Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

The Men

By Rollo Tiffin, year 9, Elizabeth College

He didn't understand. He knew where and what and how, but not why. The men came. Then left. And he didn't understand. It was a peculiar thing what the men were doing, but he knew what the men were doing. The men were killing. He had witnessed what the men were doing first hand but when he saw, he didn't scream, he didn't shout, he just stared, puzzled, and thought, why? But just because he couldn't fathom why didn't mean it was time for fathoming. He knew he should be screaming as the men marched past him, as the rubble buried things around him, as the sirens wailed next to him. But he was only thinking.

It was funny, he thought, he couldn't think of their faces. Even when looking at their corpses, he couldn't think of what they looked like before the men's time. The men had only been here for a couple of minutes and yet, he couldn't remember the time when the men weren't there. He looked down again at his mother and father’s faces. He couldn't remember them before the men. He knew mother was crying a minute ago but now she was motionless, expressionless.

He looked around himself. He couldn't imagine the home before the men. This was his home now. The rubble. The death. The men. He couldn't see very well before realising that he was crying. That's odd, he pondered, he wasn't sad, although he knew he should be, and yet he was still crying. A new question arose into his mind, why was he crying? He looked down at what he once called parents and felt nothing. Then he looked at The Men. They were walking past with pride, not bothering to think why. And then something clicked in his mind. Rage.

Liked this story? Read another one.


War, war, war! All I hear is War; newspapers, radios, school, the village, everyone’s talking about war!...

By Freya Le Noury, year 8, St Sampson’s School

Read story

The bomb of death

BANG CRASH BOOM.Planes are flying all over houses with bombs hanging under them, ready to be dumped o...

By Porscha Rault , year 7, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Where is my mum?

Confused, puzzled, exhausted. I was on a train, my younger sister Barbra sat next to me. After a whi...

By Jennifer Ballay, year 7, Blanchelande School

Read story

Trembling Hands

I watched my mother’s face with tear filled eyes, as the boat slowly pulled out of St Peter Port Harbour....

By Aimee Ozanne, year 7, The Ladies’ 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)