I've begun a new story! I'm just testing this out, and I mightn't continue, because as it is, I'm really not sure where this story is going. If you particularly like it and think I should continue, tell me, please! =)
Enjoy!

Upton was bombed sometime last night. When I came down this morning my mother was reading a telegram from Headmaster Sharpe.

"Ralph," she said, "I got a telegram from the Headmaster. The school's been hit. It happened last night," she shook her head in dismay, "You're going to be sent to the country, to another school, until it's safe for you to come back,"

When she told me, I thought I recalled having felt a tremor in the night, but it may have just been my imagination. We don't live particularly near to the school. I wasn't sure what I really felt when she told me about the hit. Part of me was almost happy – I wouldn't be going to school for a few days, that was certain. But I couldn't deny the fact Upton was like a second home. I prayed the damage wasn't too extensive.

My mother engulfed me in a monstrous hug, "Oh Ralph..." she began, and then spoke for what felt like years about how we should have been evacuated when the war began. It was too late now, I realized. Should anything happen, there would be no way out.

It wasn't until the following Sunday that we got word of the schools we would be going to until Upton was restored. Headmaster Sharpe's second telegram was even briefer than the first. It said,

Your child to go to Godstone. Stop. Classes begin on Monday. Stop.

I stared at my mother, "Godstone?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yes. Yes, that's somewhere out in Surrey. Near where your grandmother lives," she informed me, "Classes start Monday, you'd better pack your bag,"

I presumed Godstone was, like Upton, a boarding school. At Upton we came home on weekends and holidays. I found myself wondering when I would be coming home from Godstone. Perhaps I would stay with my grandmother.

I packed my bags slowly, paying more attention to what I would be bringing than usual. I managed to finish in time for dinner. Leda, our cook, made my favourite as a sort of going-away present. I would be leaving for Godstone by train in the morning.

I slept fitfully. I think part of me was anxious about the new school. I didn't know who else would be going there that I knew. I hadn't had a chance to see any of my friends since the morning. The bag I had packed lay dormant at the foot of my bed, mocking me with its troublesome presence. I really didn't understand the sense of foreboding that made a knot in my stomach and prevented my eyes from closing until past midnight.

I awoke early the next morning. Enid, the maid, rapped on my door before the sun had crept over the horizon, urging me to get up. I didn't have a Godstone uniform; I only had the one I wore to Upton. Was I to wear that? I must have stood about in my pyjamas for a long time before finally deciding to put it on, because by the time I got downstairs my porridge was cold. I prodded at it listlessly. I didn't eat much, I hated cold porridge. When Leda came out of the kitchen, she saw that I hadn't eaten, and with an annoyed, "tsk," and a shake of her head, she re-entered the kitchen, to return with a handful of out-of-season berries.

"Can't have ye going to yer new school on an empty stomach, can we?" she said as she gave them to me. The berries were sour, but I ate them anyway.

My mother didn't come downstairs until it was nearly time for me to leave. She met me at the door, bidding me farewell with a hug that lasted too long and a shower of tears.

"Oh Ralph," she murmured into my head, "Be good, sweetie. Be safe. Be careful," When I finally managed to extricate myself from her arms, she informed me that she had called a cab to take me to the train station. She straitened my tie and fussed over the state of my hair, while asking a thousand questions to make sure I had everything I needed.

"Do you have the ticket?" she asked.

"Yes, mother," I told her.

"Alright," she smiled sadly and hugged me again, "I'll see you soon, sweetie. Have a good time there,"

The cab was parked just outside the gate. The driver helped me with my bags and asked where I was going. I told him, explaining about the school. He nodded and made a few comments about the bombers and the war, before falling silent.

The train station wasn't particularly crowded, likely because it was a Monday. I thanked the cab driver and headed inside, inquiring to the stationmaster as to where I could find my train. He pointed me towards the far end of the track, telling me it would be there in a few minutes, and that I'd better hurry if I didn't want to miss it.

I didn't miss the train. I got on and walked hesitantly down the aisle, looking for a free compartment. Most of the people in the cabins were old ladies, wearing hats and clutching at purses. They smiled at me, some even offered a seat, but I didn't want to spend the ride down with them, so I declined. I did see a few other boys, some my age and some younger, but they were all together, and I didn't dare sit with them. Eventually I found a free compartment, and settled myself in, sliding my bags up top. I stared out the window for a bit, before my reverie was interrupted by someone wheezing, "Excuse me? Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

I turned around and found myself looking at a particularly chubby boy with glasses, not wearing any uniform. His accent was so absurd it took me a moment to decipher what it was he was saying. When I caught on, I shook my head and let him in.

"Hi," I said.

He fairly beamed at me, "Hi, what's your name?"

"Ralph," I told him, and then returned to staring out the window. The train had begun to pull away, and I wanted to watch the scenery go whizzing by. I had always enjoyed that.