Categories
Age 13 to 16

Hidden Ghosts by Sophie Deis Horton

As the night fell bursts of explosive colour erupted into the sky. The elongated shadows of prowling tall ships crept along the ichor, black sea; reached for the dinghies fluttering across the waves and sent splinters of wood into the oblivious crowd. The nights hunt began.

All around her Jasmine’s neighbours sent joyous screams and shouts into the heavy summer air. Enthusiasm reverberated through the crowd as everyone flocked to see the weaving boats.  In their delusional states the hunt was harmless fun. The sweet notes of her accordion shielded Jasmine from the glamour of safety and entertainment; she could see the hidden ghosts. Jasmine saw the rolling, out of control tall ships crushing dinghies below their bows; she heard the cries for help by those plunged into Falmouth’s unforgiving depths. Caressing the ivory notes of her oak red accordion kept Jasmine sane. That didn’t stop everyone questioning her sanity since her parents ‘disappearance’, how could the tall ships do any wrong? But the musicians knew. Anyone who played an instrument blocked the glamour but it made others look down upon them as insane ranting idiots that were trying to spoil their fun. Jasmine had long since given up trying to save people. No one listened.

Sat in her window playing melodic tunes and brushing her curling auburn hair behind her ears, Jasmin did everything she could to procrastinate before going to bed. With sleep came the mental torture of memories- flashes of the petite day boat, handmade bunting swinging from the mast, a curve of deep cobalt against the glistening green sea splintered beneath the ‘Royal Expedition’. Every image coupled with the doomed, despairing screams of a young couple. Jasmin’s parents, her parents who everyone said were just lost at sea like the dozens of others.

Drawing her hand across her eyes Jasmine awoke form her fitful sleep. She never remembered drifting off, she just assumed it was when the nightmares started but that would mean she had been asleep for the past three years. Pulling on her jeans Jasmine trudged down the stairs to make breakfast. Opening the fridge she pulled out a carton of milk with a few dregs left in the bottom and let out an exasperated sigh. She grabbed the keys off the side and slipped on her Converses.

Meandering through the tourist packed streets Jasmine succumbed to the scent of sweet pastries and took a seat on the quay. There used to be buskers and people selling odd trinkets but they were gone now, the strumming of a guitar a distant memory. Or a unique reality. Snapping her head up Jasmine locked eyes with the guitarist. She didn’t recognise him as one of the local ‘madmen’ but his sharp blue eyes held an age far beyond that of his face, an age that Jasmine saw in her own forest green irises every time she looked in the mirror. She reached into her pocket and drew out the last of that week’s wages, a couple of pound coins, and tossed them into his case. Then she rose and was about to leave when he called “You lost someone didn’t you, out at sea I mean” a pained breath escaped before Jasmine replied “I didn’t lose anyone they were murdered.” She turned and was about to stride off when he caught her wrist. “Sorry my mum was killed too, I didn’t mean to stir any memories”

“How did you know that you stirred memories?”

“Your eyes flashed and at the mention of the sea I always remember… everything.”

“Jasmine Struntle, what’s your name?” offered Jasmine, holding out a stiff courteous hand, she wouldn’t apologise properly until she trusted him. “Will Therismith sorry about before.” Will shook her hand and made his way back to his abandoned guitar which was already splattered by the seagulls in the scarce minuets it was unattended. “Do you have anywhere to go?” asked Jasmine the words tumbling out, “I mean us musicians need to stick together.”  She smiled what she hoped appeared friendly but the truth was she had no idea why she had made the offer, did she feel sorry for him? “If you’re sure, I can’t get a job and have no money to leave town so I can’t pay yo-“

“It doesn’t matter my parents left me the house so I don’t pay rent… just don’t make the hot water bill sky rocket.”

