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Headstones

by viky7258 

Posted: 08 December 2004
Word Count: 476
Summary: Just a short story - anyfeedback as always is welcomed.


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Headstones

Standing to uniformed attention like rows of white soldiers, the headstones of so many loved ones lost in the war stood silently showing their respect for each man and woman lost in the midst of a fight between two countries.
Spaced like a childs game of dominos, each marble tablet echoed the memory of the person lost in war, making them immortal to those that came to remember and to those that came long afterwards, these brave beings would never be forgotten, nor would their acts of sacrifice.
As I walked amongst the sea of dead, I read each commemorative inscription and was moved by how young each of them had been when their lives had been given for their country. The youngest one I’d seen had been eighteen - a mere pup.
I’d walked for only a few moments when I came to stand next to one with a simple inscription upon it. The words ‘A Soldier of the great war’ were written above the symbol of a cross, which beneath it bore the words ‘Known unto God’. This poor soul had fought for his country and lost his life, never to be identified to the living. At that very moment I silently prayed that he had been known when he approached St Peter and had been accepted with loving arms.
I moved on, not for lack of respect, but I had come for a purpose, which I wanted to be fulfilled that very day. I continued in the same manner I had taken so far; solemnly inspecting each stone, acknowledging them each as I went. It was getting late though and I wanted to continue before the daylight faded.
The sky was going a beautiful and serene glow of pink, the colour resonating all around me.
After a few minutes more I stopped dead in my tracks. Before me stood a pure white marble stone, and although it looked almost the same as every other, it was far more meaningful to me. I placed a hand upon it, wanting to feel its touch, hardly believing what I now saw with my own eyes. Forgetting where I was I clapped my hands together and cried out with joy. My legs slowly gave way to my body as I sat crumpled at its base. In that moment I knew I was home, amongst my comrades that I had fallen with so many years ago. My search was finally complete. I had wandered in limbo for so many years, I never thought I’d find it, but here it was. I had finally found my passage to join St Peter at the gates to Heaven.
The pink glow around me started to sparkle and glow brighter than anything I’d seen before. It was then that I knew I was finally going home and could rest in peace.






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Comments by other Members



Account Closed at 14:46 on 08 December 2004  Report this post
A few minor points. There is a little repetition towards the start - "lost in the war" and "lost in the midst" both being in the same sentence for one.

Eighteen year olds dying in the great wars was not nearly as tragic as the huge quantities of younger lives which were lost. I think they were as young as 15 in some cases. As soon as they were able to carry equipment and fire guns, they were in action.

Other than that, although it's a fairly obvious piece, it's quite nicely written.

Jubbly at 19:17 on 08 December 2004  Report this post
Hello Vicky,

This is very well written with some lovely prose along the way. Eighteen is young to die as far as I'm concerned, fifteen year olds lied about their age in order to enlist, but you make the point so I wouldn't worry about that. If I'm right, your narrator is a soldier or even the unknown soldier? If this is the case, I think you could afford to give us more details,i.e life in the trenches, combat etc. This wouldn't give the ending away but make it more poignant when reached. There's a slight reportage style going on and I feel the story would benefit from insider knowlege.

I did enjoy it and look forward to reading more of your work.

Jubbly


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