A chapter in a historical fiction requires a descriptive inclusion.

Describe a scene of great loss

with respect to either of these pictures. In the scene, you must focus on the setting and mood.

Image 1 Image 2

Image 1: Imagery

It was the first in many days. Father was finally home after five months! All four of us sat for an
elaborate early supper - potato soup, warm bread, grilled turkey (Aunt Annie was kind enough to
give a portion of the delicately saved turkey from Christmas) and tea. Mother pushed the
Personifica window open and it reluctantly gave in. A warm gush of air made its way into our home. The
tion usual nip in the February air was slowly giving way to the warm incoming spring.
‘Let’s pray…’ Mother looked longingly at Father. We held our hands - Mother, Father, Johnny,
Maria and I. Father’s calloused and shaky hands were a testament to his past months at war. I
closed my eyes and felt a twitch in my nose - aaah, not those damn tears. I gulped a huge blob
of saliva. That’s when an array of noises thundered around us.

Metal crashing, as if the sky had fallen on a house. ‘Run!’someone shouted. Father dropped my
hand and rushed to the window to look out of the window.

BOOM! BLAST! Onomotopia

I felt the ground shake beneath my feet, and without a moment to realise what was happening
around us, I gasped for air. I looked around. Mother rushed towards Father who had fallen far
away near the bathroom door. He was coughing violently. Maria and Johnny were sitting
wide-eyed under the table, their innocent faces lined with soot; shock had seized their cries.

‘It’s the Germans. When will they S…t…opppp?!’ It was Father; his voice in anguish and terror,
amidst incessant coughs.
I held my chest as a painful bout of cough screamed through my mouth. I gathered all my
strength and reached the window to look outside. Aunt Annie’s house was nowhere to be seen; Personificatio
what remained was a mountain of wood, metal and dust. Where was Aunt Annie…?! n

My eyes scanned our living room. Dust had enveloped the turkey, the tea pot was in shambles
and soup that Mother had lovingly cooked in the afternoon was just now just a brown distasteful
liquid. I felt a huge sense of weight between my rib cage and the bridge of my nose ached as I
felt an urge to cry. But tears refused to come. My insides felt like a shaken corked bottle of soda.
Simile
Now what…?