January, 1918
BAAAAAANG!
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
