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Grace Ow


Since I was young, I was a voracious reader and had a deep love of words and the way they could be used to convey meaning. I hope that my words and my stories would have a positive impact on others.

Message from Writer

Every face that we see in a crowd has a story behind it. I am trying my best to listen, tell and share all the stories that I can.

​The Things They Carried

May 5, 2016

8 May 1945. The streets were filled to the brim with celebration, as the people celebrated end of the war. The soldiers were welcomed back as triumphant heroes, each of them still wearing their uniforms, stained with blood and torn apart by bullet shells, their faces marked by streaks of dry tears and years of battle. The women had letters in their pockets that had been yellowed with the dust and dirt of the frontlines. They had tears in their eyes but beaming smiles on their faces in the knowledge that the weight of the burden that they had carried for five years was finally lifted. The children ran around the streets empty-handed but whole-hearted, their laughter like music to the ears. They were not exactly sure what was going on, but they sensed the lightness of the atmosphere, like a dark fog clearing to reveal the splendour of the moon at night.

Despite the festive mood in the air, there was an indescribable façade put on by every face in the crowd. Behind every pair of laughing eyes lay a deep fatigue and an unspeakable sorrow carried deep within their souls. Every person had known some form of loss, some part of their heart that was taken away by the destruction around them that could never be given back. In their place were broken memories that would always haunt them for the rest of their days. Beneath the light of the moon, each was silently plagued by the things they would carry with them for the rest of their days, buried deep within shadows of themselves.


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  • May 5, 2016 - 10:24am (Now Viewing)

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