind. You see, I have this problem, where, a negative thought takes over the running of me. Am sometime overwhelmed by myself, not to know, what to do.

Am told that, this is the major issue which teenagers are wrestling with, most of the time.

BUTTERFLIES IN ME!!

BUTTERFLIES IN ME!!

When I need to get my happy place

I just think of an idea of genuine love

Or memories of genuine love itself.

Giving me butterflies in the pit of my stomach

I like the feeling

Because to me,

It is just a remainder of the person I am.

I am a lover, warm, and sensitive soul.

When I need to get to that happy place

It takes me there...

With those butterflies fluttering about

Reminding me of when I get lost

Have forgotten who I am,

Of just that... the real me...

-        Devika chakkingal

Yr. 12

Attractive Horrors

Attractive Horrors

   It was the eve of Halloween and the cold had settled in my bones. I had decided to setup a party in an old Victorian era mansion and was exploring it for the first time. I bounced towards the mansion; the aura of mystery surrounding it gave me a thrill.

    Withered bore oak trees guarded the building casted shadows that seemed like ghosts wherever the howling wind shook the trees. The sound of my feet crunching the dead leaves was the only sound that could be heard besides the occasional gust of whistling wind. I shivered when I saw a lone tombstone which had crumbled under the weight of age and time.

   I scurried towards the gray wooden steps that led to a rather prestigious, if not ancient, door. Small holes decorated the glass window in the door and as it open it creaked in protest. When I saw what seemed to be the living room, I was equally elated and frightened because the mansion was living up to my standards of a haunted house.

   The living area had glass littered everywhere. Cobwebs decorated every nook and cranny and I believe I saw a spider or rodent dash across the dark wooden floor boards. It was chiller on the inside than the outside so goose bumps pebbled my skin. Or maybe the goose bumps were from the strange adrenaline rush fear had given me? I walked towards the pitter patter of what I assumed was a leaky faucet…

By Kendra Mathaya,Year 10

WAITING FOR HER

          WAITING FOR HER

It was a golden hour, dusty colors illuminated the trees in the far horizon. I was seated near a window of a local coffee café, the girl I met on the online dating application was now thirty minutes late. I was anxious and even hoped she could not make it. What do I say? Am I overdressed? Were some of the questions battering in my head. The aromas of the roasted coffee beans reminded me of my childhood memories, seated as a family with warming soothing smiles of happiness, that and the crimson sky outside helped me to calm down.

          I looked towards the counter, the baristas were very busy attending to the caffeine needs of customers. It was chaotic, between the claustrophobic feelings on how confined the shop was and the repeated horns of traffic outside. I sought peace in the densely creamy vanilla latte which sat in front of me. Behind me was the soothing warmth of an oven which gave off a strong smell of yeast. The intensity of this aroma was so much that in my mouth I tasted the freshly baked bread, a fragment of my imagination.

          There happened to be a clock right in front of me, and as much as I resisted to look at it, when I saw it from time to time, the minute had seemed hot glued. My time in this café seemed like eternal admiration. I was growing impatient, and my sub-conscience mind drew up reasons for why she is running late. This was my greatest fear, being lied to “I should probably call her,” I said to myself. But I don’t want to seem desperate. Is this hell, I asked myself, having to wait for someone for the rest of your life.

          Since I got to the shop, there had been a lady standing still on my right side. I could see she was so busy with her phone the whole time, and might I add that she was dressed in a rich lovely silk dress. It seemed only right to offer her a seat next to me as she seemed to be patiently waiting for someone too. She accepted my offer and took as seat.

          I could not stop staring at her stringy blonde hair which complemented her complexion. I nervously asked her, “What’s your name?” which she replied in a slow whisper, “Meleiva Anderson, you?” I stopped to digest the information, my fur overwhelmed with confusion as she share the same name as the girl I was waiting for for the past hour.

                                                                            Done By: Imran Feisal

                                                                                             Year Eleven

REFRESHING CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

REFRESHING CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

          One beautiful morning the rays of the sun struck my eyes through the half opened, red curtained windows in my room. The sky looked as if it had been stitched with a silver lining. I knew it was a bright new day with new experiences to go through. I quickly woke up and wore my fluffy blue slippers and rushed to the attic. My mum and I had decided to clean the dusty attic today and that is where I was headed to.

