Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Bye daddy

By Kate Zierlinger , year 8, St Sampson’s School

Crash, bang, boom. I can hear the aircraft high in the sky. The dust is filling my lungs and my throat is scratchy and dry. The air raid signals are blasting all over England. My mattress feels like leather, cold and hard. The air raid signals are drowned out by mother’s snoring. She turns over and her cold, damp clothes brush against my skin. She was awake and sat up, so I copied I had been too afraid before, the room was too dark, too lonely, too empty.

Suddenly we both tense and I can hear the bashing and clanging of our front door and people shouting. Fear fills me. I feel like I'm going to explode, I just want to scream but I mustn't, they can't know we're here. We hear them take father out the door and they slam it shut. Mother grabs onto me and hugs me and everything is ok again. Her warmth is like a mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day, never fails to make me feel better.

“Don't worry, they're gone now,” said Mother reassuringly in a soft whisper. We both knew what had happened.To be completely honest I didn't care much. Father was always horrible to Mother and shouted at us. When I was three he stamped on my baby rabbit. I found it was as flat as a pancake. There was oceans coming from my eyes for weeks and my bedroom was a storm full of tissues.

A little piece of me has gone, and I know who took it. Suddenly I didn't care about the baby rabbit, or the way he shouted at mother, I just missed him. I was craving his love and attention. I feel empty.
“Father.” I mumbled to the nothingness of the room.





Liked this story? Read another one.

Gunshot, scream, thud

For the first time in my life I truly felt fear. I feared for my life. I heard gunshots echoing in my ears...

By Tamsin Polson, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

1940

September 1940 Smoke, sirens, fire, blood, everywhere you looked. It was too much for me. I was...

By Lauren Ferneyhough, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

The Unkown

We walked in one long line, bare feet with cuts all over them. if anyone asked where we were going ...

By Dylan Kidd, year 7, Elizabeth College

Read story

Hope

Poverty. War. Sadness. Three words to describe my life at the minute. My name is Millie and this is...

By Emilia Fox, year 7, Blanchelande 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)