Rebecca

Welcome to Beccy's Page!
====I am in 8A (obviously) and I recently turned 13. In English I hope to polish my spelling and narrative writing. I play soccer on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays, and I really enjoy playing. I play defense. Music-wise I play the flute, bassoon and oboe, and I kind of play around on the piano. I am hoping to take up tennis this year. I like reading and writing.==== ====Below is a story I wrote. It is in the eyes of Private Bill Nugent, and it is based on the story "The Prisoners", a narrative that throughout the whole thing it switches from being told by different people. Bill Nugent is a character that is mentioned through the exert I read, although his side is not actually told. I tried to incorporate some of the language Bill might have used. It is set in the time of WW1.====

Here goes!
 ** Private Bill Nugent **

Private Charles Gordon beside me was shaking. The tip of his rifle wavered as he aimed carefully towards the young bloke with the bright eyes. I didn’t need to ask what he was thinking to know he was thinking the same as me. This was a raw, cold thing we were about to do. I looked at the active fear in the unarmed prisoner’s faces. I kept regretting my decision not to follow Walt in his escape. I wondered again if he had heard my yelled encouragement as he ran for the cover of the dense bush. It was too late now. I begged forgiveness for the sin I was about to resign myself to. I surveyed Sergeant Pelton out of the corner of my eye. He was white. He didn’t want to be here any more than I did. He opened his mouth and gave a hoarse shout. It was the signal. In a split second I decided what the most humane thing I could do was. I sprayed my bullets straight. Let those poor blokes with the peach fuzz on their faces die in the least agony possible. The bright-eyed young man that had been Gordon’s target fell to his knees. He twitched and gasped as he saw his fingers. I gagged. They were severed off. I aimed my gun directly at his heart. Looking at his, my heart’s frenzied pulses slowed. I pulled the trigger. He had died before I had the chance to release. I lowered my rifle. The deed was done. Every prisoner had suffered the same fate as Gordon’s target.

As we trudged off back through the bush I noticed Roger Inabinett, the oldest of us and an unethical scavenger, slip behind a tree, but my head was spinning so furiously that I hardly noticed. Sarge\ followed my unsteady gaze. He frowned. He was light on his feet as he followed Inabinett darting through the trees back the way we had come. We arrived back in our trench muddy and tired. Gordon took out his harmonica but his heart wasn’t in it as he played a spirited song. Qualls shushed him with a sharp comment. There was silence as we pondered our terrible sin. I doubted God would forgive this latest massacre. Roger Inabinett was over to the side. He had re-appeared with a smug expression on his face. I caught a glimpse of a cigarette lighter in his pocket. He said he had picked it up in the woods. He had volunteered for war with the attitude that murder was a side-effect of battle, and that we should embrace it or leave. It was a view he had tried to inflict us with, and apparently Walt had taken his advice. There was a sick disgust in my eyes as I watched him finish dividing our stingy rations. The Corporal passed out the monkey meat, but I wasn’t concentrating on that. Pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t recognised fell into place. Inabinett embracing murder... him slipping off on the trudge back to the trench… the new lighter… what an under-hand thief! The thought of this repulsive theft made my stomach burn like acid. It heated up my throat. I had barely time to dart away when I realised I was about to throw up. The sheer disgust I felt at such a heinous act had me retching. Jimmy Wade offered me a swig of strong brandy. I took in a mouthful and fought it down. I sat motionless for a split second, feeling eyes trained on me. I jumped up and sprinted. //God forgive my hideous sins// I thought as a second round of vomiting overcame me.

====I though by using the word "raw" I was making the reader believe they were in the time. I also decided to come up with a solution that Bill would have thought of in the situation of being made to kill unarmed men. I thought he would shoot to kill and cause as little pain as possible.====

This next peice is a report on the Bayeux Tapestry, a tapestry depicting a biased account of the Battle of Hastings. I hope you like it!
The B ayeux Tapestry 1066

Background of the tapestry The Bayeux Tapestry was a tapestry that depicted the Battle of Hastings. It was sketched by the victors of the battle, the Normans of Normandy, France. Although it was sketched in France, 1067-68, it was actually sewn by Norman monks in England. After the battle of Hastings, the new king of England, William the Conqueror, ordered this made so as to legitimise the fact that he had a right to win the war. It is an interpretation of the way the war went. We have another resource from that time – “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles”. We tend to believe this is a more reliable source. The tapestry depicts the late King Edward the Confessor promising that when he dies his power over England would go to Duke William of Normandy, but our resources tell us that there were three people who all had equal claim to the crown; Harold Godwinson of England, the first to the crown, Harald Hardrada of Norway, who fought Harold of England for the throne, and was slaughtered and the last, Duke William of Normandy. He waited until the Anglo-Saxons had reached the opposite side of England before he set up camp.

