Disclaimer: The title belongs to the poem "Flag" by John Agard.
Authors Note: Hello! This is my second piece for my creative writing controlled assessment. It's based on the poem "Flag" by John Agard. I hope you like it :) Any feedback would be awesome!
It's just a piece of cloth that brings a nation to its knees
Somerset
The bells chimed and the sun rose on a land he would never see again. She stood just outside her door, her eyes red and her hair windswept. In her soft hands she held a faded yellow envelope. Its jagged edge taunted her; for inside lay grief and despair, and she had opened it none the wiser. She stared up at the proud piece of cloth draped over the window sill and fell to her knees, sobbing quietly.
Ypres
A stupid mistake. That's all it took. One foot in the wrong place. Falling into the sludge of dirt and grime and bodies. That's all it took to be here. Hands grasped and tore at him, pulling him up and forcing him along. A rough voice spoke and eyes widened. He knew that it was over, from as soon as his helmet hit the grime. Still, it hurt all the same to see the helplessness. It felt like a knife twisted into his back to see his comrades shaking their heads, people he'd saved and been saved by. But no more; it was protocol after all.
Somerset
Feet padded on soft grass as high pitched laughter filled the air. Water gently cascaded downwards, spiralling with the wind. But the figures were undaunted; it rained all the time in England. Yelling excitedly, they sprinted towards a muddy bank and threw themselves head first down it. Two identical splashes for two identical boys. In no time, the greatest war ever had begun. They were so innocent then. The only war they ever fought was a private one, with water and laughter instead of metal and blood. But the world was evil. It morphed their childish ways into military ones, using pointing fingers and friends and feathers. Matching grins said matching goodbyes, and matching footsteps walked off into a place where she could not follow. All thanks to that blasted piece of cloth hanging from her window.
Ypres
The sunbeams glinted off the trigger as a hand pushed him down. Knees scraped rock and there was a pressure on the back of his head; it was time. But he did not look down. He was not ashamed. His gaze caught upon a piece of cloth crudely caught in twisted wire and he steeled himself. Staring at the torn material, he was reminded why he was here. A voice drifted into his consciousness. The click. A bang. And then, nothing.
Somme
The rays swept over a desolate land. It was covered with corpses and rivers of blood. A raven landed on a piece of barbed wire and lamented over the lives lost. Suddenly, a bell rang out across the lines. It was over. Heads peeked out and spied the lone figure, standing in the middle of a graveyard waving a battered piece of cloth that had seen better days. But the knees hitting the ground had not; they were going home.