2000 School Magazine

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SYMPHONY OF DEATH

SCHOOLS' SHORT STORY COMPETITION 2000 - HIGH SCHOOL DIVISION WINNING ENTRY

It's the music of the terrorised, The terrified, The unlucky The unwilling, The scared And the starving. Most of us don t know the tune But we don t want to know. It s I ke any other symphony But this time Not a flute, nor a violin Begins the solo instead, a child creaming. The first theme beg us With a fast tempo But it's not the ho n Who build the atmosphere But the b an rig sirens. Just as usual A chorus, But it is not the trumpets With the melody line, It's the sound of bombs explod rig The piece ends With a march, But not to the sound of drums Until we are forced To sit up and listen

LOST INNOCENCE

Her nervous eyes stared intently. Lying in the palm of her hand was a square tab, imprinted with a small picture of an apple. Her name was Evelyn, an innocent contemplating her first trip. She slowly lifted the acid to her lips. The room bounced and quivered with a florescent radiance. She ran through waves of energy and dived into the wall of music. Her face was flushed and her eyes glowing with wonder. Her long, fine hair, originally restrained into a subtle plait, was spilling over her shoulders. Her thin delicate smile was stapled into a hideous grin spilling cackles and snorts. The crowd was bopping, jiving, embracing her with friendship. Evelyn was still dancing hours later, a free spirit charged and sparking, her hair and arms flying wildly. She was gyrating barefoot on the dance floor wearing nothing but a bra and the tattered remains of her skirt. A herd engulfed her. One danced particularly close, rubbing his sinuous body against her as they moved, exciting those watching. He was tall and muscular, with dark features and tattooed serpent slithering down his arm. He danced behind Evelyn, moving his hips with hers. She was oblivious to his presence even as he encircled her waist. She found to her surprise, yet another drink in her hand. As she gulped it down she swayed through an open door and into the crisp night air. She danced down the pavement, singing to the moon and the firmament. The stranger followed, attracted and amused by her obvious vulnerability. She rounded the corner unaware she was now prey. She slipped over and lay writhing in ecstasy in the gutter. His shadow slithered over her. She squirmed and whimpered. His eyes rendered her helpless, silent and still. His weight descended squeezing the breath from her lungs. The pain penetrated her dulled senses, its poison destroying her innocence. He head snapped up and she bit down hard. He loosened his grip to investigate the damage. She kicked. She punched. She broke free. Instinct took over as the adrenaline flooded her veins. She staggered down the street with her pursuer pounding and cursing ever louder behind her. She was heaving and groaning with exhaustion, when she felt the hiss of hot breath. His fingers caught and twisted her hair. Her head was yanked back, her eyes wide with terror. She tried to scream but her lungs were empty, her throat dry. Over his shoulder, bright familiar lights danced in the distance and she became aware of the vibrating pulse of music. She kicked out wildly and ran. She stumbled slipping down the kerb. Her eyes were streaming with tears leaving mascara trails down her cheeks. With her arms flailing rapidly above her head, she staggered wildly, desperately into the road. She heard the impact but felt no pain. As she lay in the road she gazed into the shadows and saw a silhouette detach itself and dissolve into the night.

But to the beat of an army And to the rhythm of bullets

And the finale? An eternal silence.

Iuq, MCKenzie I O OConnor

Amnesty International RitelMnner Dole to Core Competition - Poetry

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