Wholeschool Portal | Home 19 August 2017


Bua na Scríbhneoireahta - Brenna (9C)

Mealladh chuid mhór díograiseoirí leabhar chun na leabharlainne don shéisiún léitheoireachta agus comhairle ar na meallaibh le Deirdre Sullivan agus Katherine Farmar, beirt údar chlúiteacha.. I ndiaidh do na húdáir cuid dá leabhar a léamh, d’fhreagair siad ceisteanna suimiúla faisnéiseacha ó na daltaí a raibh dúil mhór acu sa scríbhneoireacht.

Tháinig Micheál Mac Giolla Chunna, príomhoide na scoile, isteach chun na leabharlainne lena bhuíochas a ghabháil leis na húdáir as comhairle iontach a chur ar dhaltaí Choláiste Feirste. Ní sin an t-aon fháth a raibh Mícheál i láthair, áfach. Bhí an príomhoide ansin le duais a bhronnadh ar dhalta Bhliain 9. D’éirigh le Brenna (9C), duais shármhaith a bhaint ar na mallaibh ag an chomórtas Drewett (Comórtas Leabhar na Sé Chontae), don scéal a scríobh sí dar teideal ‘Violet’. Bhí David Torrens, úinéir an tsiopa No Alibis agus Stuart Neville a scríobhann úrscéalta bleachtaireachta ina moltóirí. Roghnaíodh Brenna agus cailín eile mar chomhbhuaiteoirí an chomórtais (amach as seachtó scéal san iomlán).  Mar dhuais, cuireadh fáilte roimpi agus roimh a teaghlach dul chuig an siopa le bualadh leis an taibheoir - file, ceoltóir rap nó údar! Is mór an onóir dúinn gur bhain Brenna an comórtas sin de thairbhe a cuid scríbhneoireachta. Léiríonn seo go bhfuil bua an Bhéarla mar aon leis an Ghaeilge ag daltaí Choláiste Feirste. Comghairdeas leat, a Bhrenna.

Seo chugaibh scoth an scéil a scríobh Brenna:


Evanna ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Why was she being chased when they had the whole class to choose from? She swerved to avoid colliding with some other students.

“You can’t run forever, Eva,” one voice called tauntingly. Evanna shook her head to clear it and ignored the voice.

“Eva, Eva, run as fast as you can, they’ll get you eventually, no matter how fast you are!” Another voice shouted spitefully. They said the word “fast” sarcastically, trying to make her believe she wasn’t quick enough to escape.

Luck wasn’t on her side at all today. She tripped when her lace came undone. The three who were chasing her circled around her, smirking down at her.

“We knew we’d get you,” one said, a girl with ginger hair and freckles, her face thin and pale.

“Little Eva Williams, all alone with no one to help her!” Another chided, a boy with black hair and bright green eyes.

“Poor girl,” another tutted, her voice full of fake sympathy. Evanna glared at them and stood up. They looked surprised, but they blocked her path so she couldn’t run.

“You’ll be sorry you ever teased me,” she hissed, and she saw their eyes widen. She knew her eyes were turning purple, almost violet, really. They started backing away quickly, but Evanna raised her hand and they were frozen in place. Then, she shot a blue-purple beam of light from her hand, and the three were turned the exact colour of the light, just before they disappeared into thin air.

After a few seconds, her eyes went back to their normal hazel colour, and she lowered her hand slowly. She hadn’t sent them anywhere dangerous or particularly far away. She had just sent them back to school.

They had chased her into the city centre, and she had led them down a series of side streets, until they had ended up in this alley, litter all around and puddles on the ground, from the broken drain pipes of the buildings either side.

Evanna’s power only came when she was angry, sad, worried or in trouble, like just now. She went through the story of her power again as she walked through the city centre to the bus stop.

She was swimming in the lake on holiday with her family. She thought the underwater plant was pretty; it was the most vibrant violet colour she’d ever seen. She reached out to touch it, and she felt a stinging sensation in her fingers. It spread up her arm, shoulder, along her neck, up her cheek and finally to her eyes.

A flash of blue-purple-violet light could be seen from the surface, but one could convince oneself that it was a trick of the light, the sun reflecting off the surface of the water.

Evanna swam to the surface, gasping for air. She looked around for her brother and sister, or even her parents. No one was around, she was alone by the lake, completely shocked and confused by what just happened.

From then on, she had had this power, all from that little plant she didn’t know the name of, nor had she seen it again in the lake, no matter how hard or how many times she looked.

She handed her money to the bus driver, and sat down at the front, staring at the window just as it began to rain. She watched the drops race each other down the glass until the wind blew them away. Evanna knew questions would be asked in school tomorrow, but for now she couldn’t care less. She was happy to sit here and watch the rain.

Until she was home, she was worry free. It was worse at home, but for now she wouldn’t think about that.

The raindrop she watched won the race. It brought a small smile to her face, because for once she had won. And that never happened, not for Evanna Williams.

She was just the youngest Williams child, a family that never got a break, or was always causing trouble.

But not Evanna. She was the only Williams that could say, “I’m a victim.” But she never did say it. It was her little secret.