By Caroline Thomas
As the soldiers approached the houses, the families crept from their cellars, and crouching low, scuttled towards the river at the end of the village. Bundles of bread and photographs tied to their backs, they plunged into the cold, grey, fast-flowing water. Mid-stream, a boy slipped from his father’s hands and floated like driftwood downriver, away from everybody he’d ever known in his nine years. The voices shouting his name were lost in the roar of water, wind, and panic. The families reached the opposite bank and lay flat on their stomachs in the pungent marshlands, watching tanks pounding their homes.
A very visual, well written piece. Kudos.
Thanks for the feedback, Kevin.
As General Patton once said, War Is Hell, indeed. Civilians always the most injured and killed. When are we the people going to ever learn to live in Peace and Harmony without hungering another piece of land or power for their own sake…WHEN are we ever going to learn…”The Answer My Friend Is Blowing In The Wind…Just Blowing In The Wind” like Bob Dylan once wrote and Peter, Paul and Mary once sang.
So true, Rudolph.
‘Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they’re forever banned?’
This is heartbreaking
Good to know it had an effect. Hard to achieve in a few words.
Sad. War wins, we lose. All. Good story. Thanks.
Thanks for giving feedback, Sandra. Yes, the people all lose in wars. All sides.
This tugs at the heartstrings. It’s all the more poignant for bearing such a close resemblance to reality. A very worthy submission.
Thank you for your comments, Kelly. That means a lot. Actually I’ve never experienced anything like that, so it’s interesting that it came across as realistic. It seemed to come to me out of nowhere. The collective consciousness, I guess?!