Vimy Thanks.

A short movella I wrote after visiting Vimy Ridge and the Canadian War Memorial in France. It's so moving to go down into the trenches, and underground, to see just what conditions those solidiers went through, and to see the thousands of names carved into the memorial. It's a beautiful place, I thoroughly recommend visiting there.


1. Vimy Thanks.

As I wandered towards the monument, I marvelled at the sheer size of it, and wondered just how someone had accomplished such a thing. The limestone looked like marble; smooth and polished. Figures were placed on and around the two towering pieces of limestone, clothing carved in strategic places.
The grass lining the path was cut neatly, with trees spaced evenly apart. Every so often you would see a stray maple leaf, as if the trees wanted to remind you who owned the land you were standing on and why. I could see the boxes on the grass before the monument, the boxes that shone light on the 200 foot tall icon at night.
I made my way up the first set of steps, and stopped. There were names carved into the stone, the names of the soldiers who had died. I ran my hands along the grooves, tracing letter after letter, as if I could communicate with every man whom had died. It wasn't enough to just say thankyou, or to place a ring of poppies below their names. I whispered a gentle 'thanks' to the female figure of Canada, who was weeping over the casket of the un named soldier. I walked and walked and walked, circling the monument several times before bowing my head, and walking away.
Nothing could change what happened to them.
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