Sunday, August 2, 2009

DAY EIGHTEEN

Dear Diary,

We get out of the bus and into the airport.
Mum and several people thank god that they're finally getting out of the bus.
I can understand; the bus is hot and cramped.
A policeman stops us to check whether we have any weapons.
I grab mum's rucksack to check whether the candlestick is inside, it's mad eof metal and i'm afraid that they will take it away.
It's not inside the bag.
I realise Mum has sold our candlestick, our precious ancient candlestick that's kept our family safe for hundreds of years.
We're not protected anymore.

Jamal.

No comments:

Post a Comment