Sitting on a hill, milking cows, churning milk
Mother below me is waiting for the four seasons to go,
Suddenly, I hear a squeal,
I run outside and see
Viking Ships! Come to take our land!
I sprint, below with my brave dog following me,
barking as we go,
I finally get to our hut
blood and wounds everywhere.
I hush my cries and see,
A viking stabbing mother in the heart,
she closes her eyes and fades away.
A tear rund down my face.
Vicking hands grab me so tightly
I say goodby to my birthplace.
Now, Im a slave, with no fight.


25 was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.


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