Ganadores concurso literario en inglés del IES Valle del Cidacos en San Juan Bosco 2015

Los ganadores del concurso literario en inglés del IES Valle del Cidacos en San Juan Bosco 2015, fueron:

SWEETLAND

It could be y imagination but I got up with a strong smell of hot chocolate.
I looked through de window and I saw the houses were made of cookies and marzipan. My neighbours were small ginger dolls. The streets had sweet names like Bonbon Street, Sugar Street, Sweet Street, Biscuit Square…There was a fountain in front of my garden which sprayed cola, vanilla, chocolate milkshake and strawberry juice. I Lockheed at the sky and I saw that the clouds were made of cotton sugar and the big mountains were covered of ice cream. Besides, cars were made of turron and didn’t pollute, they used sweets instead of oil.
Amazed, I realized that I wasn’t real, I was a marzipan doll. I started crying, but my tears weren’t salty, they were like chocolate props. I was scared and I wanted to shout, but my mouth was closed. I listened to some knocking on my bedroom’s door, the door opened and it was my mum who brought me my breakfast. On the tray, there was a chocolate cup that smelt really strong.
Nothing was like I imagined, I came back to reality which is not as sweet as my dream.
María Madorrán, 1º ESO E.

It could be my imagination, but I’m sure, it was him. I felt good when I saw him, but also I was scared. I couldn’t understand this. I saw him cutting the grass of my school! I knew him very well. He liked it, it was his life. He got up early all mornings and he went to his field. He spent hours and hours there. He returned home when the sun went out. He loved me a lot, I was little and I didn’t understand. To be honest, I liked it and I hoped that it was true and that it wasn’t my imagination, but I knew that it was impossible. He died one year ago and if it was true, it would be a ghost.
If I had told him, he would have told me that my imagination had tricked me, he didn’t believe in ghosts, but in his last years of life he also saw ghosts. The disease tricked him, the disease that he had in his mind and his mind was guilty of that. In his last months he forgot my name, how to walk, how to talk and the things that are forgotten when the Alzheimer has already progressed too. My grandpa also had Parkinson and it made it more difficult.
The truth is that nobody has seen him and the most possible is that it was my imagination and simply, my mind is resigned to forget him. But it is somehow true because he is alive, always in my heart, because I know that I always need him, he will be with me. I would have liked to know him more, but I am proud to have been his granddaughter and therefore, every day I think of him and what he would like me to do.
I always pay tribute to him, because he has gone with a part of me. But I want to remember him with tears of joy and not with sadness, because he was a great guy.
Finally, it was my imagination, but he is always present in my heart.
María Hernández, 2º ESO B.

It could be my imagination, or someone was seeing me from one of the windows of the old house. This happened yesterday, I was coming back home when I passed near the house and I saw a shadow that was observing me from an open window of the attic. Then I decided I’d enter to see what was happening inside. The house was surrounded by a gloomy atmosphere. This morning I’ve talked to my friends but when I‘ve told them what happened with the shadow, many of them said that they wouldn’t go with me but they had a lot of curiosity so finally they accepted.
We decided to enter at 4:00 p.m. because my friends wouldn’t go in the dark. We selected the person who was the first to enter to the house at random and then the rest of us entered. Except for some open windows, darkness filled most of the house. Luckily, I had brought a torch with me, so I turned it on and of course I had to go first.
The first floor was a huge hall and in the middle there were wooden stairs that produced a frightening crackle, we climbed them up. On the second floor we could discover the dining room; it had some stairs on the right side that led to the attic. My friends didn’t want to go up so I went alone and trembling. While I was climbing the stairs I heard a strange noise and I went down very fast, but my friends also heard a noise down and they went up, so we fell rolling down.
Suddenly we found, in front of us, an old man wearing old clothes. Everyone thought that we weren’t in danger so we decided to sit and listen to the old man. He had celebrated large feasts and meetings with great artists like him in the house. He said he was a great violinist of his time. We thought he was a crazy tramp but we heard his story with a huge enthusiasm. It was late and we had to leave the house. When I was closing the main door I saw a picture, the man of the picture had an incredible resemblance to the tramp, he smiled and I even had the impression that he winked at me. Or… could it be my imagination?
David Sota, 3º ESO B.

WOLVES

It could be my imagination, but I am sure that my brother was a wolf. We were living in an old house near a forest, there were many legends that our mum told us when we were children, and she always reminded us that the forest was a risky place. Tim, who was my twin, was adventurous and fearless, but I was the opposite of him. One day while I was sleeping, I heard noises that came from the first floor. I got up and I went downstairs, I could see that the door was opened and Tim was entering into the forest. I felt frightened, but I decided that I should follow him; the forest was a dangerous place. One hour later he arrived at one huge lake, I was hidden behind a thick tree and he couldn´t see me. He took his clothes off and suddenly he became a wolf, a pack of starving and skinny wolves came around him. My brother seemed like the pack´s head, he was stocky and strong, his coat was chestnut brown and his eyes were of an enigmatic yellow. They started howling and they got into the darkness of the dangerous forest. I became home, I was horrified. Tim was a wolf! I went to bed, and I had nightmares where my brother and the pack were killed by hunters.
Next day, when I got up, I looked through the window, it was breaking, and the wind was cold. Tim hadn´t arrived home, and I was worried. I took my coat and I walked into the forest. When I was near the lake I saw blood in the mud and five wolves were dead, something terrible had happened, and my brother was in danger. I heard a voice behind me, it was Tim. He looked at me sadly and he told me that he saw how two hunters had killed them, he moved closer to a beautiful wolf and while he was stroking her, he told me that she was his partner, and the others were their babies. He burst into tears and I hugged him.
Today is Tim´s funeral; I think that he died from sadness. We have decided to bury him in the garden. Tonight while I was reading Tim´s diary, I saw two yellow eyes reflected in my window.
Irene Madorrán, 4º ESO C. 

