Colaiste Chill Mhantain Student Creativity Ebook 2024

CCM Creative eBook 2024

Oh, how I miss the beach And the summers daze. Where sandy shores meet Calm, clear waves. Where laughs are shared and memories made. Oh, how I wish winter left And summer stayed. Ethan Mullen – 1 Erne

she left that day. But I found it and hide it in the far back of the press. I pick up my phone with my shaking hands. It takes me awhile to put the number in my phone because of my shaking hands. A nice woman called Ann answers and I tell her everything, all my worries come out and I feel lighter. It’s been a month since I made the brave decision to get help. Not just for me but for my Mam. I think I knew deep down that she’s an alcoholic but I didn’t want to get help in case I got taken away from her. I now realise that that is what is needed for us both. Mam came home eventually and now she’s getting the help she’s needs. I am living with my aunt for now but I will be allowed to live with my mam again when she’s a bit better. Katie Marie Kenny - Transition Year (3rd Place Winner - Short Story Category)

Image created by Alexi Xanthea Mendez - TY (3rd Place Winner - Art Category)

Cold Toastie, Katie Marie Kenny, TY, 60 A Midnight Walk, Killian Keane, TY, 66 The Bin in the Irish Room, Daire Kenny, 1 Avoca, 77 To Dance is to Live, to Live is to Dance, Caitlin O'Connor, TY, 74 Symphony of Love, Stephen Joseph, TY, 79 Shadows of Crime, Gordon Nesklada Terasmees, TY, 86

Mr Stephen Doherty - "The Crossing", Cormac McCarthy, 91 Ms Katie Kenny - The Unconventional Shed, 94

I long to be at a rugby pitch I see the floodlights glistening in the dark I feel the grass As we ruck on the ground I hear the tackle bags crunching As everyone hits them I taste the muck off my gum shield As I slip it into my mouth I smell the wet cold pitch off me As I get in the car to go home Ruby-Kate Witter - 1 Slaney

I love football I love the passion I love the goals I love the tackles I love winning I hate losing Football is my favourite thing to do I would play in the sun I would play in the rain I don't care about the weather Once the ball is at my feet Alex Mernagh - 1 Bann

Mohammed Kamal, 1 Barrow

Elizabeth Gilbert wrote that “a creative life is an amplified life. It’s a bigger life, a happier life, an expanded life, and a hell of a lot more interesting life”. That’s what this ebook is all about. It grants students space to wander widely and express their inner worlds. Ranging from beloved people, places and animals to sensation such as love and dreaming to harsh daily life to artists’ romances and even moving schoolroom bins. This year’s pieces are again delightful, surprising, playful and thoughtful - which has made the final selection an enormous challenge! We therefore warmly congratulate every student included and sincerely thank our colleagues in the English and Art departments for their great support during the very busy academic year. As Mr Donoghue referenced, creativity is integral to education. Therefore regardless of changes in technology, individual expression and artistic ability remain the springwells of creativity. Creative accomplishment however rarely comes at the switch of a button; although it can be fun, it also requires self-confidence, reflection, effort and application. These are lessons we try to instill in all our students through our creativity programme.

When we first launched this book in 2022, we choose to produce it in an electronic format both for easier sharing through social media but also to facilitate broad forms of expression. The potential forms we envisaged at that time included text, image, audio file and video. However as artists from Emily Dickinson to Picasso to Billie Eilish to Banksy show us, creative forms constantly change. Therefore, we welcome suggestions from all members of our school community for ideas and forms to include in next year’s Creativity ebook. (Please email <a href="mailto:paulimartin@wicklowvec.ie" style="color: black;">paulimartin@wicklowvec.ie</a>). Finally, it has been a pleasure to work with these young “creatives”. We look forward to seeing their many other accomplishments in the years ahead. Kind regards, Mr Paul Martin and Ms Katie Kenny

Witches in the air Ghosts everywhere Goblins in the graves Bats in the caves Black cats in the wild Scarecrows in the fields Pumpkins by the door Candy on the floor Mwahahahaha….this is Halloween! Alex Kavanagh Murphy - 1 Avoca

Siofra O'Mahoney, 1 Slaney

Coláiste Chill Mhantáin Creativity Ebook 2024

Two staff members, Mr Stephen Doherty, the school librarian, and Ms Katie Kenny, art teacher, were asked about their "Favourite Creation" Mr Doherty chose the novel, "The Crossing" by his favourite author, Cormac McCarthy. Ms Kenny recounts her experience developing her own favourite creation, "The Unconventional Shed"

My name is Stephen Doherty, the school librarian. I've been working in this role for a long, long time. My job is to improve the literacy levels of our students through various library programmes and activities and to promote reading as a fun activity.&nbsp;&nbsp; One of my favourite creations is 'The Crossing' published in 1994 by my favourite writer, the great American novelist, Cormac McCarthy

