Στήλη: Literature

MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS

By Georgia Gika & Helen Koliadima

Καταγραφή

We are not keen readers but we were fascinated after reading “Murder on the Orient Express”. It is a mystery story set on a train written by Agatha Christie.

First of all the book is about the murder of the millionaire Samuel Edward Ratchet. It is set in France at the end of 20th century. This book is a book for all ages and especially for those who love crime books. The book is a well-written book which evokes different emotions in every single scene.

It is set in a train which has stacked in a snow bank. Poirot, the famous detective and the main character of the story, hears, that time, a loud thump next door. The next morning Poirot is informed that Ratchet has been murdered and the murder is still aboard the train. Poirot first examines the dead body and compartment. Ratchet has 12 stub wounds. A piece of paper with the name “Armstrong” on it, which Poirot found, helped him to figure out who Ratchet really is and why someone would want to murder him. A few years back a man named Casetti, kidnapped a three-year old girl, Daisy Armstrong. Casetti collected a ransom from the wealthy Armstrong family but killed the girl anyways. Poirot concludes that Ratchet is Casetti. Then Poirot starts interviewing the passengers and conductors on the train. And this is when the action begins.

To sum up, we highly recommend this book. It appeals to people who like quality mystery stories.

«Murder on the Orient Express»

 By Fotini Balkamou

 images

Christmas is coming. So it’s a good opportunity to read a nice literary book during the Christmas holidays.

 

Personally, I prefer mystery books and there is nothing better than reading a book by the famous English author, Agatha Christie. My favourite book is «Murder on the Orient Express». Of course, most of you probably know it. But for those who do not know this book, here is a short presentation of its plot.

 

The story takes place in the 1940s. The famous Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot boarded the Orient Express train. On a dark and cold night, a horrible murder is committed inside the train. Thus, Poirot is called upon to investigate the case and find the culprit. In this attempt, he discovers the connection of the victim with a well-known case of abduction of a little girl in America two years ago. The suspects and the questions are many. Will the detective manage to find the killer?

 

A winter mystery story that will fascinate you!

 

Butterfly Basics

By Spyridoula Giannika

κατάλογος

Cho always loved visiting the forest near her house, early in the morning when she could see all those beautiful butterflies gently flapping their wings under the soft wakening of the sun. Cho*, what a beautiful name!

An early morning, while Cho and her nana where out tending their small garden, they noticed some new faces in the neighbourhood. It turned out that a family of foreigners had recently moved in. Later that day, they decided to go pay a visit to them and welcome them to the neighbourhood. They were a very welcoming family and turns out they had two kids around Cho’s age, Timothy and Elizabeth. Cho ended up becoming very good friends with both of them. She loved hearing their stories about their homeland and how different life is there from here.

Soon Cho decided to take Eli with her and share her favorite spot in the forest, where they could watch the early summer sun awake.

It was an early Sunday morning, what was Timothy doing awake? He had heard his sister leaving and out of curiosity, especially when he saw Cho, he decided to follow them for a while and then try scare them, a classic prankster…right? But they kept on going, walking further and further into the forest until they finally stopped and sat down on some blankets they had brought with them. They seemed so happy. What does Eli have that he doesn’t? Shouldn’t it be him there with Cho? He was frustrated, confused, hurt, what he saw wasn’t right.

Around a year later, Eli announced that she would be visiting some friends back home therefore, she had to leave for a couple of days. During that time, Cho’s nana passed away from old age, her last thoughts went to her granddaughter as she would be leaving her behind, alone. Eli hearing this, rushed back to Cho only to find her brother’s empty words. He says after her grandma’s passing Cho moved away to live with her aunt in Tokyo. He urged his sister to move on as Cho would never come back. Little did Eli know that there was no aunt but Timothy had made sure to take away Cho from her by any means necessary. However, Eli did try searching for Cho but couldn’t find anything.

