Boat To Freedom
The sea rolled gently, and the wind was still tonight. This was the night, the night we finally start over again. I looked back to see the land slowly getting further away. It was over. No more noise, no more fear, no more war. We were finally leaving.
We had lost so much in the war that it didn’t take long to pack our two rucksacks and a bag of stale food into the boat. The boat was small and narrow, and the floor was soddened from water soaking into parts of the wood. But it didn’t matter, this boat was going to take us to freedom, to a new life.
As we drifted further and further away from the mainland the air was silent. It was the first time I’d heard the silence without having the anticipation of when the next explosion was going to be. I laid back and rested my head against the rucksacks on the floor and embraced this feeling and the stillness of the night. I stared up at the full moon. It felt like a beacon of hope in the night sky, guiding us towards a better life, a reassurance that better things were to come.
My Aunt and Uncle, who had escaped the war a year earlier, had set up a safe place for us to stay and were waiting for us to reach the island. I remember the fear we felt when waiting to hear from them after they decided to embark on the journey that we were now taking, so I can only imagine the worrying anticipation that they must be feeling waiting for us.
The monotonous rolling of the sea underneath the boat was beginning to make my eyes feel heavy and I started to drift into a peaceful sleep.
I was awoken by a loud thud and an aggressive jerk backwards in the boat. I sat up startled and scared. My eyes weren’t fully awake yet and it took me a minute to realise what had happened. I saw my Aunt and Uncles faces, full of delight and relief. It hit me. We had made it.
