War Torn Life

• Molly De Martino, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2017

Thunder rumbled, trees twisted and turned into the wind. A library full of unforgiving books, stood bold and proud against the relentless storm. Soldiers marched into the whipping wind walking right into the storm.
George sat tucked in a blanket, in front of a flickering fire. The smell of fresh dough wafted through the stifling air. Outside this house is a storm that is crushing hopes and dreams into its swollen hands. Books came crashing down onto tin roofs, the echo wafting through town. Pages and pages of words came tumbling down in scrunched up balls, from the storm whipping its sides. George looked at his own hands in awe, thinking about life and school that he had been forbidden to go near. George's father came in stumbling over piled up books he had left all over the house. Immediately George sat up straight from his crouching position. George's father scooped him up into a hug and they settled down on the couch ready for the story of what was happening in the outside world. "The library is falling into a crumble, the books have got holes in them from the bullets that are flying through. Families are running around everywhere, it is a world that doesnt want to be known." "Come on! I want to show you something."
Walking past the corridors in a daze, the alarm went off. Father shoved a book into my hands and we ran out the door, smashing the glass as we went. We joined the families gathered in a bunch, ready to set foot to an unknown place. Shivering in the late breeze of the night, my father wrapped his cloak around me. I took the coat, glad there was some way of warmth.
A month later Dad died, I don't know why. I ripped the book out of his hands, the one he had said was worth more than money, and set off into the night with the others. I couldn't help but keep thinking about Dad. I had no family or friends. We buried him under the oak tree, where his father lay too. Beside the tree I dug a deep hole and carefully laid the book inside it. I piled the dirt on top and silently walked away, for nothing belonged to me anymore. I'll never forget the book.
I was a wealthy lawyer living in an apartment block in the middle of town. Latte coloured curtains draped over the cracked window sills. Closing my apartment door behind me I walked out into the gloomy streets. Letting my legs take me anywhere, I walked up to the old oak tree, and looked up. A little girl was sitting curled up in a ball on one of the trees branches. I climbed into the tree and sat next to her. In her arms was my fathers book. She looked up, her eyes full of fear. I started to read, while the wind billowed around us. I am peaceful at last I thought.