Class of 2010

Here you go! All that time and effort you all put in to make... this!

St Joseph's, Lochinvar

Sorry to any unfortunate soul who happened to read this story, I was full of anger and disgust at the time of writing.

Nature's Consequences

Whip-like vines lashed at my face as I sped away from the crime scene. I ducked and weaved through the tangled mess of branches and webs that reached out to prevent my escape. My task was a lonely one. Although exhilarating, it could also prove deadly. My senses had to be fine-tuned to the precise guidelines that were associated with the nature of my mission.

Not only was my course of action dangerous, for it left no room for error, but it was ruthlessly difficult. Even though I had done this many times before, it was still no less punishing. I heard a furious roar in the distance. Realising the implications I increased my pace. Horror filled my body and sent my mind on a dangerous path of fear and doubt, my pursuers had returned earlier than I had initially expected.

Nervously I began to stumble in my stride. Looking over my shoulder, I started to panic. My eyes widened as a huge buttress root rose from the ground. Disaster strucked and I curled up in submission, accepting my doomed fate.

An empty bowl of twigs and grass stung our eyes. Our playful smiles turned to hateful smirks. Gathering our strength, we let out a cry of disbelief and yearning for our missing treasures. We had been robbed of not only the greatest gifts our lives had brought us, but the very purpose of our existence. I inhaled deeply to catch the scent of the assailant. Turning on the heels of my hind legs, I stomped of toward the fiendish coward. The tracks grew further and further apart as the burglar picked up speed. Rounding a corner, I narrowed my vision to see in the distance those fearful, innocent eyes that glared back at me. I almost felt sorry for this sinister creature as it turned and thumped into the foundation of a willow. I eased back the reigns, slowly drawing to a halt. It seemed to be unconscious as I sniffed its limp body.

As I leant down to pick up the ghastly figure, I felt a digging pain in each side. Shaking violently I fell to the ground as two other raptors pecked at the flesh, lying bare and vulnerable in my open wounds. I heard a screech and realised that the same the same fate had befallen my poor friend. I looked at my murderers in pure hatred of the evil deed they had committed against me when they stole my most precious possessions; my unborn children.

The raptors fell back from the swipe of the mammoth T-Rex so-called ‘ruler of the land.’ They had failed their duty in finishing off the second beast. They turned back in shame, defeated and fleeing. The drained Tyrannosaurus left them to return to their pack as it searched for its dying mate in sorrow.

As it limped towards her body, it disinterestedly noted the scattering hunters. It scoffed at them, with its last puff of breath, as an added encouragement for them to leave in peace. Sobbing in ruin, it swore revenge on the assassins. Robbed of life’s joys, only vengeance gave it reason to live. It collapsed against the lifeless body and closed its eyes as it gained strength for its approaching hunt.

The Missionaries

I died that day. The day my love was lost, so too was I. That awful gloomy day shall never be relinquished from the detailed record that is my memory; wretched thing. Now all that is left of the burning fire which spread warmth within the confines of my inner self is a smouldering heap of ash whose empty coldness brings constant shivers to my spine, ever reminding me of what was and shan’t be again. Hopelessness lines my broken heart, a shield against any happiness, trapping inside only pain and fear. Fear for change, fear of love, fear of the plague of happiness that threatens my well-being and survival. For what is happiness but a promise of pain to come? Moreover, love, a dark, evil emotion that lurks about, waiting, under the guise of a bringer of joy, to strike surely and deeply, tearing you down to a pit of hatred and depression.

Hatred is the only REAL feeling; always honest, never hiding its true intent. Hatred is the only thing we can trust in this cruel, pitiful existence. We only exist to hate and hence, to destroy all in an attempt to save unsuspecting victims from the sinister crimes of those scheming emotions; love, joy, ecstasy. These conspiring diseases trap us in an addicted state of false enjoyment leaving behind a trail of hurt and misfortune. These are the most intoxicating drugs of all.

Their evil accomplices; sympathy, pity, empathy and hope, are but distractions, weaknesses which leave us vulnerable to even greater suffering. If we succumb to these temptations, we will find ourselves bruised and bitter. In our bewildered state, we will lack the strength and will to fight our dangerous foes, blindly following their misguided, destructive causes.

If we are to succeed over these greedy, misleading forces, we must let our anger control us, allow furious rage to overcome these vicious tormentors. Bring the tyrannical overlords down and drag their bodies through the dust as a message to all so-called ‘do-gooders’ This is the gospel I preach: Satan wishes not for suffering, but to protect against those blinding forces which intensify the depression it causes.

That is why I chose to kill them: so that I could save myself from the torture of heaven, and to end the dreadful storm that lingered over their ambitious and proud relatives. My only wish is that I could have saved them from themselves. They were missionaries, peacemakers; breeders of the filthy curse of happiness. I made it my duty though, to avoid their suffering.

