Osnovna škola Vladimir Nazor Budinščina

Već treću godinu zaredom, udruga HUPE (Hrvatsko udruženje profesora engleskog) organizirala je natjecanje u pisanju kratke priče na engleskom jeziku pod imenom ,,HUPE in Storyland - 3rd National Writing Competition." Na natjecanju su mogli sudjelovati učenici iz cijele Hrvatske i to od 5. do 8. razreda osnovne škole te srednjih škola. Među stotinama pristiglih priča u kategoriji osmih razreda, koje su morale sadržavati od 1000-2000 riječi, odličan rezultat postigla je priča ,,Letter to the Moon", rad učenice 8. razreda Matične škole, Petre Jambrečić, koja je ostvarila 45 od ukupnih 57 bodova.

Priče iz svih kategorija koje su zadovoljile stroge kriterije natjecanja bit će objavljene u posebnoj knjizi. Čestitamo Petri i mentorici Ani Bahat!

Petrinu priču pročitajte pod OPŠIRNIJE.

Letter to the Moon

Her eyes were sea even though they are black. I melted in them. Her hands were the warmest and her touches the gentlest. I was her Sun. And she was my Moon. She kept the seas in her eyes, and in her laughter carried the undertones of summer. Once, during our night walks along the coast, we observed the reflection of the sky on the crystal surface of the sea. Or rather – the glare of the Moon. „When you look up at the sky, do you see the universe?“ I asked. „No. I can't see the universe,“ she replied. „What do you see?“ „I don't know. I love looking at the Moon. It has some charms of its own. If I wasn't a man, I would definitely be the Moon,“ she said. „Why the Moon?“ I wanted to know. „I imagine the stars as a loud mass of people. The Moon is more like a quiet man left alone,“ she explained, „but you're not alone.“ Four months later, the Moon became my only light in this world. One of those that haven't  gone yet. She left us one sultry night when June dies and August is born. It was almost midnight and the night sky was picturesque. The transition from black to dark blue was the background for the full Moon; the night sky so clear that you could almost see every crater. The Moon, a brilliant yellowish-white color, seemed larger than usual. Millions of stars were scattered behind him, a few large, but mostly a multitude of small ones. The embrace of the cold wind caressed my face, and all I could feel was sadness and helplessness. Just like the feeling of floating in the ocean on this little raft, with nothing to tie to. She always comforted me with her words. „Imagine that life is a book. One page is clothed in gray and darkness, and each subsequent page carries the most beautiful shades of the brightest colors. But if you give up on the first gloomy page, you'll never see the bright ones.“ She would encourage me. I missed the echoes of her smile, her kindness, her love. So I started looking for her. I looked for her in empty fields and city lights, in passing cars, on winding roads and shooting stars until I found her in my dreams. The warmth I felt inside then overpowered the cold and rain outside. Since then she visits me often. I know she'll be here again looking at me with her dark black eyes and holding my hand all night like I held hers. I would like to walk together once more along the seafront and build sand castles, to listen to the sea organ and watch the coral light. Although she is no longer with me, I believe she is in a place like heaven. In a place that looks like the home of majestic angels with beautiful white feathered wings. I imagine them wearing long, flowing silky white dresses, their golden curls falling as they dance through the misty valleys of the sky with her. I will still need a lot of time and strength to collect all the memories of her, hug them tightly and store them where the memories are stored. I often wonder if I will meet her again tonight wandering through our dream palaces and gardens of eternal peace. To have her. To love her. To fight together against forgetting and missing. Somewhere between heaven and earth.  Me – too awake to sleep. She – too tired to wake up. Between tranquility and restlessness. We love each other in this story. In my words and her silence. In every written letter and every marking point. She, my Moon. I, her Sun.

To my dear beloved grandmother.

This story was inspired by my grandmother who passed away a few years ago. She always called me her Sun, so I wanted to mention that by using the comparison of the Sun and the Moon. The dialogues that I also mention are made up to show how she always inspired me and was there for me. We had a really special relationship and I often dreamed od her. She lived in Zadar for a while and we often went to her place in the summer. When I thought of her, I always thought of warm nights by the sea. I tried to describe my feelings towards her and our memories as best as possible. I hope you enjoyed this story because I put a lot of effort into it.