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The memorial near Englefield Green had the appearance of a tranquil temple. At least it did until Hitler’s grandson Hans Flitch gathered a terrorist force in Britain. Now, it’s normally beautiful lawn was covered in barbed wire and sandbags protected the base of the building. The memorial had a ground floor with walls of white stone and a courtyard inside with pillars at the edge partly obscuring the names of countless allied air force members who had been killed in action and had no known grave. Then upwards to the north still adjoined to the courtyard was a higher sort of keep with a brilliant view of London. Twenty years ago the planes constantly flew over taking passengers to and fro. Tall buildings had punched the sky. The island where the Magna Carta was signed could be seen clearly in the foreground. Things had changed. Half of London lay flat on the ground as the result of North Korean bombers. Heathrow airport was nearly completely gone after continued terrorist attacks. The Magna Carta was completely forgotten and the Nazis had control of half of Britain, or at least what was left of it. Read On…

These are all the stories (and poems) of Storiola:

Written by Harry:-

Written by Mike:

Written by Brad:

Written by Josh:

Written by Tom:

Written by Hannah:

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