Creative Writing

I could still remember the sound of explosion. It was unforgettable, just like a scar on your face from a serious injury, it would not fade away. Even though I was only five when my country was invaded and bombed, I could still recall the details of war because it was just that catastrophic. Ten months later, my parents brought me to a foreign country, Australia.

When I was on the plane for the first time in my life, I glanced at the Opera House and Darling Harbour Bridge, and I was so confused. Why is “here” so different from home? Am I going to find friend? Are they going to see me as an outsider? I was so lost and did not know what to expect.

On the streets, I saw people with different colours of skin and they were all having a good time. However, they were speaking in a language I had never learnt before, English. I would sit on the side of the street, glaring at them wishing I could communicate with them. I was lonely, hopeless and felt rejected by this new land. My parents always told me to be brave and socialise with other kids at school, then my English would improve. I was too young and too scared in this foreign land.

One day, my parents brought me to Bondi Beach. “Stay here Stella. Mummy and I will buy you some food.”, my parents told me as they headed towards a restaurant. I just sat on the beach and started making my sand castle. I was enjoying myself until I saw a group of kids nearby playing games together. My desire to belong to this new country engulfed me. Why couldn’t I be normal like everyone else? Why could I not speak English? Is it because I am different, strange or weird? My head was spinning with all these thoughts and my emotions betrayed in public. I started wailing and stepped on the sand caste with all the strength I had. Yes, I was hopeless just like the insubstantial castle and could never be normal or powerful. I was so depressed and I threw stones everywhere to express my anger towards this foreign land and for myself…

I...