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By Jessica, Year 9

Her world had ended, and it was about time to end everyone else’s. The sun
had approached, closer and closer to the Earth every day and nobody knew
why, but it was common knowledge that nobody would live to celebrate the
coming of the new year. The days lasted longer and the sun’s new, stronger,
red rays had already stripped people of their families and friends. She was no
exception. The red killed slowly, the rays penetrating the skin and the greater
the age, the more likely it was to be fatal. At an overripe age of seventy-two,
her father was one of the first to leave. But it was a slow departure. Every
day she watched from the stool next to the hospital bed as her father forced
boisterous laughs and fake smiles whilst concealing the burning flame that
seared him inside. It lasted until the day where the only sound that came from
her father was the deafening silence that tortured her ears much more than his
past attempts at ‘rocking out’ on his old electric guitar.