A tale for Christmas.
Merry Christmas guys.
WHAT LIES BEHIND FACES
A Christmas Tale
“Move!” came the single shout of the Captain, Chris. It lacked the bark of an order, though the loudness indicated it was directed at the men. It registered to a few as a word of encouragement. Minions repeated it automatically through cracked lips that had long defeated every form of moistening. Chris sighed. Her once bright coloured hazel eyes were now reddish, packed with dust and sleeplessness. Her thin shapely frame belied the matron who two years previously had been fully stocked. She had her weather coloured brown hair closely cropped to her skull. Her once glistening fair skin was now a shade of chocolate patched with dust and a few scars. It was the same with a lot of the other soldiers whose clothes hung on them like rags on hangars.
Days without activity, food or water had long left the…
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