I kiss my mother and father on the cheek saying my very last goodbyes. Tears dribble down my pale skin. My father makes a stern face and glares at me. He always says true soldiers don't cry. It wasn't safe here anymore. I exhaled and watched the other children board the tiresome boat and soon we departed to the new land. Anchors away.
'Convicts were safe here in the 1700's and 1800's.' I learnt that from the many history classes my parents forced me to go to every single Saturday morning, but that feels as though it's just an old memory now. A lady was in charge of putting us into groups, alphabetically calling out our names, delegating cabins to each child. I would be pretty much last because my last name started with a 'W'. What felt like an eternity later she called out my name. “Elizabeth Wearing, Ryan Webbing and George Williams, you will be in a cabin together." We nodded our distressed faces and headed to our cabins. The floors creaked as I stumbled over them. I was assigned to cabin 102. Here I go.
Things will never be the same again. I remember my first birthday party, the sun glaring in my eyes. One of the hottest days in England I could remember. Drops of water trickled down my head as I wiped them off. I picked up a present and ran my small fingers over the linen ribbon. A pink wooden horse was surrounded by the box. That was the last birthday I had. Because I was leaving for an arid, dry, sweltering country... Australia. I snap back into reality leaving good and bad times behind. Will I return to a destroyed country?

FOLLOW US was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
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