Rumor has it that all the butterflies mysteriously disappeared from the forest that same day. And there is only but a shadow of a young woman left behind, who wanders every morning around the forest, sad yet angry, mourning for what was taken from her.

 

“While touching a butterfly’s wings may not kill it immediately, it could potentially speed up the fading of the colors on the butterfly’s wings, wiping out patterns that are used to protect the butterfly from predators. Touching the butterfly’s wings could potentially result in a shorter than expected life.”

-         Butterfly Basics

 

*The name Cho is primarily a female name of Japanese origin that means Butterfly.

Also, a Korean name meaning «beautiful.»

 

https://www.butterfly-ridge.com/butterfly-basics/2015/4/27/butterfly-basics-if-you-touch-a-butterflys-wings-will-it-die (quote)

 

“THE PEOPLE WE SEEK IN OUR LIVES”

By JOANNA LIVIERATOU

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A short story

Suddenly everything went black. She didn’t have the faintest idea about where she was. “What on earth happened?” she wondered. She looked around. It felt like a terrible dream, an everlasting nightmare. There was no sign of her family or her friends. Her friends… “That’s it!” she thought. “I was with a group of girls from university. But,” she looked around once more, “how did I end up here?” Her head felt numb and she started trembling. “It’s quite cold in here…I better find a way out of this stupid place, as soon as possible.”

But of course it’s always easier said than done. The young girl walked and walked, until her feet started hurting, she was calling for her parents without a pause, without even noticing that her voice was slowly becoming weaker and weaker. Or maybe… she was completely aware of the situation she was in. Nevertheless, she had no intention of letting fear stop her. She was determined to find a way back to her family.

“But… what about my friends?”, she suddenly asked herself. “Shouldn’t I be looking for them, too?” She stopped walking. It was as if time stood still. “You know they were never really your friends”, a voice in her head answered out of the blue. “They never wanted you for your true self. They just liked to make fun of you.” Then it came to her. It was like a pile of memories jumped into her head; memories with her so-called “friends”. “But wait…I don’t feel happy or excited, when I think of them.”

Before she could realize what was happening in her head, another bunch of memories and personal moments “jumped in”. But this time, it was different. Now she felt light-hearted and joyful. Pictures of her parents and her old friends came into view. How she missed them all. “Everything has indeed changed since high school”, she thought with nostalgia. “I should have dedicated my time to the people that genuinely loved me and cared for me”, she realized. “I have to make things right”.

And as these words came out of her mouth, this awful place she was in became illuminated and far more warm than before…

For the First Time

By Ioanna Doukouri & Vassiliki Aggelopoulou

roz_feggari

Someone someday got afraid

of their shadow for the first time

And someone first looked

at the mountains with awe.

Someone got surprised

by the warmth of the fire

And someone hid

 from the echo of their voice.

Someone sobbed leaving their family

And someone laughed

splashing their face with water.

Someone ran to reach the setting sun

And someone sang with tears

under the moonlight.

 

Someone someday wrote for the first time.

A Usual School Day

  By Andriopoulos Theodore, Gourdoupis Panagiotis, Kantzaris John & Kollias John

 1

I wake up at around 8:00! Another day is beginning and I’m getting ready for school. As it begins at 9:00, I have time to have a good breakfast and wake up well. I arrive at school and get a good look at it! It is a large red-coloured structure made out of concrete and steel, and it has glass panels in the front side to use the sun for heat and light. The building is surrounded by a wonderful garden with colourful flowers that the students have planted and still take care of. The school block also contains the gym and an area with grass where there are always some kids playing football.

