The War and My Perspective

1

The Train speeds towards me, never slowing, never stopping. My feet are glued to the tracks and I can't seem to close my eyes.

"Clara!... Clara!..." a faded voice yells in my mind. "CLARA!"

I jolt awake, my fists clenched at my sides.

"Clara, you wouldn't wake up?" my eight year old brother shakes my arm hurriedly, frowning.

"I'm..." I yawn, "sorry, Thomas. I guess my dream was just really good."

"But you were muttering bad words, you almost took me eye out scratching and punching at the air."

"Oh, well, I was just... just... Just pretending to be a bear, and I... I... I was fighting all the bad people away from our new home!" I smile at Thomas, and his frown fades into the folds of his dimples and pale skin, as he beams at me widely, showing all his 20 teeth, tinged with yellow. I smile at him and ruffle his dark brown hair. Turning to look out the train window, I notice my rich red ever-growing fringe is stuck to my forehead, with beads of sweat dripping down my pale freckled face. I move the hair off my face and stare into space, as the country passes by like a thousand green shades mixed with the occasional blue streak.

The whistle soon blows, signalling the train has reached its destination. I grab my luggage and help Thomas gather his small black suitcase from the shelves above the compartment. He smiles slightly, but it soon fades, and I know exactly how he feels. We've always had this connection that neither Mother or Father could have with either of us. We're always thinking the same things, and we can always tell how the other feels just by simple facial expressions or movements.

As we step off the train, a slender woman in a large dark coat, white gloves adorning her small hands, comes up to the dozen or so children, strolling back and forth across the platform. Her hair, a light brown, with dull grey-blue eyes that couldn't even make a baby smile. She lifts the corner of her mouth at me when she notices I'm staring, and walks past Thomas and I to gather up the other children. I stare at my feet and my worn-out black shoes, with the paint starting to crumble at both the toes and heels, and the soles that seem to travel down deeper each time I wear them. I look up and realise the woman has started to take the other children to a small building off to the side of the station, and Thomas pulls slightly at the strings on the hem of my faded floral yellow dress. Mother always told me to look nice and to present yourself to new friends and family. I gather my things, and Thomas leads me away from the train to the direction of the other children walking slowly down a winding cobblestone path down a hill.

When the group and I reach the building, I realise it's a small church, with the faded pictures and drawings of Jesus Christ along the sides and a faded wooden cross, with it's small edges cracked and chipped. As we walk inside, the woman lines up the other children against the back wall.

"Clara?" Thomas nudges my side with his elbow. I look down at him, and smile, before I lead him towards the wall with the other children. I stick Thomas towards the end, but I'm pulled away and shoved inbetween two children, one with a seemingly large nose, and another with what looks like the flu. I notice soon after, the woman has disappeared entirely, but before my heart starts to race, she comes back in with at least another two dozen people, made up of adults and children alike.

"Now, as you can see here" The woman gestures to Thomas and the smaller children.

"We have a large selection of smaller children as well as," she gestures to myself and the others. "Older. So take your pick and you can be on your way to looking after some fine London youths." she smiles at the group of parents and turns, gesturing to myself and the group. In the short time I've known that woman, her worst feature has got to be her smile, with her yellow teeth, some also chipped and uneven. I shiver at the thought of living with someone like her, it just wouldn't be nice. One by one, parents would walk over and take their pick of the children. Parents could take two, so Thomas and I would go together. We would never be split up anyway.