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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


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

It was then that my mother told me. Told me a war had started. I didn't know what a war was, was it a boring law thing, a new club, a new beginning?
“What exactly is a ‘war’, Mother?” I asked in an intrigued voice.
“Well all it means is you, your father and your brother Fred will have to go away for a while,” she said in a very worried voice.
“But you will be coming? And it is like a holiday, correct?” I hopefully cried.
“You won't be going with the boys, you will be going to the country.”
“By myself, alone?” I sniffled in sadness.
“Yes but not for long. It will be an adventure.”
I sat there crying into mother's chest, hoping, just hoping she was right.

Three days later we as a family gathered in distress down at the train station. Father and Fred went first, their bones shaking with fear. Then they were gone, disappearing through the smoky fumes and on their way to the dreaded battle, not knowing if they were to ever return.

Mum handed over my bag, it was time to go. She pushed through the wave of people to see me as I went.
“We will be together soon I promise, Alice,” she said as I too drifted off into the sunrise and smoke started to punch me as if it was a professional wrestler.

A few months after being in the country Margaret, the old lady I am currently staying with, gave me a letter from home with bad news...It said Father and Fred had both been killed and they would not be returning. I never did anything anymore, stayed up in the little guest room I had been given and sobbed into the letter every minute of every day.

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