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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Emilia Fox, year 7, Blanchelande School

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

A shrill sound echoed throughout the heavens. A shockwave burst the windows and shattered my ear-drums. Silence. I ran out of the house at full speed like a cheetah chasing prey, leaping over fallen clocks, pots, and pans. I stumbled into the shelter, Mama and Elsie were already there, but Papa wasn't.

Three Years Later

Don't ask how I ended up on the streets with a sack of coal. I loved our house so much, the beige door, the stained glass window above. Catherine, Elsie, Millie, what a set of soot stricken sorry faces. If someone came to rescue us we would blend in with the dark.

I hate the streets, the floor is cold and hard, no mattresses, pillows, or blankets. Elsie is crying now, muffling her tears with her treasured dolly.

A couple of streets away I hear the coal man yelling at the top of his voice. Papa was our protector and now he is gone. Mama is poorly, but we found a doctor who is making her better. Elsie is heart-torn about papa, and I can't think of anything but where my puppy is now. Winter was her name, she had a sleek grey coat with black spots on her nose. She sometimes used to walk into our bedrooms and play games with us, until one night she disappeared. The light is dim now and I ought to try and sleep.

That shrill sound echoes once again throughout the streets. A shockwave rattles my chest and shatters my ear drums. Silence. I sprint down the winding roads, leaping over bodies, until I arrive at the train station. Elsie is already here, I hope Mama is?

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