Reaching for a Handful of Hope
a prose collection
by South New Brighton School pupils
This collection resulted from
a School for Young Writers workshop
subsidised by the Canterbury Community Trust
held on 24-25 May, 2012
Tutor: Jason Clements
Programme Director: Dr Glyn Strange
Organizing teacher: Therese Falconer
For more information about the School for Young Writers
visit our website
www.schoolforyoungwriters.org
Clouds of Dust
A dust-swept teenager, beaten by clouds of silt, struts down Estuary Road
puffing a cigarette. Two workers wearing orange fluoro jackets, hard hats and
boots fix a roof damaged by earthquakes. One of them rests with his hands on
his hips and the other kneels down and poses like Rodin’s statue, The Thinker. A
tarpaulin-covered diesel generator looks like a chain-smoking prisoner. Safety
inspectors have been here since January, examining wires and fuses. Traffic
zooms past the workers where a Fulton Hogan cone guards the bubbling gutter.
Thomas Logchies
Interview with the Safety Manager
“Kids can you please back off the road,” said the man in a blue hard-hat.
“Why, is it unsafe or something?” I asked.
“Not really, but there are dangerous drivers and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m the safety manager.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since last January.”
“When are you going to finish?”
“In two or three weeks.”
“Does Fulton Hogan supply those jackets?”
“No, they are made by a company called Safety New Zealand.”
“Do you mind if we look at the trenches?”
“Not at all, but don’t take too long. And watch out for traffic otherwise we’ll
be here for another year.”
Tristan Logchies
City Surgeons
Surgery begins with Greg checking for any problems. As he takes control of the
claw a guy walking past with a cigarette in his hand distracts the nurses.
The chief surgeon yells at them to focus on the operation. His
orange vest glows amid the dust as pieces of road scatter widely. The
machinery starts to beep while the workers begin the clean-up. Scraping shovels
remove the stones and replace the heart of the road.
Samara Mackie-Smith
Seagull Sees Absurdity
Seagull hates noise made by two-legged creatures. Seagull sees the estuary and
flies away. Seagull spies ripples and swoops on a silver fish. With scales in
beak, Seagull is happy again and flies back to his lamp post to enjoys his lunch.
Feeling thirsty for bubbly water, Seagull watches two-legs sip drink and feels
jealous. Seagull notices silver can is alone as two-legs walks away. Seagull
dives. Orange-helmet swipes at scared seagull, who retreats to lamp post.
Seagull hates the diesel fumes. Seagull flies overseas.
David Walle
Potty Training
The sound of shovels scraping on concrete made Bob Black feel hungry. With
still three hours until lunch time, the thought of his tuna sandwiches inspired
him to sneak off. He asked his boss if he could go to the bathroom even though
he didn’t need to go. Hunger had taken control. Diesel smoke puffing around
the portaloos created a perfect distraction. A seagull squawked at Bob’s
sandwiches and darted down from the lamp post. Startled, Bob bumped into a
road cone and fell in to a ditch. As he lay amongst the sewer pipes he was
overcome by a strange sense of relief.
Maisie White
Smoko Break
Men in bright orange vests arrived at the construction site surrounded by
bulldozers, trucks and diggers. Max and Rick tiptoed over a trench of raw
sewage and climbed the ladder up to the roof of a house. They looked at the
broken chimney and waited, hands on hips, for their boss to bring a sheet of
corrugated iron. Blankets of smoke rising from the diesel generator made the
workers turn their back on the job. Kids on the street yelled at them to get on
with the work, but Max and Rick had heard all the abuse before, and puffed
patiently on their cigarettes, waiting for the day to end.
Madison Kennedy
Sign of the Times
Layers of fresh cement on the footpath forced Gabrielle into a detour on her
morning walk to school. The sign on her street said: Slow Down Construction
30kmh Temporary. A speeding bus covered her in dust as she jogged across
tarseal to reach the safety of the other side of the road. There, the sign in front
of her read: Dangerous work in progress. DO NOT ENTER. Gabrielle turned
away, feeling lost in a maze of road cones. A man in an orange fluoro vest
directs her to avoid the traffic, but she finds herself standing in front of yet
another sign: NO Hazardous Waste. She turns again, sees the familiar green
letterbox outside her home and decides to go back in and call in sick.
Emma Combrink
Sensing South New Brighton
Estuary Road stretches out like a long hand trying to grasp a handful of hope.
The generator grumbles like a grizzly bear waking from hibernation. Air once
filled with the scent of sea spray and pine trees now reeks of diesel and smog. A
“Danger Keep Out” tape gently flaps in the cool easterly breeze. Cranes rotate
on their engines and the ground vibrates beneath your feet. The cold iron bars of
security fences imprison the community from the outer world. Gravel is poured
gently into a hole like raindrops falling on a window pane. Shovels scraping on
concrete beat time like a tin drum. Road cone soldiers pay their respects in the
trenches as builders try to mend Christchurch hearts with nails and iron.
Jess Tater
The Grip of Sunlight
While trudging down Estuary Road Katie noticed so many signs that seemed as
if the workers had just littered them down the lane. The crossing guard looked
lonely with no pedestrians in sight and the sound of the school children over the
fence was drowned out by diggers hauling up tonnes of earth. Seeing seagulls
dip and dive against a background of white clouds brought back a pleasant
memory. Now the road cones looked like orange towers from a fairy tale. When
she covered her ears the noise of the bulldozers sounded like a band of flutes.
An 18-wheel truck then ended her daydream and harsh sunlight gripped her
senses.
Estella Hungerford