Dust And Gunfire – 100WC for Remembrance Day

January, 1918

The field goes up in a plume of dust, my lungs feel on fire, but I’m alive. I collapse to the ground, desperately trying to catch my breath, but the dust is too thick. BAAAAANG! BAAAANG! BAAANG! My senses are now useless, my nose is clogged from the dust, my ears are ringing, I’m blinded. I feel sick as I inhale the unbreathable, I begin to close my eyes…

November, 2014

As I weave the poppies through my braid I once again look at the sketch on the wall of my ancestor who went to war. I remember…

By Holly

Mrs Pratt

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