Continuation of excerpt... It was time for war

Now, no matter how neighbouring parents tried to hide their children from the growing tensions, they could not. The children knew, they listened carefully to the messages within the conversations of parents talking to neighbours in hushed and strained tones. The children perceived the danger correctly and talked amongst themselves of what might be.

'War,' one small girl mouthed slowly to another as if an acidic taste grew in her mouth.

'What will it be like?' another asked knowing she would not get an answer.

'I don't want war,' the first girl stammered.

'I don't think it will be very nice,' the other said to her.

'No, we have no idea what this will mean Shea,' she said with downcast eyes as she accidentally dropped her floppy doll into a pool of mud.

She reached down and grabbed hold of her arm, snatching her back to rest again on her own chest. Across the way, the rowdy boys played together and roughed each other up. How long would they continue to play in the same way, was the thought that ran through every glance.

For now, the day went on as it always had done and the usual routines did not cease. It would not be long until a new dawn would break and something ferocious and ugly would step through the door, place a heavy-footed step into their territory like an intruder in the back yard - your yard. After all, it was not their yard, it was not their land, it was not their territory, it was not their home and it was not their children. For a child, the nightmares and ideas of war could not compensate for the understanding of why and how such a thing should or could ever develop out of the night.

From the night shadows, these events would emerge that would change the life of a child forever. They would be led away, with or without their toys and games that they knew so well and held dear. The ones they played every day of the week - on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and even Sundays. Board games, ball games, floppy dolls, hard dolls, dolls with big eyes and teddies with small eyes. Boys and their games, the ones they invented even - even these - they may not play any longer. Not where they were going, not with what they would be doing, not where they would be led. From one world to another, the children would be led away and not by a flute and a dance. It was by a soldier and a weapon that they would solemnly follow without a word, or melody or toy.