Write Stuff

Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

My Unsafe Haven

By Eve Le Sauvage, year 9, Grammar School

The sharp sound whizzed past my ear and shattered into millions of pieces. I didn’t realize it was aiming for me until it rolled slowly towards me, so bored with the conflict around it. My mother yelled at me, her expression manic and frightened. My eyes can only see the words forming on her lips and tumbling out of her mouth, my ears too tired to listen.

I remember the explosion, the shrapnel piercing my already destroyed skin. The cold lights blistered my eyes and drowned them in colour. Mother’s shrill voice screamed to me, the word still inchorent, but the sound cracking the vast barrier that had been built between us. With the life sucked clean out of it, my body slumped to the ground. A crippled ragdoll.

My soul rose from my body and abandoned it, the outer pain and sorrow now buried in the ground. The first thing that caught my eye was the broken look on my mother’s face. Her features were scrunched up and wet with tears that were flowing down her face, a continuous waterfall. She was hunched over my frame, clinging to it tightly, her safety net severed. I reluctantly looked away from the depressing scene.

My feet dragged me through the streets that were alight with blinding, painful colours and deafening screams. In the back of my mind, I knew where my feet were taking me.

I arrived at the top of the hill where the small graveyard stood and instantly found my father’s grave, having been here so many times. I leaned against it as if it were a charm and wished it could turn back time to before the war had begun, wishing to hear my parents’ voices again.

But their time was up. And mine was too.

Liked this story? Read another one.

Missing in Action

The streets were filled with tears of joy, brothers, fathers gone, two of them being Peter and Jack...

By Christian De Putron, year 7, Elizabeth College

Read story

The night I got out

I woke up in a pitch black room, in a pitch black house, in the pitch black night and heard the sound...

By Kai Townsend, year 8, Grammar School

Read story

Pilot of peace

Suddenly our telephone rang. I ran down the corridor to pick up the call but my dad was there already.

By Jack James, year 7, Elizabeth College

Read story


I remember it like it was yesterday. The tragic event. The tragic event that took my father. Now, I...

By Tom Brehaut, year 7, Blanchelande School

Read story


As I look outside, all I can see is rain and clouds.

By Scarlett Sheppard, year 7, The Ladies’ College

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)