I turned fifteen in 1916. I was overseas. On that morn, I lifted my head above the trench to look across the battlefield.
Coils of concertina wire lay across the furrowed ground. Trenches filled with dead, frightened, and damaged men.
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice
A place filled with mostly unfinished stories. Begun primarily as a direct result of my association with the OC Writer's Guild