Falling Apart

My tears dry quickly. Not because I stop crying, but because the wind howls in my face, making my nose feel like one of those squishy strawberries that Fredrick, the rich boy from school, always brought in the summertime. The billowing smoke reminds me of what damage they’ve done to my home, and the screaming feels like the only way to let out my hatred. This would be a very stupid idea though, as the main street is still crawling with soldiers. So instead, I cry some more silent tears, and rivers run down the side of my face, washing off some of the dust that’s been caked on ever since this whole ordeal started.
The utter despair I feel at this very moment is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’m lost, even though I know this town like the back of my hand. The rubble from what used to be the main street of Mayland, piles high above my head, and probably my dad’s head too, but I can’t be sure because Dad isn’t here, and neither is Mum or my brother or my baby sister Judith. I am alone and I have to fend for myself, I have to stay alive.
As I try to imagine what I would be doing on any usual Sunday morning, I hear voices. Foreign ones, that sound like the soldiers that have ripped my world apart. And, if my ears are accurate, they are slowly making their way towards where I’m lying, half dead on what used to be Uncle Luke’s front porch. Maybe they’re coming to collect any wounded people that they find? Maybe not.
I shove that thought to the part of my mind that’s filled with the things that are too horrific to imagine, things that I never thought would come true, and realise that these people have most probably killed my family, my friends, my enemies, my whole town. And there is no doubt in my mind that they will kill me if I don’t move quickly.
But there is a slight problem. Probably less of a slight problem, and more of a catastrophe. Moving is a struggle. In fact, I can’t move at all. My leg feels like a dead weight, and there is no way I will be able to move in time. In time to free myself from these horrid people that have ruined my life. My only option is to play dead. Literally.


Write4Fun.net was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.


Stay informed about the latest competitions, competition winners and latest news!