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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

The Ceasefire

By Daniel Troop, year 8, Elizabeth College

December 29, 2016

Expressionless walls were caving in around me, rubble strewn across the obdurate road as I gazed out of the window. My parents comforted me, petrified I paced the room. We were trapped with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. That was when the first rocket hit. The ground convulsed turbulently and the building quivered but stayed up. They had a deal. Eight hours of peace. But they did not want the soldiers to escape. But what about the civilians, what about me? The domination that politics gives to the war. The Russians’ negligence to the people really affected by this, presents a deterioration of their policies. Policies, I thought, where has that left us? The tight political divisions between these countries burn our city to the ground. We are on the news, but we are only viewed as a statistic. When people observe us more closely they can begin to comprehend the peril we are in daily. I dozed in and out of consciousness as the thunderous deafening rockets penetrated the neglected gravel road. My life flashed before my eyes, my birth in Ghouta, to my father leaving to join the government’s forces to fight. The dreadful message sent back to tell us he had died. Yet, I am still so young and I do not feel that I am ready to pass away. The people with the power to fix this atrocity do not take the actions to save thousands of lives like my father’s. I see from both perspectives, but I cannot see in vast depths of eternity what less could be done to help us. I feel this diary allows me to express myself but this may be my last entry. I hope I can write again but I’m preparing for the worst.

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