Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Tom Brehaut, year 7, Blanchelande School

I remember it like it was yesterday. The tragic event. The tragic event that took my father. Now, I have no-one. My mother died when I was a baby. Now everything is grey. The city is grey. The world is grey. My life is grey. I am in conflict.

"Stay back," he yelled. "Don't worry, I've got this!"

My father was a brave man. If only I had stopped him before it happened. Before the bomb dropped. It's my fault he's dead. My fault, he's dead. I wish I had forgotten everything. I am in conflict. Deep, deep conflict.

Alone. A horrible thought. Too horrid to think about. Trapped in a dark room, with no light, and no means of escape. " I will always love you son." Those were the last words he ever said to me before he went to war. The scream. I, I am in conflict.

This nagging voice in my head. Yelling at me to commit suicide. I ignore it like there is another option. There isn't. What should I do. Oh no. It's growing in power. I must ignore it. I can't. But I must. I MUST! Conflict. The voice. Shut up! Shut up!

"Life is nothing. Think of your father" That's all I hear. A train whistle? What? Seats? Poles?! Whu?......... Where?......... The train taking me to the country? Thank goodness! All a bad dream. Nobody wants to look at me. They must think I'm mad. Maybe, maybe so. I am in conflict.

Country. Smell that fresh air. No more black smoke from factories. I never want to go back there. Ever again. Cottages made of white and sleek marble. I'm surprised I made it this far. I'm..... actually kind of glad. I am no longer in conflict. Now, I am in paradise.

Liked this story? Read another one.

The Train Stop

“Oh dear!” I thought, panic coursing through my body, “I’ve missed my stop!” I raced out of the bumpy...

By Stuart Gordon, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

I'm leaving

I woke up this morning in a dreadful fright as I realised that my dad and brother were leaving today...

By chloe le page , year 9, Les Beaucamps School

Read story

The Unfair War

Father was gone. He had left earlier that morning along with most of the other men in the village.

By Chloé Ozanne, year 8, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Between the Two Mountains

Tick. Tock. Left. Right. Tick. Tock. Left. Right. Hans Eberhard had always found school challenging...

By Euan Simmonds, year 9, Elizabeth College

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)