This is a piece written by Year 10, Austin Dalziel who has been in the Creative Writing Club.

The ring was my great grandmother's.  Her name was Evaline and her husband was Ernest Mckee. He was a part of the 1st Echelon (the first New Zealand force deployed in WW2), where he served as a gunner. While he was in Egypt in WW2, he bought a brooch that had an amethyst gem on it. He brought it back with him, transferring it from the ravages of war to the bliss of suburbia. Evaline was afraid she would lose it if she wore it, so she had the gem placed on her mother’s wedding band, combining the two gifts. The ring was eventually bequeathed to my mother Julie Dalziel, the youngest daughter in her family, and I'll try to continue the tradition if I have daughters or granddaughters of my own.

In a box lined with pale velvet it sits. Its golden band and vibrant amethyst gem shine beckoning any who view it. In an elegant dresser of oak, the ring container is stacked on top of countless gold and silver bracelets and necklaces each more unique than the last akin to a box of liquorice allsorts.

Austin Dalziel, Year 10