What kind of evidence is the tapestry? The Bayeux tapestry is primary evidence because when we look at it, we can tell what kind of fabric the Norman monks used, the kind of inks they used, and what they wore. Because it comes from the time, and demonstrates undeniable evidence of their culture, it can be considered primary evidence. On the other hand, the tapestry is an interpretation of the war, and some details have been missed out, whether deliberate or accidental, and was made one or two years after the war. Some details are blurred, and some have been changed to suit the Norman’s agenda, so it can also be considered secondary evidence. First possible cause of death of King Harold When a book depicts the death of King Harold, this is the picture generally shown:

Circled in the red is an image of an Anglo-Saxon warrior pulling an arrow out of his eye. Earlier in the tapestry there is a frame stating that “Earl” Harold made an oath on the bones of a saint promising to be loyal to Duke William of Normandy when he will be king. There is no evidence that this is historical fact, but the punishment of committing perjury (lying in front of something or someone holy) was to have your eyes stabbed out, so many people think that Harold is dead because of an arrow through the eye. Second possible cause of death of  King Harold Circled in the blue above, is the second possible cause of Harold’s death. There is a man, possibly Harold, with a sword driven through his stomach, and now this is now also considered a likely cause of his death because the man pulling an arrow out of his eye appears in better health than the one that has been stabbed, who looks almost dead. Many people believe that the Normans would want the Anglo-Saxons to see their leader dead, so as to demoralise their attempts at rebellion, so they have no hope their leader is still alive and has sneaked away. Other facts that support this theory are that the man dead is under the Latin word //for// dead, although the other man in under the word Harold, but also that the man with a sword through him wears more sophisticated and showy clothing that could depict him as a king. Conclusion It is likely that Harold is the man dead with a sword through his stomach because the Normans would have wanted to portray their enemy in a light that would show him undeniably dead, so as to prevent rebellion. If rebellious citizens saw an image of their leader pulling an arrow out of his eye, it could spark hope, and people may think he hasn’t actually died, and the Normans were possibly keeping him captive somewhere and he was perhaps still alive. People may think that attacking William the Conqueror’s castle or fortress might save his life. Showing him completely dead would dampen people’s rebelliousness. References  1. Clare,J.D. (1997) __The Middle Ages,__ Nelson.  2. http://mr_sedivy.tripod.com/med_bay.html  3. [] <span style="display: block; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"> 4. [] <span style="font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">5. http://www.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http://www.heritage-history.com/books/skae/english/zpage074.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.heritage-history.com/www/heritage.php%3FR_menu%3DOFF%26Dir%3Dcharacters%26FileName%3Dharold1e.php&usg=// <span style="display: block; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"> 6. http://www.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http:www.heritage-history.com/books/skae/english/zpage074.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.heritage-history.com/www/heritage.php%3FR_menu%3DOFF%26Dir%3Dcharacters%26FileName%3Dharold1e.php&usg=LcgQEg4tYYqRnhDN18XoBdEv7qA=&h=670&w=508&sz=309&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=r-6SNbvQc-P06M:&tbnh=137&tbnw=105&ei=BQRbTePaGIP4vwPNl6i9DA&prev=/images%3Fq%3Ddeath%2Bof%2Bharold%2Bgodwinson%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1362%26bih%3D559%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=499&oei=BQRbTePaGIP4vwPNl6i9DA&page=1&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:0&tx=70&ty=55 <span style="display: block; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: .25in .5in .75in 1.0in 1.25in 1.5in 1.75in 2.0in 2.25in 2.5in 2.75in 3.0in 3.25in 3.5in 3.75in 4.0in 4.25in 4.5in 4.75in 5.0in 5.25in 5.5in 5.75in 6.0in 6.25in 6.5in 6.75in 7.0in 7.25in 7.5in 7.75in 8.0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"> 7. [] <span style="display: block; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: .25in .5in .75in 1.0in 1.25in 1.5in 1.75in 2.0in 2.25in 2.5in 2.75in 3.0in 3.25in 3.5in 3.75in 4.0in 4.25in 4.5in 4.75in 5.0in 5.25in 5.5in 5.75in 6.0in 6.25in 6.5in 6.75in 7.0in 7.25in 7.5in 7.75in 8.0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"> 8. Middle Ages DVD Many thanks to Mrs. Billett and her inspiring speeches!

