My Stories
Ages: 11-12
Lost Generation - 4
Zielle S.
11/28/2014


His mother gasped, clutching her hand at her mouth. Without another word, she pulled me out of the sack and Jonathon and she carried me into their house.

“Will she be ok?” Jonathon asked when they had laid me on the couch, filling up a glass of water.

“Yes.” The mother answered, smiling. She had trained to be a nurse, so she knew.

Water seemed to clog up in my chest, making me feel the need to sit up.

Jonathon went to sit at the table. “Mom!” he yelled. “She’s waking up!”
His mother, turned away, quickly turned back to me and slowly sat me up.

“Help!” I coughed.

“It’s ok! You’re fine.” Jonathon’s mother gently patted my back.

The water blurred my eyes. I reached up and wiped the drops out of them. The first thing I saw were two kind faces looking at me. I shook my head.
“Who are you?” I asked when I had calmed down.

Jonathon’s mother answered, “I am Anna King, and this is my son Jonathon.” She paused. “You?”
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