          The attic was a whole new place for me because I had never ever had a slightest peak of it. The attic door with its rusted hinges creaked open with the slightest touch of my hands. The door was covered in fungi because there was a leakage of water from the brown, damp cracked rooftop. I entered and closed the creepy door behind me. The attic was fully covered in dust, there were some photo frames of people hanging on one side and it felt as if the people in those frames are staring at me from behind the layers of dust. There was and old Grandfather dock on the left side of the room which still has its long metal still swinging to and fro, and I could hear the sound of the clock going “tick-tock”, “tick-tock”. I wandered how this old corroded clock still worked, did mum renew it without telling me?

          The attic was pin drop silent, except for the sound of the large clock, and as I took another step from between the stuffed sides; my eyes fell on one a box that stood lonely in the deepest corner of the attic. I dodged all the oversized obstacles and finally reached the box. I opened the medium sized box and saw an unexpected sight! It was my childhood collection!! I was so excited to discover what was inside! The first thing my tiny eyes took sight of was my own bound scrapbook. I went into a flashback and tried to recover the memories. My orange and blue checked scrapbook had photographs of me in different destinations that I had visited when I was young. One thing I noticed was that my handwriting when I was a tiny, innocent child had curves. My handwriting was shaped like snakes tail and it looked extremely distorted!

          The second thing I saw was a framed photo of me and my lovely childhood friends fighting for a delicious black forest cake on my birthday-the scenario looked similar to the breaking out of ants on a wet lollipop. The thing that got my eyes next was my favorite childhood toy whose name was Woody. Woody used to be my extreme favorite toy when I was young. The cowboy doll that had a string on its back which when pulled made him talk. I then saw the brown, leather hat that Woody used to wear was lost, I quickly dug my hands into the box and finally saw that deep in one of the corners lied Wood’s hat. I picked it up put it on Woody and hugged him so tight, like how pandas never let go of their food.

          The dusty box contained so much of my favorite things. For me it felt like a gold mine; since it contained most of my special things. I couldn’t wait to mine more and more into to refresh all my childhood memories and run them in my mind again. It contained all my assets-assets is what I called my special stuff when I was a child I did not go for lunch even though mum had cooked my favorite food; Red and white cheese pasta until I reached the end of the box and looked and fully admired all my assets.

                                                        Done By: Ria Ramchandani

                                                                        Year Eleven

Dear Mr Schmit,

Dear Mr Schmit,

Choosing between an exciting, bustling and a cosmopolitan city and a peaceful, picturesque and a pleasant countryside would be quite difficult.  But there is always making a choice, by seeing the positive and negative sides of each place.  Moving from the busy, crowded city to a peaceful countryside is way more beneficial and I’ll tell you how and why.

Firstly, country air is generally cleaner than the city, which is partly due to the ability for plant life and woodlands to absorb carbon dioxide and the countryside air, however, generally lack the heavy metals and halogens that make up the atmosphere of cities.  Also, not forgetting, that people that live on the countryside live longer than people that live in the city; A department for the Environment, Food and Rural affairs survey in 2011 reported that those living in the U.K. countryside have longer life expectancy, a lower infant mortality rate, and a lower risk of disease than those in the city.  There is also the advantage of no noise pollution in the countryside (peace) whereas there is the constant noise of traffic in the city.

It is certainly more powerful and country villages are real communities where people know each other well and help each other out as a matter.  That’s how and why I think the countryside is more beneficial.

Sir, I think your move did not work out because maybe your children were not really cut out for country living because as teenagers, they would prefer a fun, chaotic and exciting place than a calm, peaceful countryside.  But you can always give it a second thought.

From: Jyot. J.Patel

PIG DEN

PIG DEN

The scorching sun was unbearable as I had been sitting for about two hours waiting patiently for my friend who never keeps track of time. I could call it the worst day of my life because I encountered so many different and weird things. Not forgetting the stench around where I was sitting.

I could not tolerate that place! Everything about it was just annoying starting from the chair I sat on. It cracked loudly any time I made slight movement and to make matters worse there was no where else I could sit because that place was extremely crowded, it looked like China town on Monday! I did not even understand why my friend picked this place.

The table was so dirty and sticky and the staff members never cared to do anything about it. To make matters worse, they did not even offer me the menu. They were so rude and did not even look like they wanted to work. I could not stand that place so I decided to ignore everything and observe the place. The tables were dirty and underneath them were dried chewing gum.

I called a waiter to complain about the state of my table. He was dressed in a white shirt and a black trouser, he was busy chewing gum, when he came over, and he had a bad smell. I enquired from him why the place was not clean! He was rude; he just looked at me, rolled his eyes and walked away.

Not only the smell was awful, but also the colour texture of the place. The walls had this dull, black colour, with no pictures on the wall. To me it looked so much as a pig den

 So as I picked up my stuff and stood up to leave, I saw my friend walk into the café. Even if I was very happy to see my friend I was also felt sick and tired of that place. We hurriedly walked out of the chaotic place because I could not stand any longer being there. Fresh air is what I felt when I left that place.

