Litmus Year: 2020

Finally Awake

Adelaide Browning gazed placidly over the sunset from the balcony. She studied every detail carefully, analyzing every bramble she could see poking over the distant hills. She prided herself in being an excellent observer, and was frankly hoping that the stunning view could distract her from her younger sister’s awful chatter. Suddenly, she stiffly shifted and glanced at her sister. “Don’t be ridiculous Claire.” She was becoming irritated. “But Addy…” Her sister wailed. “No.” Adelaide spoke firmly. She couldn’t stand her sibling’s petulant voice. Wearied, she flicked her copper curls over her shoulder, clutched her skirts and paced away. Claire briskly followed. When Adelaide heard her sister’s hurried steps, she abruptly shifted to face her; her piercing green eyes glaring. “Don’t be irrational Claire, man will never fly. It is 1834 for goodness’ sake: If the Lord had wanted us to fly, we would have wings by now.” She sighed. And with that, she left her dumbfounded sister in the empty corridor and headed for her chambers. “Machines to make man fly? How absurd! She muttered. Claire even had the audacity to suggest that in future, women would wear trousers. Trousers! Obscene. When Adelaide left for the gardens later that day, she noticed her sister slumped on an oak branch, sobbing long sighs. When she started for the oak-tree, intentioned to scold her sister for being incredibly foolish and improper, she suddenly felt faint, as if death was flowing through her, first from her fingertips, spreading impassively and steadily up her arms like spilled ink, diffusing up, until it veiled her eyes and her world went dark. When Dr Brookes heard stirring, he skeptically raised his eyes from his clipboard. Everything seemed in its place, the machines whirring and beeping, tubes stretching to the arms and nose of his comatose patient. Her heartbeat seemed regular, and as always, she seemed still as glass. He had been monitoring Olivia’s coma for a few months now, and although some may find this job quite dull, he found it intriguing, the way a body could be alive without a mind. He was smoothing his scrubs and resettling down when Olivia stirred again. Gradually, she woke. Gushing adrenaline overwhelmed Brookes and he began to investigate. He was well-taught, and knew that a coma was a confusing exit, so when Olivia finally spoke, he was relieved. “Who are you?” The girl spoke with attitude. Strange, thought Brookes. He imagined Olivia as a sweet girl. He was about to speak when the door erupted and people poured in. “Olivia!” A shrill shriek perforated the air as Olivia’s mother flung herself at the girl. Incomprehensible words spilled from her mouth in excitement when Olivia raised her finger causing the room to silence. “And who are you?” The mother’s smile fell. “You… You were in a coma...” She whispered. The girl’s face remained stoic, but with a trembling voice she hissed: “I am not ‘Olivia’, my name is Adelaide Browning and I demand to know where I am.”
by Giulia Toffoli, Year 9 © Copyright 2020 Giulia Toffoli. All rights reserved.

Unlikely Friends

  by Mehakdeep Kaur, Age 15   © Copyright 2020 Mehakdeep Kaur. All rights reserved.

The Drawing Room

by Fiona Zeka, Year 12, St Paul's Way Trust School © Copyright 2020 Fiona Zeka. All rights reserved.

Rain

I have memories as a child, resting my head against the car window, feeling the bumpy vibrations of the engine running. Tapping noises smacked against the car as if aching to get inside; upon lifting my head, I saw the pouring rain outside lashing down like the heavens were mad at Earth. My eyes shifted to two particular little raindrops against the outside car window, wiggling down before they dropped into a puddle below. I imagined them racing each other - “First one to reach the puddle wins!” The adrenaline would rush through my body as I silently rooted for my favourite droplet to win. To travel back to the times where my mind was so imaginative and innocent is a wish to die for. Now, we repeat the same scenario. It’s years later, and we’ve shifted into a different perspective. My flimsy shoes squelched with every step I took, continuing to absorb every droplet of water that fell from the sky. Shaking hands that were too weak and too cold to even bother gripping onto the hood of my light coat fell droopily by my side. An expression of so much emotion, yet none at the same time was painted across my face, with a red-tipped nose from the single digit weather. My fingertips slightly shifted every now and then to grasp the hem of my skirt, having to pull it down in a fear of oversexualisation by my peers. Head hung low, I finally reached the foot of the bus, scrambling the insides of my pocket in a desperate search for my ticket. A queue forms behind me and the embarrassment flushes my rosy cheeks. I step to the side, accepting my failure and now doing a re-scramble for change. Managing to obtain the exact amount of coins, I got on with a few seconds to spare and sat myself down at a window seat right at the back of the bus, a grand sigh escaping through my lips as I slowly blinked in a form of exhaustion. My head sank onto the window panel beside me as my body rattled, the bus driving heavily along the roads. Zoning out my mind and replenishing the stress with the soothing sound of the rain seemed like the best idea for a 20 minute ride; it was proven difficult by the noise of laughing and conversing around me. Hefty rainfall striked the concrete roads outside, asserting its power and making me feel frail. I took a glance at the raindrops on the opposite side of my window, maneuvering and falling so fast. At an instant, my body began to imitate the likeness of the same drops of rain, as a small teardrop plummeted from my eye to the floor. Blurred vision, a sparkling yet sorrowful gaze as both eyes began to fill up with everything bottled inside me. Stress, panic, sadness, fear - all portrayed in the form of a tiny, crystal-like droplet. This isn’t what it was like as a child.
by Izzy, Age 14 © Copyright 2020 Izzy. All rights reserved.

In Common

  Abbie says, "When writing this piece, I was thinking about how divided the world is. With the vast amount of people on this planet, it's no surprise that we tend to contrast one another quite frequently. However, I believe that we can always find something to bond over, whether that happens to be an ...

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Roadtrip TV

  by Laila   Inspired by William Ernest Henley's Invictus © Copyright 2020 Laila. All rights reserved.

I Lost Something

  by Skye Dent, Age 16 Inspired by Elizabeth Bishop's One Art   © Copyright 2020 Skye Dent. All rights reserved.