2020 Archives - The Litmus School Writing Project

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Common-sciousness

by Shanker Narayan, Age 17 © Copyright 2020 Shanker Narayan. All rights reserved.

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Lockdown

Months of social distancing is rotting my mind, seeing the same faces every day and no others. For the first month, I was so ecstatic but over time I grew less and less fond of not having the ability to see my family see that there are other humans in the world. At least now I'm starting to develop new interests that I wouldn't have if lockdown didn't happen such as a new music range. Lockdown has made me able to go a long time without being bored. I can now use my initiative and find ways to entertain myself. Yes, lockdown was fun at the start until I started looking into all of the "Conspiracy Theories" and having my opinion change each time I start to look further into it.

by Zane, Year 9 © Copyright 2020 Zane. All rights reserved.

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Coronavirus UK

Union Jack with differents in different sections, hand drawn: BLM, Football, Family, Gigs, Boring, Glastonbury, Euro 2020, School Closed, 2 metres, Great North Run

by Callum, Year 9 © Copyright 2020 Callum. All rights reserved.

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I Thought We Had Something in Common

“I thought we had something in common?” I said to my mother one day. “You thought we had something in common?” My mother repeated back to me. “Yes, but that man was taken away for no reason.” “Surely coming from a different race is no act of treason?” “Well where we live there are deep divisions within society.” This statement filled me with anxiety. I thought to myself, as a child would Why a world so rich with life could Justifiably ignore a sense of humanity And act with such insanity. I was abandoned by my mother for challenging the norm, She did not value a child who believed in reform. Although that made me weep, And from it I lost several nights sleep, I knew that like a bird in a cage, I could sing my song of outrage. My song was heard by others like me, To me they were drawn, like a dog with its fleas. Together we began to shout; “Change will not come unless we act out!” “We have something in common. All of us!” “We will stand together and start to make a fuss!” For now I know that I was right to question Because what makes us different should be no cause for aggression. Not one person is more important than another Each man, no matter race, is another man’s brother. Society cannot tell our generation to be quiet. The young will stand up. We will riot. “I thought we had something in common.” I told those who would listen. “We do have something in common!” But for others that connection did not matter. The message of equality is strong. But the battle for it to be won will be long. All we want is for all to belong.

by Harriet Goldson, Age 17, Thorpe St Andrew High School and Sixth Form © Copyright 2020 Harriet Goldson. All rights reserved.

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InCommon

A drawing of a Venn diagram with the overlapping part shaded. The words In Common and BLM are underneath in large writing.

by Marcel, Age 16 © Copyright 2020 Marcel. All rights reserved.

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In Common:In Mind

A drawing of a man's face with a cross section of a skull on one side, and the word's In Common In Mind

by Adam © Copyright 2020 Adam. All rights reserved.

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Collective Unconsciousness

Collective Unconsciousness Smog slithered its way through the streets, blinding Tom as he trudged against it. He clenched his rough, netted bag crammed with corrugated metal that was slung over his shoulder. The uneven cobblestones were barely visible beneath the river of filth grasping at his feet. Amidst a hazy sea of amber light that bled upwards from the market stalls, he caught a glimpse of the stars that timidly hovered over the crooked streets which surrounded the square. As Tom emerged into the vast market square his senses were overwhelmed. Merchants swarmed him like midges on a warm dusk night. Colours danced in the flickering lamplight. A collection of exotic and oddly shaped fruits were enclosed in a cage of rusted metal. Government messages sang from radios, strategically stationed around the square. The humid air sat on the chests of the market goers. An assortment of used protective gear was tarped together to form a little canopy. Tom ducked under the draped, portiere of patchwork cloth that led into the merchant’s yurt and set his bag down on the table, removing the metal for inspection. Tom’s eyes followed the trail of the merchant’s hands as he scratched it – testing its authenticity. “Your safety and health is paramount… your government will protect you.” “I haven’t seen anyone with the virus for years,” offered Tom in an unguarded moment. The merchant nodded with a smile, gathered up the metal and filed it in cubby holes as Tom removed a rusty box from his pocket and placed it under the red light of the crypto-credit machine. His self-made device beeped to acknowledge receipt of the compulsory crypto-currency. The merchant held down a strange, green button as he took a furtive sidelong glance at Tom, before dismissing him and moving his attention to the next customer without uttering a word. Tom headed home, past one of the ubiquitous steam cafés, the smell of the rehydrated food pumped out to lure him closer. Firefly lights hovered along the narrow streets – chasms, overshadowed by worn sandstone buildings that had evolved into shanty hybrids reaching up to the sky, becoming more rickety and crude as they grew; geological strata of human development and regression. Tom felt a rush of cold air ignite goosebumps that spread all over his body. He pondered, “What did that green button do?” Tom turned and met with the faces of two tall, stocky men – government paramedics, dressed in sky-blue uniforms. “We need to take you for some routine tests.” The fog coiled up Tom’s leg like a snake about to strike. His eyes darted frantically around looking for a way out. All he saw was their ambulance which was a white van spray-painted with the caduceus symbol. They walked him round to the back doors. As they opened, the snake split apart revealing the splintered, wooden interior. They put the inhaler over his mouth and he fell asleep. The van drove away, swallowed by the smog.

by Will Cannon, Age 14 © Copyright 2020 Will Cannon. All rights reserved.