 

When I walk in, I see a fistful of delightful teachers and the janitor waving at me with a positive vibe. I walk through the corridor and I check my schedule. It looks like my first class that I am attending is the maths class so I go straight to the classroom and I leave my stuff in my desk. The class is a very colourful and cosy place with the sunlight passing through every crevice of every window. I leave the classroom and I join my friends in the cafeteria …seems that we have 5 more minutes before the lesson begins so we start talking and the bell rings. It seems that I have to join my class. I say goodbye to my friends and I walk towards the class. The lesson begins! The teacher is really happy today…

 

The second lesson is History. The teacher has found a really interesting documentary about the Peloponnesian war and she looks eager to show it to us. Afterwards, we have to write a short paragraph about what we remember from the video. To my surprise, most of the students remember a lot of things and the teacher looks satisfied. She then gives us the task to make a project, individually or in groups. Then, the ring bells and I go to the school restaurant to eat something since it is the largest break, lasting 20 minutes.

 

    It’s time to take a break and the bell rings for lunch. I walk towards the cafeteria and I open my lunch box. I have a sandwich with salami and a chocolate bar. Because the system allows you to choose the lessons you attend, it is only natural that there will be some gaps in the school schedule. The third hour I have no lesson, so I go to a computer room to start the project in History. There are already many other students with similar intentions but fortunately I find a computer and I manage to complete a significant portion of the project by the end of the third hour.

 

 The fourth hour I have computers. This month we are making a website using the HTML programming language. I have decided to make a site about the education systems around the world. I prefer to write it here because being in school gives me ideas and the computers are really good with a stable Internet connection. Plus, my classmates are always willing to help me, especially in the actual coding.

 

In the break I go to a computer to quickly check my e-mail, but I have nothing interesting. I check my schedule and I see that I have chemistry so I head straight to the lab where the lesson takes place. It is a relatively small class full of instruments, tubes and liquids! We are conducting an experiment and we have to be precise with the elements and their amounts. The goal is to watch how certain elements react with oxygen and the whole class is eager to find out. The results were very interesting and everyone looks excited with what they have just experienced.

 

The last hour is the foreign languages lesson, and English for me. During the break we all have a book in our hand because we are certain that we will write a test since in under a month, I and most of the students will give the state’s B level English exam. When the lesson begins the teacher gives a piece of paper to each of us. Unsurprisingly, we are writing a test. I had studied so I go really well, or at least that’s what I think. Following the test the teacher turns on the class computer and we start a listening exercise. Unfortunately, the sound isn’t the best but it is still clear enough.

 

           Although the schedule is over, most students have a club afterwards. A club is like an extra-curricular lesson but you are free to choose any club you want. They are dedicated to a subject or to sports or music and most importantly they are optional. I have personally chosen the astronomy club while my friend is going to his football club training. Next to the astronomy club, the drama club is rehearsing for the Christmas play and the music club is assisting them. Today we are going to observe Jupiter using our high-tech telescopes. Next weekend we have planned to go to the cinema and watch the latest Star Wars film. I am looking forward to it.

 

    When the club meeting finishes, I go to my locker and collect my things ready to go back home and relax since I have no homework. My only task is to create an app with my friend. We have been working on it for the last few days. It has been another exciting day at school.

 Lourdes-High-School-7xQdpG

A sudden sound wakes me up in the middle of the night. It’s a pity because I was having a great dream. I was a student in a beautiful school and everyday had something new to offer me. I go back to sleep. After some time the alarm clock rings.  Another day is beginning and I’m getting ready. I have time to have a good breakfast and wake up well. I get into the car and arrive at school. As I turn round the corner, I get a good look at it! It is a large red-coloured structure made out of concrete and steel and it has glass panels in the front side to use the sun for heat and light. It’s a beautiful building. “Have a nice day at school, son” I tell my son with love and I continue driving to work smiling.

 2

 

   

 

 

 

Three poems

cloudy_landscape

By Niki Doukouri (A Class)

 

THE SUN

From time to time there are

Shiny stars in a silvery night sky

The moon is in desperate tears and

I do not even know… I never knew…

Why do not they see? Are they blind?

Is it all just in my mind?

