Weekly Writing Challenge #143
His gaze followed the road, as its silvery line slowly disappeared through the woods. As the sky was getting darker, he thought he would have to walk faster to avoid the storm.
This world was different, the landscape diffused, as if on the brink of disappearance. Was this reality, or only a dream?
Picture: Church in Lübars, Berlin © 2017 HonoréDupuis
For forgotten heroes
The silent church was hidden behind sand bags and a heteroclite assembly of scaffoldings and canvas, derisory protection for its ancient coloured windows.
In the distance could be heard the deep rumble of enemy’s artillery, under a leaden sky.
His platoon had sought refuge in the now abandoned village, and the ruins of once charming houses, out of place in the tortured landscape.
The men were exhausted, ill, their faces grey, their hearts hopeless in bottomless despair.
It was November, 1917, in his mind danced the distant memories of peace.