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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Monochrome Warzone

By Taniya Hari-Prabhu, year 8, Grammar School

Black. White. Grey.
I was living in a colourless warzone, that used to be known as my home. I was swallowed into a dark pit of fear. Sitting in the loft, in the corner of the loft; and the window was shattered into millions of pieces, like small sharp stars. But the window wasn’t the only broken thing, because in fact so was I.

It had been weeks, possibly even months, as I hadn’t kept count, since I had last seen a stray of colour, happiness or hope in our hometown. Months since I had last seen any glimmer of innocence in my town. I was going crazy, mental. I was cooped into a little loft with a slither of light. This world I was living in was a wicked place, no sanity. Merciless.

I remember how the streets used to fill up with a strong essence of freshly cut carnations and the velvety stench of barley crept into every household, it smelt inviting, friendly. The only types of scents you got now; the ones where your nose gets fogged up by the smoke, and the only things you could hear were gunshots. Gunshots. But maybe if you were lucky enough you could hear screams, to show a miniscule amount of hope. Another living being. No food. No water. All hopes and dreams swept into the gutter. Mother and me always talked about the future, what it held for us, and how we were going to travel the world. Maybe she did, after all she did leave, she told me she needed to, but she also said she was going to be back soon. She could be travelling the world, and knowing that she could be safe, and happy somewhere out there makes me know I can survive another day..

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