The Crossing forms the middle part of a trilogy, which include the novels ‘All the Pretty Horses’ and ‘The Cities of the Plain’. This novel, like the other two, is a coming-of-age story about a young 16-year-old, Billy Parham, who lives on a ranch in the southern US state of New Mexico with his parents and brother, Boyd. The dad tells his sons that a wolf has been attacking their cattle and that they must trap it and kill it. After many near misses, Billy eventually traps the wolf but instead of killing it, he decides to bring it over the border to Mexico and release it back into the wild. These passages dealing with the wolf are some of the greatest passages in all of US fiction. The language is poetic, heightened, taut, even biblical. Describing the dead wolf he eventually had to kill, he writes ­– ‘He took up her stiff head out of the leaves and held it or he reached to hold what cannot be held, what already ran among the mountains at once terrible and of a great beauty, like flowers that fed on flesh’. ……’But which cannot be held never be held and is no flower but is swift and is a huntress and the wind itself is in terror of it and the world cannot lose it’ The title of the book, ‘The Crossing’, has a number of meanings. It refers to the Mexican border which Billy and his brother cross over several times throughout the book. The ‘crossing’ could also mean the fact that the West is dying in the 1930’s are crossing over to a more modern, civilised world and society.

When Billy crosses back over the border to New Mexico, he finds that his family’s ranch has been attacked and robbed and both of his parents killed. Most of the horses have been stolen too. His brother is still alive and both of them decide to go back to Mexico to look for the horses that have been stolen which they believe have been brought back across the border. The ‘crossing’ also refers to the fact that Billy, in his adventures, crosses over from being a boy to being a man as he travels and survives on his own. It also about crossing over from innocence to a hardened view of the real world where life is dangerous. During this part of the book, both boys experience great adventure and face great danger as they travel through a land filled with bandits, criminals, cowboys, cantinas, circuses, pilgrims and revolutionaries. Eventually finding their horses, they confront the gang who killed their parents and manage to abscond with the horses despite Boyd getting shot. ‘The Crossing’ is one of the greatest books in American literature. It can be read as a straight up adventure with great characters and a great plot. He can also be read as a book about growing up, about death and about how fragile all life on earth is. It is also about how our daily encounters with people are an important ritual of everyday life and about how these encounters can enrich our lives and change them.

‘Your presence has become a source of inspiration in my life too. But I have my own struggles that I haven’t shared.’ Their conversation unfolded like a delicate melody, revealing layers of vulnerability. Beau, in turn, shared his challenges and fears, creating a bridge that deepened their connection. The coffee shop, once a backdrop to casual conversation, became the intimate setting where their souls bared themselves. As the night continued, Beau and Penelope navigated the intricacies of their emotions, the air changed with unspoken sentiments. Stephen Joseph - Transition Year

Kaylyn Hefferon, 3 Finn

I went fishing one day Hoping to catch some prey. I threw in some feathers Because they are better. I went to the pier. Dad said bring some beer. I said no way. He said ok. So I cast out my rod Hoping to catch a nice cod. It was lashing rain And my arm was in pain. I had my last cast And pulled up a sea bass. Then I brought it home And wrote this poem. Alex McKenna – 1 Foyle

Elija Zemaityte, 1 Slaney (2nd Place Winner - Art Category)

The warm sun heating The long green grass. The fish big and small Swimming in the large pond. Children riding their bikes On the rocky roads. Eating ice cream In the boiling sun. Picking strawberries From the big garden. Estela Morkunaite – 1 Bann

I lay under the meadow tree, Drowning in the green sea. My life feels at peace, On this hot summers day. Time has stopped ticking. Children have stopped cheering. In this very short moment, I almost feel free. I seek happiness in times of despair. Now that my wishes are fulfilled, I feel I must share it, Like a generous millionaire. Theertha Santhosh Kumar Priya – 1 Bann

To Dance is to Live, to Live is to Dance &nbsp;

“We’ve been at it for hours, mother,” she said in a voice that held no traces of her exhaustion. No, Lacey would not give her mother that satisfaction, would not make herself vulnerable to that degree. If Lillian sensed weakness, she would keep pushing until Lacey was left with nothing. “They’ve already hired me, but I won’t be cast as a featured dancer if I wear myself out before the auditions. I am done for tonight.” She kept her expression carefully flat, a perfect match to her voice. No strain, no irritation, no worry. She’d learned long ago that confrontations with her mother were best avoided. If she stated her intentions rather than forming them as a question, there would be no argument. Lillian Lawrence despised making a scene. Her disapproval and dissatisfaction were always clear, but she wouldn’t say no. It was almost worth it. “I see. If that rather weak attempt at dance is all you have in you tonight, then perhaps it’s for the best. Goodnight, Lacey.” She’d also learned a long time ago to shrug off her mother’s barbs. If they stung, she pushed it aside and tried to remind herself that she was all her mother had now since her father had passed, since Lex had…so that the sweat-damp material stretched tight.

