The Battlefield!
by J.T. aged 14
Mud dripping down blood red material, flashes of white
stripes fill the battlefield.
Guns crack, feet march, blood spills – but it’s all part of
being a soldier.
No turning back, no going home. It’s fight to the death or don’t
come at all.
The enemy’s fierce eyes pierce into the souls of the
innocent. Fallen men all around. These are friends, fathers, brothers –
bleeding to death, not in vain but in the glory and triumph of their beloved
country.
The heart of the battlefield grows steadily denser. The
captain is eyeball-to-eyeball with the enemy.
He draws his sword ready to plunge into the opponent’s soft
skin when . . .
“Jimmy! Come down here and do your homework!”
Reluctantly Jimmy places the plastic soldiers in his toy box.
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