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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Conflict

By Naomi Kewell, year 8, Grammar School

It crashed down on the city.

It sounds like the loudest but most terrifying song I have ever heard. All around me sirens scream, warning me of the danger but I can't move. I am frozen.

Suddenly, I hear a wail from the room next door. I leap up and run towards the noise. If anything has happened to her I don't think I can go on living.

Thankfully, when I get there she's sitting on her bed clutching Timothy the bear, "Are you ok?" I whisper, not daring to speak any louder. I'm not sure if she heard me or not but she runs up to me and hugs me tight.

Then mother runs in, she looks as white as sheet, "Betty, Carol come on" she shouts.

We all sprint out into the garden and jump into the shelter slamming the door behind us.

All I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry but I can't be weak. Strong. That has to be me now. Papa told me so. I'm thirteen, Betty's only six. And Mother. She tries to look cheerful as she plays with Betty but she looks frightfully thin and her eyes are red raw from crying.

The sounds of planes engulf my brain, until I think of Papa. He's a pilot. He's doing exactly the same thing. Dropping bombs and destroying people's lives.

How could he?

He is no better than the Germans (although deep down I know he has no choice).

At some point I must have fallen asleep because when I wake up it's quiet, almost peaceful. Then I open the door and realise I have woken to a nightmare.

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