From time to time there are

Glorious celebrations at Victory Hall

My shadow is sneaking around the

Cold mausoleum nearby

I am never there, never inside

Is it their fault or mine?

From time to time there are

Evanescent sparks of light in me

Fleeting memories and dreams

Bright days and tender dawns

Then I am taken again hostage by the dark

Are these visions just a life that does not come back?

From time to time there are

Bleak winters without faint winter light

I am abandoned in my hollow nights

I am just a human, I yearn for love

I only wonder, although I will never ask

Will I one day meet the sun?

 

the sun

 

 

A WAY TO GO

Dense clouds followed by the

Breath of a dead sky

My solitude is slithering beside me

I am left to walk in the night

It is a long way to go

Through the dark

Once they let me love

The fierce sea, the sharp cliffs above

Now they took them again away

I am left to walk in the night

It is a hard way to go

Through the dark

The wind is whispering old curses

No stars, no compassion and

No compass for me

I am left to walk in the night

It is a long and hard way to go

That leads to the light

 

a way to go

 

 

DAYDREAMING

The lines of your beautiful hand

The old port, the pier of our city

The sun blinding me in the afternoon

A swallow sitting on some wires this morning

The aspen I can see from your window

Your laughter I heard today

“A sunset of July;

I lay in the waves

Looking at the sky above

I saw you up there, too…

A flower that bloomed by mistake

The white curtains of that house

The basil of the little garden

The grass, the smell of damp soil

One afternoon I was walking under the pine trees

Another time I had my eyes closed

I listened to the sea moaning beneath me

It was a night with so many stars…”

The shade of an olive tree in the noon

A seagull that was flying, then left

A melody that in my depths is carved

A verse that flows inside my lips

That dark part of your eyes

Something I remembered and

A tear ran on my face;

A smile was drawn on my face;

I felt something new beating in my heart

 

daydreaming

A bookworm-friendly article (?)

By Vicky Tsimbouki & Demeter Frysira (B class)

αρχείο λήψης (1)

We all know for a fact that books are a fantasy gateaway, but yet, they are some of the most underestimated loyal friends in the world.
In an era where luscious lips and sculpture-looking abbs are considers life goals, there is neither the money, nor the interest for a humble book investment. This makes me wonder whether people, to whom literature is indifferent, feel like they are missing something. Do they realise that they replace knowledge and culture with unworthy material? Probably not, because they see what they want to see. They become guilible, as they do not practise their critical thinking and they do not open their minds to new possibilities.
This is not an article about the degradation of the value of books as, clearly, we are talking about a generation of degenerate beauty queens.

One Punch Man

By Mike Xenos (B class)

One Punch-Man (ワンパンマン WanPan-Man) is a Japanese webcomic and manga series created by ONE. The webcomic started in July 2009, with more than 10 million total views and 20,000 hits per day. Sheuisha’s Young Jump Next picked up the series, as well as commissioned Yusuke Murata, (known for Eyeshield 21) to draw the series with the original writer, ONE.

Καταγραφή

 Saitama (サイタマ, Saitama) is the main protagonist of OnePunch-Man and the most powerful hero alive. Saitama faces a self-imposed existential crisis, as he is now too powerful to gain any thrill from his deeds.

He registered with the Hero Association as a C-Class and eventually made a big leap to become a B-Class Superhero and is tasked to defend Z-City against Mysterious Beings. Under the Hero Association, he is given the name Caped Baldy (ハゲマント, Hagemanto).

 Καταγραφή1

 Appearance

Saitama is a bald, ordinary looking man with a thin, but well-built physique and of average height and weight. He claims to have lost all of his hair suddenly and prematurely as a result of the toll taken on his body by his intense hero training. Three years before the story line, Saitama had spiky, black hair and brown eyes that are usually represented by dots.

