Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War
CREATIVE WRITING
Sometimes I walk past the house that’s filled with dread, hate and fear. Sometimes I think I put myself through the pain to make me stronger. Sometimes all I can feel is hate and anger filling my blood, my body and my mind. When I think of those years, the awaiting dark holes are released to blacken the rest of the few memories filled with light.
***
The war had broken out and all the children were being evacuated to distant cousins or aunts in the surrounding war-free countries for safety. My parents had told me that I was only going away for a while, the war would be over and I would see them soon. Those memories are the only few that bring light to the darkness inside, the ones that keep me sane.
I had a name-tag placed around my neck; my name and a number were all that occupied that paper. I had no thought as to where I might be going, as far as I had known; it was only my parents and I in the world. It was all we needed. It was all I needed. It was perfect. The other children were just as clueless as I, no one knew what was going to happen, we were all put on ships like storage left in the bilges to rot.
I heard my name and number being shouted out in the middle of the night, it was my turn. I wasn’t the last to get off the ship but I pitied those who were. The ship captain had told all of us what a great …show more content…
I would stay in his little cottage and clean and cook with what memory I still had of my mother, imagining her next to me in our kitchen, letting me help her with what we had to cook dinner. On the good days, when he would come home happy, he sometimes let me listen to the radio, but on those bad days, he would hurt me. He would be drunk from being at the pub, he would’ve had too much to drink and he would touch me, at first I would push away but he would get angry, he would shout and grab the nearest thing to him and hit me with it. If it would break, he would blame me and punish
Sometimes I walk past the house that’s filled with dread, hate and fear. Sometimes I think I put myself through the pain to make me stronger. Sometimes all I can feel is hate and anger filling my blood, my body and my mind. When I think of those years, the awaiting dark holes are released to blacken the rest of the few memories filled with light.
***
The war had broken out and all the children were being evacuated to distant cousins or aunts in the surrounding war-free countries for safety. My parents had told me that I was only going away for a while, the war would be over and I would see them soon. Those memories are the only few that bring light to the darkness inside, the ones that keep me sane.
I had a name-tag placed around my neck; my name and a number were all that occupied that paper. I had no thought as to where I might be going, as far as I had known; it was only my parents and I in the world. It was all we needed. It was all I needed. It was perfect. The other children were just as clueless as I, no one knew what was going to happen, we were all put on ships like storage left in the bilges to rot.
I heard my name and number being shouted out in the middle of the night, it was my turn. I wasn’t the last to get off the ship but I pitied those who were. The ship captain had told all of us what a great …show more content…
I would stay in his little cottage and clean and cook with what memory I still had of my mother, imagining her next to me in our kitchen, letting me help her with what we had to cook dinner. On the good days, when he would come home happy, he sometimes let me listen to the radio, but on those bad days, he would hurt me. He would be drunk from being at the pub, he would’ve had too much to drink and he would touch me, at first I would push away but he would get angry, he would shout and grab the nearest thing to him and hit me with it. If it would break, he would blame me and punish