world war I – Weekend Stories by Trishikh

Prusco

The corn was taller than a man on his knees, and on the morning of the fourteenth of July in 1916 it still smelled of the earth it had grown from. Of chalk dust and green sap and the last of the dew, before it smelled of anything else. I remember that most, more than…

Barry Baul

In the year 1902, when the Hooghly carried more silt than sorrow, and Calcutta still smelled of ink, indigo, horse sweat and empire, Lieutenant Barry Banks stepped onto Indian soil with a spine straightened by duty and a heart not yet bruised by history. He was twenty-seven, pale as unslept paper, his boots polished with…