Write Stuff

The Suitcase

A writing competition for students

My neck hairs were standing on end. I approached the border pay toll. I looked around, there was rising heat off the scorching sand for miles everywhere but I needed to worry about the suitcase. The thing is what was in my suitcase was not something to shout about especially around the border guards and if anyone found out there would be consequences to pay. As I was driving down the barren roads of Mexico, the dust from the car wheels shot up in the car and down my windpipe like an avalanche. I choked, gasping for fresh air but was replaced by dust. As I was holding my throat the car spun off the road into a ditch…

A few hours later I woke up feeling dazed and confused. A mysterious man stopped by and lifted my limp and slumped body into his shiny limousine, his driver grabbed the suitcase. Soon we raced off towards the border. I asked him who he was and he replied in a gravelly voice, “Work.” I hugged my suitcase and got anxious about the sentence I could get if caught 20, 30 years. The car joined the queue of cars. It was our turn. Pump. Pump. Pump. My heart was in my throat. The man told us, “Get out the car we need to search,” angrily.

He grabbed my suitcase. He opened the lock. Suddenly the people in the car behind ran through the pay toll trying to cross the man told us to go. We sped off hearing the crack of gunfire behind us. I said thank you to the two men taking me. So I carried on my walk to my house. In my slum was my sick daughter lying on the ground as pale as the moon, I opened my suitcase…

Written by felix preston, age 13 at Castel School
Intermediate. Up to age 14 (years 7, 8, 9)

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