The world exploded around him in a blast that shook him to his very core and made his bones rattle. He looked over his shoulder quickly, before plodding on deep into the night. The orphanage could just be made out now, a hazy silhouette on the horizon. Boy, was he glad to see the back of it, however, he was regretting his decision in choosing this exact moment to run away. It was not very safe, the dead of night, at the best of times, even more so now, especially with the Germans dropping bombs from high overhead. There was not a chance in hell he was going back there though, not now and not ever. He would rather take his chances in actual hell. Another bomb was dropped and exploded behind him, the force of the blast sent him surging forward, only to land face down in a muddy puddle and aside from some mud in his eyes, he was unharmed. He lifted his head slowly and wiped the mud out of his eyes before it had a chance to sting, and then he propped himself up on his elbows and slowly and carefully looked around. To his left, he spotted a doorway left standing, the building it once accompanied however, was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble. In the dark it all looked the same, but in the daylight he was certain it would be awash with colour. In the corner of the rubble he spotted a dog cowering, a golden retriever covered in mud, not so golden anymore. Stumbling to his feet, the boy carefully navigated the debris littered streets in order to comfort him. He sat there in the doorway, cuddling the dog close, and decided that this is where he would wait out the night. He knew he had to get to the train station, had to get out of here an into the crisp fresh air of the country side. For even he knew, or he was clinging onto the hope, that even in this madness they would most certainly evacuate the remainder of the children at first light. He adjusted his seating position so that he and the dog were more comfortable, just in case he did fall asleep. He however, was sure he would not. Somewhere, deep in the rubble of the old house, an unharmed clock chimed three.
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Conto[In Edit] Summer train journey's. What better inspiration for a collection of shorts stories. The concept for this book was birthed on a train but has continued to flourish long after the train left the tracks. From April to September 2016 I had to...