[[file:The Bayeux Tapestry.docx]]
I had some trouble not writing the report from my point of view, but in the end I managed alright, and I am happy with the end result. Below is my work on "Beowulf"

<span style="border-bottom: windowtext 1.5pt solid; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; display: block; mso-element: para-border-div; padding-bottom: 1pt; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;"> <span style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;">** Beowulf ** ** Summary ** Hark the story of Beowulf, a mighty warrior with a warm heart. The hideous troll Grendel terrorised the Geats, and hope was as sparse as water in a desert. The warriors had no hope, until Beowulf arrived.

Beowulf. In an epic battle Grendel’s arm is severed, and the troll limps back to his hell-hole of a home. The Geats can sleep easy thinking it’s all over. How wrong they were.

In a storm of vengeful fury Grendel’s mother, a terrifying sea-witch, arrived. She ripped apart three warriors and fled with her son’s arm. Beowulf hunted her down and killed her, but victory brings him heartbreak.

** Analytical response ** Using many different techniques, the immense devastation and awfulness of the troll Grendel is described. The author uses **similes** to relate the troll’s evilness to something we may understand. His laugh “sounded like the Earth was cracking under their feet”, a terrifying experience that the reader can only imagine. As Grendel “[licks] his thick lips and [flexes] his claw-like hands”, we get an **image** of what this giant ogre may look like, and this adds to the horror. The author uses **powerful language** in his description of the “mire of the slob-land” in which Grendel lives. **Assonance** is used when the blood is “dripping from [Grendel’s] slavering jaws”, short vowel sounds add a sharp side to Grendel’s nature, and **harsh consonant sounds** sound simple and cruel, as in “mottled creature”, and that is how Grendel is portrayed. Grendel is silhouetted with darkness, and as he approaches, the sky is covered with a “blanket of shadow”, a **metaphor** describing the wickedness of the night arriving. The narrator admits that Grendel’s presence “sends shivers up [his] spine”, a great example of **alliteration**, used to describe the mottled monster. One other way Grendel is described, is using short paragraphs. When Grendel takes a swing at the hero, but “Beowulf [holds] on!” there are only three words in the paragraph, a simple, undeniable, strong **short paragraph**. Using all these different poetic techniques, the author describes Grendel as a ferocious, heartless monster and the reader believes and shares the terror. ** Philosophical reflection- ** why do people bully? All kinds of bullying hurt. Cyber bullying, physical bullying, verbal bullying… they are all as abusive as each other. Bullies bully for numerous reasons, but there is always a pattern. The victim is always less pretty, less tall, or less popular than the bully. This gives the bully a feeling of superiority, and of empowerment. It is sad to consider that about 4 out of 10 kids are bullied. I guess the bullies must have something wrong in their own life and feel like taking it out on someone will make them feel less repressed. ** My story about Bullying ** Full story – 345 words She’s short, kinda average looking. Mousy-blonde hair, slightly upturned nose, thin lips, smattering of freckles, but big, wide blue eyes. She’s got no friends. But there’s not much I can do about that. We were friends, once, but that was back in year three. Things changed. She’s not cool. Di West. Now //she’s// popular. Perfect nose, auburn hair, slight waves, soft brown eyes. Nasty temper. I’m not even sure what started their rivalry. Could’ve been anything. Di can hold a grudge forever. It doesn’t really matter the origin of the problem… all that really matters is how it affects me. My grades are getting lousier because I can’t concentrate. Urgh Mr Rogers has this seating plan, and somehow I got that seat in-between those two nemeses. I can’t concentrate when Di hisses and passes notes from my left and there are these little sobs and gasps from the right. But I’d be crazy to ask for a different seat. Rejecting Di was fast-track to Loser-ville. Been there, no way was I going back. It was hard enough to get to where I am now. Mr Rogers looked at me expectantly. //Oh crap.// I thought. //Did he ask me a question?// I look at the board. Clean. “Beg your pardon, Mr Rogers?” //Maybe if I be polite he’ll go easy?// No such luck. “Were you listening?” //Uhh no.// “Yes, Mr Rogers, I just didn’t understand the question.” The class snorts. //Oh god what did I say?// “No, the //question// was ‘were you listening’?” //Never gonna live this one down!// My face flushes darkly. Di sniggers. She slides a note in front of me. I braced myself, but it wasn’t addressed it to me I passed it to the right. She let out a sob and fled the room. Interested, I picked u the paper. What was on it was enough to bring tears to my eyes. The teacher picks up the note. In one week Di is expelled. Laney is petite. Subtly pretty with a button nose and big, bright eyes. Di is a friendless cow. Partial story – 243 words She’s short, kinda average looking. Mousy-blonde hair, slightly upturned nose, thin lips, freckles, but big, wide blue eyes. She’s got no friends. But there’s not much I can do about that. We were friends, once, but that was back in year three. Things changed. She’s not cool. Di West. Now //she’s// popular. Perfect nose, auburn hair, slight waves, soft brown eyes. Nasty temper. I’m not even sure what started their rivalry. Could’ve been anything. Di can hold a grudge forever. It doesn’t really matter the origin of the problem… all that really matters is how it affects me. My grades are worse because I can’t concentrate. Urgh Mr Rogers has this seating plan, and somehow I got that seat in-between those two nemeses. I can’t concentrate when Di hisses and passes notes from my left and there are these little sobs and gasps from the right. But I’d be crazy to ask for a different seat. Rejecting Di was fast-track to Loser-ville. Di slides a note in front of me. I braced myself, but it wasn’t addressed it to me I passed it to the right. She let out a sob and fled the room. Interested, I picked u the paper. What was on it was enough to bring tears to my eyes. The teacher picks up the note. In one week Di is expelled. Laney is petite. Subtly pretty with a button nose and big, bright eyes. Di is a friendless cow.

