I never seen them again during the week until Friday came round. When I'd got home that day, I'd taken a shower and changed into a pair of shorts and ...-shirt, I'd had my tea and was sitting at the back of the house having a smoke when the dog started barking. Somebody was about the house, I moved around to the front to see who it was and standing petrified infront of the dog was a very young looking woman. She told me her name was Amy and that she was staying up at the holiday cottage and that. A broken man to many, strong to others but what really mattered was the way he felt inside. A soul that appeared to himself like the battle fields of World War I. Filled with foxholes, trenches and the blasts of bombs in the no man’s land of his heart. The air inside resonating sounds of suffering that can be described as the sounds of those that are trapped in a permanent bane of Hell, paying for their sins of life. The ground littered with words of hate, the abuse of life. He did not feel. More

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