I once had five brothers.I once had five brothers.John, Benjamin, Thomas, Richard and William.Five older brother, all of them good lads. Prepared to go to war for their country and home, no matter the consequences.I remember when they all went off, high in spirits and rosy in outlook.Not so when we next met. The war had gone badly for them; the country in general too. Our beloved home was destroyed in an overnight bombing raid and the rest of the city set alight.We watched it burn. The great roof of the cathedral collapsed before our eyes, and the market place was encased in a river of lead as the old buildings gave way. The hospital in the town centre went
The pony and trapIt was almost ironic, really.I'd set out to go back to the town in high spirits, not taking into account, or perhaps ignoring, the thick, cloying fog that drifted over the marshes like the ghosts of a forgotten battle once again playing out their grisly pantomime and hoping against hope that this one would be their last.Childish to ignore the warnings at the back of my head about this weather, yes, but back then I was a fool. A poor, brave fool perhaps, but a fool nevertheless.The road beneath me made muffled crunching noises as I walked on, the faint lantern light barely even illuminating my feet, never mind the road ahead. The salt in
FreedomFor the past fifty years, the street had been all but deserted. Thin strands of yellow grass grew in between the cobbles, and the buildings were a shambles; visibly falling apart. The only movement was the fat raindrops spilling from the ominous purple sky, giving their landing spots a faint iridescent sheen whenever lightning leaped across the sky and thunder rolled.The street hadn't seen someone running for their life for the past thirty years.Until now.A tattered man burst from a side alley, whipping his head from one side to the other. His chest heaved as he started running again.Run. For God's sake run.He could feel adrenaline
Sta.sh