Trudging up the stairs, precariously balancing the mountain of bedding and towls she had just haulled out of the airing cuboard, jasmin wondered what she was doing. She had lived alone for three years and enjoyed her own company but she felt a pang of sympathy for Will and they both knew of the torment ocuuring in the harbour. Maybe he could help her carry out her plan to save Falmouth. She swept that thought away abruptly, better to set the trust in stone before she avalanched into her master plan. After knocking on the spare room door Will answered andhelp to make thebed. “I’m going to pick up some fish and chips what do you want?” inquired Jasmine, it was half six and cooking was a very unappealing task. Besides after going to the same place down the road at least once a week made it feel like a tradition she couldn’t shake. “Just a normal cod and chips please, do you want me to come with you?”

“okay, come on my stomache is going to eat itself and the rest of my insides if I don’t eat soon!”

After unwrapping the greasy paper andfinding two clean, usable forks they ate on the windowsill where Jasmine often played. “You get a good veiw of all the celebrations here.”

Jasmine managed a reserved agreement around a mouthful of chips, then added “But after four years fireworks loose their vibrant appeal.”

“Guess so… do you think there is a way to stop them, the tall ships, make everything normal again?”

“Yes.” Jasmines short reply made Will turn to look at her with an expression that said “go on explain.” Jasmine hesitated but thought he lost family just like me and I need the help. Before the mental batttle concluded she poured out the plan that her father died trying to enact. “There is a melody that confuses the ships and causes them to crash, when they have been sunk they rise again without their independent minds and actions. They become old lumps of wood again.”

“Are you sure it works?” asked Will a sceptive look contorting his face. Another succinct yes from Jasmine followed.” Will you teach me the melody so we can stop them?”

“Its not that simple you have to board the most powerful ship ‘Royal Expedition’ the others will crash first as they have the least power but when the mother ship sinks its likely anyone aboard will die.”

“I don’t mind, I would rather take the chance, I just want this to end.” Jasmine found herself unexpectedly shocked by Wills courage and for the rest of the night they played the saving tune, rehearing every note until their fingers flexed to the correct note until they had to engage their brains. This time tomorrow they would be dead or free.

The smell of pancakes and oranges woke Jasmine the next morning. She was surprised she didn’t remember the nightmares that must have taunted her last night; she must have been too tired or focused on today. After a brief shower jasmine entered the kitchen to find a mountain of pancakes stacked on a plate in the centre of the table. Halves of oranges were waiting near a bag of sugar and suddenly desire to devour the lot filled Jasmine. “You made breakfast!” asked jasmine “It looks great, thanks.”

“I wasn’t going o save te world on an empty stomache” stated Will a greedy smile stretching his face.

“Falmouth.”

“Huh?” asked Will his cheeks already stuffed with pancake.

“You won’t save the world, just falmouth”

For the first time that day Jasmine felt nervous, her stomache flipped and spun; she could have sworn she was bright green. Will returned with the keys to a hired motorboat and they paced the quay looking for their appointed transport. It was a small white motorboat with a stripe of green and several fenders adorning each side, it was tourist proof. They had planned to board the ship whilst it slept during the day and wait untill it stirred.

They were both silent as they approached the ‘Royal Expidition’  and the ship didn’t react as they clambered the slick rope ladder hung off the side that looked as if it were merely a knot of seaweed.Jasmine took the lead sat in the centre of the deck, took out her accordian and waited.

Hours passed until finally at sunse they boat groaned into life and set sail. The stars weaved around the top of the mast and together Jasmine and Will counted into their melody over the thunderous claps and screeches of fireworks.

Minuets after playing the high repetative tune several ships had succmed to the depths and were placidly lined once more against the harbour wall. Soon their fingers ached from the tunes intense technical demands and they were aboard the last rogue tall ship. ‘Royal Expidition’ swerved and ducked churning over and through waves spray dampened the guitar and accordian making them tricky to play finally the boat snagged into the rocks and began to go down. But it didn’t want to die. Caught like a rabbit in a snare the boat rocked and squirmed in an attempt to free itself.  Jasmine and Will clung to the deck in a desperate attemtp to escaape the churning reef. Then the boat began to fade. It was dying. Jasmine screamed, what about them? Would they die? Suddenly it disappeared and they fell into the jagged rocks piercing the air.

