# data[].attributes.body
The freezing and malicious wind was crying in agony of the deaths of the tragic soldiers. Th trenches were  stockpiled with dead bodies and the stench of dry blood enveloped the battlefield. Suddenly there is silence. The fog engulfed the atmosphere, leaving us in despair and anxiety; if only there was small ray of light which could save us from this abomination.

# data[].attributes.body
His face has lost its pride, his eyes their fierceness. There’s only a suspicion of life left in his knees.  Although wounded himself, he helped carry injured soldiers to safety once withdrawal became necessary. The poor soldiers could only feel pain from their severe and dangerous injuries, pain so overwhelming that they were afraid lose consciousness again. Drunk from exhaustion, they just wanted this menacing journey to come to an end.

# data[].attributes.body
The battlefield lay quiet, for it was now a graveyard of the unburied. Their corpses lay among the buttercups and roses tainting the once fertile ground with a new gush of red. The sun gloomed over the town and the cold, malevolent wind still blew in our faces, but somewhere mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters waited in vain. These men that were once boys who played in the yard with sticks and laughed at each other's silly tales were now meat for the birds. Their eyes were as immobile as their limbs. Their souls had long departed to the celestial planes to walk with their ancestors. You could almost taste the pungent odor of blood and death that hastily invaded my nostrils. The air smelled stale and musty, wrapping itself around me like mother around her son. 

# data[].attributes.body
Hues of pink and purple cascade over the dimly lit sky. Silence. No one mums a word after the indescribable horror we’ve all suffered. Seagulls loom around in pity and hawk at our pathetic frowns and hunched shoulders. Pennies linger in my mouth, no longer bothered to escape; they seep into my very being like poison forcing its way down my gullet.

# data[].attributes.body
Hazy skies loomed over the congested harbour. Soldiers scurried and hustled, their sturdy combat boots sink into the sand underfoot, slowing them down. Commands roared in all directions, overlapping each other, arms clanked deafeningly against the shields as the militants grabbed them, ammunition and gunpowder replaced the sand and gravel. The silent waves continued to flow, oblivious to the horrors on ground.

# data[].attributes.body
Chiffon head dresses fabricated the mass of their heads and temples. Domes crested the outlines of their faces into devilries, stowing their avid atrocities within.

# data[].attributes.body
Men beside me laugh hysterically losing their sense of the world in which they knew, others cry, screaming for anger, searching for the joyful laughter which they once had. The smell of blood felled the air while choking others because of the injuries they've maintained.

# data[].attributes.body
His terrified eyes meet mine. Just the thought of the torment sent shivers down my spine. This soldier looked so confident in his uniform, but when his eyes wondered into mine I saw all the unbearable damage. In those threads that mark him out as a fighter, a protector, a defender, he is barely recognizable as the boy he was before he entered this hell zone. I wonder, if he comes home with these disabling injuries to body and mind, who then will care for him? When the PTSD wakes him in a cold sweat and he screams in terror, what then? 

# data[].attributes.body
The trenches had a cold, malevolent air to it; howling in every direction as if trying to convey its own confusion at the bombardment of bullets. Suddenly. Silent. Among smoke and fire- the awful stench that reeked from half buried bodies invaded our nostrils. Screaming, the fog rolled in throwing us into turmoil and despair.

# data[].attributes.body
There we sat, starring through my soul, he looked in a way where it seemed that he regretted enlisting. Coldly, sitting in front of me like I was painting him and he didn’t flinch with pain as the other soldiers were wrapping away their defeat. The pungent smell of blood lingered on him for days.

# data[].attributes.body
The battlefield was silent for it was now a field of blood and a field of death. The ground was scattered with the remaining hatred and a will to live that seeped out of the long dead bodies. The battlefield which was once a beautiful field filled with the daily whisperings of the wind was now…dead. Dead, like the bodies that lay on the ground.

# data[].attributes.body
The cold malevolent air was screaming in despair at the sight of the ambush. Soldiers, hundreds, maybe thousands of them, ravaging our forts. Shadowy figures steadily lurking towards us, their mangled, horrific forms visible enough to send fear punching through our guts. The horrendous sound of cursed shells ringing through my ear-drums, my head aching viciously, i felt as if i had gotten shot or even worse, captured.

# data[].attributes.body
He was a boy, longing to be a man like his dad was. He'd always find himself trapped in his feelings, his own thoughts strangling him harder and harder every time, with the sight of trees running towards him and swallowing him up into a black hole of worthlessness. This stopped him from looking up at the wonderous stars, escaping into a world of enchantment like he'd always dreamed of doing only a year ago. He felt as if he fell too deep in love with being a man, that he wasn't able to make it back to the portal of reality.  The sound of the crashing waves mimicked the tension in his heart, filtering his eyes into hazy holes to dive deep into if stared. He'd only look up at the hazy skies in the mornings, only to spot dozens of seagulls chasing the sunset, wishing he could be the one flying away from his fears. You could hear his cries when the blood-red streaks of twilight would fade, hugging himself into a ball in hopes of going back to reality once more. He reached out for the sense of holding his mother's hand, yet the only thing that he could grab were weapons and the smell of fresh gunpowder. Brushing against his coarse skin hoping to obliterate the salty taste of his sweat, he realized they were tears all along.