I had enough of this war. The curse of death was beginning to weigh heavily upon me and I needed a break from the never ending ends of people I loved lives. So I picked up my things and told my mother that I was going to go to Grannies for a few days just till I got over the shock of this torment that was swirling around me. The spewing war was growing a bigger thing everyday. More peopler weeping, remembering and despairing. Letters were being received everywhere explaining how their loved ones or closest friends had fallen in battle and how they were either the "missing piece of this big puzzle in which the war is being taken part." or "he was a brave man and played a huge role in this large play being cast by the British and Germans." All of which was of course complete rubbish, just trying to make people think that their relastive and companions went down as good men, when actually most of them were probably just very unlucky and got shell shocked then died whilst being moved to safety. Grandma to my suprise had a young boy living with her. He must have only been about nine or ten.
"I found him a couple of days ago I did, his mother died while giving birth and his father was murdered aparently. Tragic story. He needs a friend, perhaps you could get to know him?"
"Yeah sure, I think we could both use a friend at this time. What's his name?"
"Yes?" replied a boy who poked his head just down the stairs so that we could see him."
"Come and meet my grandson, Arnold."
"Hello." he said holding out his hand. "I'm Henry." I took his hand and shook it firmly giving him a warm welcome.
"Arnold" I said.
"You have a lovely grandma."
That was it, our friendship was born, we were best friends and for a while he was like Harry to me. Time passed and I sort of managed to put most things behind me. But everyday I would always remember father. The last time I saw him before we got the message that he had died in the war, was the day before he was going to set off to France, we were walking in the park together just me and him, he was talking about when I grow up how I will have to be the man in the house and stuff.
"It's hard isn't it. Being like us." Henry said one day while we were sitting in the garden.
"Yes I suppose it is, but we've got each other haven't we."
"Yes I guess so. I used to have a good friend very much like you. He was like a brother to me."
"What happened to him?" I asked
"He . . . He turned out to be a German spy seeking information, he betrayed me, he . . . he was my friend and is now my enemy. I . . . I'm just going to go to the groceries, granny asked me to fetch some eggs for tomorrow morning."
Henry had started to feel like one of the family so he called all of us by our family names. I went back into the house a little while after Henry had left. After about an half an hour there came a knockat the front door. Grandma went to the door and opened it. I was sitting in the kitchen, but all I could here was a gruff male voice coming from the front garden. After the man had gone granny came into the kitchen.
"Who was that?" I asked whilst buttering a piece of toast. She looked very startled. "Granny, you look like you've seen a ghost?" still no answer. I decided to ask a different question. "When do you think Henry's getting back?
"He . . . He's not coming back." She didn't need to say anymore, I knew what had happened. He hadn't made it back, alive.