Erin Jade Thomason, 6 Barrow

If Lillian’s expectations were high, it was only because Lacey was all that remained of her family, her legacy. She wanted what was best for her. She&nbsp;loved&nbsp;her, Lacey told herself over and over. Lillian loved her. She wished she actually believed it. “Goodnight, mother.” // Lacey had liked to dance, once. Sometimes she still did, in the early hours of the morning when she was alone in the studio and her mother wasn’t standing nearby to judge every movement. When she could just let go for a bit and just&nbsp;be, though these moments were few and far between. She was hoping that dancing for the National City Ballet would give her more of that. Time away from Lillian, time to grow beyond Metropolis and her brother’s ever-present shadow. Time to be known as Lacey instead of by her surname. Story continues... Caitlin O'Connor&nbsp;- Transition Year

A Symphony of Love

Stephen Joseph

Image created by Stephen Joseph - TY

Thoughts from our Principal, Padraig Donoghue, 10 An Amplified Life, Paul Martin &amp; Katie Kenny, 14 CCM Creativity Awards 2024, 16 Past Winners, 17

You Only Love Once, Grace Wu, 1 Barrow, 19 Can't Look Away, Crystle Hill, 1 Foyle, 21 Speaking up, Maebh Guerin, 1 Foyle, 23 Rich Tea Biscuit, Zara McCann Wynne, 1 Avoca, 25 Fishing, Alex McKenna, 1 Foyle, 27 Somewhere I Long to Be, Ruby-Kate Witter, 1 Slaney, 28 Football, Alex Mernagh, 1 Bann, 29 Winter, Edie McPhillips, 1 Barrow, 31 How I Miss Summer, Ethan Mullen, 1 Erne, 33 Spooks, Kellie Doyle, 1 Avoca, 34

Leprechauns, Rian Ward, 1 Erne, 35 Scary Creatures, Alex Kavanagh Murphy, 1 Avoca, 37 Puca, Caeric Doyle, 1 Foyle, 39 Penguin in the Zoo, Ben O’Leary, 1 Slaney, 41 The Elephant’s Trip to France, Ellen Myler, 1 Foyle, 43 The Nightmare with the Bear, Harry Beeston, 1 Liffey, 45 Follow, Denis Morrisey 1 Foyle, 47 Anchor, Denis Morrisey 1 Foyle, 49 Lithuania, Estela Morkunaite, 1 Bann, 51 Home isn't Always a House, Ashton Byrne, 1 Avoca, 53 Generous Millionaire, Theertha Santhosh Kumar Priya, 1 Bann, 53 The Garden of my Dreams, Kaitlyn Fernades Calisto, 1 Slaney, 57

The elephant loves the rain, The rain takes away her pain Every day she would dance Until the day she went to France Then suddenly she stopped As she saw a fish hop The elephant went over to the fish And made a little wish “I wish this fish could talk, And maybe even walk!” As the elephant doubtfully walked away, Hoping for the fish to have a brighter day The fish started screaming, The elephant thought she was dreaming Ellen Myler – 1 Foyle

Nathan Vickers, 1 Slaney

My Favourite Creation  -                       The Unconventional Shed

The shed features a pink galvanised roof and door. This symbolised a reversal of gendered roles. The whitewashed structure was built to reflect my height. I could walk comfortably into the shed whereas my father and brother struggled as they are taller than 5ft. Inside the shed, a television was mounted over a trough featuring a video exploring gender roles through a three-part series. There was a mixture of performative and detailed shots edited together each scene centred around the colour pink. Pink was used to challenge stereotypes. The audio which was experienced through headphones was an amalgamation of spoken words and farm background noises. A musty farm smell was experienced as the viewer entered. A trough with hay and dairy cubes sat under the tv. The shed was bedded with straw. The viewer was invited into the shed to experience the work fully. This artwork holds a special place in my heart as it features scenes from the farm. The process of building the shed provided me with the opportunity to bring an idea to life and learn new construction techniques. Witnessing the audience interact with my work and hearing their opinions on the experience I created was a fascinating and fulfilling aspect of this project. Katie Kenny, Teacher and Artist

The video playing inside the "Unconventional Shed"

A viewer experiencing the "Unconventional Shed"

In a world of ice and snow, A penguin danced, filled with such glow. At the zoo, I saw this wondrous sight, A creature dressed in black and white. First, an elegant waddle caught my eye, As this penguin shuffled gently by. In its tuxedo, it seemed so grand, Gracefully navigating the icy land. Its feathers slick and oh so neat, Forming a shield against the biting sleet. With each dive into the freezing sea. Sailing through waves so gracefully. Its beady eyes, filled with curiosity, Watched visitors with intense ferocity. Huddled close with fellow mates, Sharing warmth as the chill abates. Oh, little penguin, full of cheer. Bringing joy to all who come near. In that moment, my heart took flight, Witnessing this delightful sight. So, with memories tucked deep within, I bid farewell to this waddling kin. Forever etched in my mind, I will see, The penguin that enchanted me. &nbsp; Ben O’Leary - 1 Slaney

To Dance is to Live, to Live is to Dance

Story Extract - Brief Description Lacey Lawrence moves to National City for a fresh start, far away from where the Lawrence name has the most notorious connotation. But Lacey cannot escape from under the thumb of her controlling mother and her own desperate need to prove herself to her. After all, perfection is expected of a Lawrence &nbsp;and her mother wants her to be the best because she loves her (Lacey wants so badly to believe it's because she loves her). But then Lacey meets Kate Dawson and everything starts to unravel. Lacey’s perfect world is not so perfect anymore. Chapter 1 - Ballet and such. Breathe in. Execute. Hold. Lacey felt her muscles pull and stretch, felt the expansion of her rib cage from her slowly drawn in breath. She held the air in her lungs as her body bent just so, a perfect juxtaposition of straight back and turned-out leg, her chest pressing to her leotard so that the sweat-damp material stretched tight.

