The Trap
The sweet scent of pine hung in the air like a lingering ghost. Finally, it was Christmas Eve. My heart was
beating rapidly as I sang out goodnight to my parents. My feet
pitter-pattered up the stairs to the room that I share with my brother, Liam. He was sitting upright in bed with
some green rope in his hand. “Ready Harry?” he questioned me,
already sure of the answer. “Ready,” I firmly replied, and we both dived under the covers as our parents
came upstairs to say goodnight.
The light turned off with a click. The door swept shut with a tug. Our weary parents trudged downstairs,
Christmas exhausting them prior to its appearance. We waited for a while and eventually heard them go to
bed. Neither of us moved until we were both sure our parents were asleep. Gentle snores filled the air. Finally, operation Catch Santa had begun.
A beam of light extended from Liam’s torch. We both silently pulled the sheets back and tip-toed out of bed.
I slowly placed my foot on the first stair, checking to ensure it didn’t creak. Silence. I signaled to my brother
with a thumbs up. We ventured downstairs and crouched at the base of the railing, prepared to set up our
trap.
Liam’s fingers nimbly twisted, turned and knotted the rope, so it stretched tightly above the bottom step, by
the Christmas tree. Thumbs up. The trap was set. As we quietly snuck back upstairs, my mind whizzed with
excitement at all the possibilities. We slipped back into bed and I knew I would have a sleepless night as a
result of all the adrenalin
pumping steadily through my body.
Hours later, my eyes drooped heavily but I managed to stay awake. We would catch
Santa, wouldn’t we? I waited and waited and waited for what felt like forever. Thud. “Ho ho ho ho! What fine
young lads put this down to trap me?” I raced downstairs and there he was, Santa.
He truly was, well, fat. His eyes reflected the glittering Christmas lights beside him. The
son red suit were almost bursting, struggling to contain his body. I stared hypnotically at
my eyes. It was unbelievable. It was like walking into a dream. It was almost too good
loosened a little and I blinked, twice. Suddenly a loud thud erupted in my
seams on his crimthe sight in front of
to be true. My jaw
ears.
My eyes fluttered open. I had fallen asleep waiting for Santa. A torch light searched in the room before meeting my face. “Harry, did you hear that?” I remembered the thud.
“Uh… yeah…” I replied sleepily, and then it dawned on us.
“Santa,” our eyes locked as we spoke simultaneously.
We flew down the stairs, our hearts beating a syncopated rhythm. My mind buzzed
busily, filling endlessly with demanding questions and thoughts. How did he get in? What will he look like?
Would he bring presents? My foot connected with the base of the stairs. My eyes darted searchingly around
the room, looking for the jolly man who had appeared in my dreams. Where was he? Where was Santa? Out
of the corner of my eye, I spotted something moving. We rushed over to it and excitement flooded my mind.
The truth
suddenly looked me in the eye and I knew what had tripped over the rope. It was…
my dog.
By Bianca Kirk.
Flights of Fancy
R
unning swiftly through my mind
My thoughts will skip and leap
My head soars through the candy clouds
Each night I go to sleep
Joyful and flamboyant thoughts
Life is strange, but wonderful
While unconscious in my bed
My dreams are mostly fictional
But even my imagination holds
Jumble inside my head
Just pure hallucinations
Extravagant aspirations
My head rests on the pillowcase
Running swiftly through my mind
My thoughts skip, leap and dance
My body in a trance
Nicole Brebner
Murder House
The messenger knocks on the door,
Monday morning it’s a total bore.
It’s a note from the dreaded and she gives it to the teacher,
Your name is called. “But Miss, I’m an innocent creature.”
The names start coming, the shouts, the calls,
“Murder House!” the noise rises and falls.
I stand up obediently and leave the room,
As I walk through the corridors I feel constant doom.
I enter the clinic, with a nervous stare,
And am welcomed by a white dressed frightening glare.
“Come on in and sit in the seat,
Don’t try and run, I don’t miss a beat.”
“Open your mouth wider little dearie.”
“Aaaahhhhhh!” I cry. “This is rather scary.”
She preys above, my tooth to fill,
I start to sweat, when I hear the drill.
It’s over now for another year,
No one will know I shed a tear.
Flo Mills