Year 7 Middle School Writing Competition Winner

We are pleased to bring you the third of our Middle School Writing Competition winning entries.

This story is by Tom Sinclair in Year 7.

The theme of the competition was, ‘The fateful phone call” and stories were based around current Middle School studies centred around the Olympic Games.


Tom Sinclair – Year 7

The phone fell out of Will’s hand after he disconnected. He didn’t even notice the cracking sound of the screen as it hit the floor, because the strong current of sadness that was currently rushing through his body seemed to block out all noise. If He continued to stay awake, he would only become more mournful, so Will decided to go to bed, hoping the sudden death of Emily would not be haunting his every nightmare.

The sky darkened the bright green grass to a dirty army colour, the sun was not shining. At the end of the cobblestone path in the middle of this now tragic ‘wonderland’ was Emily, her beautiful big blue eyes staring straight at the person on the other side of this path; Will. Will ran towards her, excited to snatch his daughter up and hug her, but he bumped into an invisible barrier on his way. As soon as William hit this barrier, the earth’s surface ripped apart under Emily –

Will woke up startled, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. He went over to check his clock and it was 5:30am, in 30 minutes his alarm would wake him up so he could get ready for the final 400m swim he was participating in for Australia in the Olympics. Will decided he should just get up now. But no matter how hard he tried to drag himself out of bed, his limbs would not cooperate. Emily, his beloved daughter, was gone. He knew he should participate today, Emily would have wanted that. But grief-stricken, heart-broken, sorrowful William just couldn’t. Darkness clouded his vision as he fell back into sleep.

The beeping alarm woke William up for the second time, realising dreams had not come this time. Maybe he had forgotten them, but he was glad either way. It was now 6:00am. He had to get out of bed. He somehow sat up, grief overwhelming him during the slow process. He felt as if Emily’s death wasn’t real, it was some sort of dream. It was not as if he hadn’t experienced grief before, all his family was dead, including his wife. But this was different, this was William’s daughter. It was Will and Emily vs The World. Now it was just Will. He wanted to just stay in bed, stay there until he died of something. But he knew he had to compete in the Olympics. Will almost tore his limbs out trying to get out of bed, and eventually he did. Trying to turn every bit of his grief into determination and competitiveness, he attempted to get ready for this big day.

After dragging himself through his usual morning routine – this time including consistent, heavy bursts of tears, Will headed to the pool to warm up for the big final. Back and forth his arms swung as he glided across the pool, as he had practiced for many years. Will usually considered free style stroke a pleasure, fun to do – but now it was miserable. How many laps he did, he did not know. He did know that eventually he went motionless from grief. Will sunk to the bottom of the pool, darkness consuming him.

Emily was standing at the end of the cobblestone path, once again. “Come with me, father.” William followed her and hand in hand they wandered off down the cobblestone path, not turning back.


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