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A Mother’s Warning

Be careful my dear do not look straight at the sun. It will burn your eyes and leave you blind to the world and the beauties that fill it. Be careful my love, do not yet lose hope to the world that surrounds you. Though pain and fear weave their way into our lives do not give them the power to control you. I know that you see all the anger and hate spread by those who do not think. You watch as the world you have come to love slowly teeters towards the brink. I was once like you my darling , scared of the world and the place that it occupied in my thoughts. It is easier for some to look at the sun and trade the fear that seeing the world creates and instead embrace the freedom of being blinded. Blinded from the hateful faces and painful images of the world before you. Yet my love do not lose yourself to those thoughts for they are only passing. They have no power over you unless you give it to them. Instead my flower see the world for its beauty. The never ending sky connecting us across the world. A blanket stretching and changing with each passing day. It protects us from the cold of space. Focus on the greenest grass that stretches from plains to mountains, growing and spanning miles. Look at the trees that stretch to the sky holding out their branches for you to climb. Listen to the sea call out in waves for you to dip your little toes in and feel the cold. Let it sing to you and send you off to the land of sleep. Scale the mountains of the world, giants that reach to the sky. They will tell you the tales of men and gods past. Run across the plains and feel the world stretch for miles around you. See the world for its possibility. My world you have so much to see and to learn. Talk to others and you’ll find that your fears are ones that flow through us all. It is a commonality that cannot be avoided but instead we choose to share our love for the world around us. Our differences are beauties of their own and without them we shall never grow. Our voices shall sing to the heavens as we tell of our tale. A small planet shared by trillions of creatures all connected under one blue sky. Be careful my dear, do not look straight into the sun. Though she shines bright she cannot help you hide. Instead look at those around you, faces from all continents capable of so much. Look at them and see our common love for our planet. Then my universe when you are ready to leave, fly with them to reach a place that I could only dream of. All my love, Mother N

by A. Johns © Copyright 2020 A. Johns. All rights reserved.

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in / common

In / common Common. A word that isn’t necessarily positive. Neither is it negative. Generally referring to something average. In abundance. Ordinary. An observation. To be a common person is to be poor or lowly. To have a common feature or name or eye colour is to be boring and uninteresting. If in a game you were to find something of a common value, the player wouldn’t feel anything, really. To be common is to be ignored. Dismissed. It seems then, that value is only truly rarity. To be rare is to be desired. To be desired is to be valueable. In placing a small word in front of this unimportant one then, why do we have a phrase that is used so often? This small word, that can be noun, preposition, adverb, adjective. Perhaps because, in combining the two, we have a term which allows two things to be connected, two strangers to feel familiar, two objects to relate. To have something in common with another person is the highest form of compliment. To share a link, a trait, a love, a pursuit. So how does adding this small word allow the meaning and, yes, value to completely change? Perhaps it comes down to humanity’s need to form relationships. To validate and be validated. To love and be loved. Because this term, until applied to multiple subjects, has no worth. For really, what is art without the viewer? What is music without the listener? What is literature without the reader? To know that you have something that many others also have is insignificant, but to know that you share something with another is powerful. To share a hair colour, hobby, religion, skin colour, home, interest; it brings more meaning to these things. For really, what is anything that we have, feel, or think without another to share it with.

by Ffion © Copyright 2020 Ffion. All rights reserved.

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In the Rain

In the Rain With my head resting upon the window of our car, I watch the tiny raindrops snake their way down, racing to the bottom of the pane, in a hurry to get to the end of their journey but failing to think of the consequences they will face when the road comes to an end. It was as I watched that it struck me, how similar each of us are to one of those raindrops, rushing about our business determined to finish first. Dashing through our childhood, desperate to arrive at our adult years before slowly coming to the realisation that we preferred it where we were, at the beginning of life, at the top of the window. On occasion, the trail we leave happens to collide with that of someone else. Frequently we travel a short way together before moving on and continuing our journey alone, however, once or twice we collide with someone who will join us on our path for the rest of our life and will remain with us until the very end. It is because of these random yet vital collisions that our paths twist and turn and constantly change as we make our way down the window. It’s funny because as we begin, we cannot wait to plunge down into the middle of our limited time of existence but the further we fall, the more we wish we could climb to the top and start again, the more we wish we could repeat what we have already done and fix all of our mistakes. But however much we wish this or will it to happen, the inevitable fate that awaits us all will eventually tighten its grip and drag us down to join the multitude of raindrops who have fallen off the window. And now imagine that it is not only your window that is full of droplets but that every window of every car is dripping with them, because that is what our planet is like, each town, city, country and continent is dripping with life so that the trails we leave behind from our life times create a web, knitting each and every person together and ensuring that we all have something in common.

by Elizabeth © Copyright 2020 Elizabeth. All rights reserved.