Saitama is usually deliberately drawn in a simpler style than all the other characters, with an elliptical shaped head and only a simple mouth and eyes. When drawn in a more serious style with more detail, Saitama is revealed to have sharp features, dangerous looking eyes, and a chiseled musculature. Even his posture undergoes a metamorphosis, with a slack posture and sloping elbows when lax, while possessing a straightened posture and squared shoulders when serious. His costume is a plain yellow jumpsuit with a short zipper at the collar and a belt. The costume is finished out by a red ensemble of boots, gloves and a white or red cape.

Καταγραφή2

 Genos (ジェノス, Jenosu), is a 19 year old cyborg and the disciple of Saitama. He is always aiming to become stronger and fights for justice. Under the Hero Association, he is given the name Demon Cyborg (鬼サイボーグ, Oni Saibōgu) and is registered as an S-Class hero, at rank 14.

 Καταγραφή3

Appearance

Genos has an entirely mechanical body in the model of a handsome young man. His face and ears look like that of a normal human, made of an artificial skin material, and his eyes have black sclera with yellow irises. He has spiky blond hair. His eyebrows are usually portrayed as blond, but in the anime they are brown. He also has pierced ears. Genos wears normal street clothes and sleeveless tops and hoodies in order to allow his arms to transform without hassle. He has been shown to have many different sets of arms, with varying abilities and strengths. Notable examples of his various «arms» are those he used in his sparring match against Saitama[2] and the arms he equipped to combat the meteor[3]. Sometimes the arm sets he uses create a metal framing around his face, like those he used against the meteor and the Sea King.

 

Plot

The story takes place in the fictional Japanese metropolis of City Z. The world is full of strange monsters that mysteriously appear and cause disasters. Saitama, the protagonist, is an incredibly powerful hero who can easily defeat the monsters or other villains with a single punch. However, due to his overwhelming strength, Saitama has become bored with his powers and is constantly trying to find stronger opponents who can present a challenge to him.

On his adventures, he meets new friends, enemies, and his own disciple, the cyborg Genos, and joins the Heroes Association in order to gain official recognition as a hero. Despite defeating many strong monsters that even the Heroes Association’s top members are unable to defeat, Saitama struggles to gain respect. Most people look down on him due to his plain physical appearance, and some accuse him of being a counterfeit hero. Only a small number of individuals recognize his incredible talent and humility towards others.

The shadow of the Hat Man

By Dimitris Gerogiannis (B class)

800px-Shadowman-3

Hello there! I am Jim and I love myths, urban legends, paranormal stories and chronicles of unexplainable mysteries and phenomena. As a kid, I actively sought books and articles on the topic, no matter how vaguely related. 20 years on, I still enjoy delving into the stories of the unknown. The difference being, 20 years ago I didn’t have access to the wonderful Word Web. These days, I literally have a world full of myths, legends and stories at my fingertips and so, I often indulge in long Google sessions, dedicated to geting as much information as I can. I am really intrigued by the unknown; it means that there are things yet to be discovered and mysteries to be solved.

 

It was during one of my many mystery binges, I came across the story of the Hat Man – a form of Shadow Person. I stumbled across the legend of the Shadow People completely by accident, clicking through random links on Wikipedia. But it was the related article about the Hat Man which piqued my interest greatly. It roused a long dormant memory from within the depths of my mind. The following is an account of my encounter with what I now believe to be the Hat Man.

 

I don’t recall how old I was around 5 or 6 but it must’ve been quite late at night. My parents had retired for the night and the house was completely dark. The only source of light was the gentle wash of moonlight filtering through the thin curtains into my room. I was lying on the top bunk of the bunk bed my dad had made for us; the botom bunk was occupied by my younger brother Argy, who had been sleeping soundly for hours. It was nearly Christmas and I was laying awake, pondering the complexities of the world, something that has become a bit of a habit over the years. Although, it was likely the huge intricacies I was trying to figure out in my mind had something to do with how long it was until Christmas, on that particular night.