The leg supporting her weight held her&nbsp;en pointe,&nbsp;the other lifted straight out behind her in an angle just beyond parallel to the ground. A practiced over-extension, one that not everyone could perform while maintaining good form, but Lacey had worked for years to be able to manage. She kept her hips in perfect formation, squared and stable, her arm extended out in front of herself, the other curved over the&nbsp;barre. It was a well executed&nbsp;arabesque. And then she felt it. A tremor. Her eyes closed with the horror of it and she hoped, she&nbsp;hoped,&nbsp;that it would go unnoticed. But of course, she was never so lucky. “Sloppy, Lacey,” her mother snapped immediately. “You are trembling like a beginner. Hardly&nbsp;prima ballerina&nbsp;material.” Her smile was icy as she stepped closer, those cold eyes flickering over Lacey with obvious derision. “I hope you don’t expect the National City Ballet to keep you around long with technique like that.” Lacey released her hold at last, letting her body relax again as she turned to face Lillian Lawrence.

Chapter Three: Notes of Vulnerability As the days unfolded, the unspoken tension between Penelope and Beau lingered in the air, like a melody waiting to find its resolution. Penelope found herself wrestling with the emotions that had taken root in her heart since that fateful night at the venue. One evening, amidst the quiet hum of a local coffee shop, Penelope and Beau found themselves entwined in a conversation that carried the weight of vulnerability. Penelope, her eyes revealing a mix of uncertainty and longing, took a deep breath before broaching the subject that had been dancing on the periphery of their connection. ‘Beau’, she began, her voice a delicate harmony in the ambient sounds of the café, ‘there’s something I need to share.’ Beau, sensing the gravity of the moment, set his coffee down, giving her his full attention. ‘You can tell me anything, Penelope,’ he reassured. Penelope hesitated for a moment before confessing the feelings that had blossomed within her since that first night at the venue, ‘I’ve been feeling something more, Beau. It’s not just about our collaboration; it’s about what you mean to me.’ Beau listened intently, his eyes reflecting both surprise and a depth of understanding. ‘Penelope’, he replied,

Creativity Ebooks 2022 &amp; 2023

CCM Creative Writing eBook 2022

Click on images to read previous ebooks

CCM Creative eBook 2023

In the heart of Paris, France, destiny orchestrates the meeting of Penelope Braithwaite, a visionary artist, and Beau Grey, a charismatic musician. The story that’s being presented sets the stage for their intertwined destinies, where melodies and brushstrokes await the unveiling of a symphony written by fate. We take up the story from chapter 2... *** Chapter Two: Brushstrokes of Connection In the days following their serendipitous encounter, Penelope and Beau found themselves entwined in each other’s creative worlds. Beau, with his guitar always within arm’s reach, accompanied Penelope to various art galleries, where they revealed in the vibrant colors and intricate brushstrokes that adorned the canvases. One day, inspired by Beau’s melodies, Penelope decided to bring their artistic worlds together. In her studio, surrounded by the scent of turpentine and the vivid colors of her palette, she began to paint that echoed the emotions of Beau’s music evoked. Beau, sitting nearby his guitar, watched as Penelope’s brush danced across the canvas. ‘Your paintings tell stories, Penelope,’

he remarked, strumming a chord to match the mood of her work. Penelope, focused on her creation smiled. ‘And your music provides the soundtrack. Let’s create something together.’ Their collaboration began, with each stroke of Penelope’s brush met by the gentle cadence of Beau’s guitar. The studio became a sanctuary where creativity flowed freely, where the boundaries between their art forms blurred. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the studio, they stepped back to admire their collaborative masterpiece, a fusion of visual and auditory art that spoke volumes about the connection they had forged. Beau, genuinely moved, said, ‘Penelope, this is incredible. Our art is like a conversation, a dialogue between colors and melodies.’ Penelope nodded, her icy blue eyes reflecting a shared understanding. ‘It’s more than a collaboration; it’s a connection that goes beyond what we create individually.’ Their artistic synergy became a language, unspoken yet profound. Late nights turned into moments of shared inspiration, the studio witnessing the blossoming of a connection that extended beyond the canvas and the strings of a guitar.

Kellie Doyle, 1 Avoca Kyle Brady Stafford, 1 Bann Emma-Rose Butler, 1 Bann Aimee McDonnell, 1 Bann Ciara Mitchell, 1 Bann Shoan Shinoj, 1 Barrow Ella McEvoy, 1 Barrow Luoxi (Grace) Wu, 1 Barrow Mohammed Kamal, 1 Barrow Polina Trofimova, 1 Foyle Maebh Guerin, 1 Foyle Luke Leahy, 1 Foyle Helen Newsome, 1 Liffey Rhea Keogh, 1 Liffey Lily Chapman, 1 Slaney Merelyn Dube, 1 Slaney

