Amy Anderson captures the quiet moments where we wonder when we left our inner child behind in Before August. We race to grow up and then wish we never grew (Image: Adobe Stock) During that summer when I was nine years old, I would ride my second-hand pink bike around the neighbourhood. The other kids in the street would join me. We knew nothing of the world, and the world knew nothing of us yet.  It was always Abbey’s front yard where we’d leave our bikes all over the lawn,

Amy Anderson writes Broken Bones for the Prose Poetics unit, a story on love and heartbreak. Some broken things never mend (Image: Adobe Stock) She’d broken her arm the day after we broke up. Karma, I’d say. ‘Get up.’ She says it coldly, standing over me. I must've fallen asleep. ‘Fuck off, B.’ I mumble it out, enjoying the damp grass on the bottom of my back. I close my eyes, and she kicks me in the arm. ‘I said fuck off, B,’ I say a little louder. ‘Jamie, stop being a prick

Bea Lovatt rewrites the classic fable The Tortoise and the Hare in three variations for their Reading Writing Genre unit. Stories from generations ago continue to shape our literature today. How many ways can we rewrite these classic tales to speak to our modern world? (Image: Wix) Not Lovers, But More Than Friends. The annual community fun run had always been more about the raffle tickets and fairy-floss than competition. But for Tilly and Harrison, it was another stage for

Cassandra Wylie writes Sixty-Four Days , a tragic romance set in the apocalypse. Can love bloom at the end of the world? (Image: Wix) Thirty-six days after the apocalypse. It was ugly. A mess of splattered flesh and bone that had peeled onto the mud. A wet stench of pus drooled out with whatever life it had been clinging to, if you could call it life. Mila stood over a creature that was not quite a zombie, not quite a human.  When she was young, her father would take her on c

It was Sunday. Your hands were tangled in the cherry-printed sheets, legs splayed as you slept.

That summer smelt of sweet honey and oranges....

As I get older  I feel my own  misguided sentimentality caught in  the apricots which years ago hung from our neighbour's tree,  like art for the penniless.

Quinn Friend writes Who are you? I'm you. An introspective journey. It makes me feel crazy sometimes to think about how ordinary and yet...

Tom Borin brings us No Apologies, a story about guilt turned deadly. Guilt is like a sickness that eats us up. (Image: Wix) Mason watched...

In Squeak, Lilly Griffith explores the trauma that follows violence, from the Diversity in Australian Literature class. That creeping...

Diversity in Australian Literature student Blanche Clark explores the modern masculinity crisis through the lens of a grieving son. How...

Swinburne students enrolled in the Diversity in Australian Literature unit engaged in discussions about current socio-political issues...