The Surviver

• Lilian Bresnahan, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2018

Ships. Big ships. Brown and wooden. People as white as snow stayed where they were. Others were searching for good land. They were speaking another language, though we knew they didn’t have any respect for others. One by one, dirty, grumpy men and women got off the large ships, followed by children. Shortly after, someone saw us...
The ghosts had knives sharp enough to slice your skin in one move. They whipped out their guns, ready to shoot anyone that dared to threaten them. We had weapons too. Our spears were able to pierce anything. Our women were gathering the children and taking them elsewhere to hide. Men were ready to fight and so were we.
Guns, knives and spears were littered across the ground, bloody dead bodies laid all over the place, people crying for help. The only child who survived was Namberry.
2018
I was sound asleep I kept on having the same dream of a child crying, it went over and over again but something was added to my dream. It felt so real...was it?
In the dream, the child’s name is Namberry. His parents were dead with blood scattered all over them. He was bawling for help but people just passed him. I felt so bad for him, I wanted to do something but it was just a dream right?
I tiredly walked to the kitchen and I saw my mother putting the flower in the bowl. “Mum may I ask you something?”
“Yes son, go on” replied mum.
“Am I adopted?” She just stopped and said nothing. “Mum?” Nothing. “Mum just answer me please” salty tears ran down his eyes.
“Y-yes, you were only small when we saw you on our doorstep, we changed your name to Josh, your real name i-is Namberry.”
“Can you say that again?”
“Namberry.”
“I’m Namberry...”