------------------Here we go:
January 1st
The war just broke in England, the Germans are invading London and the occasional siren has become quite frequent. Flashing yellows and oranges occupy the once dark and beautiful midnight sky, children cry and mothers mourn for their lost husbands and family. The war is awful, I can’t bear to live with it anymore but, as it seems, there are a lot things I cannot control, one of them being fate, if that’s one thing you believe in for I do not. Fate is just an excuse for people to justify their failures, in life and knowledge. But, let’s just say that fate has now become something else, something of a casualty, luck if you will. Fate is unexpected, sudden and as fast and destructive as a bomb. But the Axis, and the incessant bombing and lives that are lost at every minute, it is hard, it is cruel, and it’s the essence of human beings at its worse. Fate is now lost. Fate is nothing. Fate is death.
Chapter 1
Nat ran as fast as she could, her legs threatening to fail, but her will stronger than ever. The hand she held in her’s was weak and small, an orphan that knew nothing but abandon and that wished only for love and care. She ran and she ran, getting farther and farther away from the bombing and her heath feeling quieter and quieter as the sirens stopped and the child started wearing a smile ‘we made it! We made it!’ even though she knew they didn’t, there was no safety; there was no hope only the rules of survival. ‘Only a little while longer, I know just the place where you can see the starts instead of an orange sky’ she held the child’s hand stronger now, the sirens beginning to ring again. ‘Will it never stop?’ whined the little kid ‘Not until we’re all dead’.
And the last thing she saw was a flash so strong she had to close her eyes, a light that was even stronger and more blinding than sunlight, and she heard a cry, a shout, a crash and then she was being thrown into the air and the hand she once gripped was there no more.
Nat woke up, perhaps a few hours later, perhaps only seconds but what she saw was far worse than what she expected. For a moment, she believed it was all just a nightmare but the small dead body lying closely to her was no dream or nightmare but far worse than all that, it was real. The little boy with an unknown name, but a sweet face and kind blue eyes was lying on the ground in a position that could only be explained if seen, it was unorthodox, and it was work of evil human beings, soulless creatures. It was work of a bomb. How Nat managed to escape none would be able to explain, but the setting was weird and mind-blowing, in the middle of London laid a little boy in its own pool of blood and tears, eyes wide open and smudged face staring into were Nat was. As if shouting, asking, pleading for help. She cried and she cried, closed the poor boy’s eyes and cried and cried, clinging to the lifeless body of someone she had only met an hour before but had created a bond that was years worth.
‘Come, get up, NOW!’ spoke a ginger haired boy with piercing grey eyes and a freckled round face.
‘Let go of me!’
‘Get UP! I’m trying to save you!’ He shouted.
‘NO!’
‘Come...’ He whispered.
‘No...’
The boy held Nat’s arm and carried her away, knowing that she was not going to survive if she stayed there mourning the body of what was once a joyful little boy that had hopes and fears and dreams like any of us, she would most probably get killed by the Nazis.
And the last thing she saw was a flash so strong she had to close her eyes, a light that was even stronger and more blinding than sunlight, and she heard a cry, a shout, a crash and then she was being thrown into the air and the hand she once gripped was there no more.
Nat woke up, perhaps a few hours later, perhaps only seconds but what she saw was far worse than what she expected. For a moment, she believed it was all just a nightmare but the small dead body lying closely to her was no dream or nightmare but far worse than all that, it was real. The little boy with an unknown name, but a sweet face and kind blue eyes was lying on the ground in a position that could only be explained if seen, it was unorthodox, and it was work of evil human beings, soulless creatures. It was work of a bomb. How Nat managed to escape none would be able to explain, but the setting was weird and mind-blowing, in the middle of London laid a little boy in its own pool of blood and tears, eyes wide open and smudged face staring into were Nat was. As if shouting, asking, pleading for help. She cried and she cried, closed the poor boy’s eyes and cried and cried, clinging to the lifeless body of someone she had only met an hour before but had created a bond that was years worth.
‘Come, get up, NOW!’ spoke a ginger haired boy with piercing grey eyes and a freckled round face.
‘Let go of me!’
‘Get UP! I’m trying to save you!’ He shouted.
‘NO!’
‘Come...’ He whispered.
‘No...’
The boy held Nat’s arm and carried her away, knowing that she was not going to survive if she stayed there mourning the body of what was once a joyful little boy that had hopes and fears and dreams like any of us, she would most probably get killed by the Nazis.
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