The train journey was long and tiring. I sat there weeping, wondering where I’m going to end up. I’ve just arrived at a place which looks so different from the dangerous, busy, loud and hazardous city I lived in. I’ve come here to be safe from the cruelty of the war, in which I stood waiting anxiously to be placed in a new home. I felt so vulnerable and alone before I was introduced to Mr Oakley. A towering beast who looked grumpy and whose voice was like thunder. The cottage was dull with not a lot of light. I sat there reluctant and apprehensive, I was struggling to take it all in, until I saw him pick up the poker. I was terrified he may be giving me a beating, just like my ma did to me all the time, but all he was doing was stoking the fire. Mr Tom showed me where I will be sleeping, but suddenly I spotted a bed and I remember my mother saying beds are for dead people. It is all very strange. I rubbed my eyes cautiously knowing I would have this room to myself, I was feeling so sick and panicky.
I was perched on the end of the wooden stool anxiously watching Mr Tom and his movements. He placed a plate down in front of me with food on, I had never seen this kind of food before. This food was different to the food my ma fed me back at home. It smelt delicious and it looked mouth-wateringly nice but then the worst happened and it got stuck in my throat. I felt myself begin to panic, I felt embarrassed and I was scared what Mr Tom was going to do. I heard my ma’s voice in my head, repeatedly telling me “you must be good”. There was a moment of silence, followed by Mr Tom making a joke and that made me realise Mr Tom is kind and caring. As time ticked on, I began to feel more relieved, relaxed and safe about my placing with Mr Tom. Maybe now this may start to feel like my new home?
By Harry 6T