Photography:
Georgie and Elsa:
Kael Borrello:
Ellis Plant:
Create Writing:
Olivia Taylor:
I had finally done it. Accomplished my dreams. I’m going to be a fashion designer in L.A. I settled in my plane seat, picking up the safety manual from the mesh in front of me. I was also an overthinker. I was worried and always worrying, 24/7, no matter how serious the situation was. Just as I was skimming over how to brace myself in case of a crash landing, a beaming flight attendant lightly tapped on my shoulder. She was wearing her deep navy uniform, her hair pulled back in a neat, crisp bun, and she had a pleasant expression on her face.
“Good evening! Here are some essentials to help with take-off.”
I nodded and smiled as she walked off to the people behind me. I settled back into my chair, stuffing the care-package into the mesh in front of me. Back to reading the safety manual. Soon enough, the speakers came to life and the pilot made his announcement for take-off. Nerves jumbled in my stomach as the plane’s engine roared to life and we made our way over to the runway.
I ripped open my essentials and the contents poured into my lap. Earplugs, a sleeping mask, and a small packet of sanitation wipes. I picked up the earplugs and connected them to the small screen in front of me, scrolling through the list of movies. I finally settled on one and looked out the window as the plane rose off the ground. Here I come L.A.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, as the movie on my screen had gone black by the time I had awoken. I looked around and everything seemed to be normal. People were snacking on chips, talking, watching movies, and even getting up to use the restrooms. I sighed, gazing out at the clouds. Checking the flight route, we were due to land in about 5 hours. Suddenly, the speaker sounded, and the captains voice filled the aircraft once again.
“Please remain in your seats from now on, we are due to experience some turbulence.”
I looked down, and my seatbelt was still wrapped around my waist. So much for stretching my legs. I leaned back into my seat and slowly closed my eyes for another nap. I mean, what else could I do?
I awoke to the sound of screaming. Not just screaming. Burning. My eyes flew open as I tried to frantically take in the situation. People left, right and centre jumping off the plane, parachutes wrapped around them. More people, children even, screaming and running frantically trying to get their parachutes on. My heart surged up in my chest and my breath hitched as I undid my seatbelt. No. No. No. No. No. This could not be happening. I thought back of the manual and remembered where the parachutes were stored. Under my seat. I got down on my hands and knees, frantically craning my neck to look under my seat. Nothing. There was no parachute. In desperation I tried the next seat, then the next but nothing, nothing, nothing. There were none left.
Looking around I could see there were only four people left on the burning plane. A mother, a father, a child, and me. The child was around 15, not much younger than me and they were all putting on their parachutes. The last parachutes. I collapsed on the plane in a heap of fear and despair. I wasn’t going to make it. The man ushered his family towards the door, and they jumped out with a frightened scream, but to my surprise, the man didn’t jump. Instead, he walked over to me.
“hey, here, take mine, please, we don’t have time.”
I stared at him in shock as he dangled his parachute in front of my face. I couldn’t take it. He had a family; he had a child. I shook my head wildly at him and he sighed, rubbing his face in annoyance.
“We don’t have time! I’m sorry.”
I thought that was the end. He put on his parachute and then jumped off. But that’s not what happened. He grabbed my arms and wrestled the parachute onto me, heaving me towards the door. I tried to fight against him, but he was too strong.
“No!”
I screamed in my last desperate attempt before a strong weight pushed me and I was plummeting through the clouds. The wind rushed into my mouth, and I could barely see with the water and tears flowing out of my eyes. I looked back up at the burning plane as I pulled my parachute open, watching as it tumbled towards earth. Watching as I knew the man who saved me was in there. Because there was one thing I knew. That man had died for me.
The man that had a family.
The man that had children.
The man that had a job.
The man that had friends.
The man that had a life.
The Sound of Silence
Yarra Jackson:
My life is an empty soul, filled only with melancholy,
Where, why did you go,
The noise is so loud yet so silent,
It is filled with the loudest sound of all,
The stabbing, excruciating pain of nothing,
It’s just a loud scream in your ear reminding you of your loss,
The only sound filled with true emotion, desolation, misery, gloom,
The screeching squeal of agony and anger,
But silence is also the sound of memories,
Memories of all my bliss and joy,
Memories, memories, memories of you,
The soulful bird singing yet crying your melody,
The sweet, salty breeze drifting your favourite scent,
Everywhere, everywhere I go,
I miss you, I love you, I remember you, all because of the loudest sound,
The sound of silence.
Nonchalant Nights
Ellis Plant:
Saint petrichor inflamed my nostrils
as I settled in solemnly
to view flailing streetlight
strobe to a dim,
corrupted in cascading black
in the mothless street.
A puddle, trudged in,
quivered outwards from bosom
against immobile road, extinguished path,
forcing a squint to even check my hands.
The poor things, christmasless,
doggedly working ‘round the clock,
had frozen.
Polaroids poured out me,
faces shrouded in overexposed white,
mocking years of mauerbauertraurigkeit.
But one thing was clear;
the glowing sky,
it’s family of stars,
beaming,
almost tipped me backwards,
occipital leading,
as I sank in the quicksand of occhiolism.
Where's Ryan:
Adian Fisk:
At the landing of the Beatles in America (also a creative piece):
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/e8ec1f_4af09bea252348668073ad9a89b2dbb8~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_709,h_399,al_c,q_85,enc_auto/e8ec1f_4af09bea252348668073ad9a89b2dbb8~mv2.png)
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