Entrenched

After three days, the rain had finally stopped. Jack had had his fill of the French climate. Holding a wad of crumpled paper against his thigh, he began to write…

Dear Mum and Dad,

I hope to be home soon, although you may see me before this letter. Me and the lads are keeping our spirits up, despite the weather and other distractions. As you know, it was my nineteenth birthday yesterday. I missed your birthday cake dreadfully, Mum.

Your loving son,

Jack

Behind him, a low cloud of phosgene gas crept towards the trench that Jack was sitting in.

Bryan Thomas Merits