Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Being Evacuated...

By Ruby Paris-Smith, year 7, Grammar School

Constantly, I think about my home. I yearn for my comfortable bed and wish mother was there to hold me tight when I cry. If only there was no stupid war so we’d still all be back at home together. Everything feels so different; it’s almost like I’ve been reborn in a strange new world, with completely different people. I’m so lonely, but I have no one to tell.
We were sitting in our school groups on the train: it was awful. I decided to get out one of my books and start reading but when I did, all the girls in my class started making fun of me and laughing. I tried to ignore them because I don’t see the problem in reading books; it takes you into your own little world, but I could feel my face going bright red and they were still giggling. I got a horrible feeling in my tummy. I wanted to get swallowed down into the ground. I desperately wanted my mother to be with me, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. It was the first time in my life when I felt undesired, I felt like I had no one.
We arrived to Wales and had to wait in a hall filled with chairs. My teacher told me that someone who had a nice home would come and pick one of us to look after. I hoped that I would get chosen by a lovely couple who cared for me and spoilt me, but I didn’t get much luck. It was the worst feeling ever, just sitting there watching people walking past, shaking their heads to you as if to say “You’re not good enough.” I didn’t care that there was a stupid war. I wanted to go home.

Liked this story? Read another one.

This Is To My Father

Im writing this today as I don’t know how else to get this out of my system. My dad was killed. It s...

By Kayleigh Moullin, year 9, Les Beaucamps School

Read story

The Train

All I heard were bangs, sirens and screams. My parents grabbed me from my bed and we rushed to the shelter...

By Maisy Batiste, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

They’re Gone

Every night before we went to bed, Mum used to beckon my sisters and I to the garden. She always t...

By Cara Lenfestey, year 9, 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

The Nightmare.

Days, weeks, months, even years have passed since this nightmare started. Each second gets worse...

By Sara Bejarano, year 7, 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)