Dear Diary... Please Save Me

August 30, 1941

Hello, 

I thought I would start out fresh and write something new, just to well have a fresh start, I wasn't really liking the direction the other book was taking me, and I wanted to take this one nice and slow instead of rushing like I did on the other one, so I have no idea when each chapter will be out, they will juts kinda be out as I write them, go through them, and like it. I am almost begging you to tell me what you think, like its almost driving me mad. I'm going to end this stupid rant now, before people get annoyed, well because I get annotated when people have long rants at the beginning. 

Oh and If you are reading this thank you Sophia for fanning, I know I'm not putting in your whole name, but I don't know it of by heart, and I assume that's your name, but thanks again, I really do appreciate it. XD

I hope you like it! 

Comment, fan, Vote <3

Elle<3

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August 30, 1941- Location - Paris, France - Darcy interment camp

      By now the cold air seeps through every thin layer of my tattered blanket. The pot bellied stove dose not  provide much heat, unless your standing beside it. My sent has long been gone, because I have late summer cold, and it is more then deadly to be sick now. I am some what happy that my sent has gone missing, I donut think I could stand the smell of rotting souls any longer. Every one here seems to have giving up hope, though we have only spent five days in this tortures place. The night is dark, the candles have burned out hours ago, yet I use the moon, shinning though our only window to right this. Mons echo of the walls from all different directions, the night was quit as a wolf howls off in the distance, The cry's of pain sound like piercing knifes.

      I think Mme. Chari would be proud of my narrative of the location, and conditions in Darcy internment camp. Though she is not a Jew so she would probably just spit in my face. She seemed to get some hatred towards me once she learned that I was Jewish. Though before she had loved me, and she was the one who has given me this lovely journal three years ago. It was one of the few things I grabbed before they pulled me out of my family's lovely home. Thinking on it, I miss my house so much. The idea of being able to curl up by the fire, drink hot coco, and read my Monty issue of Italian Vogue from my fathers shop made me want to cry.  My life was luxurious back then, and now, well now I would say I'm living in the dump, and for no good reason. My father did not gamble, my mother did not sleep with other men. Though some how, and for some incredibly wrong reason Hitler hated us. Yet we cant seem to get a simple answer not hard question, and from what we could see, a lot of the world hated us too.

          I think about my little cherie puppy back home, I wonder if he is alive, no one is there to feed him, take him for walks, or play with him. he must be so lonely. Though I hope he will have a better fait then I will. His name is Lunette witch means little moon, he is a Berger Picard and those kind of dogs originate in France, he is a rare pure bread, and I love him so much!! Lunette has golden fur, that is as soft as my favourite cashmere sweater. His belly is slightly lighter. Just thinking about him makes me want to cry. 

        To stop my self from crying over poor Lunette I will talk about something else, seeing there is not much to talk about, and I am afraid to fall asleep I shall tell you about the past few days here, and the trip from my home, though I am warning you, who ever may read this once I am long gone, I did put up a fight. And yes after hours of crying I have finally managed to tell myself that I will not live to see my wedding day, though I can only try my best to accomplish just that feat.

        On Wednesday August 20 me and my family were pulled out of our home while we were enjoying our morning meal. We heard that there would be some raids, but my father decided to not believe it, and because of this we ended up here, at the Darcy Internment Camp located right inside of Paris France, also known as my home town, and the city that I have live in for my whole life. Thought I do not blame him for avoiding these rummer. All he was trying to do was to avoid the build up of stress, though now he is eating him self up from the inside out, because of how guilty he feels. Though I try to comfort him it doesn't seem to help to much. Oh my goodness, totally of topic, well I'm back on 'trip'. Though as a warning I do have a habit of going of into my own world, but I will try my best not to. Any ways back to the store.

      We were given ten minutes to pack one bag each, though all of use were pulled out of our rooms when the time ran up, my mother thank fully had not been as optimistic as my father, and had put a bag in each of our rooms. She herself decided to fill her bag with food, in a secret compartment at the bottom, along with some of her nice jewelry, and our fake passports. In the main compartment she packed some dressing and pants, along with blankets, dipper cloths and the cleaning wipes to go with it. I myself packed my bag with this note book, my fountain pen, lots and lots of ink, two of my favourite copy's of Italian Vogue, and as many out fits as I could fit, along with socks, and under garments. My father had just filled his bag with food, and cloths, and some items for Babette because she herself was not able to take a bag. I tried to grab Lunette under one arm, but as soon as I had picked him up I was told by a German officer that he could not come with us. I reluctantly dropped him to the floor, as I fell to my knees to say goodbye to my dear cherie. The German officer then had to pull me away from Lunette as I howled after him, he looked at me with his big blue eyes, and I will never forget the look on his face. Though something about it made me stop crying, and stand up, taking one last look over my shoulder to see him siting there with a look of pride. That look now has been burned into my scull, keeping it there stops me from crying. Knowing that he would be disappointed if I were to cry over him any longer. 

      My family was shoved into a military truck, filled with at least a hundred other people. Babette started howling, making such a fuse. My mother took her from the arms of my father and started rocking her back and forth trying to sooth her howls, and slowly it did work. Though by the time the crying had subsided to a dull whimper the truck hand stopped and the tarp had been removed reveling our new home. The electric fences were opened and then right again closed once we had all entered, we were then told in poor french that we could find and cabin to stay in, one family per room, and each cabin had about five rooms, and one bathroom. The rule of one room per family would stay that way unless there is not enough room then it will upgrade to two, then three, and so on and so forth. As soon as the man stopped talking my father was off, telling me to come with him, and my mother to stay there, and to blend in with the other wife's possibly even make friends. We dashed though the houses, an finally entered one of the farthest cabins, my father automatically went to the farthest room, and put down all three of our bags, I had the window bed, and my father had the one across from it with my mother, it was a double bed. We would later ask for a crib for Babette. My father then told me to go find my mother, and bring her to the cabin. I did as I was told, and found no complications on the way there or back.

    The days have gone by so slow, and every day I hope we will get out of this place but nothing happens, my family has kept to itself, we don't want to do anything wrong. On Sunday though it is a day of rest, and we are not allowed to leave our room. The rules are strict here, and we are all so scared to do anything. Five people have already been killed, and there is already talk of more people coming to stay in this place with use,  though no one knows when. My father also said that he has heard of people trying to find a way to get out. But he doubts it will work and dose not spend his time taking to the believers of this mythical idea. Though secretly I hope it dose work, I think it would be great fun here in this boring place to plane an escape. But I would not dare get involved for my father would murder me the second he learned.

I must get some sleep now, so for this very moment I bid you goodnight.

I will see my pen writing on you pages again tomorrow. 

Love, Aurelie 

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Hello again!

So I hope you liked it, if you have any cover ideas totally send them to me, because I have no idea what to do, plus I'm on a Mac, and I don't have photo shop, so yeah. hope you liked

Comment, Vote, Fan

Elle<3