DISCLAIMER:
This story is written to acknowledge and remember the members of the armed forces who have died in the line of duty and those who have come home.
These are all my own characters. This story is based on true events, but the plot is my own. Please let me know if any of the facts are incorrect and I will do my best to fix them, and if there is anything offensive, let me know. If you know who the picture belongs to, tell me in the comments and I can credit them.
1914
"I have to go," That's what they all say, "For our country".
The cries. The bags. The application. The train. The pain. The worry. The ache.
Of course you had to go. They all did.
1915
"I have to go," That's what we all said, "For our country".
All the cries, the pain, the worry, the ache. For what? What are we fighting for? Most of us don't know.
We all said we had to go. That's what we thought.
1916
Will they come back? Will we ever see them again?
I can't sleep. I can't eat. They've been gone too long. When will this be over?
Is it worth the cries, the pain, the worry, the ache?
1916
When will we go home? When will we be safe?
No one can sleep, no one can eat. Is it worth it?
I've made new friends but lost more than I count on our hands and toes.
No one wants to be here. We all thought we did. It is not worth it.
1917
I miss them. Even the ones I don't know. All the ones who died.
The letters have stopped coming. The poppy is my only consolation.
I'm so scared to get the yellow telegram. What happened to them?
1917
I miss them. We all do.
We miss the ones we lost. The ones we never met. The ones who never got to say goodbye.
I cant send the letters. I can barely write. I'm so scared, all the time.
The cries, the pain, the worry, the ache, it's unimaginable.
1918
The wounded have come home. But I don't know them.
Every day I wait outside for the return of the others. But they never come.
When will we finally see them?
1918
I want to go home. I miss the busy streets, the crazy neighbours, the cat, her.
I need to go home. I hate being here.
The guns stopped. It was quiet. All we could hear was the subtle song of the lark above.
We are going home.
The cries. The bags. The application. The train. The pain. The worry. The ache.
Was it worth it?
A/N: True North Part 2 coming soon!
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Random Short Stories
RandomThese stories are all my own works, with characters that I have created. They're just some random short stories that I came up with here and there. Some are poems and others are event editions.
