Mon 1st Feb 10 World War Hero Alexandra No.

28

Preface

She had never thought about how she would die. Her golden eyes stared up at
the heavy, metal cylinder flying fast towards her. She didn’t come to London to
die; she came to do what her heart told her, her destiny. She closed her eyes to
find herself floating away from London; soon the houses were just tiny dots.
Seconds later, she wasn’t over England at all, she was back in Prince Edward
Island, walking though the lush village of Avonlea…

Cramming the last piece of toast into her mouth, she set of to do her daily paper
route around Avonlea. Before leaving, she picked up her tatty, brown leather
purse, which contained her last picture of her mother. Molly had never seen her
mother since her parent’s divorce. She left Prince Edward’s Island to live in
London so she could be far away from Molly’s father. Although Molly is sixteen,
she didn’t take it in very well. While delivering the newspapers, she couldn’t help
but peak at the story that had made the front page. She pulled the elastic of that
was tied with a neat bow and unrolled the newspaper. After just glancing at the
heading printed in bold, back letter, she turned very tense and dropped the
newspaper that was in her hands.

LONDON IN DANGER
BECAUSE OF WAR
Molly ran home as fast as her skinny legs could carry her. Bursting through the
front door, she yelled
“Father, Father! Mother is in danger!”
After explaining to her father, he unexpectedly responded almost carelessly.
“It’s nice that you want to save her, but I really don’t think there is any point. She
is probably dead already anyway.”
Molly wouldn’t stand it. She refused to stay home; going about her life as usual
when there was still a chance that her mother was still alive and molly didn’t
want to waste that chance.

Day after day, Molly visited the town bulletin board to see if any posts had come
up about ships sailing to London, but of course there weren’t any. London was
being bombed for crying out loud!

While wandering around the village one summer’s afternoon, Molly decided to
visit her old friend Harry who is a sailor that used to work in the navy and you
can usually find hi fishing at the dock.

So Molly explained to Harry what she was trying to do to save her mother.
“What are you doing just wandering around trying to find someone when I’m a
sailor myself!” he mumbled loudly through the black pipe sticking out of his
mouth.

It was hard getting out of the little cottage with a suitcase without her father
knowing, but once she boarded Harry’s small ship, she could relax since she and
Harry were the only people on the boat. For the rest of the trip, Molly couldn’t
relax at all, thinking about what could have happen d to her mother.

Stepping out of the ship, she waved goodbye to Harry then suddenly, a deafening
scream rang out. Molly and Harry whirled around on their spots to see what had
happened. They saw it. Three cargo aeroplanes were flying not that far above
them when one of them dropped their first bomb. Screams echoed through the
town as everyone fled and shoved one another into the few bomb shelters
surrounding them. Molly tried to make her way into one too but for some reason,
she couldn’t feel her legs. She tried to scream, but he couldn’t find her voice. She
had never thought about how she would die. Her golden eyes stared up at the
heavy, metal cylinder flying fast towards her. She didn’t come to London to die,
she came to do what her heart told her, her destiny, which was to save her
mother. She closed her eyes to find herself floating away from London; soon the
houses were just tiny dots. Seconds later, she wasn’t over England at all, she was
back in Prince Edward Island, walking though the lush village of Avonlea…

Blinking hard, Molly sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was in a
bomb shelter. People were huddled together tightly, some sobbing quietly into
their handkerchiefs and some were even praying. Harry explained to her that he
grabbed her before the bomb hit and got her into the bomb shelter. Molly
thanked Harry dearly for his kindness and bravery.

The next morning, they woke up in a two-star hotel that Harry had kindly paid
for. A few seconds after Molly woke up, her mother’s address rang in her head
“That’s it! Two-two-two-eight Primrose Hill!”
Molly left Harry snoring away in his king bed embroided with golden patterns
while she set of to Primrose Hill.

Molly thanked the kind, old man for the horse-and-carriage ride to Primrose Hill.
She waved as he turned the corner and was soon out of sight. She glanced down
at the ragged piece of paper in her hand containing the address of her mother’s
house. She took a deep breath.
“Number two-two-two-eight.” she murmured under her breath.
Molly hadn’t really had the chance to look up and when she did, she gasped in
horror at the revolting sight. Primrose Hill had definitely been bombed. All that
was left of the houses were their elements scattered all over the street, there was
not single tree standing, and what was supposed to be grass was actually mud.
Molly now knew that the chances of her mother still being alive were extremely
slim, but she refused to turn her back on her last hope. As she wandered through
the demolished street, she came across a vast pile of wood where a small cottage
once stood. Just then, she noticed a scrap of metal lying directly in front of the
demolished cottage. As she crouched down to inspect it, she noticed some faded
symbols carved into the metal. While clearing the dust of the metal, she soon
found out that they weren’t symbols at all, they were numbers! They read two-
two-two-eight. At once, she knew this was the house she was looking for. Now
that it was obvious her mother was dead, molly decided to collect a souvenir
from the pile as a memory of her fun-loving, caring mother. But before she took
one step towards the pile, something suddenly moved within it. Molly jumped
back in fright. She crept foreword again, slowly and carefully, pushing away the
wood on top of the pile. Before long, she had uncovered her mother’s body, but
indeed, she was not dead. She wore torn and ragged clothes and her eyes were
yellow and bloodshot. Her only injury was that her leg had a five-inch cut that
was still oozing with blood. Both Molly and her mother seemed to be in deep
shock.

Five months later, back in Prince Edward Island, Molly’s mother was resting her
bandaged leg on a golden, embroided pillow while molly helped her father wash
the dishes. Harry was still snoozing away in his new bedroom upstairs. Two
months ago, Harry had lost his ranch because he had become broke, so molly’s
family kindly offered him a new home. Molly could now live her life as usual
again, except with one extra bonus