Part 1

Though it was still late autumn, the rain had long ago turned to snow, all the windows in the village became crusted with ice and the streets covered in sleet. It was Friday when we heard the war had started. We didn’t know why, or where, or who was fighting. Some packed their things and left in a hurry, to fight or to flee, but those who stayed were left nervous with anticipation. My mother had, for the entire morning, barely let go of my older brother, who had just turned 18, telling him that she wouldn’t let…

Nicholas Harlowe

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