You know it, i don't own it.
I'm a sparky not a writer.
This is one of my new stories that I've started and I thought I'd let you all read the prologue and gain an understanding on your thoughts and wither it should continue. It'll be of Harry and his journey to hide his legacy to the rest of magic's wonderful world. (Even though she is doing every thing she can to expose him and allow him the reward he deserves.) Will be set in a magical school and will include many other survivors. This may be slash I haven't decided yet. Depends on how many like the story. And yes I know it's short.
The poem is very strong for me as it reminds me so much of those we must thank forever for what they have done. And i do believe that one day isn't enough for that. A poppy is a beautiful flower with a beautiful message.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae
Tell them this. If ye break the faith with us who die we shall not sleep.
Grief
You can see it in their faces; you can hear it in their words.
Pain
It surrounds them all; it grows with every fall.
Death
It whispers tauntingly in every heart; it embraces us all.
As the last rays of light fads away from view, the horror that befell the grounds becomes hidden. The blood, bodies and faces of those that lay could no longer be seen. No longer could the fighters recognize those that they once knew as friends, family, lovers but now had to fight against. Colours lit the sky; blues, purples, yellows... reds... greens. In the dark, fighting became less personnel. Children as young as eleven fought against foes thrice their age, determination set their faces but fear hidden deep in their eyes. By the end of the night this war would be over, though who would be left to enjoy it? Moving became hard as pathways through the dead had to be forced. Three days and three nights this battle had raged. Taking but never giving back. Those of light fought to honor all that fell with their childhood home. The once mighty lady now a tomb to many. The echos of their screams still flow though the lost site, so much was destroyed that will never be known. So many ignorant of what was lost. They live their lives not a care in the world. Not a thought for those that die to not just protect their own.
On the grounds of Stonehenge the last battle of Britannia raged fiercely. When it is all over, never again would these people touch this land. She weeps knowing that she is losing more this night then the dead. The ancient families lay scattered across the sight side by side with those of newer blood their pain evident on their faces. This war included them all and no-one had the shame to hide away. The once beautiful stones laid covered in glittering blood scattered across the field. Rivers of blood and gore cut through the ground killing the plant life that had flourished. Never again would this area be green. The ground would stay blood red forever as a reminder to those ignorant of the sacrifice even if they didn't understand. For once in their long existence, creatures of the night defended the pure of light. All of them joined as one to defeat the evil that was destroying their world.
The night grew old. And the numbers declined. It is impossible to determine which side would succeed. Then finally at dawn, with a knife to the heart the war was over and a new start of the light. Without pause all those that survived disappeared from this land, never to return. Each changed some more ways then one. With a sigh of sorrow for the loss of her children, Britannia released her hold on magic, forever haunted with what was and what could never be replaced.
World wide panic surfaced that day when those of ignorance came upon the site. It haunted many that saw the bodies and faces, the blood and fluids. How could this happen without alerting anyone. Thousands lay in front of them. This horror, forever to them a mystery it'll be. They do not know that these people were the strength of their country and now with them gone they will never bloom again. Britannia lost her soul that night.
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