War On The Home Front

• Fraser Murray, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

War on the HomeFront
I wake to the warm Italian sun on my face. I struggle out of bed slowly making my way to the kitchen.
‘’ Good Morning’’, my mother whimpered, with a new dark bruise to the side of her check.
‘’Morning, mother’’, I add.
‘’I want you to plow the fields.’’ Exclaims my father.
‘’Don’t be hard on the boy Paolo, let him eat first then he can work the field’’, replies mum.
‘’No Oliva... He must go now, then he can eat’’, argues my father. I sigh and go back to my room where I put on my dirty overalls and I walk through the back door and I walk down a path into our rotting stables. I then open the pen door and I fit my donkey with his gear, I then walk to the fields, where I stand and hear my father yelling in anger. The moss creeps on my cottage as I walk through the fields plowing the soil, while the morning sun peaks over the summits of the mountains. I see the town in the distance and the smell of freshly baked bread blowing through the winds with the scent of death. Rarely can I hear the loud thuds of the Hungarian and Italian guns as they scorch the sky with smoke and fire. Now the sun is directly in the sky as the hawks are circling the Alps like wolves chasing deer, as they twist and turn with the planes. Starving, I go inside to see lunch on the table. I jump into my seat and start eating the bread.
I leave my seat once I’m finished and walk into town and pass the bakery where Mr. Geppetto, an old man calls out, “Hello Roberto, how is your mother?”
I reply, “Good how about Francesco and you?”
“Good”. Before he can finish Francesco yells out, “I need you, it’s ready!”
“Ok! I’ll tell Francesco that you pop in” adds Mr. Geppetto. Their family moved here last winter trying to start new and get away from the war, however, her brother and father are dead and then her mother took her own life, leaving Francesco to herself.
Later that night I lie awake listening to wolves dance and play past the town and in the woods, drowning out the noise of war, I then try to get some sleep listening to the screams of pain, knowing that I’ll have to join them.
The next morning I to wake to an officer at my feet, “pack your bag”, instructs the officer.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“Now”, commands the officer. I get up and pack my bags, then I get dressed. I realizing that my parents have been evacuated. I hope for my mum to leave and start new without that monster.
Time passes as I stand there with my rifle, looking over the trench, waiting, contemplating my guaranteed death, maybe I’ll die in a day or in 6 months, only time will tell.