SHORT STORIES

Chapter 2

     “Run Gongoron, run ! The Germans are coming.” As I ran from the blood thirsty soldiers, trying not to get shot, all the voices started to fade and slowly my life too. The last words I heard were “Get ahold of my hand!”, fading whilst the minutes ticked.

      I was woken up by the stench of fish, it smelled like I was in a shoal of them. When I looked around, there was a mountain of fish (you know, the type that makes you wanna throw up), there were village kids wearing tattered breeches and some had rags for a shirt. All the sudden everyone started shouting like maniacs, so I quickly got up and went to see what they were shouting about. It was an island shaped like a triangle.

    We docked the ship. Everyone held some kind of trinket given to them by their parents. I heard a grumble and looked at my midriff. It made a hole as deep as the Grand Canyon.  We all were miserable, especially me because I had to deal with kids that were sassy, big shots, and many were uncivilized. The captain of the ship scuttled a small hole in the soft sandy beach, he took some dry grass and some lush grass, he put them in the hole;  he took two stick and two stones to start a fire.

    All of us used banana tree leaves as a bed. Over the night, I thought about what I would do. At the end, I thought that if I got stranded here I might as well make the best of it.  In the morning, we walked all around the island making a map; we got to a beautiful , lush green paradise but inside were grouch and territorial animals all of the parrots and other birds had their hackles up and were squawking.

    Six months later, we had built a quaint village. We hunted animals and raised some too. Simply satisfying I would admit. I began to like the island but I still missed my parents. Every night, I would remember all the fun things we did before the Germans attacked.  The days, and weeks began to fly by; soon it had been five years on the island.

    A recruit was sent on a canoe to the island. He said that the Gorons had won the war but because the Germans demolished Toro Isle, all the Gorons moved to the island and renamed it Goron Isle.  Life returned to normal and peace was restored once again except me; my parents had died in the war as per the rumors I heard. That night, I went to Toro Isle to check them up. 

“Gongoron!!!” I remembered that voice, when I looked behind me there they were - my parents.  They said that they fell off the ship and swam back to Toro Isle. I took them with me on the canoe to Goron Isle and my soul was at peace was restored again. Completely at peace...

Author: Abrahim Toutoungi  - 10 years. (Year 6 - 2013-2014 ,  Al-Rayan International School)