Elija Zemaityte, 1 Slaney Ruby-Kate Witter, 1 Slaney Siofra O'Mahoney, 1 Slaney Lauren Dwyer, 1 Slaney Nathan Vickers, 1 Slaney Conor McEvoy, 3 Finn Kaylyn Hefferon 3 Finn Danny McCoy, 3 Bann Alex Nolan, 3 Bann Stephen Joseph, TY Alexi Xanthea Mendez, TY Reece O'Neill, 5th Yr Jonah Fanning, 5 Bann Erin Jade Thomason, 6 Barrow Diána Matusevica, 6 Erne

CCM Creativity Awards 2024

Past Winners - 2022 &amp; 2023

Present at launch: Mr Martin, Mr Donoghue, Ms Kenny, Maebh Guerin, Caeric Doyle, Ashton Byrne, Dermot Bolger, Katie Marie Kenny, Elija Zemaityte, Ruby-Kate Witter, Ms Smyth Awardees not present: Killian Keane, Daire Kenny, Alexi Xanthea Mendez

CCM's Creativity Award Winners 2024 Poetry: Maebh Guerin, 1 Foyle, Speaking Up (1st Place); Ashton Byrne, 1 Avoca, Home isn't Always a House (2nd Place); Caeric Doyle, 1 Foyle, Puca (3rd Place) Stories &amp; Prose: Killian Keane, TY, Midnight Walk (1st Place), Daire Kenny, 1 Avoca, The Bin in the Irish Room (2nd Place) Katie Marie Kenny, TY, Cold Toastie (3rd Place) Art: Ruby-Kate Witter, 1 Slaney, (1st Place), Elija Zemaityte, 1 Slaney (2nd Place), Alexi Xanthea Mendez, TY (3rd Place)

2022 Poetry Sam Behan, 1 Foyle (1st place), Cathal Cannon, 1 Liffey (Merit Award)&nbsp; Short Stories Saoirse McInerney, TY (1st Place), Matthew Porter, TY (Merit Award) 2023 Poetry Conor Davis, 1st Yr, (1st Place); Abbie Mai Delaney, 2 Finn (2nd Place); Freya Roche, 2 Liffey, (3rd Place) Short Stories Louise Farrell, TY, (1st Place), Matthew Dowling, TY, (2nd Place) Emily Crean, 1 Liffey (3rd Place) Art Jack Alcorn, 1 Slaney (1st Place), Bonita Crowe, 3 Bann (2nd Place), Mischa Kavanagh, 1 Barrow (3rd Place)

Made with chains And old rusty scrap Swinging off a ship Never get a nap. Holding my breath And a heavy metal ship Holding on tight I’m like a sea clip. Crash on the shore Abandon ship! I can’t abandon… I am just the wreck. Denis Morrisey – 1 Foyle

I looked back down. I was out of the clearing now. Back into the trees. I was still walking. I didn’t feel tired. If anything, I felt refreshed. I was nearly at the end of the track. In front of me stood a mountain. A mountain, like the worries and problems in my mind. The only way to get rid of the mountain of worries was to climb it. And so, I will climb this mountain. An orange hue serves as a backdrop to the mountain. The sun is rising. It’s getting late now. I’m standing at the base of the mountain. I have two options. Do I turn back, away from my problems and cower? Or do I climb my mountain of problems, and become closer to peace and my dream? Killian Keane - Transition Year (1st Place Winner - Short Story Category)

Diána Matusevica, 6 Erne

There they are again, at their locker, At their class I look like a fool, One not in a class I feel a bit awkward, What if my thoughts can be heard? “Their eyes big and shiny”, “Their face bright and smiley” “Their perfect personality” Those all make me crazy I don't know how long I'll survive I only live one life, I should make a move, While I'm still alive Grace Wu - 1 Barrow

Luoxi (Grace) Wu, 1 Barrow

I have a little dog, With fur as white as snow, I think my mum is hypnotised, And yet she doesn’t know. She feeds him from the table, They always go on walks, She gives him anything he wants, She even thinks he talks. And if ever he escapes, She’ll chase him down the road, But eventually he’ll come back, Back home to his abode. My dog’s name is Puca, Which in Irish means Ghost, We all love him a lot, But my mum loves him the most. Caeric Doyle - 1 Foyle (3rd Place Winner - Poetry Category)

There once was a bin that sat in the Irish room all day, day after day, night after night, until one day, while 1 Avoca was doing its Irish test, Jim walked over to the rubbish bin to dump it his pencil shavings from his electric pencil parer when all of a sudden, the bin came to life! The bin yelled. “You’ll never put rubbish in me again.” As the bin ran outside the corridor all the children sat in their seats in astonishment. They’d never seen anything like this. (Now I don’t think anyone in the world has seen anything as bonkers as this). The bin traveled through the corridor when suddenly it heard a big RING A DING DING! It was the lunch bell and all the students piled into the halls when one student said, “Hey, is that a rubbish bin?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” said another. “There’s no way a rubbish bin is scurrying down the corridors. You must be delusional!” The bin soon met the doors that led outside but it faced a big problem. The sensor on the door wouldn’t detect the bin. He knew he needed help, so he whispered to the recycling bin, “Pst, hey could you move in front of the door so it will open?”

