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
Amazing writing, Harry! You have really engaged with the reader through using emotive language. Great job! Miss Turner