18th November 1916.
Still waiting for your train, my friend? I'll wait with you. You look like you could use the company. You look... tired. Please don't think me rude for saying it. I'm tired too. I've seldom been so tired. We've been working hard, you and I. Side-by-side, brothers-in-arms. You seem unsure, friend. You can't quite place me. Don't worry, it'll come to you. You've known me in passing, shall we say? Now let's rest a while. Let's hold our tongues. I can hear birds, can you? Little birds in the sky. They said the birds stopped singing, silly fools. The birds never stopped; you just stopped listening. Let's be quiet a while. Perhaps a smoke. A nice scarf you've got there, friend. From your mother, from your sweetheart? I'd offer you a cigarette but I don't believe we've time. Here it comes. The Last Train. You wait and wait, and still it's sooner than you hoped. I'll leave you go, friend. No, no. I'm not catching this myself. I'll close the doors, and blow the whistle. All aboard. All aboard.
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Letter To An Unknown Soldier
Short StoryThis story is a collection of short letters that have been submitted to the Unknown Soldier project. The project is inspired by a statue that stands on Platform 1 of Paddington Station in London, representing all the millions of soldiers who died –...
