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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9


By Cameron Rivers-Moore, year 7, Elizabeth College

The loud whizzes and bangs of the bombs whistling through the air make me discombobulated, disorientated. I am confused, I don’t know what to do. I have lost my mum; how could it get any worse!! I can hear the engine of a plane roaring above me, this is not a place for a young girl. A man grabs me from behind with rough fingers, tattered clothes, a bleeding face and the stink of fire smoke and alcohol.
“Where’s my mummy!!” I squealed, with obvious pain in my voice.
“It’s all right; you’ll be okay” the man said in a gruff whisper and a not so sure voice.
The nameless stranger started to hobble away, limping as he went. The sky had been stained with the orange fires flickering, the black smoke confounding and the streaks of plane squadrons tearing apart our lives. I see the other people on the streets; panic stricken and worried for their loved ones.
Many people tried to get away, pulling wooden carts holding their possessions, many had not succeeded either. The bloodied floor is littered with cold corpses, some may have been my friends, I couldn’t tell. Children scoured for their parents, parents scoured for their children. I wondered if they would find them in this haunted ghost town.
The sky is starting to clear, the planes fly into the distance, looking for other helpless targets. The war is a terrible thing, especcially when you’re a child. People had started clearing the wreckage searching through the rubble for survivors. My protector put me down and went to help, I followed.
After hours of searching, my heart dropped. The man had cleared the rubble to leave the eyes of my mother staring up at me like a ghost. The eyes stare was dead, but unbreakable…

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