Summer Stories 2024 from Young Authors

Memories. 

Memories I try not to forget. Memories of being free. Memories soon to vanish. I remember the days when I could frolic and flourish, when I could walk at night without a worry. Moments I should have been grateful for, things I could have been thankful for, never to happen again. 

Never. 

My days of joy and freedom all gone. 

Gone. Gone and never to return. 

I lay in agony on the soaked floor, crying. Red hot tears streaming down my cheeks. How had it come to this? My mind rolled back as if I had hit the rewind button on a remote control, and then I recalled. 

**** 

Years ago—when I was free—I had been playing in the park, pretending I was a fighter pilot. I would swoop out of the sky and defeat wicked enemies. At that time, I’d been so caught up in playing that I had forgotten it was dinnertime. So, I’d decided to take a stroll home but then, rain came pouring down like a waterfall and everybody around me had fled to their homes. Fortunately, I had not to worry, for I had an umbrella, my prized umbrella. For my seventh birthday, my grandmother had dropped by to gift me the most fabulous umbrella. It was covered in a mass assortment of stripes and was relatively large. 

That night, I’d walked without a worry, I had my umbrella and it would always protect me from whatever dangers might occur, that was what my grandmother had told me when presenting the umbrella to me. I would splash and skip along my way to home. But, was interrupted when a loud bang roared throughout the city. That was when it had all begun. Soon more loud noises and sounds rang out, rang out and screeched. This time another bang had sounded but this one was unlike the others, it sounded close. I tumbled to the ground in confusion, everything was so chaotic, people were running and hollering, pushing aside each other. Just a second ago, they’d been running home, why come back? 

And then I finally realized when I saw the limp body of an old man, a pool of red forming beneath him, this town was under attack—we were at war. Soldiers came in from all directions, swarming citizens like wasps. And that was all I could remember. 

**** 

My life had been hard, living for years in fear and hatred, the hatred that my parents had left me. I lifted myself off the ground and ran for shelter, a place to hide. But to my surprise my legs stopped and I tripped over. All the years of running had worn me out. 

Soldiers soon circled around me and I cried, pouted and screamed for help. 

As I struggled to get out of their grasp, my umbrella slid out of my hand. And then, finally, I realized, my umbrella, my guardian, my protector, was no longer able to protect me.