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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Bethany Bray, year 8, Grammar School

A loud, screeching wail broke out through the neighborhood, my mother leaped to her feet the second the wailing had started, panic like paint spread on her face. She pulled me up off my chair.
“Get up! We need to get there quickly!” My mother had exclaimed. I had no idea what she meant, but I quickly followed her as she paced through the corridor and out the house. It was just my mother and I, at the time, my father had gone on a long trip to somewhere, he didn’t say. My mother’s long, dark hair flew in every direction and her brilliant, blue eyes had a look of distress.
“Where are we going, Mother?” I queried, standing on the doorstep.
“To a bunker, it’s safe there.”
Before I could say anything else, my mother dragged me off the doorstep only saying, “There’s no time,” before she paced off toward the bunker, bringing me with her.
When we got to the bunker, there was a small crowd, attempting to get in.
Boom! A loud bang echoed in the background, someone screamed as a pillar of smoke flew into the air. The small crowd of people were starting to panic now, as they filed into the bunker. My mother was pushing me into the bunker.
Bang! Another explosion went out in the background. I walked into the bunker, the space was limited, it was almost full. I couldn’t see my mother. I peered at the entrance. My mother was there running back to village. I screamed for my mother. I was about to leave the bunker but a woman stopped me.
“Stay here, your mother is checking if there is anyone left” she paused “she’s very brave.”
That was the last time I saw my mother.

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