__In my **Summary** I tried to include some writing techniques from the story, as well as language possibly used in that time.__ __ ﻿ In my **Analytical Response** I have bolded the writing techniques I have identified. I also used integrated quotations.__ __ ﻿ In my **Philosophical Reflection** I tried to identify some possible reasons for bullying.__ __ ﻿ In my **Creative Resonse,** my story, I included two versions. The challenge was to write the story in 250 words, but I liked my original version, so I included both.__

__Below is my story that I tried to write so it sounded like it could come from the middle-ages.__

__ Upon the throne sat William Crow __ __ Until the damned day __ __ In which his brother, the evil John __ __ Took the glory away. __

__ The town turned to mayhem __ __ Under John’s rule __ __ His laws were awful __ __ And horribly cruel __

__ He tortured fine men __ __ and let knights run amuck __ __ the town was in ruins __ __ and was all out of luck __

__ And when things were set __ __ And bound to be wrong, __ __ In did he march, __ __ Galanrong __

__ The evil entity who lived __ __ Near the lake __ __ Had smelt the fear __ __ And had come to take __

__ In one evil strike __ __ knocked the new king down __ __ John lay in a heap __ __ Without a crown __

__ Galanrong turned __ __ his hideous face __ __ and loped forward __ __ and with each slow pace __

__ he grew gradually closer __ __ to the shivering crowd __ __ his breathing ragged __ __ and awfully loud __

__ arm outstretched __ __ he reached for Aldeir __ __ a brave old knight __ __ with nothing to fear __

__ Aldeir slid his sword __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">From its handsome sheath __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He looked calm on the outside, __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">But underneath, __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He was quaking in his boots __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And shaking in pure fright __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">As the evil troll __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Leered with spite __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">With one quick slash, __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">The old knight struck __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And into the troll’s arm __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">The blade stuck __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">The beast roared __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">A mighty sound __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And cast a nasty look __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">all around, __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">he ripped the sword __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">from his arm __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">and threw it __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">into a neighbouring farm __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Aldeir was weapon less __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Against a mighty foe __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And to retrieve his sword __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Was a way to go __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He stood there transfixed __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">In the great monster’s wrath __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Trying to figure out a plan. __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Trying to find a path. __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He had not long to think, __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Galanrong came at him again __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He dodged to the right __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And then… __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">As the arm came back, __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He jumped astride it __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">The troll was shocked __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">None could deny it __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Aldeir prepared __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">for a mighty blow __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">that did not come __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">from the gigantic foe __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">mustering his strength __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Aldeir climbed up the arm __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Drawing gasps from the crowd __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Of shock and alarm. __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">He reached Galanrong’s shoulder __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And with a mighty spring __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Grabbed the troll’s eye and __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">ripped out the thing __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Galanrong let out __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">A howl of despair __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And picked up the hero __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">By the roots of his hair. __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Aldeir gave a __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">massive kick __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">that connected with a loud thump __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">and that did the trick __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Galanrong screamed __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">A horrible sound __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">And let Aldeir __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Crash to the ground __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">With a shriek and a groan __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">The troll rushed away __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">If he died? __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">not many can say… __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">after that __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">one last epic fight __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Aldeir ran __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Out of sight __

