Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

This Is To My Father

By Kayleigh Moullin, year 9, Les Beaucamps School

Im writing this today as I don’t know how else to get this out of my system. My dad was killed. It seems that part of me died when he did. It always seemed too raw before but I’m ready now.

I was fourteen at the time, your typical know it all. When my dad told me he was going to war I was partly scared. Never let it show, mind you. Never was the weak type. The other part was proud. I’d be the cool one whose dad signed up first. Little did I know how wrong I’d be.

That morning was same as always. Spirits were high until the officer came to tell us. Dead on half past two. It was the last time I remember how happiness felt.

“What happened?” I whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.
“Maybe I should just speak with your mother alone,” he replied.
I knew my mother wasn’t strong enough to cope with this information by herself
“Please,” I muttered unable to make any eye contact with the man, “we need to know.”
“It happened in the trenches,” the soldier informed us.

My stomach sank deeper with every little detail.

“Your father was a valued member of the army,” the soldier informed us.

He is uncomfortable with his task and seems relieved to leave our house with a final glance at my mother, who was sat slouched over in her seat sobbing uncontrollably. As I sat down on the sofa, I could quite literally feel my heart break. The sickness was overwhelming and my body was shaking uncontrollably. I tried not to blink knowing only too well that if I started to cry, I might never top. I felt physically sick. I wanted to scream, shout until my lungs gave in. Shout until it brought him back.

My only consolation is that my father died for something and his sacrifice will not be in vain. This is after all, the war to end all wars.

Liked this story? Read another one.

Hope

Poverty. War. Sadness. Three words to describe my life at the minute. My name is Millie and this is...

By Emilia Fox, year 7, Blanchelande School

Read story

Poor Mother

It started a day like any other; the birds singing, people laughing.

By Caroline Carter, year 9, Grammar School

Read story

Boom!

A loud, screeching wail broke out through the neighborhood, my mother leaped to her feet the second...

By Bethany Bray, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

Life just changed

It was a Monday morning at Clements High as I walked in through the gates. I could hear Mrs Strickham yelling...

By William Kilpatrick , year 8, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Alone

It was then that my mother told me. Told me a war had started. I didn't know what a war was...

By Alysia Mckane, year 8, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Browse stories by category

Primary. Up to age 11 (years 3, 4, 5, 6)

Intermediate: Up to age 14 (years 7, 8, 9)

Secondary: Age 15 and over (year 10 plus)