In Memory of the Fallen Soldiers

As the breeze of cold whispers flew into the desolated field, 100 eerie cries from the wounded soldiers brought down chilly spines. His eyes shriek in the agony of the pain he endured since the war. He stuttered, his muscles twitching with a heavy breath. Clutching a poppy against his heart, the battered uniform engraved the British flag. 100 years, 100 months, 100 days, 100 minutes, 100 cries. In a crowded trench, soldiers were tired out and exhausted by the war. Suddenly a Juggernaut charged down the field into hell. Was this the end? Their fate was on the field.

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Jasper Teoh

Jasper Teoh

What is the truth behind the lies or what are lies behind the truth? Journalist explorer looking at the wonders of the media, literature and nature.