I ached.
I did not cry. I had no more tears to cry.
Pain pulsated behind my closed eyes. Closed eyes that had eluded sleep for so long.
So long.
Everything was so long: the bomb drills, the bombings, the hunger, the sleepless nights, the loneliness, the pain.
Slowly, I became aware of the rocking of wherever I was, and if I strained through my pounding migraine, I could just hear the sound of another person's breathing.
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
I must have made a noise, because the other person shifted where they sat, creaking whatever furniture they resided in.
"Shh...sh...it's ok now. It's all ok now." The voice was so hoarse and crackling, it was impossible to tell the owner's gender. But I knew that they were wrong. I was not safe. I was not alright. Nothing was, nor ever would be. Because they were lost.
All lost.
And I was no different from them, was I?
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Historical FictionIt's 1940, and the beautiful world thirteen year old Alina Fischer has grown up in is changing. It's hard to believe anything could change in the sleepy village of Felsental, outside of Cologne, Germany. But the world is changing, and with many stra...
