This is a story written by our newly minted 10 yr old (Big Sis) at school. I haven't corrected her misspellings or grammar but I have highlighted a phrase she wrote.
I saw the ship that had taken me here, Iraq, 1 year ago. It would now take me home. To my family and home. It had been a long year. I was ready to go to my abode.
I stepped on the ship uncertain it would survive the trudge west. But hopefull to return to my kin. I was given a room key for my cabin, below deck. My number was 303 . The blue paint forming the numbers were nearly completly chipped off. I instantly pictured the room dank and sad, with spiders and cobwebs. I got half right. It wasn't gloomy, but it was cobweb filled.
For the first couple of days it was splendid, but then a storm hit. I felt like I needed to abandon all hope, of seeing family and living. The boat rocked uncontrollably. Passengers were throwing up and screaming. Two waves so high you'd think their water mountains, hurled them selves on deck. One wave had caused a hole and the Captain was plunging lifeboats into the angry sea. (which wasn't bright if ya ask me.) I threw myself into the murdurous sea, trying to escape the yelling and the rocking of the boat. That was a big mistake, 'cause I fell unconcious.
Next thing I know I'm bobbing along in a calm sea... above water. I'm a top 3 planks of wood from a ship, perhaps the one I was on. I look around my compass is broken and I'm wandering in the ocean. What could be worse? Oh, great. I see a fin, it's proboally a shark. To my surprise it's a dolphin. I take the rope around it's tail, and I glide after it. Dolphins are popular in FL where I live. There just might be hope, again.
Finally, I saw the shore. My luck must have been with the dolphin, because this was the beach that was 2 mi. away, from my house. Unfortanantly, it's a long walk, and would be tough without shoes. My luck ran out.
The hot sand was burning my feet as I walked toward the wooden ramp. I braced myself for the tiny, pointy, rocks in the parking lot. The pain was standable, though it stung. My feet were red, cut, and bleeding. But, I continued walking. When your a Marine, you learn to stand the pain and think about what's important. In this case reaching home, I continued walking.
Yes, I see my house! I wanted to run, but my feet were too sore. I was laughing and celebrating. As I knocked on the door and embraced my family. For the first time in a year.
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