Drums of War
Dear Cornelia Funke website, this is my story for the "Your stories" section in the website. It is a story about WW2, written as a diary. I hope you like it! Love, Aisling Doherty-Madrigal, aged 12, Ireland
1st September 1940 6:00pm
The rain is hammering a drumroll on the windowpane. The drums of war, I’m thinking miserably. London, in World War II, isn’t the greatest place to live. With rationing, bombing, and bad news every day, life has turned upside-down. It has even affected the beautiful Kensington Gardens, where they have replaced the pretty flowers with cabbages! And everyone has to wear horrible metal identification tags around their wrists.
The worst part is that father has to leave for the army on the 4th of September. I’ve begged him not to go, but he simply said “It’s our country, and I am going to protect it. We want it to be safe for generations to come”. A few days later, he had the garden dug up and a huge bomb shelter put in.
These days, I have been remembering the times I played with father and my siblings, Amy, 18, Ben, 14, and little Tim, 7. They are my best friends. I don’t want those times to end, but it seems as though the war intends to tear me away from all dear to me.
5th September 1940 12:27pm
Mother has just come in to speak with me. I was crying, when Mother entered. She told me:
“I know you’re upset that dad has left, but it’ll be fine! It’s great that he’s doing something to protect us! Many men go.” “And many don’t return…” I thought gloomily. I’m horrified with that thought, and I’ve pushed it to the edge of my mind, but it keeps floating back to dominate my thoughts…
7th September 1940 3:57pm
I was curled up reading, when the sirens started wailing, like a thousand cats drowning simultaneously. Amy rushed into the room, and grabbed my hand. “C’mon!” She shouted, tugging me downstairs. Mother and the boys were downstairs already, so together we ran into the dark, dank interiors of the bomb shelter. Terrified, we listened to the drone of the Luftwaffe planes overhead, and the crump of the bombs destroying the beautiful city of London.
Around two hours later, when everything was silent, the all-clear siren sounded. We stepped out amidst the rubble. We heard cries. We wandered around aimlessly for over an hour, feeling despaired. Suddenly, the sirens rang again. We sprinted towards the shelter, but to my horror, Amy tripped and fell. She cried out, and mother ran to her, telling us to continue. Reluctantly, Ben led the way back. Mother and Amy didn’t return.
Finally, the all-clear was proclaimed. We rushed out to the ruined streets, searching for the lost two. We reached the spot where Amy had fallen. What I saw there made me howl in sorrow.
21st May 1941 11:45am
The blitz has lasted eight months and it’s finally over. Father is home with us, organising a proper funeral. Life will never be the same, but I know that Mother and Amy will always be with me in my heart.
BookHugger:) on 25 March, 2020
Although it's sad, it's a beautiful story! I love your writing!
Joanna on 1 April, 2017
That's so sad. I like how you made an unexpected ending though- those are the best!
Meghan Newton on 14 January, 2017Very very very touched by that story
Ally on 14 January, 2017
Livi on 3 June, 2016Oh....... a sad tale of yours, but very good, and, I must say like another person, it is very well written.
Kitty Leung on 22 March, 2016That's so sad... but very well-written!
Miranda on 6 July, 2014I love your writing voice! It is effortless and calming to follow.
AS on 8 November, 2013A sad, heart-touching story.