Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

A child's mind

By zac taylor, year 9, Elizabeth College

I open the backdoor silently. My mum who is usually lying in some huddled position clutching her bottle of vodka as if it was some long lost child, is gone. I tiptoe through the cramped living room, the smell of vomit and decomposing food wafts it way towards my nostrils and the mess of half eaten crisp packets and bottles of alcohol swamp the floor. I make my way upstairs to her room, and on her bed, lies a piece of paper titled- Harry. I cautiously pick it up from her duvet, and open it.
Dear Harry.
I hope and will always hope that you loved me, because I have never stopped and will never stop loving you. I am sorry I have never been there for you, never been there for you to hug me, and tell me you love me, for that is my greatest regret. However, for this life my time is up. This is my final goodbye. My one wish for you..
I clenched the flimsy piece of paper and prepared to rip it up, its sharp edge sliced across my delicate skin, and a drop of blood fell slowly onto the letter, onto my name. I tore; I couldn’t do it. Anger coursed through my veins, how dare she say she loved me, how dare she said she cared. A tear gently welled in my eye, as the realisation covered me. She was my mum, and she was dead.
I fell to the floor hugging my knees to chest, rocking forwards, backwards trying to block out the agony, the anger, the pain.
Later that night I sat there on the couch, I glanced at my mum, she put down the piece of paper and hugged me. However she couldn’t hide the tear in her eye.

Liked this story? Read another one.

My Inner Conflict

My entire body felt immobilised. Even with the hundreds of emotions rushing through me none would step forwards...

By Alex Simpson, year 9, Grammar School

Read story

Alone, shy, scared.

When I clambered into bed I felt alone, even though I was with Sophie, I just felt like I didn’t know...

By Charlotte Duquemin, year 7, Grammar School

Read story


I, Scarlett Brown, am 12 years old. My younger sister Dawn is 3 and my parents are Fred and Shelagh.

By Lois Fry, year 8, St Sampson’s School

Read story

Monochrome Warzone

Black. White. Grey. I was living in a colourless warzone, that used to be known as my home

By Taniya Hari-Prabhu, year 8, Grammar School

Read story


In the endless tunnel of darkness was silence, that filled the room apart from the thundering thud on the door...

By Kelsey Le Bideau, year 8, 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)