A short story is a different thing altogether - a short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger. Stephen King

I was mining in the cave Echoes like waves Then I heard a loud screech I was too scared to speak But my mining wasn’t complete&nbsp;&nbsp; So I had to keep mining with my feet I heard loud footsteps coming near I turned and saw a scary 10 ft bear His ferocious claws like knives Vicious hungry-looking eyes Scared for my life He picked me up As I started to ascend Trying to make of him a friend I feared this would be my end! Then I woke up. Harry Beeston – 1 Liffey &nbsp;

It is a great pleasure to introduce the third edition of Coláiste Chill Mhantáin’s annual Creativity e-book. This is a key component of the schoolwide Creativity Programme and as Principal I am delighted to see the expanding range of creativity among our multi-talented students. The manner which this project has been embraced is a credit to the students and the teachers involved. &nbsp; I think Sir Kenneth Robinson said it best when he stated that “creativity is as important in education as literacy, and we should treat it with the same status”.&nbsp; As a school community, we want our students to develop critical thinking skills and finding avenues for them to explore the use of these skills is a challenging but rewarding experience. Through this e-book we get to share the journey our students have travelled through the use of story and art. While the stories may change as time passes their skills will be developed and refined now that the initial seeds have been sown and the imagination awakened. I would thank all teachers in the English and Art departments, especially Mr. Martin and Ms. Kenny and our school librarian Mr. Doherty, for their dedicated work in inspiring students and

producing this e-book. It is a timeless addition to the story of our school and to the students and teachers who work in such a positive manner to provide opportunities and experiences to develop life-long skills that we trust will have as great a legacy as literacy and numeracy, &nbsp; In appreciation, Mr Padraig Donoghue Principal

Midnight walks were the best. I would sneak out, once I knew that both of my parents were asleep. The effort it took to stay quiet while getting dressed, and ready to leave, was truly worth it. I had left many times before, so I knew where to step to not wake anyone up. It was so normal to me now. It was almost routine. I felt the best time to leave was when the loneliness came back. Outside, I could embrace the solitude. I stepped out onto the porch and felt the cold air on my cheeks it was winter, but I wouldn’t be wearing a coat. I never did. I was used to the cold by now. Nearly 17 years spent living at a high altitude, in the wilderness of Canada. The middle of nowhere, they said. Thirty kilometres to the nearest village, down back roads of gravel. The cold was a part of me now. To be honest, it numbed me, and I felt comfort in that. This was what I wanted, to feel nothing but emptiness inside me, as I started walking. Down the driveway, past the pickup. I could take it if I wanted to. I had my licence, but that wouldn’t make much of a difference. It’s not like I would meet another car. I walked on past it. I couldn’t risk it. The noise of that machine would be enough to wake up everyone in the vicinity. My parents would kill me. I made my way out onto the gravel track, the stones crunching under my boots. Soaring

coniferous trees stood along the side of the road, like soldiers ready for battle. The road was straight. I could see this army, stretching off into the distance. It was going to be a big battle. I hoped that they would win. The trees like soldiers. Still. Silent. The war they were fighting. I was fighting a war too. With myself. Inside my head. Emotions, overwhelming me. That’s why I was out here. The cold, it numbed me. It took away the pain, the loneliness. I could embrace the solitude. I kept walking. By now, I’d passed the lines of conifers, and was in a clearing. The trees, they had been chopped down here, like fallen soldiers. This was the battlefield. Where the conflict happened. I wasn’t ready yet, to face my emotions. I couldn’t look at this place. It was a representation of what was happening inside my mind right now. I looked up. 	&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I could see the stars. There was no light pollution out here. I always believed stars to be dreams. The dreams of every person on the planet. Their goals. Millions of miles away in empty space. I wished I was there. My mind is. I looked back at the stars. My one was up the somewhere, I’m sure. I had a dream. To travel the world. That’s what I wanted. More than anything. I don’t think I’ll ever get there though. Not with the state I’m in now. Everyone has dreams, but I don’t think I’ll ever achieve mine.

There’s a goblin at my window A monster by my door The pumpkin at my table Keeps on smiling more and more There’s a ghost who haunts my bedroom A witch whose face is green They used to be my family Till they dressed for Halloween Kellie Doyle - 1 Avoca

The leprechaun is an Irish fairy From away down in Cork or far Tipperary They're tiny and short About 2 feet in height And they give a terrible fright When they stop by at night And demand all their gold Hidden in a tree’s hollow hold Rian Ward – 1 Erne

You can’t even imagine me Not staring at you, Not even looking at you. The way you move Is graceful and seductive. Your piercing blue eyes Are like a trigger being pulled. Hurt my heart when you look away. But brought relief When you took the pain away. Crystle Hill - 1 Foyle

Ms Katie Kenny is both a CCM teacher and visual artist. I graduated from the National College of Art and Design with a Bachelor (honours) of Fine Art, Sculpture and Expanded Practice and a Professional Masters of Education in Art and Design. Additionally, I completed a PCL course in Advanced Portfolio Preparation at Gorey School of Art. After college I worked as an Artist Educator on RTE’s show ‘This is Art Club’. My artwork has been featured in exhibitions across Ireland and reviewed in publications. The type of art I make is called video installations. I combine sculptural elements, expressive drawings and video displays.

