The War of the Worlds
When Mars attacks, one man must survive a world brought to its knees.
Page 1
My name is never mind. I am a writer, and I was one of the few who saw the beginning of it all. I was visiting my friend Ogilvy, a famous astronomer, at his observatory. He was very excited. "Something is happening on Mars," he told me, pointing his great telescope toward the red planet. "Come and look." I peered into the eyepiece. Against the dark night sky, Mars glowed like a tiny red ember. Then, as I watched, a bright puff of green gas flared from its surface and vanished. "What was that?" I asked, pulling away in surprise. "Another one!" Ogilvy said. "That's the third I've seen tonight. It's as if they are firing something from a giant cannon, aimed directly at Earth." We watched for the rest of the night, but we saw no more. We did not know then that we were watching the start of a war.
Page 2
The next evening, a strange object fell from the sky, landing on Horsell Common not far from my home. It looked like a huge metal cylinder, half-buried in a deep pit. A huge crowd gathered. We all waited, buzzing with questions. "It must be hollow!" said one man. "It came from Mars!" someone else yelled. "But what is inside?" asked another. Suddenly, we heard a strange grinding sound from within. The circular top of the cylinder began to unscrew! It spun faster, then fell to the ground with a clang. The crowd pushed forward. Then, something grey and snake-like, like a tentacle, appeared over the rim. Another followed. Then a huge, round, brownish head rose up. It had two enormous, dark eyes. The crowd gasped and fell back. It was a Martian, right here on Earth.
Page 3
I ran home in terror. From my study window, I watched as the Martians set up their strange machines. They were walking tripods, taller than any house, that strode across the countryside. One of them came towards my street. It moved with a smooth, clanking motion. A group of soldiers had gathered by the road. "What are they doing?" I whispered to myself. "They have no chance!" The tripod paused, its camera-like box swiveling toward them. A blinding beam of light shot out. It wasn't lightning and it wasn't fire. It was a Heat-Ray. "They're gone!" I cried. In a silent flash, the soldiers, their cannon, and the trees behind them turned to black ash and smoke. I knew then that I had to get my wife away. Our world was no longer safe.
Page 4
I borrowed a horse and cart and drove my wife through the night, away from the fighting. We made it to the town of Leatherhead, where her cousins lived. I knew she would be safe there. The cottage was quiet and peaceful. "I must go back," I told her, taking her hands. "I have to return the horse and cart. It is not mine, and the man needs it." She looked at me with fear in her eyes. "Don't go," she begged. "Stay here with me. What does a horse and cart matter now?" "I gave my word," I insisted. "I will be back by morning. I promise." It was a foolish promise. I did not know that a new Martian cylinder had fallen directly in my path. As I kissed her goodbye and climbed back into the cart, I had no idea that I would not see her again for a very long time.
Page 5
Trying to get back, I found the world had turned into a battlefield. I met a soldier, an artilleryman, retreating with his unit. "They're coming!" he yelled. "We're trying to stop them at the river!" We watched as three Martian tripods waded through the Thames, ignoring our guns. The shells just bounced off. "It's no use!" I shouted. But then, a hidden battery of cannons opened fire. One shell hit a tripod in the leg! Another hit its body. The machine shuddered, black smoke pouring from it, and swayed. With a mighty crash that sent a huge wave washing over the bank, it fell into the river. The soldiers cheered. "A hit!" the artilleryman screamed, jumping to his feet. "We got one! We got one!" For the first time, we had seen that they could be beaten.
Page 6
As I fled, another cylinder fell, destroying a house and trapping me in the ruins with a terrified clergyman, the Curate. For days, we were prisoners. Outside, we could hear the Martians. We peeked through a crack and saw them working. The Curate was losing his nerve. "We must be quiet!" I hissed. "They will hear you!" But he wouldn't listen. He began shouting that he was not afraid. "I must go out! I must speak to them!" he cried, scrambling towards a hole in the wall. I tried to pull him back, but he was too strong. He burst out into the open. I hid, my heart pounding. I heard a clang of metal outside, a short cry, and then… silence. The Curate was gone.
Page 7
After the Martian moved on, I escaped the ruined house. I was alone in a silent, alien world. Everything was covered in a strange, crimson-red weed. It grew incredibly fast, choking the trees, covering houses, and drinking water from the streams. The world was no longer green, but a uniform, blood-red. I saw no people and heard no birds. The only sound was the rustle of the red weed in the wind. "Is anyone there?" I called out, but only the silence answered. "Am I the last man alive?" I walked for what felt like days, heading towards London, hoping to find answers or other survivors. But the further I went, the more I felt like a ghost in a world that was no longer mine. I felt as if the whole world was dead.
Page 8
I reached the outskirts of a silent and empty London. On Primrose Hill, I found the artilleryman I had met by the river. He was full of grand plans. "We'll live underground, in the sewers!" he declared, waving a piece of meat he was cooking. "We'll be the start of a new human race, strong and clever, and one day we'll take our world back!" But he was just talking. He had no real plan. I left him to his dreams and climbed to the top of the hill. Below me was a vast Martian camp. I could see their machines standing among the famous buildings of London. And then I heard it—a long, strange, howling sound that echoed across the dead city. "Ulla, ulla, ulla!" It was the sound of the Martians. As I watched, I saw that one of the giant tripods near me was not moving. It just stood there, perfectly still.
Page 9
I no longer cared if I lived or died. I walked down into the city, toward the silent fighting machine. The strange howling had stopped. "I will end it now," I thought, walking right up to the giant metal legs. I expected the Heat-Ray to flash, but nothing happened. Then I saw it. The machine's cabin door, high above, was open. Something dark was hanging out of it. "It's a Martian," I whispered. As I watched, the body slumped further and fell, landing softly in the red weed below. It wasn't moving. They were all dead, or dying. They had conquered us, but they could not conquer the smallest things on our planet: the germs. They had no defence. They were gone. "Dead!" I shouted, laughing and crying. "Slain by the smallest things God in His wisdom had put upon this Earth!"
Page 10
Weeks later, I made my way home. I expected to find my house empty and ruined. I opened the gate, walked up the path, and put my key in the door, my heart heavy. "Is anyone here?" I called into the silent hall. But as the door swung open, I heard a cry from the living room. "It's you!" My wife! She ran into the hall, her face a picture of disbelief and joy. "I thought you were lost!" she cried, throwing her arms around me. "And I you," I said, holding her close. Our world slowly began to heal. Life went on. But sometimes, I look up at the night sky, at the red spark of Mars, and I remember. We learned that we are not alone in the universe. We must be ready for what may come next.
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
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