__<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Some say he died __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">Most are not sure __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">They say he’ll return __ __<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;">When we need him once more. __

__As well as rhythym and rhyme, I tried to include some gore - these are key points in Middle-Age tales.___ HERALDRY ASSIGNMENT

There are many pictures in my heraldry assignment so I am not able to paste it on. Below is a link to it. In my Heraldry assignment I had to explain what Heraldry was and create my own shield. Enjoy!!



Essay

** The Fall of the Feudal System **

As the Romans lost control of Europe, a hasty system to keep control developed. For about 600 years the Feudal System reigned, stating that Peasants were loyal to the Lord whose land on which they worked and lived, paying them 10% of crop and in return whenever danger swept the land, the peasants could shelter in the lord’s castle. The peasants were not directly loyal to the king, but their lord was, although his alliance could change in the blink of an eye. The Feudal System worked in a political manor, peasants loyal to their lords, who were loyal to their kings, but also in a religious manor, peasants and lords loyal to priests, who were loyal to the Pope, the highest power below God. But as the years passed, three fatal mistakes/events took place, damaging the Feudal System beyond repair.

The Crusades were a factor in ending Feudalism, even though they were called to preserve it and to gain land. In 1090, the Pope decreed that the Christians should march to Jerusalem to “liberate” it. He worked around the fact that God proclaimed “Thou shalt not kill” by stating that God’s words applied only to Christians. Peasants were uneducated in Latin, the language in which the bible was read, and so didn’t argue with the belief. The Pope imagined 5,000 men marching to the holy lands. The reward for signing up, regardless if you survived the journey, was money, but more importantly, a spot in heaven. These were attractive rewards, and so the Pope’s estimated 5,000 grew to a huge 100,000 men. Only 20,000 survived the journey. As the men marched to Jerusalem, they had a taste of two things they had been missing their entire lives – freedom and money. When they returned to Europe, their previous lives of no wealth seemed unappealing. The new wealth and beliefs that returned with the Crusaders impacted negatively on the Feudal System, but wealth wasn’t all that was brought back.

The Black Death plagued the Feudal System and contributed to its fall. A trade ship carrying the plague docked in Sicily, and after seeing the illness it contained, it was sent away. This was a fatal mistake. The contagious disease spread over Europe, slaying the population. 1 in 3 people died, and in some areas that number grew to 1 in 2. It is estimated that over 70 million died. Many peasants were slaughtered by this disease, and their lords were left with less workers than they needed to work their farms. Peasants began to have options, and could begin to demand things from the lords. If they wanted to be paid and weren’t, they could move to someone else’s land and work for them. Peasants began to be paid for their work, and if they did not like to deal, they could move. The Lords and their workers became on more equal footing, each having something the other desired. The tacit agreement between the two shattered as the richer people moved away from plague- areas, and not offering protection as was the deal. The plague spread through towns killing many, and infecting the feudal system.

The idea of towns grasped civilizations, but little did they know it would upturn the delicate system they were used to. When the men returned from the crusades, they had money, and had seen freedom. There was no desire to return to their former lives working the lord’s fields for no pay, and no need to as they now had money. The idea of crop rotation, having different types of vegetables in different fields and switching them around each year so the soil stays fertile, travelled back from the Crusades and allowed more crops to grow. Soon the people were producing more than enough food, and not so many workers were needed. With money from Crusades and a new chance at life, men started to take up different jobs. Furniture was made, there were butchers and bakers, who all set up little shops on crossroads to attract customers. They paid the lords who owned the land rent, and so neither was bound to the other. Towns sprang up, closely packed, the streets barely metres across. The Lord of the Manor, who owned the land, was not in charge of the people who lived there, so a mayor was elected. Rules called guilds bound artisans with similar goods to each other, for instance a tailor’s guild and a butcher’s guild. People banded together closely. Having the leader elected was completely contrasting to the Feudal System, and devastated it.

