Corban

Corban is my younger brother. He is smaller than me in two ways, both height and age. If I stand beside him, he measures to my shoulder. His blonde hair is as thin as straw. Corban has big blue eyes like the sea water. He has knobbly knees and skinny legs that remind me of a baby giraffe learning to walk.
Corban has more energy than any 9 year old that I know. If you're looking for him he will be playing soccer, rugby or running. When we go outside we tackle. He is funny and annoying, but even though he is annoying, he is still my friend.
by Mitchell

The Pile

The Pile

It grew and grew
Warm winds to bitter southerlies
Green leaves aging to old withered and brown
And yet it still grew
Hopeful winter turned to doubtful summer
The rubbish stench wafting; ruining the fresh air
The match striking the box
Flames erupting like a volcano; licking the trees and scorching the rats
No chance to escape being fried alive
Black smoke curling like a fingers grasping the clouds
Smouldering for days
Again it grows and grows waiting to be lit once more

By Joel Nicholls

My Grandma

“Hello, hello!” I would always receive as I strolled casually inside the ‘Invercargill Domestic Airport Terminal’. Hugs and handshakes were given out generously from my grandparents on our short reunion, before they would sign me out of the ‘UMMN’ (Unaccompanied Minor Programme). We would then go to collect my bag, my grandma and I would also have a brief conversation about the week that’s been since I last called them.

I will always remember my Grandma’s hair go from a light brown to a snowy white over the years. Every piece of clothing that she wore had at least two different colours like her garden, which was another one of her passions, her love of colours. Her purple decadent glasses were one of the many parts of her personality, she was almost unrecognisable without them on, unless you didn’t know who she was; that was basically impossible, she had mere hundreds of friends, every time she would meet with a friend she would always have a connection to the people around her.    

Sitting knee deep in the very colourful, luscious garden was always where my grandma be, her hobby, her passion, her life. If she ever got the chance she would always spend at least half an hour planting, pruning or weeding her most amazing garden. If it was raining she would sit inside using her ‘Kindle’ or playing solitaire on the computer (only when she was trying to avoid watching ‘Top Gear’ on the television (Grandad’s favourite show!) she thought that it was horrible with the comedy involved!)

When I was with my Grandma we would always go to the supermarket and buy ‘Trumpet’ or ‘Magnum’ ice creams (She would always use me as an excuse to buy sweet sugary things!) But that would be after she would have met with a friend for a ‘cuppa’ or lunch ...

By Alec D  :D

My Brother Harrsion!

"OMG I hate this game!" my brother yells at the people in his team for a mistake he made.


That's my brother Harrison. You'll hear that every night if you're "lucky". We'll watching T.V. when he has his headphones on he will hear nothing, which is quite annoying when you want to talk to him.You have to yell "Harro!"a couple of times.


My brother was born in Nelson '97 around five years before me.


Over the last four or so years me and my bro have developed quite the rivalry. He will beat me up for no apparent reason! Sometimes I'd just be lying there and he would just stroll up and punch me in the leg, which I find quite rude.


His face is a rough surface with his pimples just like a battered concrete path. Harrison's breath stinks just like food that has been smothered in flies.His deep blue eyes change from blue to bloodshot red when he gets angry(he will get angry easy).


This is my brother Harrison. I've told you all the interesting things about him (from his room which I won't go into, but it is literally a bomb-site).

By Riley Goad

Larissa

Its work time so Larrisa's long, black, thick hair is tied in a perfect bun. Her makeup is immaculate. Her black mascara makes her brown eyes stand out. Larrisa strolls down the aisle. Giving food and water as well as asking people if they want tea or coffee, and looking after passengers.
When Larrisa's not at work her long hair falls behind her shoulders. When its out its like Rapunzel's hair.
My cousin is fun to be with. She takes me out shopping when my mom is busy.  She is funny, kind, helpful and nice. I am really lucky to have a cousin like her.

The Bridge to House

My brother Bill and I were posing crazily for a photo for our parents before we started our trip to Miami, Florida - our favourite place to go for a holiday.

37 hours later, after the worlds longest game of Eye Spy, we made it. We headed to the house on the beach side, but first we had to cross an old flimsy suspended bridge to get over the deep trench  around the house. It creaked and swung and swayed. We  went inside and found out that there was no milk, so we all drove over the bridge again to get to the local store. It swung back and forwards like a pendulum on a grandfather clock as we drove across.

With two three litre milk cartons we started to head home. The view of the beach was amazing; all  different shades of yellow sand and  hints of orange shimmering on the crisp, clear blue water. The deep blue reached out then cascaded across the golden sand. We got to the house and were crossing the bridge when CRACK! We were falling into the trench. Our screams were heard everywhere. Even by the dead. We were stuck in the car underwater and the car was slowly filling up with the blemished water.