Electricity | Jago, age 6

Running through the wires

Going into homes

Someone rings the telephone

But no one’s home!

Thread | Ruby, age 6

I think the thread

Is the

Wheel of a car

And

It can roll

So far

Because something

Which makes

It no one knows

What it is.

I think it leads

You to a secret.

It may

Be a golden pyramid.

Pencil | Vita Goodwin, age 6

The pencil

Is people fighting

In war. The pencil

Is their weapon

Fight!

Fight!

Fight!

The pencil is

People fighting in

War

Fight

My Special Place | Emma Tapper

Books. Everywhere. Millions, thousands. Hiding where only the best can find them. Pillows are laid out in all sorts of directions. They comfort you in the worst of times. Words sprawl across the page. Inky shapes form stories of princes and knights. The ingredient to make this place special? People! Different shapes and sizes. They scatter the place like sprinkles on ice-cream.

by Rebecca Grice

Heard of that old shack by the beach? Well, even if you haven’t, then that’s my place. I live there alone with Mum. I spend all my hours over the road, down by the sand dunes, but that’s okay. I love it down there. On hot days the water’s great for a swim. I get the bay all to myself because everyone else seems to hand around the other end.

‘Hey, Charlie. Looks nice for a swim down there! Wanna come?’

‘Yep,’ I say, staring at the calm water out the window.

‘Your togs are on the washing line. I can get them if you like.’

‘Yes please’.

A few minutes later I hear a ringing sound coming from the lounge. It’s Mum’s phone. The back window by the washing line is open so I call out,

‘Mum, your phone’s ringing’.

She swings the back door open again.

‘Catch!’ she says, chucking my swimming shorts at me.

‘Otis is coming around,’ Mum says, barely interested. ‘Oh, and bring your togs,’ Mum shouts into the phone.

Otis and I are best friends. Him plus me equals mischief.

‘Can I take Max down?’

‘Yeah. Guess so,’ Mum replies. Max is our dog.

The hot sand gritted underneath me.

‘Let’s get in the water,’ Otis says.

We run up the wharf, bare footed.

‘Three, two, one!’

We dive into the clear, blue salty sea.

‘Ah!’ I say with fright. The water is freezing!

‘It’ll be okay once you swim around a bit’, said Otis looking a bit shivery himself. Max pounded in, joining in the fun. Well, at least it’s fun for him.

‘Stop it!’ He was splashing cold water ripples all over us.