Budleigh Salterton/Audify Creative Writing Competition 2017

Runner Up 7-11 Category

Daisy Rich (age 11)

May 26th, 1940: the day that scarred me forever. I bravely volunteered to go – I wasn’t required to – I wanted to observe the conflict of war. I wanted to be part of it; I wanted to help; I wanted to show I was brave; I wanted to be a hero. I saw dead bodies littered over the demolished shores of Dunkirk; the terrors I imagined were nothing compared to the real picture.

As I hurried quickly to Deal, I was violently barged aside – there were hundreds of men, pushing and shoving, yelling and chatting. My ears were left ringing as a seagull came swooping down, screeching. I felt dizzy. My head was swirling. Too much…sound, I repeated to myself over and over. Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun on my heels to find Bucky smiling back at me, “You alright, you look out of sorts?”

His soft voice shot a warming arrow straight into my heart. Memories sprung out from all around. I loved it, every second. Just me and Bucky, I felt like we could conquer the world. All of a sudden, I felt my face hit the hard, wet ground. As quick as a flash, the world turned grey, all my visions disappeared into thin air. I felt my eyes light up in flames. As I picked myself up, Bucky reached his hand out. A grin grew upon my face.

“Bucky…what am I doing here? What is going on?” I asked him. But before he could reply, a tall, official-looking man pushed me towards a group of men. I looked at the man’s eyes, he was emotionless. Confused at this, I turned back to find Bucky. Again, the man pushed me back, “I have no time for this…too many men, not enough ships.”

And that was that. I missed him. I knew Bucky was gone. Slowly I trudged towards the boat, staring at it in anger. The name ‘Daisy’ was scratched on the side in faded golden writing. I stood there, waiting, just like everyone else. There was nothing special about me, I was a waste of space, a waste of time. The Captain clambered onto a crate.

“The name’s Jones, Captain Jones. Now get onto your boats and rescue those men. But remember – war is not a game. Now go!” yelled the small, beady-eyed man. Clearly, he had been to another war as one of his legs had been blown off. (He had a wooden stump, where his leg used to be.)

I grabbed a pile of blankets and climbed onto the boat. There was no stopping now, no turning back, we were off. I was worried, terrified actually. What would it be like? Would I live to tell this story? Would I see Bucky again? All of this commotion was confusing. Captain Jones’ phrase swirled around in my head. War is not a game…

The Captain stood firmly, his dark-brown eyes fixed on the sea: not moving a muscle. His old, wrinkly face was hit by the cold breeze. As the stars began to wake, I felt the Daisy rock from side to side. The sea was peaceful, it made me feel suspicious as it hadn’t been like this from the time we set off. I tried to occupy myself; twiddling my thumbs; counting the stars; putting in the fuel. I was scared as to what I was going to witness. It would probably be storms, bombs and dead bodies. Would it? I gazed up at the moon; my father said it was good luck as that’s where my mother lives. That’s what we need, good luck.

There I was, midway across the salty-sea, my hair flowing behind me in the breeze. I watched the moon rise higher into the mist. It was me and Captain Jones sailing towards a bombsite. My hand quivered.

Suddenly a blanket of thick fog hit my face, faint coughs were heard from the distant boats. It took a while but eventually my eyes readjusted to the real image. Black smoke rose from the unearthly glow of red and amber. I looked down in dismay; a snake of blood slithered past us. My heart jolted; I had a second thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…

The Daisy rocked sideways as a plane flew over us blowing the sails of boats with it. A high-pitched squeal cried out from a boat as it tipped over. I crossed my fingers, I wished the moon would give me luck, I hoped it wasn’t Bucky.

Many boats had turned back, I thought we would too. I asked captain Jones if we were to follow them and return home. He did not move, “War is not a game my dear, you never give up.” I merely nodded and carried on coiling the ropes. With that, my heart froze. Obviously he saw the fear in my eyes as he spoke once more, “Do not be scared, the enemy will smell it out. I’m not one to break a promise, but if we do not return, at least you died for a loyal cause.”

As I clambered over to the edge of the boat, I watched innocent souls float away. Panicking I grabbed an old man – his arms were dripping with blood, his wrinkly hands trembled as I hauled him onto the boat.

One down, many more to go. I spied a man who appeared half-dead, floating in the sapphire sea. I grabbed his arm and pulled with all my might. As I turned around to search for more men, I heard a soft voice, “Rose…”

Quickly I spun around to find Bucky was the half-dead man. I jumped up and grabbed him as tightly as I could. His hair was dripping wet, eyes too shocked to cry, arms red as rubies, legs like jelly. A few precious pearls trickled down my cheeks.

“Bucky, what happened to you?” I asked him, as I softly kissed him on his cheek. He didn’t reply, his eyes began to close…

“Bucky, don’t leave me now! Bucky!” I screamed as his eyes shut forever.

“He has done his time on earth, now it’s time you leave him in peace.” Captain Jones whispered in my ear.

“No. He hasn’t and you don’t know him!” I furiously yelled back at Captain Jones.

My eyes stung from staring at Bucky for too long. I couldn’t afford to lose my brother. My head was aching, my arms were dead, pins and needles throbbed in my feet. It was all going wrong. Looking up at the moon, my eyes lit up in flames as I threw an empty can of fuel up towards it. (I don’t believe it’s lucky anymore, even though my mother lives there!) Accidentally it came back hitting me on the head; next thing I knew I was soaked from head to toe in icy water.

I had flashbacks from when I was younger; things I didn’t want to remember. Suddenly, I felt a sturdy hand wrench me up and onto the boat. It was Captain Jones’ hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much he meant to you.” His voice was softer than before; a warming smile grew on his face. I looked down at Bucky and smiled. And with that, I carried on rescuing the innocent men from the dreaded water.

Two and a half weeks had passed since I ventured out into the great blue. I normally sit and wonder about how I possibly could have saved Bucky, and if we hadn’t been there, would he still be alive? But that often sends me into tears. It is some consolation that I was there to say “goodbye”.

As soon as my father found out Bucky had passed away, he locked himself in his room for three days! He’s out now, but he’s not the same. Probably because he’s the only man in the house, with me and Phoebe – my older sister. I’m worried about him.

Anyway, enough about Father. What had become of the brave Captain Jones? Was he safely back at home? All these questions swirled around my head, for the remainder of my lifetime. War is not a game…

I know that now.