The "Unconventional Shed" on display in Dublin

The "Unconventional Shed" being built in Wexford

My artistic exploration centres on gender and farming, questioning the under recognition of females in Ireland's agriculture sector, where only 13% of farmers are women. Specifically, I explore the impact of inheritance traditions in rural Ireland, highlighting the challenges faced by female farmers in a predominantly masculine environment. One of my favourite creations is 'The Unconventional Shed,' a video installation featuring a shed constructed on my family farm in Wexford that was later transported to a Dublin gallery. I built it to look similar to the sheds on the farm with one clear difference.

empty house for her it just makes things worse. I arrive at school at twenty past nine. The teachers aren’t impressed and give me a detention for this evening. At four a clock I rush out of the school gates before anyone sees I need to get home. Mam will be back by now I just know she will. I unlock the front door and realise straight away she isn’t home. There’s nothing in the fridge and I’m starving so I ran down to the corner shop to get bread cheese and a Fanta. It used up the last of my pocket money. Mam’s favourite food is cheese toastie so I make one that evening. It goes cold. Mam doesn’t come home the next day or the next day. I am really worried now. I have left even more texts and voicemails on her phone and she is yet to respond. On the fifth day I get a knock on the door. It’s the social worker. I didn’t answer and she eventually left. The school must have told her about my absence. It’s not the first time she’s been to my house. Back when things were bad she came around often. Mam put on a brave face and we did our best to convince her we’re fine. I wait three more days but I have no food and no money. My anxiety is getting worse I can’t stop shaking and haven’t been able to sleep in days. I think it’s time I ask for help. I fumble around the kitchen cupboards till I find the social worker’s number. Mam threw it out when

In the dimly lit alleyways of Noir City, where shadows clung to the brick walls like secrets, two figures moved with the grace of predators on the prowl. Jack Malone, a wiry man with a cigarette permanently dangling from his lips, and Lily "Shadow" Donovan, a femme fatale with eyes that could pierce through the darkest of schemes, were partners in crime, bound by a shared past and an unspoken understanding. Their latest caper involved the heist of a priceless artifact from the mansion of the notorious crime lord, Victor Moretti. The city was a labyrinth of deceit, and Moretti's opulent abode stood as a fortress guarding his ill-gotten treasures. Jack and Lily, clad in midnight black, melted into the shadows as they approached the mansion's perimeter. The night air was thick with tension, and the distant wails of sirens served as an ominous soundtrack to their clandestine operation. Lily, her auburn hair cascading like a waterfall of fire, flashed a conspiratorial smile at Jack. "Stick to the shadows, Jack. That's where you thrive." He nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke as they infiltrated the mansion's grounds. The moon played hide-and-seek behind clouds, casting intermittent silver streaks on their path. Lily's cat-like movements and Jack's silent steps ensured that they remained ghosts in the labyrinthine corridors of Moretti's fortress.

They reached the vault, an impenetrable chamber guarded by a web of lasers. Lily, with her nimble fingers, danced through the beams like a maestro orchestrating a forbidden symphony. Jack watched in awe as she disarmed the security with an elegance that defied the danger. Inside the vault, the artifact gleamed, a relic of forgotten empires. Jack reached for it, his fingers tingling with anticipation. However, the room suddenly bathed in an ominous red glow as alarms blared. Moretti's henchmen stormed in, armed to the teeth. Lily and Jack were trapped, like rats cornered by a relentless predator. Lily drew a concealed dagger, and Jack flicked his wrist, revealing a hidden switchblade. They stood back to back, ready to face the storm. The ensuing chaos was a symphony of gunfire and desperate maneuvers. Lily's movements were a blur as she danced through the bullets, and Jack's aim was precise, each shot finding its mark. Shadows clung to them, granting an otherworldly protection. In the midst of the mayhem, Lily's eyes met Jack's, a silent understanding passing between them. With a final burst of gunfire, the henchmen were subdued, and silence reclaimed the vault.

Katie Marie Kenny's fictional story is set in today's Ireland. * I live in a small house in Greendale estate. It’s just me and my Mam. But we’re doing ok. My dad left 2 years ago, and it was hard on my Mam. They’ve been together since they were teenagers. I miss him too. What I miss even more is my old Mam. A Mam where she got up and made me pancakes before school or made fairy cakes all decorated in different colours to cheer me up when I had a bad day. Now Mam sleeps a lot. She drinks too. I used to pretend I didn’t notice. Things haven’t exactly been getting much better. In fact, I think it’s getting worse. Each morning, I wake up, get dressed, shove a handful of cornflakes into my mouth. Then I check on mam. As I get closer to her door my heart beats faster within my chest. I carefully open her bedroom door quietly as not to wake her. She’s asleep. I let out a breath I haven’t realised I was holding in. I check around her room no empty bottles. Maybe things are getting better after all. I pack my bag and walk to school. I’ve been on time all week. The next morning I wake up. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Check on mam. I carefully open the door. I don’t see her. I open the door fully she isn’t there. No, no, no I say aloud this cannot,

