"I have NO PATIENCE for dinosaurs"

BARBED WIRE LOVE

Night had fallen and the rain had stopped and the full moon lit up the ruined land, glistening off the pitted mud with its still silvery glow, darkness mimicking shadows, creeping in behind the fallen, hiding the full horrors of the battles that had been held.

Tommy called out, but no reply came, save a gentle dripping from the trenches torn apart structures, plopping into the puddles forming in the small craters or footprints left behind by the once living, only now torn and damaged, eyes left open, staring with their bloodied emptiness, contorted bodies and mouths agape.

The bombing had ceased sometime before the rain, but Tommy had been trapped under a collapse of one of the bunkers and had tried in vain to free himself, until saturated from the downpour, was able to claw through the claggy ground.

Standing upright he conveyed the scene and called out once more, stumbling, still shaken and dazed, he made his way along the broken, slippery foot boards, listening for an answer, but none there came.

On one stumble he noted a minor wound to his leg and another to his torso that lay under the singed tatters of his jacket, that had been tailored out of old hessian to protect from the freezing nights.

Staggering on, finding none alive left behind, he pondered as to whether they had moved forward or fallen back from the front lines, remembering nothing of instructions or signals.

Ahead of him, part of a rampart had been blown apart, so he scrambled slowly upward over the wet mud to tentatively peer out on the scene beyond.

Annihilation met his eyes. Once, fields of vibrant green gave way to the blackened wet earth of the silver night, the mighty trees now bare stumps, unbelievably recognised and the gentle beauty of the rolling countryside turned into hurt dark blemishes against the watching sky.

No bird flew and even the plumes of smoke from the still burning insignificant fires appeared uncomfortable in their movement. All was still and all was quiet, not revealing any clue to which the fighting had gone.

Tommy searched the horizon, of what he could see and called again for an answer. He paused, motionless, craning his head, had he...

He called again. Yes, a shout, somewhere distant, far off, yet he couldn't discern from exactly where?

Suddenly a single whizz shot past his ear, as if a fast and angry dragonfly had flown straight by, to embed itself in the bank behind.

It had come from a different direction of the call, so danger still lurked in the depths of the bright night, but at least he knew now he was not alone.

He started crawling amidst the muck and the filth, trying to avoid his fallen comrades but keeping his head low, not wanting to make noise as he went for fear of becoming an easy target, though eager to catch up with his own and find some sort of relief, especially as now he was starting to feel the cold of the damp night and judders of shock starting to shake his body.

His progress was slow, rarely being able to stand fully upright, but at least this was better than staying in the putridness of the trench, possibly just waiting for deaths hands to take him, whilst he sat thinking of nothing but his loneliness and fear of every movement or sound.

He paused for breath, weariness and hunger making itself known, and admired, that even in this desolate landscape, beauty was to be had. The sereness lay bare for all to see. Amid the death and destruction, the shapes, new and familiar, had form and being of their own, once living, created out of violence, one could not help but marvel at the landscape ahead.

The stars continued to shine, as if watching eyes staring back, though as far as any man could touch and would never know how its land looked.

Tommy called out once more. "Hello".