They did not see, nor feel, deaths choking grip, as I was cunning enough to drug their systems during their short recess at the local café. It only took a sleepy driver and a well placed fishing line to catch the legs of the speeding horse’s and send the unconscious victims over a high altitude cliff... to the creepy, cold corners of heaven.

Self-Defence not allowed for Man in Trouble

On one Saturday evening, Lewis Brown entered Stanley’s Tavern alone. There were a number of patrons in the bar. He ordered a drink and went to play a game. Lewis recognized a woman he had worked with. Mr Brown thought it was a good idea to have a chat with the woman. As he was talking to her he was confronted by a young, white, hostile male in his twenties who advised Lewis that the girl he was talking to was in fact his girlfriend. Lewis did not want any trouble so he explained to the man that there was no problem and turned around and started to leave.

At that exact moment the man grabbed Lewis around the neck. He frantically pulled the male around in front of him. The man continued to throw punches and connected with Lewis’s mouth. Within a second three more white patrons had jumped on Lewis and knocked him to the floor. By this time he was being kicked and punched all over his body. It seemed every time he tried to get up he was kicked back down again. The men started yelling racist comments like "kill that nigger." Lewis feared for his life.

Mr Brown suffers from panic disorder and felt he was going to die. He waited for someone to call the police or help him help. No one wanted to be involved. While on the floor, Lewis reached down and opened a pocket knife that he had used for work and began waving it around thinking that it would make them stand down. Slowly one after another backed up and ran out the bar. In doing so Lewis hadn’t realised he actually cut one of them. After the men left the bar he picked himself up and stumbled to his car when the police arrived.

Mr Brown was transported to the police station where he was kept overnight because of his injuries and observations. Lewis had terrible injuries to his mouth, chest, stomach, back and arm. While he was in jail he found out that none of the white males had been arrested or charged. The police were not even going to charge any of the four men. Lewis believed justice had to be served and pushed the idea to his attorney. Mr Brown’s attorney told him to plea bargain because he wouldn’t get a fair trial because of his race that Lewis should leave town for his own safety.

The Castle Review

The hilarious new comedy 'The Castle', starring Michael Caton as Darryl Kerrigan is a slightly satirical movie about a small house with a huge home inside it

When Darryl Kerrigan's world is drastically displaced by a land valuers knock on the door and his beat-up, run-down, lead-poisoned house's existence is challenged by an expanding airport owned by the 'Barlow Group', he appeals the compulsory acquisition and continues to lead his serene life, unfazed. As he goes to his holiday at Bonny Doon and does some evaluations of his own (on a pair of jousting sticks), his blissful life is steadily collapsing around him. When he eventually puts his faith in his (quite confronting) local solicitor, Dennis Denuto (Tiriel Mora) to fight a case of the national constitution.

When Dennis eventually botches up the case, Darryl turns to murder, rape, abortion, slaughter and incest for comfort. This doesn't actually happen, so if you want to know the real ending, go and watch the movie.

The Castle, rated M15+ for its moderate course language is a wonderfully refreshing movie, and the writer of this review recommends it highly to anyone who can handle an amount of cursing.

Empty

The torrent of rain ceased just as quickly as it had begun, mimicking Andrew’s mood. Only a moment before he had been hysterically sobbing over the body of his beloved, and now a cold determination had stolen over him, the only sign of misery betrayed on his face were swollen, bloodshot eyes.

As if in a dream, or a nightmare, he stood up from the bent and broken body, and walked down the road, back the way he had come. As he walked, memories came surging back to him of their time together.

He was walking home from school one afternoon, whistling to himself. As he turned a corner, he saw her, just standing there, not saying anything. She stared at him with her huge, brown, puppy-dog eyes, and from that moment onwards, he was in love. Not the school-yard type of love, though. Andrew would gladly jump in front of a speeding bus if it would stop harm coming to his newfound beauty.

They walked home together, and talked the entire way. Well, Andrew did most of the talking, as she was a very quiet soul, and although she spoke very little, her eyes betrayed an intelligence that, although it seemed foreign, was intelligence all the same.

Andrew felt captivated, unable to leave the cocoon of love that had been woven since their first encounter. She was the thing that had filled up the cocoon, and now she was gone, the world came rushing in. Like a bitter wind, reality stung his flesh. All he wanted to do was jump up and down, to run as fast as he could, roll on the ground even, just so that he could rid himself of the terrible ache his love had left him with.

It was the first time in his life that he had been wanted, the first female that had paid him positive attention. When he was with her, she filled a part of him, and now that she was gone, he knew in his heart that he would never have a pet that could fill that part again. He would now feel forever empty.