Re-Draft 3

Re-Draft 3 has been selected as one of the titles for The White Ravens 2005 - an annual selection of outstanding international Books for children and young adults, which will be presented at the Bologna children's Book Fair. The books for this year's exhibition, 250 titles in 31 languages from 48 countries, have been selected from the thousands of books received by the International Youth Library, Munich.

From Redraft3

Mine thoughts of Mine by Malu Fink

Me knows that me knows something
somethings knows me, me knows,
but mayhap all these somethings
me knows naught of at all
and all these little somethings
me knows naught of at all
revolve around inside my head
to be pondered and to grow
and as they move through all my thoughts
they grow as me thinks more
they sprout fine little faerie wings
and fly out through mine door

The realisation of a crush by Malu Fink

This is me standing
in front of you
saying what I've wanted to
for so long.
This is me
talking to you
through a written medium
rewritten and redone until
I have decided what
you need to know.
This is me standing
in front of you
asking what I've wanted to
for so long.
Butterflies fluttering, palms sweating
scene replays in my mind, edited.
If this is scripted
what would real life be?

Extract from Global Warming by Mark Smith …

Tick, Tock said the Clock. Stupid clock, Thomas's mind lamented. I know about time, you don't need to tell me. I know I've got too much.
Damn the Clock, Damn the routine twice-a-day cycle of its hideous hands. Damn the loudness of its mechanical ticking. Damn its black retro frame, and its checkerboard pattern, and its obscenely bold numerics. Tick, Tock, said the Clock. Pitter, Patter, said the Rain. Damn the Rain. Thomas propped his head up on a hand and looked outside No need to check the weather, or course, no need for that kind of predictability. Staring balefully at the Clock was boring enough. time to stare balefully at the Rain …

Extract from Remaining Options by Jenna Sauers …

Apparently, this afternoon, Emily leapt in front of local businessman and former neighbour Derek Watson's speeding car. She chose not to live for her exams. She chose not to live for her friends. She chose not to live for the unopened mail in her letterbox. She chose not to live for the look on Mr Watson's face. She chose not to live for the election results on TV.
She was not noticeably depressed. She was not noticeably carefree. She had led, by all accounts except her own, a happy life. This very afternoon she smiled and told a Senior Citizen how good she was feeling. This very afternoon she went to classes with her friends and laughed when not staring into the distance …

Cry Bullets by Nicola Webber

He walks past
His arms wrapped around his waist
The perfect picture of insecurity
His eyes follow the ground
Occasionally glancing up
At all the people he doesn't like
The people he wishes he could be.
He squints and scuffs his shoes.
The think they have him figured out
So they leave him alone
Apart from the occasional shove
Or passing remark
And he doesn't respond
He never has
He just squints nervously
And tightens the grip on his waist
Then thinks about the day he might respond …
The day they'll make him cry bullets.

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