Water blurred Jasmines vision and she panicked disorientated but in need of air. She looked for light and kicked. Oxygen filled her lungs like a rush of pricless gold. But where was Will? With all her strength she swam for the shore and walked up the white shingle beach.A body lay face down, waves washing over its legs and a steady stream of red tainted the surrounding water. Jasmine sprinted kicking up stone as she raced to cover the distance between them. Then her heart stopped. The world froze, why, how, what? Questions swamped her mind but every thought was muddied. It was Will. She reac for his wrist. Thwere was no pulse. She was free but he was dead. Her only friend. Jasmine was more alone than ever. What would she gain from the victory?

-Ten years later-

Jasmine cast a reef into the rolling surf and played the melody that had saved her town. Then she bought a danish pastry and sat on the bench ,where she had first met Will. The fireworks pinwheeled across the sky and the crew artfully manned the tall ships in a harbour parade. Looking back she realised it had been worth it, everyone was happy and safe. But she would never forget Will.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘From Finner’ by Cora Cooper Age 13

I laugh, revelling in the warmth of the sky; the celebrations; the colours. Nights like this always bring us together — scavengers, winged and pawed alike. Indigos merge seamlessly into violets, turquoises, creams, ambers, apricots, cherries. The flames of lanterns dance with each other; unknown, joyful spirits that only show themselves at celebrations.

The music swoops into the sky, streamers of colours in disguise, ballet ribbons.

I glide on my strong, slate wings, wheeling over the festives, turning an inquisitive eye here, a curious head there. A cheer erupts: A regal mast coming into sight. Some gulls take the opportunity to dive-bomb distracted food holders, I just laugh at their typical antics, winging my way out to the tall ships.

Over the cobalt water I fly, the blue rushing away beneath my streamlined body. I meet with the first majestic beast, landing on its deck. The only other creature here is a boy, writing a letter by the looks of it. Curious, I hop closer. Why is he not joining the crews warm laughter?

He folds the paper, letting the wind it carry within a herring’s breath of the edge, before catching it, silver, celtic-knot like torc catching the moon as he does so.

I did warn him, but, frankly, he wasn’t listening: If you tease the wind, it’ll tease you back. The breeze whirled the letter out of reach before abruptly blowing it back at him, framing it with cheerful, glowing torches and magenta laughter from the steadily approaching shoreline. He reaches for it and the dizzy breeze lets his fingers brush it lightly, before dropping it, moving on for different entertainment.

I take off, lazily landing on the swell, and intercept its decent. The boy stares in bemusement and surprise as I lift it up into the cerulean twilight.

Shapes and colours of laughter, dancing, celebration cascade round me, luring me towards the excited town. More cheers, more masts appearing and still,  the atmosphere of excitement manages to spurt more colours. Electric blues and salsa reds flash as the dancing continues.

Home baked pasties in hand, exuberant children point, joining the cheering as the sea giants roll closer across the playful swell. I’m tempted to abandon my mission but, for some reason, I feel the urge to drop the letter to its destination. But where is its destination? Well, as the boy was so rude as to neglect to tell me I will drop it where I deem fit.

Giddy with the evening’s joy I let my wings paint lines across the sky that is thick with goopy joy and the carefree dancing. The shouts call me back and I circle lower over the quay that’s crammed with whooping figures. Music proclaims its shapes, colours, texture to me, to the crowd, to the proud Tall Ships that are entering the harbour. Lower I swoop, receiving catcalls:

“Who’s the letter for, Gully?”

Now’s the time then. Picking my spot at random I prepare drop the folded paper,  but stop short, flapping crazily to rise up again. A teen reaches up to grab my letter, laughing at my furious close-beak caw. I scan the crowd in search of the man I saw. Or rather, his torc; exactly like the boy’s. So my delivery will be successful!

