The sky was in a right mood again today. For nights now, it’s been throwing a proper tantrum—thunder crashing, rain lashing down like someone up there’s hurling great boulders straight at the earth. Mum and I woke up at the same time. She quickly bundled me up in a blanket, held me tight, and hurried us into the loo.
Whenever that awful racket starts, that’s where we hide—in the tiniest room of our flat, squeezed between the mop bucket and towels. We sat on the cold tiles. Mum was whispering a prayer. I watched her lips—they trembled, but she kept going: for me, her little lad, to stay safe, for peace to return… for the war to end.
I don’t quite get what war is. But I know one thing—Dad’s out there, where the war’s happening. And I know it’s why the sky’s turned all mean and noisy. That’s what the lads from the estate told me. Though I haven’t seen them in ages—Mum won’t let me outside anymore. She only goes out once a day, just to the shop. Only buys bread.
I sat there, listening to her prayer. Felt a bit sad… and bored. Then I thought of Teddy—my soft, cuddly bear. He always helped when I was scared.
“Mum, can you fetch Teddy, please?” I asked.
She looked at me, squeezed me tighter.
“Right now?”
“Yeah, I wanna hug him. He’ll help.”
Mum always did whatever I asked. Even two ice lollies in one day—she’d say yes. She nodded, gave me a little smile, and said,
“Don’t move from here, all right?”
I nodded. And waited.
Must’ve been a few minutes. Then the ground groaned. Something exploded so loud the whole flat shook. A tile popped loose from the wall and rolled across the floor. I was proper scared. But Mum told me to stay put, so I did. I started counting—one to a hundred. Wanted to go to two hundred, but forgot what comes after. Mum promised when I’m seven and start school, I’ll learn all that. Can’t wait.
I started counting again, but Mum didn’t come back. I called for her. Quiet at first, then louder. No answer. So, shaking, I crept into the hall.
Dust hung thick in the air, like proper fog. Debris everywhere. Nothing looked right. I went to the lounge where we watched telly. The wall was lying on the floor. Half the ceiling had caved in. Somewhere under the rubble was Teddy… and maybe Mum.
I wanted to scream, but remembered—when the sky’s angry, you stay quiet.
Maybe Mum got scared and ran outside. Probably waiting for me there. I had to find her.
I spotted her slippers still in the hall. So she’d gone barefoot. I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside.
Dark and terrifying out there. Cold right through to my bones. I looked around—didn’t recognise our estate. Everything was different. One house was just a pile of bricks. Another missing a whole wall. The corner shop where Mum bought bread was blackened, lifeless.
“Maybe the street’s always like this at night,” I thought. “Or maybe the war did it…”
If war’s this nasty, breaking everything—why doesn’t anyone tell it off? Why do the grown-ups just let it happen? If war were here, I’d kick it hard. I’d shout, “Piss off back where you came from! You’re horrible!” And it’d be scared. ’Cause I’m strong.
I walked to the square where we used to feed the pigeons. None today. I looked up—saw a star falling. A proper one. Bright. Different from the others. Like it was coming straight for me.
I knew—when a star falls, you make a wish.
I knelt down. Like Mum does when she prays. Closed my eyes.
“Please let Mum be found. And Teddy too. And make the war go away forever.”
That’s all I asked for.
