The Shadow

Prologue

   (Hello Rosalies! New story based on one of my favorite movies! If you guys haven't seen this movie, please watch this movie or else you will not understand what is going on. Unless you can't handle graphic violence. This movie is called "Inglourious Basterds." This story will be in Frances' point of view unless stated otherwise. In this chapter, French is spoken but of course, the chapter is in English. I hope you guys will enjoy this)!

~ 1941 ~

   I sat at the table eating lunch. Plates were filled with chicken, potatoes, and rice. It certainly was delicious. No surprise at all though. My mother's cooking is better than anyone's. But then again, I haven't tried anybody else's food except for Philippe's, who failed miserably when trying to make a simple pasta.

   "How's the food, chérie?" My mother asked. "Delicious Maman! You always cook great!" I exclaimed. Maman and Papa chuckled while Philippe cracked a little smile. "Frances, after lunch, do you wanna help Philippe and I with the cows?" Papa asked. "Sure!" I said. "You're a really good helper mon amour." Maman complimented lovingly. I let out a smile. I loved my mother's little nicknames for me.

   I peeked out the window, since my chair is by the window. I tilted my head, confused. "Maman, Papa. There's a car out there with people. They look like soldiers." I shared. Papa immediately stood up from his chair and looked out the window with Philippe following after him. "Père, is that--" Philippe started, before Papa interrupted. "Not in front of your sister." He whispered. I looked over at Maman, who looked worried.

   "What do we do? They're coming over here right now." Philippe asked, his voice laced with nervousness. "Who is?" I wondered, standing up. Everyone looked over at me in concern. They didn't like to tell me about certain things. They shielded me away from everything related to the war. Philippe knew a lot of things about it, considering he was 18. I was born seven years after he was so of course, everyone was overprotective of me. They wanted me to keep my innocence, so I was never told anything that could ruin my childish mindset they knew I had.

   Papa bent down to my level. "Frances, mon petit, go upstairs to your room. Do not come out until I tell you." Papa ordered. "What's going on?" I asked, feeling nervous and frightened. "Chère, please just go." Maman pleaded, bending to my level to kiss my forehead. "Yes Maman. Yes Papa." I complied. Before I turned away, Philippe grabbed my arm and turned me around and hugged me tight. I hugged back, hesitatingly. I was now scared to death, knowing something was severely wrong. Philippe was usually never affectionate to anyone. Not even our parents. "Be safe, petit." He whispered whilst patting my back, signaling me to go upstairs. Just as I was walking up, I heard a knock on the door. I immediately ran up the stairs, petrified.

   I laid on my bed while staring at the ceiling, wondering what was happening downstairs. I was scared of breathing in fear that whoever my family were scared of would hear me. Papa told me once that we had to be careful because of who we are. Because we're Jewish, people were after us. But who would want to go after us because we're Jewish?

   Many of the families around us who are also farmers were also Jewish. I never heard about what happened to them, though Papa told me that they had left France due to the war but would come back when it was over. I overheard my parents talking and they mentioned that we shouldn't leave because we were so far out into the country that the Nazis would never find us. I don't know what Nazis are, and I didn't want to ask because I didn't want my parents to know I was listening to their conversation. I knew Philippe wouldn't tell me either.

   I wanted to know what was happening downstairs so I crept out of my room to overhear what was happening. I sat by the staircase, putting my ear close. I heard Papa speaking. His tone of voice scared me. I've never heard him angry like that in my life. I couldn't really understand what they were saying. I knew they were speaking French though.

   "You will never take us in, Colonel Hans Landa." Papa fumed. Take us in? For what? I heard a voice I didn't recognize say something in another language I didn't know. I couldn't understand it, so I knew it wasn't French or English. A few moments later, I heard Maman screaming. I ran over to the top of the stairs. "MAMAN?!" I screamed. I heard loud noises, causing me to fall to the ground and cover my ears.

   Once the noises ended, I slowly put my hands down. High pitched ringing developing in my ears. I looked up, a terrifying sight that I never knew could happen unfolding before me. My parents and brother were shot, their bodies covered with bullets. Lying there on the floor, dead. Blood was everywhere, staining the wooden floors of our beloved home. Philippe's body began to twitch, his head looking up in my direction. "Frances, run." He weakly gasped. Before I could respond, a man in a gray uniform covered in medals reached in his pocket, pulling out a small and black metallic object, before firing it at my brother, killing him.

   I sat there on those stairs, too scared to move or cry. I looked at the man who shot the gun, who was staring at my dead family. He looked at me dead in the eyes with a venomous look in his eyes. He said something to the other men, who had bigger guns in their arms and were in different uniforms. I realized then that it was my turn. They were after me. I quickly stood up and ran off, not knowing where to go. I rushed to my room as I heard footsteps behind me. I slammed my door shut and grabbed a chair, placing it under the doorknob as a barricade. Frantically, I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. I looked at my window. That was my only way out. I thought about Philippe's last words before he died. "Frances, run."

   I heard more footsteps outside. Tears escaped out of my eyes. I rushed to my bed and opened the window. I mentally prepared myself, eventually jumping out. I landed on my ribs on the grass, quickly ignoring the pain and running off. I ran as fast as I could, tears blurring my vision. I didn't know if that man or the other uniformed soldiers knew I ran off. But I didn't want to stick around and find out. I ran further and further away until I fell weak on the grass.

   Loud sobs escaped me as I laid on the cold grass. "Maman! Papa! Philippe!" I cried out. I didn't know what to do. Where would I go, and what will happen to me now? Will those people find me?

   (That was the prologue! It probably wasn't that good but I hope you guys enjoyed this)!