be happening. Everything was going so well. My breath starts speeding up and the only thing I can hear is my heart banging against my chest. I’m late to school. It isn’t really my fault. I was checking the house for any clues to where she might have gone. Her pyjamas were on a heap on the floor which makes me think she got out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe she waited for me to go to bed. I ring her mobile, it goes straight to voicemail. As I go into first class late I mumble some excuse and sit at the back of the classroom. I don’t know why I even bothered going to school in the first place. It’s not like I’m going to be able to concentrate. All I think about is Mam. Where is she? Is she ok and why would she leave me without telling me not even a note on the kitchen table. The day goes by in a blur. The bell for home time pulls me out of my daze. It feels bad going back home to a quiet, cold empty house. I put on some comfy clothes and sit on the sofa. I start to overthink again worrying about all the different possibilities. I tried her phone again leaving a dozen voicemails and texts. I woke up with a crick in my neck. I must have fallen asleep sitting up. My stomach rumbles I forgot to eat dinner last night and possibly lunch. I don’t have time for breakfast now since I am already late for school and I haven’t even left the house yet! I can’t stand waiting in the

In the garden of my dreams I felt like a queen. All the big, tall trees Surrounded by leaves. I could search for different flowers For hours and hours. I could lay on the grass Run as fast as a flash. Get a ball and play pass And when it rains, have a splash! Climb up all the hills With all of my skills. After that walk a lap And then take a nap. In the garden of my dreams. Play with a cat Hope not to find a rat. Stare at the clouds There’s never many crowds. Feed all of the fish Then go make a wish In the garden of my dreams. Kaitlyn Fernades Calisto - 1 Slaney

It’s a great day in the park. And you're following me, just like last week. You call me over for a drink or two. Stuck somewhere somewhere new. I said follow, follow, did you really think I’m out of here. It was a cold winters night we fell asleep nearly straight away. When I called at your door you weren’t there but when I found you. Yea I said follow, follow , did you really think I’m out of here. Follow follow did you really think I’m out of here yea oh follow Denis Morrisey, 1 Foyle Click <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Z-ZUtPfPZ-eE1Qu1EF22sTHYbtY7B-91/view" style="color: unset;">here</a> for a video of Denis' song and music

Kyle Brady Stafford, 1 Bann

As I step in front of the class Shivers go up my spine The wind from the window grows cold As I look at the first line My vision goes blurry The words disappear What am I doing All the way up here All eyes are on me The pressure is on Silence..silence..silence My voice has gone Oh please never again ask. What a dreaded task! Maebh Guerin - 1 Foyle (1st Place Winner - Poetry Category)

As sirens wailed in the distance, Jack and Lily vanished into the night, the stolen artifact cradled in their hands. In the heart of Noir City, where crime and shadows intertwined, they were legends - the phantom thieves who danced through the darkness and emerged unscathed, leaving behind a trail of mystery and whispers. Story continues... Gordon Nesklada Terasmees, Transition Year

Rich tea biscuits, The treat that’s sweet. Crispy, buttery and delicious They can’t be beat! A perfect snack, a delicious bite An unmatched delight, Anytime, anyplace, any night. I love rich tea And you will too. If you don’t like them, Then the problem is you! Zara McCann Wynne - 1 Avoca

Polina Trofimova, 1 Foyle

The recycling bin noticed the small plastic rubbish bin on his right. The rubbish bin looked desperate to get out, so the recycling bin leapt forward in front of the door. As the door opened the rubbish bin sped off past the basketball court and up the hill out of the school grounds. As the bin met the main road, he noticed there were two ways he could go. He could go left towards the fork in the road, or he could go right towards the housing estate. He decided to go right towards the housing estate up the road when he discovered a shop that had the initials C, E, N, T, R, A. Eventually it made it to the shop and there was one of those automatic doors. But this one could detect anything from an elephant to a mouse. So, when he stepped in front of the door it opened. He walked in through the door and saw lots and lots of food out in the open. He saw chocolate to sausage rolls to bread to biscuits, it had everything! He began to explore the store walking through aisle after aisle. As he wandered through the shop the shopkeeper began to wonder if she was seeing things or not. Finally, as he exited the shop, he began to walk home, back to the school, back to its room and finally back to its spot under the whiteboard. After that day the bin never moved again. Daire Kenny - 1 Avoca (2nd Place Winner - Short Story Category)

Rain falling on the leaves Wind rushing through the trees Birds chirping here and there The smell of damp grass in the air The waterfalls whisper The breeze gets crisper Winter is coming The cold will be numbing Edie McPhillips - 1 Barrow

In a world of chaos and strife, I seek a place to find solace in life. A safe haven where worries might subside, Where I can be myself, with nothing to hide. A sanctuary where I can feel secure, A refuge from the storms that may occur. A place where peace and harmony reside, Where I can let go of all the feelings inside. It may be a cozy nook or a favourite spot, A person who truly helps me connect the dots. A field, a house, a quiet retreat, A place where I truly feel nothing but complete. Ashton Byrne – 1 Avoca (2nd Place Winner - Poetry Category)

Emma-Rose Butler, 1 Bann

Everything you can imagine is real. Pablo Picasso

Selection of Student Creative Writing and Art

Coláiste Chill Mhantáin 2023/2024

Cover image by Ruby-Kate Witter, 1 Slaney, Art Award (1st Place) Winner, 2024 All the images created by CCM students Copyright, Coláiste Chill Mhantáin, 2024

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