August 6th, 1942
After yesterdays events, I don't know how much more I can take of...this. My brother, and sister, and myself are all that are left, and every single day we cry. For mamma, and father, and the bombs being dropped on the city are not helping us cope with the loss. For myself it just gets worse. We are thankful for things nonetheless, such as Mr. Gibbson. He not only took us in, but he helped us and treated us as his own children. This experience will scar us for life if we live, and thanks to Mr. Gibbson we might survive. But I don't know...my siblings both think we'll make it, but I don't think I'm that optimistic anymore. With recent events, I think someone is tipping the Nazis off about the people hiding. I'm afraid... Afraid of being caught.
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My Days In Hiding
Historical FictionA story about a young girl that lived during the holocaust.
