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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Archie Annan, year 9, Elizabeth College

The sirens sounded as the train slowly pulled away from Waterloo. I quickly checked my bag making sure that I had packed the essentials. “Oh dear” I exclaimed louder than I thought after realising that I hadn’t packed my teddy bear. “How will I get to sleep?” I said to myself quietly whilst looking out of the window at the gloomy, abandoned burning buildings.

The sky was a dusty and eerie colour because of the steam from the train.
“Look! Look!” the smallish child sitting next to me said as a bomb landed only miles away from the filthy window. Soon the black smoke from the explosive filled the sky so that all I could see was the very tip of St Paul's Cathedral. I lived only yards from the iconic landmark and I knew that my parents were still there.

All of a sudden, a thought of dread tensed my whole body, until it was difficult to inhale any air. “My parents didn’t have a Morrison shelter,” I admitted apprehensively to the pale faced boy beside me. “Neither do mine” he said in a nervous tone as his fingers started to tremble.

After two hours, silent hours, had passed on the train, an announcement sounded on the tannoy. “We have arrived in Ewhurst, Surrey,” the driver said as I clenched my beige bag. I walked off the train onto the concrete platform to be greeted by hundreds of children. “Follow me,” a sternly faced man said as he led a group of us out of the station.

An elderly lady said, “Your name please?” to which I showed her my stringed tag. “James Birling, I'm saddened to say that your parents have passed away,” she said empathetically.

“What does that mean?” I asked inquisitively only being replied with silence...

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