Towards him I glide and drop it at the perfect time, crowing my triumphant delivery to all who care to listen. Perhaps I’ll be remembered as the Seagull with the post… or maybe just the Gull who got tipsy. Amused, I perch on a gutter, watching the man who caught my delivery. The crowd around him have resumed their whooping, clapping, stamping; only pausing occasionally to peer over his shoulder or give the Letter Man a quizzical look. He finishes reading and I watch a smile take root on his face, he grabs someone’s hand, dragging them into a whirling dance, and soon, the entire crowd is revolving in wide circles. Crazy grins, joyful colours, swaying lanterns, excited music: The Letter Man outshines them all.

The noble ships come in and the dance breaks up, making space for more clapping, more stamping. As they dock fireworks leap, telling their colours and sounds. Crackles, drumbeats. Wolf-whistles, violin melody. A sky of deep phthalo blue. Colours and lights, music and cheers – they join together, weaving a rug of giddy, carefree celebration, a chance to dance and sing and laugh with friends and strangers alike.

I catch sight of the still smiling Letter Man, then take off after him as he pushes his way good-naturedly through the crowd. He arrives at the dock as the first ship’s gang plank hits the harbour wall. The Wind Teaser darts from a hiding place, skidding down the walkway towards the freely cheering crowd. The stamp and clap for him as he takes a comical bow before skipping behind a barrel. The rest of the crew parade down, unaware of the off-script Wind Teaser. More stamping, more clapping, cheering, more fire works. I turn back to where the Letter Man was and see not one, but two people, hugging tightly: wide smiles on their faces. I swoop past, circling above them just long enough to catch a snatch of their conversation.

“I don’t know how that Seagull knew…”

“Lifted the letter right out of the sea, must’ve been unreadable!”

“It was, I could just make out ‘Tall Ships’. Oh, and ‘From Finner’.”

Well, it seems my service was useful after all. Now, how ’bout a pasty?

 

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘A Journey’ By Lilly, Age 14 years

Fireworks flashing
Flags flapping
Sailors chatting

Horns honking
Bells ringing
Birds singing

Dogs barking
Children laughing
Everyone’s happy,
The Tall ships have come

The clock struck twelve over Falmouth town
The trees were swaying all around
There were no more boats or people around

The tall ships were gone
So there was nothing to do
And they had all gone home to eat some stew
And watch TV and play on the wii

But soon that same old place was grey
And people did start to inquire
What had happen to their oomph
The way they danced around all day

“The tall ships may have gone” they cried
“But what has happen to our pride
We can still have lots of fun
And make merry in the gorgeous sun”
Slowly everyone did cheer
And danced around
And drank some beer

So Falmouth town once old and grey
Came out of its sad misery
Let this be a lesson to us all
Once the tall ships have gone
Carry on with the fun.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘The Legend of Falmouth’ by Marine Montchamp Aged 15 years

