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Showing stories tagged with #military-loss Clear filter
{ This is the prologue of one of my newest stories on Wattpad, thought I'd share and see what you guys think. } Dear Isabella Grace Garcia, I'm writing this letter hoping you'll never read it...
A bag of fools slung over his shoulder, the soldier crawls along the line of trees. One, two, and three then breathes as a twilight enemy passes and moves towards. His future, his destiny.
Tears stain every inch of the room,. Just as the next batch blooms,. I smile in sorrow at my luck, the irony,. Of how you were brutally snatched from me,. Your things litter every patch of the floor,.
#bestofopuss #remberance I can still remember It was in a bleak November, When the heater was but an ember. We sat on the carpet floor. It was school at it was raining.
Goodbye is not forever, Is what you said to me, As you close the door behind you, A distant memory.
She lies upon her father's grave, Behind her, Mother sings a stave, Lost in war, two years have passed, And yet the sadness ever lasts.
Drip drop drip. My tears fall of my cheek. As I sit here waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the news. That the war is at an end. March on March can hear him stomping. Chanting proud but scared. Scared.
By Gemma Doyle. At the end of service at church everyone went into the fellowship hall and started eating and chatting.
By Gemma Doyle. Miranda's parents heard her scream and ran to the kitchen but she was in her room. Then they saw the paper on the floor and picked it up.
Mummy what's that flower for. Mummy no-one's talking any more Mummy that man looks really sad Mummy has something happened, something bad.
Dreaming of you and your face, And of me in my dress of lace, Standing on the isle ever so holy, Our eyes focusing on one another solely, Family and friends gaze, Parents saying its only a...
The funeral, the flowers, your family.
I lived on letters for months on end Those touching letters he used to send Telling me of the love we sheared Reminding me how much he cared.
I hear rain attacking the window, Screaming at me to see. I slowly walk up to the glass, Wondering what it will be. The rain is pouring out the clouds, Like buckets being thrown over the edge.
A place of fighting, A place of war, Although there's nothing, That's worth fighting for. You must have courage, To fight at all, Chance of death, Can be big or small.
When you told me you were going to Afghanistan, And I told you it was over.
You came to me once more in a dream as the stars above did gleam... It begins the same with the beat of a drum... Hands of soldiers sway to a military march like the pleats of a skirt.
Every year Since the age of twelve Steven had done something on his birthday for his late parents. At thirteen he completed his first marathon, aged fourteen he completed his first parachute jump.
I was standing in the rain hoping my time would come, hoping this would be over. The rain was burning the bare skin on my shoulders and arms. This was it, the burning was getting worse.
When I saw him walking around the corner, carrying two dark duffel bags and wearing digital camouflage, tears brimmed my eyes. He was back. My knight in green armor. He was back home.