Struggles Through War

• Aria Bordia, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2018

Stumbling through the barren field, eyes darting left to right. I suddenly heard the ear piercing shrill of an incoming mortar bomb. We all dived for cover, hoping that we would be the lucky ones. As the deafening sound started to subside, I couldn’t see a thing, as my eyes were filled with clouds of dust and sand. As I went to rub them, something was sinking into my shoe, through my sock and onto my icy foot. I darted my eyes down to see a horrific scene.
My father John Rye, lying on hard concrete with blood dripping down his trembling hand, scrambling to breathe. I dropped down on my knees screaming for help. I needed a nurse, a doctor or anyone who could save my dad. In the distance a bright, skinny figure appeared, thin legs running towards me. It had a red cross at the front of the bag. “Do you need help?” said the nurse. “Yes, my father is in pain.”
“Alright, I have a stretcher with me, we will take him back to the tents.” We lifted him up and ran back dodging bullets.
When we arrived at the first aid room, the nurse asked, “Where are you from?”
“From Australia,” I replied. As I turned to the window, I was shocked. I saw hundreds of concerned faces staring at my father. I didn’t want them to see him like this, so I closed the curtains. Bickering continued, I knew that would never stop. After I had the talk with the nurse, tears rolled down my cheeks. He can’t fight for Australia anymore, which means he can’t fight with me. I have to get myself together and fight for my country.
I hopped out of the room and grabbed my gun. I scatter through the fields trying to find my team mates and I killed some of my enemies along the way. Just as I turned in the other direction, someone’s cold hand tugged me and dragged me along the barren field. I crashed to the ground with agony. Everything went black.
I was awoken by the sound of footsteps. I was in an eerie room, with poles in front of me. It started to click. I was in the German jail. I didn’t do anything wrong. “Sir, who are you and why am I here?” I asked. “You killed our people and now we kill you!” he replied. Those words were repeating in my startled head. I began to think about my dad, the waterworks from my eyes turned on. The policeman came up and started hitting people around me with a baton. Now it was my turn. I was terrified with thoughts that wiped my head blank. I’m done, I’m dead and that’s when he hit me.