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When It Turns to Spring AgainMianie kličuć Bielarusi.Her white dress was now torn and bloodied, and she winced with every lash of wind on her bleeding wounds. She struggled to walk through the snow but she had to move, or the frost would bury her alive.Mianie kličuć Bielarusi. She shook her head frantically, but it did not clear her ice-riddled mind or her cloudy vision. She wanted to cry but it was too cold for tears to leak out.How she wished for her sister’s scarfs! The tattered white bow in her hair had long disappeared, her silver tresses hanging free into her face, dragging into the snow.Mianie kličuć Bielarusi. Her feet hit something hard and she fell, snow seeping into her thin attire. She crawled up again and continued to stumble through the snow.She had no idea where she was going. Mianie kličuć, Bielarusi. She had been with her siblings, but suddenly the Kieven Rus’ had been dissolved and her br
On the Beaches of NormandyHe could feel the blood-soaked sand under his feet, the stench of death thick in the air. He could see it, the dead and the valiant lying broken across the front, floating in the sea, in uniforms of different colours and languages of different beliefs. He could feel the young souls leaving the earth one by one, falling prey to a battle that should never have happened. They weren't his, but he felt as much for them, the children who had died to save France.And it was his fault, wasn't it?A family of three passed by him, one of England's people. An old woman, one of Germany's, supported by her teenage grandson in the distance.And this was only five of the people, on one of the beaches.He thought he would have gotten over it already, as he had gotten over the plague, and Joan, and Napoleon and he had thought De Gaulle could make everything better, but that wasn't the case and he was left alone again to wallow, in the pain permeating and infiltrating his skull.And this was where the l