The Crusades, Plague and the rise of towns all played a role in the defeat of the feudal system, and after that was over, a new era erupted. Many became less loyal to god, believing he was not protecting them as well as he should, and they developed a new idea of who God was and what he wanted. Art and music became more significant and the Renaissance began. This Essay was written in 80 minutes, so I am very proud of it. :)

My Analyses: Daedalus and Icarus:

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">The story of Daedalus and Icarus is told in 6 different ways, although with the same intent. Version one is straight forward and to the point. Icarus drowned. Although it is undeniable, it does not offer much information. It does not explain how Icarus’ death is justifiable and fair. Version 2 quickly summarises how his death came about, but no hybris is detailed. Versions 3, 4 and 5 are longer and give the circumstances of his death. Version 3 gives a more technical answer, illustrating the significance of “’daedalus’ [meaning] ‘cunning worker’” and how Daedalus had built the “labyrinth … to house the Minotaur” but had then been banished because Theseus managed to navigate it and kill the Minotaur besides. Version 4 is not so much a story because it directly addresses the reader explaining Icarus’ emotions as he swooped through the air, “[reaching] for the sun”. The fifth version is the longest, explaining the story from start to finish in minute detail. Take 6 summarises the point of the story. 13 words. “Whichever way you cut it, it always comes out the same. Icarus drowned.” Having the 6 “takes” defines the story from every angle, signifying one inescapable fact. Icarus tried to reach the sun a fate only the Gods could accomplish, and so died in the attempt, but equally Daedalus tried to fly like a God, and as a consequence he lost his closest family member. In six different ways, the story demonstrated the consequences of hybris. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">The death of Jinini: <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">As Ole Ma Jilmara recited her tale, the children were listening with different motivations. The young boys were enthralled in the tale, their “eyes like moons” as the horror of the dreamtime story captured them. The legend of a young girl who made a mistake and was sentenced to sadness for the rest of eternity entertained them as they warmed around the fire. Nona, on the other hand understood that the story was warning her of the price of being a young girl in that time. “She had heard the story before”, and knew what the story would bring, and yet she listened with almost an urgency as she again understood what Ole Ma was trying to convey to her; that she was the underdog, and was almost slave to the family. Poetic symbolism displayed a quiet scene as the children gathered ‘round the fire. A pause in the old woman’s tale alerts to the fact that the “cicadas suddenly stopped singing”, as if they too were waiting for the next chapter. The alliteration allows the phrase to dance off the tongue and create a sense of foreboding. The boys were undoubtedly enthralled in the tale, but Nona was listening with a serious understanding. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">Musee des beax art <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">During his poem, Musee des beax art, Auden demonstrates two truths concerning egotism. As Icarus falls from the sky, a mythical fate which landed him a place in Greek legend, there are people who “[turn] quite leisurely from the disaster”, and continue on with their lives, possibly worrying over trivial problems, unaware or uncaring of the terrible fate which had justified Icarus’ hybris. For everybody else, life goes on. The other point he displays is that people miss things. Events do not schedule themselves for when everybody’s looking, and not everybody can be looking in the right place at the right time. Icarus’ death may be an important lesson for centuries since, but at the time, the “delicate ship… had somewhere else to get to” and “the ploughman may have heard the splash, the forsaken cry”, but to him, it was unimportant. These two facts have been explored by many people, masters of the arts, poets and painters and philosophers alike, and Auden just restates them. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">I'm really happy with all my analyses, and I think i summarised the story and the answers well. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">Crossing the divide <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">They say when death arrives, pain releases and the lights snap off. They know nothing of pain. Know nothing of agony licking at every limb, burning up willpower like it was petrol and singeing reality like a stray piece of newspaper. Of course not every death is the same. There are different paths, you see, depending on where you choose to go. There’s not just up and down, just as there is not good and bad. There is mixture of good and evil inside of all of us, and that which we act on determines our destiny. We’ve heard of heaven and hell, and we’ve all exchanged ghost stories at some point, all in fun I’m sure. But being a ghost is like the fire escape. In a fire you could be lucky enough to escape the flames. You could be unlucky enough to be caught in the fire, or you could climb down the side and escape with scorched arms. I chose the fire escape. I thought it was the easy way out. After my (for want of a better word) fail at being human I knew I was destined for a fiery descent. I ran. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">I ran until I was certain not even the hounds of hell could’ve caught me. Where I was I couldn’t tell you. I was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I looked back. No-one was chasing me. It was that moment I realised my choice. Ha. I expected to float upward. To just… Depart my body. I wish. The pain that baked my flesh and insides alike was more than I could bare. It could’ve lasted hours. Days. Years. It could’ve lasted minutes or seconds, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is the raging fires of the underworld for eternity couldn’t have amounted to this. I wasn’t departing my body, I was being ripped, the final strands that attached me to life were wrenched away. Pain. For the rest of eternity this pain has branded me. I talk to others like me. The good ones who can just… flit between here and the “Great Beyond” and the bad, like me, who have escaped the devil’s fiery clutches… for now. Life isn’t fair. The after-life? It’s no different.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">AZTEC ESSAY