Anonymous press club member 

BEAUTY THAT GOES UNNOTICED EVERY DAY

BEAUTY THAT GOES UNNOTICED EVERY DAY

 I am seated here waiting for my childhood friend to come see me. I have been to this café a hundred times but surprisingly have not noticed a lot about it. Today, I sit here, on this black chair having drunk one cup of coffee already.

Two  rings and the call goes through. She picks up and sadly she is stuck in the famous New York City traffic. The café has a soft instrumental tune playing. I look around and see everyone seated and chatting. Some laughing, others look like they are too busy to even enjoy their coffee nicely. I can hear the beeping of cars outside the café and the creaking sound the door makes, every time someone enters or leaves.

I feel at peace but still a little bit annoyed because I am so excited to meet my friend. It is like as if the inside of the café is a complete different world from the outside. The world seems to be moving fast while I am seated watching it move. It really is peaceful. The paintings hung on the wall have a lot to notice about. Their bright colours to what they are showing.

The lady behind the counter keeps looking at me, I have been here for more than an hour, but my friend still has not arrived. She smiles at me and I smile back. Everyone around me is doing something apart from me. As I look out of the window again I see a small girl with a pink dress and her hair let loose. She looks like she is having the time of her life eating the chocolate ice – cream.

My thoughts wonder off  and I start thinking of how my childhood friend must have  changed since the last time I saw her, which was like five years ago. I bet she will still be so beautiful like always. She is so radiant and has a very attractive personality. She truly is a gem, I think about how much of a treat it is to talk to her.

I feel like I should thank her for being late. All this beauty would go unnoticed, wouldn’t it ?i look back as I hear the creaking sound of the door but sadly it isn’t her. I decide to call her again and she says she is here , I turn around and there she is……

Done by Sajani Patel

DEAR EDITOR

Dear editor

I feel  strongly about the article you published recently , “ Goodbye to the letter “ was not true in your article   you stated  that emails  do not  have the sentimental value  that letters  have. Well, even if that may be true it does nor matter whether you got a letter or an email. What matters is who you got it from. Is it really about the way you got the message or is it about the person who sent it to you? Well in my opinion the person matters the most.

I agree with you that we judge people based on their handwriting but , in a job assessment it matters  on the quality of your writing . You may have a neat handwriting but , the  content of your writing is not up to standard while, someone  else  hands in a typed application with top notch content. Emails are just a move convenient way of communication. You would never know when a letter would arrive or even if it got delivered in the first place. But with email you are sure that the recipient has received your message.

Another opinion you raised was about how illegible our handwriting is going to be. I strongly disagree with this because we do not type everything. We do use our handwritings. It is just that preferably we use emails for communications. Schools still insist on handwritten assignment and I believe this is practice for having a legible handwriting.

Handwritten articles are important but typed article are convenient in terms of time saving. Typing saves time because of the recent technology, auto – correct, your writings is less prone to mistakes compared to you writing cancelling unnecessary words and having a dirty piece which is also time consuming.

In conclusion email is taking over but with a positive change. Changing things for the better not for the worse. We all should embrace this change with open arms.

Yours faithfully

Godfrey Muchendu

TEENAGE

TEENAGE ISSUES

Teenagers engage in some self-harm or physical and psychological damages. Some of these include the following;

1. Sex, alcohol, and drugs

2. Increased use of communication devices and social media

3. Mood swings

4. Aggression

5. Lying or hiding facts

6. Defying rules and arguing

7. Drastic changes in appearance

8. Decreased Communication

9. Spending more time with friends

10. Indecisiveness

ROUND THE WORLD

ROUND THE WORLD IN MY ARTICLES

In my next articles, we will have a glimpse of the top 15 countries in the world; their specialties; their culture; and most importantly their cuisine.

So let’s start off with the 15th one.

15. Australia  

The only country that is both a continent and a country.

The splendid tourist destination is famous for its fabulous steel structure-the OPERA HOUSE.

A country surrounded by the pacific.

Their traditions are not much different compared to that of the English people. Once colonized by the English empire, they were separated into six colonies and concluded that they, somehow, have the same roots.

Not forgetting their national animal-the Kangaroo-the attraction that has incremented their tourism industry.

Indigenous Australia’s special food is the BUSH FOOD-basically fruits grown in the Australian bush.

    BY-DHARIT PATEL

THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

             THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

          I shut my eyes, pretending to be sleeping, but I tossed and turned all night. Something was keeping me awake. The bed squeaked with every move I made. It seemed like I would take some time to get used to our new house. This area seemed not to suit me much.

