This week we had to write a narritive about the refugees fleeing from Syria. Here is mine. Deafening screams fill my ears. Bombs blowing up around us,the huge horde of people running away,away from the dreadful war. I grab my son,frantically running ,running away hoping that we’ll survive. Buildings crumbling around us,thousands of people dying all around me, but there’s nothing that I can do,nothing apart from run,further and further away. In the far distance I make out a point, a tiny point. The refugee camp. The place where we can start a new life. Away from the danger,the hike to freedom begins. As we approach the refugee camp, we see only three colours. The grounds brown,the tents white and the sky’s blue. Occasionally a big black cloud of smoke. The dull life of a refugee begins. Everyday the same ol’ routine. Months went by but it felt like years. As we leave the camp with thousand of other refugees. Without any sense of direction we can only follow the herd of people,...