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;">AZTEC CREATIVE RESPONSE

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; display: block; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 16px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: auto;"> <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">This is an interpretation of an Aztec diary, written in pictograms by a survivor after the return of the Spanish. Translated by Rebecca Sherrington.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The god-like men crashed through us, brandishing shining weaponry, merciless in their destruction. At first I thought it was the army of Huitzilopochtli coming to punish us for our grandness, demanding more sacrifice. How wrong I was. How wrong we all were.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Our meek attempts at reconciliation went unnoticed, and the God-men ripped Tenochtitlan apart. The statues of Huitzilopochtli shattered on the floor. That was when we realised they were not his men. These God-men were not here to collect a blood debt. They were here for our land. For our Tenochtitlan.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I fled. There was no time to collect my family.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I sheltered – of all places – under a cactus there were few people with me. Ten at the most

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We were the survivors. Maybe more survived. We had no way of telling. There was no way we could ever know. We are dying now. Ten becomes nine, nine becomes eight. Eight of us. One child. Three women. Four men. No food. The cactus supplied moisture, so we never strayed far from it.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We considered the possibility of moving. We never moved. More and more, our numbers dwindled. The child passed away in his mother’s arms. The cactus became his shrine. A living memory of a dead soul.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Sometimes I wonder if he got the easy way out. Slow death, verses the hell-men destroying us with exploding… things. That was the only way we could describe them. Things. It was like they had condensed Popacatapel. The result was devastating.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">One day they will come for us. It could be any day. In a year. In a week. It makes no difference. They are coming. That is one, inevitable fact.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Popacatapel is smoking in the distance.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The sun will surely die without his sacrifices.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">It is the end.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">This is a translation of a diary, written in Spanish, translated into English by Rebecca Sherrington. The original was written by a Spanish warrior after Tenochtitlan was conquered.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Those barbarians. Those merciless barbarians.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I had heard stories; the rumours that travelled back with the original scout of New Spain. Of men who ripped each other’s hearts out. Of course I had wanted to come this time, to see for myself, and now I’m here I am shocked.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">They worship animals as gods. It was my personal pleasure to shoot those statues to the ground.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We could have just stood back, just watched as they wiped themselves out. Necessary or not though, we fought.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Blood was shed.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">And, of course, we won.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Last night I walked the streets of their city. Our city. The barren, empty streets of our city. A mountain smoked on the horizon.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Silence.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The world was asleep. Or dying. Certainly the darkness could signify either.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I came back. To the temple. I am not the only warrior writing a report of what is happening. I am perhaps the only one recounting my personal story, though.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The war was weeks ago. We are preparing to return to Spain now, but I feel the need to describe one last adventure.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I left the boundaries of the city, crossing a man-made path to the mainland. I kept walking.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I came to a lonely cactus.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">A cactus is nothing of consequence. Six lifeless bodies lay around the cactus. Six bodies are of consequence.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">A single trail of footsteps trudged wearily, half buried under sand. They led into the distance.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">A survivor.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">TOMORROW WHEN THE WAR BEGAN ESSAY

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 21px;">What does __Tomorrow When the War Began__ suggest loyalty, courage and goodness are?

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">John Marsden’s novel, __Tomorrow When the War Began,__ deeply explores the meanings of morality. Marsden takes three traits which are admired in a person, and are generally thought to be positive qualities, and explores their complexity. He questions whether care, trust belief and allegiance to something or someone, or taking risks and being brave in the face of fear are actually good qualities, and if it is even possible to ‘just be a generally good person’, or if the concept is a lot more complex. He also explores the fact that “the good guys” are not the only people who express these qualities.

