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Silver writing Effort

Silver in the annual NESA run WriteOn Competition.

Silver writing Effort

November 2023 Massive congratulations to Amos in Year 4, for being awarded the Silver Award in the WriteOn 2023 competition, an annual writing competition organised by NESA (NSW Education Standards Authority) and open to all Primary School students. Amos drew on his learning of the 15th and 16th century world explorers as he composed his work. Amos’ writing piece is being published in ‘The Best of WriteOn’ anthology which you will be able to find in the College Library. If you can’t wait that long check out the story below. Refugees By Amos I trudged forward in the sand, guiding the camel. The caravan seemed to go on forever. We were officially refugees. I’m Abu Bakar. I’m from Cairo, Egypt. I wear a dark brown oil skin coat that wraps around me like a second skin and shaggy black pants. I have very dark brown hair (almost black) and dark skin. Right now, I’m in a refugee camp, but you’re going to find out how and why I got here. It was the 5th of May 1915. For the events that were to come, the weather was inappropriate. It was a bright day and there was a faint sense of cheeriness in the air. The temperature was mild - hot enough so that we wouldn’t have to put our coats on and cold enough so that we wouldn’t have to run around with no clothes on. The sun hung suspended in the sky, high, radiant and captivating resplendently. Then I heard it. The whirr of a plane. There it was again! Then I saw it. The majestic bird of terror. A bomber plane. A high-pitched whistle filled the air. Everyone was looking at the sky now. The bomb fell from the plane like an arrow. It was aimed close to me. My eyes widened as the bomb got closer. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. My gaze was fixed on that bomb. It came closer… and exploded. The force of the explosion sent me flying back. Clumps of sand gritted my eyes. Egyptian soldiers swarmed in and fired at the plane. It veered away; its job done. I stood up and looked around. The soldiers were grinning at each other and slapping their backs. Suddenly, a whole fleet of bomber planes swooped in. Soldier after soldier fell dead, killed by the fleets machine guns. Like a crimson tapestry, blood stained the sand. Explosions sounded, sending sand flying and killing people. I ran to my family’s tent and began packing a bag. I slipped out the back of the tent. My family were standing next to our camel, Mannie, who was heavily packed. Together, my family and I walked over to a whole caravan of camels. I looked back at my home. “Would I ever see it again?” I thought sadly. The next few days went by in a blur. I remember clomping over a sand dune and heaving a sigh of relief when I saw the refugee camp tents. So here I am at the camp. I… what’s that sound? Oh no. AAARRRGGGHHH!!!

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