In a war zone, I was assigned a top secret mission; to uncover secrets buried deep within a high security prison.

On my way to the prison I pass through a poor, run-down village. Sadly, this was normal. A lot of small towns and villages had been ravaged by the war. People were living each day never knowing if they would see tomorrow.

As I passed through the deadly silent village something caught my attention. Young children huddled together under a makeshift shelter which looked as fragile as a house of cards.

In these war-torn lands a person’s eyes said a lot. These innocent children were born fighting to survive. Their eyes so full of innocence were smiling, playing with stick and stones. They were happy despite the harsh hand life had dealt them.

Some soldiers would join in and play with the native children. Some thinking they were helping, showing compassion and others to gain favour with locals or to indulge their guilty conscious.

Me, I do nothing. Why interfere? The children were uninterested in me and I had no business disturbing their lives any further. I had a job to do and so I continued walking towards the prison.


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