Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Lucky To Have You Home

By Jamie Wrench, year 7, Elizabeth College

I was lucky to get my dad back, I thought, with a tear in my eye. I talk to him often about his adventures in the battlefields, who he met, what it felt like, and so on. It's so easy to picture yet so hard to imagine; the echo of gunfire, the constant eruptions of gas, the vast ocean of screams and bodies overflowing as the day turned to night.
The more I think about it, the luckier it seems to get my dad back, I think, with the salt of my tears reaching the tip of my tongue. I hear stories about the array of unidentified soldiers, with unidentified families, with unidentified burial locations. I'm just relieved it's all over.
As the warm teardrops slowly stop flowing, I begin to realise how many children, just like me, will never see their dad again, or maybe it's their uncle, or even their brother, who set off to make their nation proud, but at a costly price, their own life.
It's unimaginable to me what people will do for their country, knowing that they may never see their family again, so I suppose it it's more than lucky for my dad to come home.
I remember asking him,"Daddy, where are you going?" And he would just kiss me gently on the forehead and reply with, "Daddy's going somewhere dangerous, very dangerous. I won't return for a long time, so look after you mother for me."
I still talk to him now quite often, he lies there, while I sit down on the nearest stool, or on a bench. But the benches are too far away to talk to my dad...
Under his moss-covered grave.

Liked this story? Read another one.

Conflict

“Dad, why do you have to leave?” “I need to go and fight in the war,"He mumbled. I didn’t know it then...

By Finlay McGreevy, year 7, Elizabeth College

Read story

Lifted By Hope

When I got off the boat that morning, I was scared. Over and over again, I asked myself, why am I he...

By Maali Simon, year 7, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Leaving Home

Pain, it was something I’d have thought I would be used to it by now but still every time I heard the cry...

By Rachel Dallin, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

Who can you call?

At the age of 7 my dad left me and my mum to be independent as he had to go off to fight in the Viet...

By seb robinson, year 8, Grammar 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)