Once upon a time there was a little town called Falmouth. It was very lovely with all her white houses and restaurants. There was the sea just near it. It was very practical because everybody could go fishing.
The people who were living in this town, which was very good, were always helping each other if there were any problems. You just had to ask if you were in trouble, or you couldn’t do something. The person next to you would say ‘No problem, I will help you. What do you want me to do?’
Everyone was friendly, people were sharing and giving things to each other without thinking. The children were quiet and not rude. There was no jealousy or madness. Everyone trusted his neighbours. It was the stereotype of the perfect town.
Falmouth was very famous for that but also for another thing. It was a fishing town. It had the most beautiful boats. Tall ships made from wood. They were always shining in the light of the sun. They were strong and could go for miles without having an accident. It would have been considered really rude to criticise any of these boats. They were the proudest elements of the town but there was one of the ships that everybody respected, almost venerated. It had big, giant white sails. Its wood was the best quality. It was the strongest. You had the sensation when you were watching him that even the biggest waves couldn’t beat him and break him. His name was the ‘King Harry’ and it was really treated like a King. It was cleaned everyday with total attention and care, polished and admired by everyone. It was the symbol of the town.
So for the people who were living there it was a duty to know how to swim and how to sail. Every parent taught that to their children at an early age. Now that you know the most important things about Falmouth I am going to tell you the other thing that made her famous for ages.
There was a man who lived in this town. He was the most beautiful of all the men. He had black, straight hair, which was as dark as the night. His eyes were blue, as blue as the sea. His skin was nearly burnt brown because he spent most of his time outside. He was 23 years old. Nobody knew his name. All the women wanted to marry him and all the girls wanted to go out with him. Because he never talked and was always going away when anyone wanted to ask him something, the other men of the town weren’t jealous. His eyes said everything, all his feelings, sadness, madness and anger, as he never talked. They hypnotisied all the people around him. He was scary. Some people in the town were saying that he was half angel and half devil.
But now I invite you to go into the mind of this guy, who was so sad and angry. The town surrounding him was full of happiness, joy and love and it was making him crazy. He knew that some bad things were happening in the world, outside from this little island, over the sea, miles away, in another country, and he believed that it wasn’t fair that nothing bad was happening here. He felt different from everybody. First he didn’t know how to swim and people knew that and so they were always looking at him in a different way. Second he didn’t know who were his parents. Were they still alive? Were they dead? Were they living in the town or in another place beyond this ocean where he couldn’t go? He was stuck here. The third and last reason of all was he couldn’t feel anything apart from bad emotions. What was love? What this thing called happiness? What was this other thing that everybody was talking about? Friendship, he remembered the word, but what was that? All these questions without any answers. He couldn’t handle that anymore. He was tired, desperate because he didn’t have the answers.
Today was the 23rd of July. The day of the town’s party. Everyone had decorated their houses. The town was magnificent and wonderful. People were happier than usual, it was a different mood, in a different way. Everyone was singing while they were preparing for the evening’s party. ‘The King Harry’ would pass in front of the town and would fire his six cannons. So men were carrying barrels of powder onto the boat’s bridge. Women were decorating it with colourful flowers, which were smelling very fragrant.
During this time of excitement, our young boy was lying on a rock near the beach. He was thinking, tonight he will set the ‘King Harry’ on fire! This idea began to excite him. At last the people will know his emotions. Yes, tonight he will enjoy being there!
The sun began to hide himself behind the rocks. It was a beautiful summer’s night. The air was hot and there wasn’t a breath of wind. You could clearly see the moon, which was sharing her light. The sea was calm. All the people of the town were on the bridge where you had the best view of the sea. Children were seated in front of grownups in order to have a better view. Everyone was waiting for the ‘King Harry’. For the children it was like a dream to see real cannons fire. For our mysterious boy it was also like a dream. He was at the top of the lighthouse where he had taken a gun in order to fire onto the barrels of powder.
Midnight was nearly coming and the people were now counting 10,9,8,7,6…even the lonely person at the top of the lighthouse who usually never spoke was counting…5,4,3,2,1 and 0!
The ‘King Harry’ appeared through the night. He was magnificent, full of colours, red, blue, purple and pink. He was carrying on his sail masts one hundred sailors who were all wearing the same uniform, a t-shirt with blue and white stripes with black trousers. They were singing the National Anthem. It was really amazing, even supernatural, with the moon above the ship, and the ‘King Harry’ sailing through the ocean to discover all new things.
People heard a BANG and a big explosion followed this noise. The ‘King Harry’ was on fire! A beautiful fire which was eating him, killing him with his giant flames, which were even bigger than his sails. Sailors were jumping, flying through the air, trying to escape. They were like seagulls diving into the sea to catch fish. The music was still playing. It was a dramatic show from which no sailors escaped. People at this moment said nothing because they were really choked with emotion. Just the children were screaming because they were afraid.
During this time some men have climbed to the top of the lighthouse and have captured our young murderer. He was happy and what a good feeling it was, even if he knew he was going to die.
The men brought him through the crowd and showed him to the people. Everyone was screaming, ‘Death! Death! Death!’ Even the children were shouting, they were full of anger. They weren’t thinking, just saying this word, ‘Death! Death!’ Now they were all carrying this man. They put their hands up and with just one enormous move, threw him into the air.
He fell into the sea. He didn‘t move, he didn‘t try to escape from all this water around him. He was just floating in the happiness. He knew he was going to die. Just before his last breath, if you could have seen into his magnificent blue eyes, there was love, all the emotions he had wanted to feel for years were all mixed with his death. When he drowned, fireworks appeared in the sky. One hundred fireworks, they were all the dead sailors. They were illuminating the town with their spirits and their souls, they were escaping from the heart of the boy.
Since this day we don‘t know what became of Falmouth. Some people said that she drowned in sadness, anger, madness and jealousy. We have got nothing else left from her except the skeleton of the ‘King Harry’ lieing on the bottom of the ocean.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘The Fun Fair’ by Brittany Jackson, Age 14 Years

