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2nd Place, Elementary

  • Jane Forrest

  • Toronto, ON
  • niveau scolaire 5
  • un mot de l’artist(e)

    Jane Forrest is a ten-year-old grade five student who is concerned about social justice in the world. She is interested in the arts, visual and written, and is excited to be a part of this contest. The message Jane was trying to communicate in this story, with her writing style, is what it must have felt like to be in the war. For example, in the last paragraph Jane used lack of punctuation to show the panic in George McLean’s head. She also wanted to show the effect of war from various perspectives, including the environment and animal life.

Stories of War

I’m a shining star living over the battlefield, the sky is as dark as crows and I only dream of a day where death doesn’t happen in front of my eyes. I wonder why every day many people fall to the ground, I wish I could help but I know there’s nothing I can do. I watch these people, I follow them until they fall like the rest of them. I don’t no who’s good or who’s bad, or even if there is a good or bad. I want to go back to the good life were poppies grew and birds sang and butterflies were found in the wind! But now it’s just war. But I keep shining.

I am a songbird singing around the battle field, it would be a nice day like the old ones if the guns didn’t go off every second of it. I’m not cheering for any team, but I sing when part of their team falls to the ground, like a bird freshly shot by an arrow. I slowly step on the old mossy wooden fence surrounding what I don’t want to see I wonder why the world is so dark here this can only go on for so long right? What happens when it ends. I remember when you could hear the crickets at night without even listening and golden yellow and ruby red fire flies circled the land! But now it’s just war. But I keep singing.

I am a fox my fur is golden red I hunt these woods like a king lion. I see the people fighting, they’re killing each other like they kill the foxes in these woods these people they like killing. As I tip-toe on the soft crumbling fall leaves I hear screams and shouts and death. I don’t know what I think of this I’m not leaping of joy but I’m not crying of fear they’re not hurting me their gun shots just keep me awake at night. I don’t think I care. I just keep hunting.

I am a pond my water is rising to the air soon there will be no more me! I used to be a blue pond with fish and lily pads topped of with golden morning dew I was the peaceful place the place were the stars shine and the song birds sing and the foxes hunt the woods. I don’t know what to do I wish somebody or something could save me please I begging you stop the fighting I’m scared I’m really scared! At night I pray that I’ll see the sun again and one day somebody fell to the ground and blood slowly dripped into me please save me somebody please!

I am George McLean, I remember the first day I came here I was scared of death I asked myself questions over and over again that I knew couldn’t be answered like when I die where will I go? Will people remember me? I had this feeling in me this feeing that I couldn’t get rid of like I might live this feeling deep down that I will live but then I face facts that its most likely I’m going to die I don’t know what to do I’m worried. I’m doing the right thing I’m going to be okay I’m going to be okay, but I know that’s not true! I want to run away and never come back just leave this place but I know I can’t why did I do this I ask myself why?