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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By George Smith, year 9, Elizabeth College

John Jackson climbed out of his ruined shelter. He was only 13 but he was already fighting for survival in a ruined city. After his home was carpet bombed by the enemy, everything was destroyed. Only a few hundred survived. John got up on his feet and looked up to the sky. It was a surprisingly clear day, only a month after the bombing destroyed the city. Holding a short plank of wood as his only defence and wearing a mask to protect himself from the smoke, John ventured into the city, not knowing where he would end up or if you would come back. With WWIII going on, no one had time to help out the surviving population.

Every now and then, a fighter jet would fly over the city, sometimes it would crash and there would be supplies to raid, but John was on his own. Just a kid. He walked on the cracked, uneven ground that used to be a road. There were still car alarms that hadn’t died down yet. Smoke still rose up to the sky. Every now and then a roof would fall, or a window would break, or a whole building would collapse from fire damage.

John was still on his own. A cat scurried across and road and John threw a rock at it. The cat was dead. That was his food for tonight, if he couldn’t find anything else. John wanted to avoid looters. Usually they wouldn’t harm a boy but they were desperate now, just like John, who knows what they would d? As John opened the door and walked into a ruined building, he heard the tell-tale signs only too late. The roof fell as he ran, but he was too slow. John Jackson, 13, died on his own.

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