dice. dices?

Published Work

RGS - Faith Ho

The little girl stared at the poppies lining the floor of the memorial. A single grave lay there - the unnamed soldier's grave. Died in World War One. She wondered who his parents were. What was his life like? Who was he? How did he die? When she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sound of the battlefield, the gunshots, and maybe one to his heart, the blood spreading at the edges like the petals of a poppy flower. Her parents pulled her slowly along, tugging her away from the grave where she stood, down the rows and rows of famous dead people, gravestones a testimony of their lives.


The only sound he heard was the frantic rhythm of his heart, matching the sound of guns and canons and groans as men fell to their death. Aeroplanes circled ahead, creating a carnage - a tapestry of red. This was not a fight. It was a massacre. A wave of...