Picture Writing

As I walk up to the door, the lantern flickers in the night… the door creaks open. Are they waiting for me? I wander in. I look at my surroundings: Pictures, Ripped wallpaper, Moulded corners. And finally a flash drive. Not thinking at all, with my heart pumping out of my chest, I grab it. I run. Before they see me. Before I get caught. Before I get trapped.

I sprint down the road; and hop into my car. Drive off? I tried. I really did. The car just wouldn’t move. I hop out. I hop out to check what was wrong, but after that I can’t remember a thing. I really don’t. All I know nos is that i'm in a car. WIth… Anna? Why? She was my friend. At least I thought so.

I could trust her with anything, even with my key, to my … Anything. She betrayed me. She told me I was safe. At least I thought so. Nothing made sense.

Electornics

The Lantern

There I was. At home. In bed. In my snuggly bed. My snuggly, warm bed. But then I got out. But I didn’t. I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I Tori, or formally known as Torrance, Torrance Backsta, 15 years old, was awake, but not. I know, I know, ‘You can’t be awake And asleep, you creep’, atleast thats what I got told at school when it first started happening. I would dream, no it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare?

I was up a tree, no a tree that was cut down just under 300 years ago, a tree everyone ‘knows’ doesn’t exist. A tree with keys? Where am I? I would always ask, then scream apparently, and wake up in the middle of the park, where the tree used to be. This would happen every Tuesday, until Friday the 13th of May. 2016. Friday the 13th. I know that it wasn’t a Tuesday but that was the night, that night was different. I couldn’t go back. No matter how hard I would try.

So some history about this non-existent tree. It got cut down in 1831, the year of the murder. Murder of a girl by the name of Florence Baxter. And the tree, the tree i was in was her tree. In her backyard. Her backyard that after became a park. “If I die, the tree comes with me” She would say. But just after she died everyone, EVERYONE, started hanging keys on the tree. Goodness knows why. She must of had an obsession with keys or something. But my parents. My parents never told me one thing. One thing. That Florence Baxter’s, name was actually Florence Backsta. My Great Great Great Grandma Tori's, SISTER.

My dream. Or should I say reality type of nightmare. I went to sleep. To sleep, but didn’t wake up. No more torment at school about me being a creep. No more waking up in the park. No more nightmares? So in this dream, or nightmare, I am in a tree, and this lady, she wouldn’t be past the age of 25, comes upto me, and stands there, well more like sit, on the branch next to me. Now this lady isn’t the most attractive of them all, she needs to be introduced to makeup, jeez, but anyway next to me was the lantern, and I look at her, then the lantern, and then I look at her, then the lantern, and then I look at her, then the lantern, and then I look at her, then the lantern. This lady she doesn’t like me in the tree. This lady doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like the keys.

Matahiwi Marae Trip

Today all the year 8's of HNI went to Matahiwi Marae. We went to learn about all the wonderful things that have and will happened there. So to start off us, the Manuhiri, walked on from a Powhiri. Unlike last year, all the year 8's this year had to Hongi. Then we went to have some kai; Food. Once we all finished that we got split into 3 groups. My group went to the Whare Nui first, then the Wharekai, and then outside and learnt about Maui, and his family.
 

Sewing

During this term I have been doing sewing. I choose sewing as my elective, we have electives on 3rd and 4th period on fridays. During this time at electives I have been making a beauty bag, and a scrunchy(a type of hair tie). My bag has two contrasting colours of, red and black and white strips, yet the inside is going to be a french style. 

Where I'm from poem?

In class we have been writing where I'm from poems, except I wrote mine while I was in invercargill for marching(Like it says in the poem, sort of). This is my poem:

Where I’m From

I am from coffee mugs and hula hoops

I am from dirty tennis balls from under the house

And from my brothers Leah hee hoo song

I am from traveling and MKR

From masterchef and Limpy

I am from fudge slice and lasagne

From petrina and mike

I’m from Marching and Rugby

I am from 6 brothers teasing, 6 brothers loving and 6 brothers protection.

I am from dogs and cats, turtles and pigs, from chickens and ducks

I come from passion fruit and apples

I come from the 2 dianes that are my nanas

I come from the 2 mikes that are my dad and popa

I come from the hastings hospital

From 25 of february

I am from 2005

I am from fishing and baking

I am from sitting and cleaning

I am from a grandad who has ruined toenails

From reading books and being active

I am from the leaf that fell from the family tree.