The Years by Hugo D

She liked Tyler’s room. There was a large coffee stain on the fluffy carpet next to his desk. A miniature basketball hoop is stuck to the back of his door, the tiny basketballs strewn everywhere. As well as a seven month old metal detector collecting dust under his unmade double bed.

Sunday Sandwich by Harry W

Every Sunday Grandpa made Harry a sandwich for lunch, and last week’s sandwich had been terrible. In between the sourdough, small, hard and white pieces of rice were scattered everywhere. Swaying from side to side the red jelly danced in the Sunday sandwich and big, fat extractions of cabbage sat, squashed under the jelly with bright green colour.

Basketball by Kallen M

Everything has been leading up to this moment. The grip of the ball pounded against my red raw hand as I dribbled the ball up the court. The red digits read 89-91. Australia down by two points with only 10 seconds remaining. We weren’t going to lose to America, not now, not ever!

The Midnight Cat by Tom W

I woke up from a terrible dream, welcomed by the ever so bright white full moon which cast mists of air into the dark night. The sky was pale as the moon dominated the skies and stars showing off its ghostly colour. Black clouds desperately tried to cover up the moon with their blue spears and thick droplets, but the moon struck through it like its light was a sword.

Sunday Sandwich by Nicholas L

Every Sunday Grandpa makes Cristiano a sandwich for lunch, and last week’s was terrible. Between two slices of bread was stinky, old Brussel sprouts, smelly, oily sardines dripping down one side and barbeque sauce like mud that was well over its expiry date. “Thanks Grandpa,” he said in a sarcastic tone. Cristiano picked up the squishy, wet sandwich and with one big gulp, he swallows it with a half-hearted smile.

Sunday Sandwich by Henry D.

Every Sunday Tom makes Georgia a sandwich for lunch, and last week’s sandwich was terrible. Between two slices of bread where a long slimy ox tongue cut up into hundreds of pieces, a whole chilli flaming hot and soy sauce with extra salt to and a another level of tang. Georgia liked Tom but this sandwich looked disgusting. On the other hand, she didn’t want to hurt Tom’s feelings so she picked it up and hid a gag reflex.

Sunday Sandwich by Jake P.

Every Sunday Grandpa made David a sandwich for lunch, and last week’s had been terrible. Between two slices of bread were smelly sardines, with the eyes still in them. The scales were on top and fish bones lying next to each other like they were under a doona. Cornflakes were next, crunchy, yellow and finally a whole onion with its brown skin still on it.