WHY ME?

Why me?, Why do I have t olive in this moment and in this place? I wonder who decides where and when we live, also who chooses how the world works. If it is someone greater than us, it is selfish and heartless; if it is by chance, I’m not lucky…
One day, I started to think (an activity that a lot of people forget to practice) and left my ignorance behind, I realized…
Life isn’t fair, no, it isn’t, it is hard, really hard… I don’t understand why some people have everything while other people don’t have anything, they are alone and no one helps them. Is this reasonable? No, it isn’t. But now, after my thought I know people who have everything are ambitious. And the main problem is that they have power and with it they can decide who can speak, who can give their opinions, they have power enough to shut up the part of the humanity who have other ideas, ideas that are different, ideas that want a better world for everyone, ideas that can change this stupid situation.
This group of humans who want to progress try to be heard, but they are silenced by a ‘big brother’ and just a few people can listen to the silence.
Why me? Why these thoughts come to my head? There are so many situations that aren’t right…everybody told me that the human being was good, intelligent and so on, but now I’m not sure…I realize that we are egocentric, evil. We start wars and a lot of people lose their lives just because of money, and nobody cares about it, maybe because we don’t know about this problem or because we don’t want to know, o maybe because we are entertained and we don’t have time to think and try to help other people. It’s sad.
This conflict has consequences too: violence, poverty, destruction, pain…And the worst thing is that governments spend time, money and strength in weapons, wars, and the disadvantages that it brings instead of building a better place to live. It is nonsense…
And this is just the beginning, why me? Why do I have to see injustice? Why do I have to be the spectator of inequality? When I look into my memory I realize that a woman is treated different to a man, that the black girl doesn’t receive the same opportunities as the white one, that the noisy boy with jeans, a sweatshirt and piercings in his ears isn’t addressed as the elegant man in an expensive suit and a tie. Even if we say that everybody has the same rights, is this just true? You don’t have to be very clever to know the answer, you only have to observe around. You will see that most of us judge people without knowing who they are, we value for appearance and our prejudices do the rest. Where is equality? Maybe we still have to fight for it…
…Why me? Why do I have to feel the pain of the people who are suffering because I’m thinking of them? The problem is even worse, I have discovered that our planet is suffering too, however we don’t do anything to protect it, instead o that, we are destroying all the life that is on it. We kill animals as a way of entertainment, we damage forests, we pollute the ocean, the air and the ground. Nothing is safe on Earth. Our green planet is getting grey, and it’s our fault, although we don’t feel guilty.
Why me? Why me? I don’t want to live like this! I would like a place where people could be happy, without pain..I’m fed up with everyone, sick of all these lies! I’m fed up with injustices! Where are freedom, dignity and love? There isn’t a lot of this, even though we are on time to change, but we have to shout, we have to show our good intentions! Everybody has a dream and we have to strive for it. We can get a better world, so why don’t we fight for it? Now is the moment and this is the perfect place. Let’s build a place with no violence, no hunger and no poverty, a place with dreams, opportunities and justice. We just have to help each other, forget our selfishness. People should think about the situations and the possibility of a new lifestyle for most people, not for a few.
Clara Ochoa, 1º Bachillerato.

WHY ME?
“United States of America” there wasn’t anything else on the envelope. I could not imagine what was going on. I read the letter:
“Dear Ms. Smith,
The department of army of the United States of America, notify, that Mr. Smith is now in a hospital in Iraq, due to a serious pain in his leg.
Yours faithfully
Mr. Jackson.”
My eyes were full of tears and my hands were shaking, I could feel my heart beating as a drummer in a music festival, “Connor, my Connor, why?
Suddenly I reacted; I decided to ask for an interview with “Mr. Jackson” in order to know something more about my Connor.
I was sitting in the waiting room, when a young smiling boy took me into a small office full of USA flags and eagles everywhere. He offered me a cup of coffee, and he sat facing me.
Well, good morning Ms.. Ms…
Ms Smith,
Oh, Ms Smith, what is the issue of this meeting?
My Connor is in a hospital in Iraq…
Your Connor, I mean Connor Smith, your…
My husband. I came here to ask for more information about his health.
I don’t think that it is a good idea, I mean, he is in a war, there circumstances change every minute, perhaps now he is in the camp with the others or maybe he is dead, it is quite difficult to know this type of things, as a consequence, please, follow me out, I have lots of work.
He closed the door, without taking into account my complaints.
“It can’t be like this” I thought, I went home and there was another letter, this time on the envelope it was written “Ms. Smith”.
“Congratulations Ms. Smith you are waiting for a child”
Nine months later, Connor junior was crying in his cot and I was singing him a lullaby. Connor was a lovely child with blue eyes and golden curly hair as his father, he loved playing with electric trains or planes, and we enjoyed a lot going out with friends or just going for a walk with me. He was 12 years old when I had to explain him that the man he thought was his father wasn’t it.
Five years later, I got up as a usual Sunday, but there was a letter in the kitchen’s table.
“Dear mum,
I left home to find my true father, I hope you understand me, but I can’t live without knowing him, I will go to Iraq and ask for him there.
Love, Connor”
Definitely I don’t like letters.
However this day I wrote this letter to explain how I feel now years after, when I am crying on a tomb, bringing flowers to them everyday.
Connor, my child, my little child, found his father, but he decided to take revenge, fighting in a war, in the same war his father had died some time before.
Now I am alone in this dark place, asking me the same question again and again.
WHY ME?
Alejandra Pola, 2º Bachillerato.