Slap, smack, ow mud slapping against my skin.
The mud is a steam train heading for my back.
The mud is a pre-attack.
The mud is shooting me like a bullet zooming through the air, mud flying getting in my eyes.
Ow water in my eyes trying not to cry I keep going because I am at the front of the war.
Mud slapping against my back. It feels like stones hitting me. Fear running through my body as I wait for the next attack.
By Ben Birt, Year 6