p. 1

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p. 2

home sweet home the house stood abandoned among the gloom thrown into shadow by the towering pine trees mould covered roof tiles lay scattered around the ramshackle grounds the huge overgrown gardens a reminder of what the house use to be a forbidding silence lay over the house it had been like since the accident had happened strangled cries enmated irregularly from the woods surrounding the house the smell of decay was prominent obscuring all other smells mangled bodies lay in piles slowly decomposing while the slaters dissected their innards the long grass grew wildly the only thing that thrived in the desolation of this waste land the sky darkened obscuring the world in a murky blackness darkness always came quickly to siberia it seemed to be the way it escaped from the world siberia used to popular with daredevils and tourists alike now it was a prison a place to send murders and terrorists a place for the living dead the place they called home by liam gilroy.

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p. 3

the fruit ­ apple the lustrous red tinge grew slowly in intensity before ending in a red bathe of colour a green high light adorns the top of the apple creating a carpet for the rough stalk the flesh of the apple weeps as i bite into it sending cascade of fresh juice into my mouth the apples firm skin refused to give up still battling for survival a sour scent greets my nose as i continue to maim the fruit the apple is soon reduced to a core sticky juice still weeping from its many wounds its battle was lost liam gilroy

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p. 4

the man there he stood silhouetted against the glowing ashes standing silently unmoving unknowing unsuspecting occasionally the moon light removed the cloak of darkness that engulfed him revealing a worn face pockmarked like old untanned leather seemingly black eyes were sunken into their sockets thrown in a deep shadow by his overcast brows his nose was bent and crooked leaning obtrusively to one side the man s mouth was set permanently in a scowl only ever changing to a deeper one on a regular basis an aura of menace hung over him suppressing and making you feel small in his presence the smell of sweat was prominent mixed in with the smell of overcooked meat and unhygienic living a tiny tent stood behind the man carefully fashioned out of sunbeaten animal hides and interlaced tree branches tall spears stood butt down in the dry dirt expertly topped with strong shale whittled down to a point fresh blood lay in pools about the fire colouring the animal bones a deathly red crack somewhere a branch snapped under my feet startlingly loud in the silence on the heavily forested plateau gripping a spear the man turned slowly to face me his face a mask a mask that was smiling cruelly by liam gilroy.

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p. 5

the bomb shaken building was burnt out trembling even in the slight breeze that rustled the tents the well-trodden dusty ground was nothing more than dirt no grass no water no life the camp was silent save for the wind people resting in unease and families grieving in silence made the air heavy no-one would lighten it covering my eyes i scour the ground for food even pig scraps would be a feast my mind returned to the meals last christmas meats of all kinds hot sweets melting in my mouth food food and more food.then it hit me once again like a recurring wound my family some-where their bodies lay buried under one of the countless buildings i m curling into a ball trying to hide from the world and the hate that envelopes it uncontrollable tears rack my body developing into low moans everything i had is gone scattered about the condemned city in looters dens and thieves pockets except for my necklace the last and only comfort in my life i stare into its golden depths valuable but not as valuable as the photo inside family priceless.

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p. 6

the tree house the tree house was unusual it had working windows insulation a balcony power and outputs it wasn t even in a tree my friends my cousins and i did what friends cousins and i do ­ climbed onto the hot iron roof slept on the bunks counted the 32 hairy spiders played shots and wrestled doing nothing important by liam gilroy

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p. 7

my vignette the final chute appeared in my view ringed in by cheering kids and parents muddy ground a carpet for me feet toes grasping for non-existent traction faint cheers reach my ears filtering through the layers of determination and exhaustion salty saliva and mud mix in my mouth remnants of the farm section still i am running although there is no one in sight no one to compete against was i first was i last there finish lines still looms closer no one around me i pass the finishing line green card handed to me liam gilroy

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p. 8

remembering summer on blustery winter days my feet remember dancing beneath the moon my knees remember the burn of mountain biking my stomach remembers sizzling paddies and burnt sausages my back remember the sting of sunburn my mouth remembers the taste of salty seas and wet sand my eyes remembers the counting the stars on a clear night i remember summer do you by liam gilroy.

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p. 9

the last i pad silently alongside her her ragged coat peacefully swaying an accepting smile lit the face of the old lady she had accepted the inevitable and now stood with an eerie calm a calm which would remain with her to the end she had come to say good-bye good-bye to the animals good-bye to the trees good-bye to me good-bye to me i rub up against her wrinkled legs trying to remind her that i would always be there until the day she died which wouldn t be much longer the numerous animals she had cared for gathered closer huddling around forgetting their timid dispositions her large eyes slowly opened revealing to her the last sunset she would live to see the cloud she would live to see the last me she would live to see when her eyes were open the animals gathered before he revealing themselves first came the snail second the hare later the mouse he birds still watched from their lofty positions she had cared for them too broken wings lost chicks unable to fly she was the mother of the forest ancient gnarled trees rose out of the ground surrounding her withered roots stretching unerringly in all directions they too had been cared for by the old woman a woman that was as old as new-born babies are young a woman they would protect with their lives a woman that was dying before them.

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p. 10

the trees many branches formed a safe haven a shelter over the cheerful cottage a cottage that had known so much life so much love so much care so much it was going to lose even the air was damp with sadness although it had been crying for the imminent death suddenly it happened the unthinkable happened death happened her face was still lit with her smile her ragged clothes hadn t changed she still grasped her worn stick but everything changed all of it changed i changed we changed a part of us had gone taken by the old lady a lady who was more than a lady a lady who loved the forest cared for the beasts and guarded the birds the trees were trapped in tortured agony their faces emitting silent cries of anguish even their boughs seemed to become twisted and ugly forming callused knots the birds huddled together in close-knit groups soothing and comforting each other s fear and despair the beasts hid under rocks and behind mounds of dirt whines and moans breaking their silence as for me i ran i ran as fast as i could anywhere i could as long as i could trying to escape her death hide from my sadness taking refuge in anything i could whatever i could everything i could life had lost all meaning for me all purpose i had lost my spark my role in life i had lost my keeper by liam gilroy morrinsville intermediate school

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p. 11

the tooth brush an old beast am i worn bristles sparsely placed still i m content difference isn t differing me my tongue cleaner has gone worn off non-existent still i press on protecting cleaning teeth my paint is worn flaking at the top still i continue scrubbing glossing tongues my head is cracked fixed with dried toothpaste but i am old soon i will be dumped protecting cleaning teeth scrubbing glossing tongues soon i will stop but i am content by liam gilroy.

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