__<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Tomorrow When the War Began __<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> is a novel stemmed from loyalty. The group of eight teenagers, Ellie, Homer, Fi, Corrie, Kevin, Robyn, Lee and Chris, are in a situation where loyalty is vital. The group must learn to trust, care for and believe in each other. There are three types of loyalty the group must show. They all show a loyalty for each other. When Corrie is shot, Kevin will not “dump her, and run”, hopefully leaving her alone in the care of the hospital, even though that is the “rational…logical” solution. “Corrie’s [his] mate” and he is completely loyal to her, and will stay with her until the end. The group also shows a loyalty to their families. They know that if they charge into where their families are being held, they are most likely to be harmed in the effort, possibly killed, and they know that “it’s important for … [their] families… that [they] stay alive”. Their loyalty toward their families stretches far enough that they cannot “sit tight and do nothing” while they are not sure what is happening, but, when they are sure their families are safe, they do not hurry to take stupid risks. Their loyalty to their families is smothered by common-sense and self-preservation. The last part of loyalty they show is toward their country, Australia. They understand that it is also “important for … [their] country” that they survive, and when they blow up the bridge, they do so in the name of Australia; to hinder the enemy even a little is a great achievement for eight teenagers against an army force. The group must show a lot of loyalty to each other, their families, and their country to be able to commit the fates they did. Loyalty is portrayed as a good quality, and unites a group,

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The group did not decide to try and break their families out of the showground, because common-sense won out over loyalty. Courage is a characteristic which follows the same principles. To be brave in the face of danger is an admirable thing, but it has its boundaries. The group agrees to commit the courageous act of blowing up the bridge, but decides against infiltrating the showground to get their families out safely. Although the latter act could also be considered courageous, there is a fine line between courageousness and stupidity. To attempt to infiltrate and area where there is a probability nobody is being harmed, which is guarded by armed guards, and then to locate the families and attempt an escape, would be near to impossible, let alone a suicide mission. The group must show courageousness physically; as Robyn, who used to be “prone to fainting” learns to deal with blood, and Lee, although he “had been shot…in the calf” learns to adjust and copes with it as well as he can. Some of the group learns to show courageousness socially; like Homer, who is extremely worried that Fi will not accept him, and will think of him as just a “rural”. Another kind of courage is shown by Ellie. She shows a kind of moral courage when she takes on the responsibility to write down their story. To show courageousness is to commit an act which takes considerable bravery, in the face of a fear, like Ellie, facing her fear of murder, had “insects crawling over [her skin]”, and yet she committed the act. To be courageous is to brave something out of the ordinary, but the eight teenagers were not the only people who showed courage. The three soldiers whom Ellie killed showed remarkable courage to chase three people who were possibly armed. Courage is showed by both sides, but, although appreciated when showed by the group, the courage of the enemy “soldiers” is regretted.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Courage is basically easy to understand, unlike goodness. The way the book is written directs the reader’s sympathies and compassion toward the group, and subconsciously, the reader believes the group is made up of “the good guys”. True goodness is understood to be a respect for other people and their rights, a conscience and positive values, which are put into action, but Ellie does not respect the soldiers, and she strips away their right to life, and she accepts when she blew up the bridge, she may kill yet more people, and yet, she is still thought of as “good”. Throughout the novel, Marsden explains that goodness is not a straight fact, rather goodness depends on the context, for example, at school, Homer “always seemed to be in trouble”, and “nobody wanted to be associated with [him]”. AT school, Homer was considered bad to the bone, but, when put in a new situation, Homer becomes a “genius”, as all his old schemes and tricks can be carried over into a new situation. Goodness also depends on intentions. When Ellie blows up the bridge, her intentions were only to hinder the “enemy”, never to kill, although murder was an outcome she was willing to accept, therefore, in that situation, Ellie’s act could be considered ‘good’.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">John Marsden uses his novel to convey that “loyalty, courage, [and] goodness” are three, very complex concepts, but he also uses his novel to convey the idea that young people are capable of doing the ‘right’ thing, and have the capacity to be ‘good’, should they choose to act on it.

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">TOMORROW WHEN THE WAR BEGAN POEMS <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Almost ridiculous <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">But hash <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Too fast <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Quick <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The last image I have exploding <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Run <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Run

<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We ran <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Screams ripping <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">My mind hurting <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I waited <span style="font-family: 'Bell MT','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We couldn't fight