          I decided to go out for a walk and get more fresh air. I slowly crept out from the back door. It was pitch dark outside. I walked briskly to an unknown destination. The street lights seemed to be getting dim with time.

          Suddenly, I saw myself out of a huge house. I was lost. I had no idea of where I was. As I stood gazing at the dilapidated house, ice seemed to replace my spine. A sudden kind of fear had overtaken me. With courage and curiosity, I decided to move on.

            Pushing the heavy gates open, the touch of the rusted iron bars, as cold as ice, seized up my hand completely. I walked with heavy steps towards the door. The compound was filled with overgrown grass and weed, showing how deserted and uncared the house was.

            One lonesome oak tree stood by the house swaying in the wind. The moon shone bright in the cloudless sky, as that seemed to be the only source of light for miles. I fumbled with the doorknob and it begrudgingly creaked open.

             A slimmer of light guided me through the hallway leading me into a room. A flood of light flowed in as I flickered on the lights. The oldest residents of the house seemed to be the spiders. The walls had cracks through which insects crawled out. The floor had massive cracks with the dandelions popping out.

             In the house sections ceilings hung lump in the stagnant air. Cold air seeped through window frames, rotten and mild. The wallpaper lay curled up in the wall. Sofas and chair were overturned. It seemed that it had been three decades since a footstep had echoed there, it seemed like I skipped a beat instead and dust engulfed the air.

             The room seemed to be belonging to a little boy since crayon markings were made upon the wall. A toy dinosaur lay missing its head on the bed. The carpet squished as I walked. Little picture frames remained face down on the carpet. An owl hooted and it echoed throughout the house. It was time to leave, I told myself. I made my way back to the door. On the deserted road, I asked someone for the way to my house. Upon reaching, I crept back in from the backdoor and went back to sleep.

BY: ARPIT SRIVASTAVA,

CLASS 8.

Dear Manager,

Dear Manager,

                         My family and I recently spent a fortnight in Hotel Paloma as a suggestion by the Pegasus Travel but unfortunately our stay was not quite satisfying for a couple of reasons mentioned below.

                         First of all, most of the information written in the brochure was false because it said the bus service was always on time but in our case it was late. Upon arriving our hotel, and getting our room took quite a long time. First viewpoint on our rooms were that they were extremely dusty. With my spine craving for a rest, I was certainly not pleased by how dirty the room looked.

                         Setting that aside, calling for room service directly from the room, they took a lot of time which was really annoying. The atmosphere was so hot and we were not surprised when we came to know that our air-conditioner did not work. We visited the beach for a walk to feel the cool breeze thinking it will make our mood better but it actually made it worse. We ended up with eyesores caused by how polluted the beach was. Completely opposite of what it said in the brochure “beautiful and unspoilt beaches.”

                          My parents were quite disappointed with me as it was my duty to book and plan this holiday but Hotel Paloma did not live up with my family’s and my expectations at all. With my aunt having an infant with her, she wanted to make the milk a bit cooler as because the temperature was quite high, and to her surprise the freezer was not working.

                           With so many disappointments we decided to leave that hotel the same day we arrived. I totally did not expect that kind of behaviour from your staff. No one was punctual and nothing was in order. I humbly request you for a refund or another holiday as compensation. I await your reply.

                                                                        Yours Faithfully,

                                        Janvi Patel                               

                                                                                                                                                            

Never Give Up

Never Give Up

     Life is hard that is what they say. The challenges, the obstacles and the hardships, they are just too much to handle. I can guarantee that these words run in your mind once in a while. You always willing to give up not ready to fight. Always looking at the negative side of things.  Is it hard for you to believe in yourself? To trust your instincts? Well believe me or not success does not come just by waking up one day and winning a noble prize. Success comes when you are willing to try and not give up.

     Does it mean if you fail or fall, it is the end of you? But don’t you think about your life, my life, our lives has more significance, more than just a blueprint or more that strings of a guitar waiting to be strung. Life is merely an illusion, same made up of fairy tales a kind where life is already planned out for you, choices made on behalf or better, a dream not just any dream. Where you see yourself holding a noble prize and a grand audience clapping at your every word.

     Life is more than that, greater than the missile that blinds you from reality, you have to look deeper than the layers of fake lifestyle and false prophets. You have to look at what ignites the speak within you, the real you, not the fantasiser or the disbeliever. You have to believe in yourself, believe in your talent, fight for what you believe in just believe in yourself and, in yourself you will find strength.

By:Aisha Ibrahim,Year 9