 

As I was staring at the ceiling, completely emerged in my own thoughts, I suddenly became aware of a feeling spreading through my body. A chill went up the back of my neck, making my hairs stand on end. If I had been close to falling asleep, I was wide awake now. I held my breath and laid stone still, straining to hear something which would give me a clue as to what it was that had put me on edge so suddenly. I heard nothing, other than my brother’s rhythmic deep breathing from the bed below. When I could hold my breath no longer, I let it go as quietly as I possibly could. I couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, so, after a few more minutes of laying as still as possible, I decided to roll onto my side, so I could see out of the bedroom door, into the hallway. I did this in such a way that it would seem, to anybody looking in on me, as though I was rolling over in my sleep; just in case one of my parents came in and gave me an earful for not being asleep, as I was supposed to be.

 

As I completed my expert manoeuvre, I heard a noise in the hallway. It sounded like footsteps, which was a relief – it was just my dad, checking on something in the house. But, as the footsteps drew nearer to my bedroom door, a wave of unease washed over me again. My dad was always very careful about being as quiet as possible, when walking around after lights out, so as not to wake anyone. Listening to this particular set of footsteps, I wondered if perhaps this was my mum, as the perpetrator seemed to be making no attempts to mask their sounds.

 

I pondered this curiosity, as a figure emerged from the hallway and came to a stop in the doorway of my bedroom. Once again, I found myself holding my breath trying to be as still as possible. The figure stood in the doorway, breathing quite loudly. It was definitely a man, judging by the sound of the breathing. For a few moments, I relaxed, thinking that it was my dad after all. I started breathing again and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. But the sound of the breathing stayed in the doorway. I opened my eyes again and took in the image before me. My blood ran cold. My dad did not habitually linger in doorways. Also, my dad was nowhere near as tall as the door frame, nor did he wear or even own a wide brimmed hat. I stayed as still as I could, hoping that the figure could not see that I was awake. With that monologue running through my mind, I was reminded of the line from the Christmas carol, “He sees you when you’re sleeping… he knows when you’re awake.” I smiled to myself – the figure in the doorway was Santa Claus and he was waiting for me to fall asleep! Of course! It made sense, being so close to Christmas.

 

I closed my eyes once more, ready to fall asleep. Once more, I got that feeling of unease. The hairs on my neck stood on end, once again. Something was not quite fitting about that conclusion. Santa doesn’t wear a wide brimmed hat. Also, I was fairly certain that he is never depicted as tall and broad shouldered. The figure in the doorway definitely did not look or feel very Santa-ish at all. My eyes were open again. I needed to figure out who was standing in the doorway. Even with the light passing in through the curtains, I could not make out any details of the figure. My eyes had adjusted fairly well to the darkness by now and I could make out just about everything around this figure. But whoever was standing in the doorway may as well have been a shadow. The only thing that told me that this was not a shadow, was the heavy breathing accompanying the figure. Just as I felt that I could not lay still any longer, the shadow figure took one last deep breath and receded from the doorway, seeming to melt away into nothingness.

 

By this stage, a lot of kids would probably have cried out for their parents or, at the very least, thrown their covers over their heads. I did neither of those things. Instead, I laid there, pondering my new mystery of the night, Christmas forgotten, until I fell asleep. I remember asking both of my parents, the next day, whether they’d spent any time looking in on my brother and me the night before. They assured me, every time that I probed them about it, that they had not been anywhere near my bedroom the previous night. I guess, after a while, I just sort of shrugged it off. It didn’t happen again at all. Every now and then, the memory would spring to mind, especially during my night time ponderings. However, I thought about it less and less as time went on and, until I saw the pictureaccompanying the Wikipedia article on the Hat Man, I’d almost forgotten it completely. To this day, I have no idea what it was – whether it was one of my parents sleepwalking, somebody who wasn’t meant to be in the house, a supernatural being or otherwise… But the picture of the Hat Man is almost exactly what I remember in my doorway…

THE END

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