Switch headers Switch to TIGweb.org

Are you an TIG Member?
Click here to switch to TIGweb.org

HomeHomeExpress YourselfPanoramaRemembrance Day
a TakingITGlobal online publication

(Advanced Search)

Panorama Home
Issue Archive
Current Issue
Next Issue
Featured Writer
TIG Magazine
Short Story
My Content
Remembrance Day Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Janiice, Canada Nov 2, 2006
Citizen Journalism   Short Stories
 1 2   Next page »


Keilea lay back on her yellow and blue bedspread. She had a upcoming essay to write but she was not sure where to start. What exactly does Remembrance Day mean? Was the question that remained on her mind. The 14 year old had heard numerous stories about soldiers and the war. Her grandfather, who was in World War I, despised talking about those days and seldom answered those questions that she asked him from time to time. Keilea knew that she would have to write this paper on her own.
Keilea had changed her mind numerous times on what she wanted to write. Though she knew that an essay would be the best option. It would help her get the marks she needed and also answer her question. She slowly got out of bed and walked over to sit in front of her computer. She sat there for about five minutes before she knew what she wanted to do. She loved to write stories, but she wanted to find out the true meaning of the holiday that is known all around the world. Her mother and grandmother knew very little and what they did know Keilea had heard a hundred times. Keilea knew that she needed to talk to her grandfather.
Her Grandmother once told her a story of when her grandfather left to go to war for the first time. They both had lived into a small town in Newfoundland but since they were apart of the British Empire, all Newfoundlanders who were old enough to go fight, had to go. Keilea remembered her grandmother telling her the story as if she was reliving it again.
“Your Grandfather, Keilea, was a brave and handsome man, When he left, I thought for sure he was never going to come back to me again. He stood so tall and brave in the uniform. Your Grandfather and a few other men stood along the deck to wave their good-byes to their families. I couldn’t wave to him because after he boarded that ship all I could do was cry. I missed him even before the ship set sail. I missed him so dearly the length of time he was gone. To me it felt like an eternity. I still love him just as much as I did on the day he left.”
The story that she told brought tears to her eyes. Keilea never did bother asking her to tell it again because she hated seeing her grandmother cry. Keilea’s older brother, Kurt, was killed into the war. Kurt was a soldier for a very long time. Keilea was not even born in that year so she never got to meet him. Keilea thought again. What could she say? Researching would help a little but she needed an essay from the heart of someone who was there. Keilea knew if she wanted a good paper she needed her grandfather’s opinion.
A few days later Keilea realized that the paper was due in two weeks and she needed to get started working on it if she wanted a good grade. Approaching her grandfather with the intent to ask him about the war she was very surprised how easily he talked about it with her. Her grandfather told her stories of death, men screaming last words and promises they would keep if they had just lived. He sat back in his chair as if he was trying to remember something that had happened. The sunlight shone in on his pepper colored hair, his teeth shone as he smiled to himself. His stern look came back and he looked at Keilea again and continued. He told her about the living conditions, the dirt, mud, no showers or baths. Nothing. Her grandfather told her how the friends you could make one day be dead the next. All the screaming, crying and bloody men that he had attempted to help. The thing that almost brought tears to her eyes was when he said “We killed innocent men every day, and they killed us, not always physically but mentally as well.” Keilea clearly understood what this had meant. Those horrors that they had survived though will not disappear like water washing away a picture in the sand. Those memories will stick with them forever until their last day in this world, The screaming, crying, yelling and shooting were enough to terrify anyone who came within hearing distance. Things had to be done, there was no easy way out.
Those taunting horrors they lived through daily knowing there was little they could have done to save them, knowing that putting people in the line of fire would not solve the problems but create many more. Keilea listened very intently to her grandfather. She knew exactly that what he was talking about was right. Keilea knew he was a very brave man, she just did not know how brave he was until now. Keilea never seemed to get tired of his stories over and over again. She finally knew what to write.
Remembrance Day is not just a day for celebrating the fact a war is over. No one will forget the horrors they went through no matter how hard they tried. Those men that put their lives on hold to save their country. Some lost their lives for generations who will be grateful they were there to stand tall and be brave. Keilea knew that if she were able to talk to those men and woman today she would tell them how wonderful she though they all was - how that even though they had families home waiting for them they put their lives on hold to help save the county, the world. She’d express her admiration for the families who had to deal with the loss of their loved ones, families who knew that they had died fighting for the things they loved most: family, friends and the country.

 1 2   Next page »   


You must be logged in to add tags.

Writer Profile

I love writing. It is a way to express myself when I just can't seem to thing clearly. It helps define the line between confusion and fustration. Sometimes when you write things down you feel better about it. I know I defentally do. I hope you enjoy my work.
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.