As the ships come in the music starts
As the music starts people are coming out of their shells
They come out to party to have a good time

The crew jump off the ships their fun just begins
Fireworks are set off to enjoy
For one week no one sleeps

By the time the ships have to set sail people stop
Fun stops;. dead in their tracks
You wont see anyone for a while now

As i stand there watching the ships go i get a feeling
I watch the ghosts disappear in the sun lite reflected sea
I cant help but feel an emptiness

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘My Poem’ by David Littlejohns aged 14

i live by the sea
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love
everyday i see the same old sea
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love
crashing waves on the sand
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love
tide in tide out pulling me
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love
to far distance lands
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love
i love living by the sea
the sea is in our blood
the sea is history
the sea is love

Categories
Age 13 to 16

“How it was?” shawn clarke age 14

I’m relieing on the ship,
That will float into the harbour,
Bearing a letter from Pip,
She moves so fast she’s a blur,

In 1850 we didn’t have technology,
We needed the mighty tall ships,
We had to tackle the mighty seas,
Just to deliver news from Pips.

And when they dock on the piers,
Awaiting is kids and parents,
Clapping and shouting cheers,
This is how it was once.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘Those Amazing Tall Ships’ by Jasmine Hearnden Aged 14

As the carnival arrived,
We all ran and dived,
Into a town so happy,
You could never be snappy,
The colours were so bold,
And the air never cold,
And then came the ships,
Oh those graceful Tall Ships.

As I looked to the sky,
I saw the fireworks fly,
The sky illuminating,
And suddenly everybody was waiting.

And then the ships reached the port,
And as we had always been taught,
Respect the ships for before mobile phones and technology was near,
A different way of communicating was here,
There was a time when these ships were the social media,
And they sent our news, letters and stories to those who were not near,
And we should never forget the incredible job they did,
Oh those amazing Tall Ships.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

The Tall Ships by Neve Bishop age 14

The waves were calming as they sailed closer. If anyone said they weren’t looking forward to leaving their cramped wooden quarters, they were lying. The feeling of excitement was brewing aboard the ship as the seagulls circled above them.
And there it was, slowly making its way on to the horizon. Although they couldn’t hear it on the ship, people in the harbour were celebrating. Fireworks decorated the night sky. Any news, good or bad, was welcome. The people of Falmouth had gone so long without a peep from the North, finding out the happenings of the country was the best thing since Christmas.
The sailors looked to the sky in awe as the navy blue night exploded into colour. Reds, blues, greens, oranges and yellows fizzled into nothingness over and over again. This was not a simple welcome, it was a party. A party for anyone and everyone to enjoy.
The ships decelerated as the harbour drew closer, the sounds of happiness getting louder and louder. The Tall Ships were bobbing in the open water like excited children waiting for their presents on Christmas morning. The sailors chatted happily, glad to set foot on dry land again.
But they wouldn’t be able to stay for long, for the job of a Tall Ship is never done.

Categories
Age 13 to 16

‘My Story’ by Lisa Pooley aged 14

As the night closed in, the sea started to settle. All was silent, all was calm. Then the boats came into sight. The silence was disturbed as an eruption of sound was created. The parcels had arrived. As the boats docked fireworks lit up the darkness. People descended like prowling to see what all the fuss was about and there right before their eyes was all they could ever of dreamed off. People were happy, people were smiling as they claimed what was theirs. Families were scattered all across the docks, huddled together.