February 3, 1943
Dear Nicolai,
It’s been a few weeks since we went into hiding. Every day we would hear the sirens of the German vehicles echo throughout the ruins of what was once a happy town. Our neighbors, the Niokia’s, were caught the other day, their farther was shot on sight. I saw the whole thing from the hidden window in the attic. The Germans just mercilessly shot him in the head, cold blood, in front of his wife and two young children.
Papa said it was their fault. Papa said the father was caught digging out of a trash like a rat and lured them back to their hideout. Papa said we have to be quick and nimble when we sneak out to scavenge. The Germans call us rats, but Papa refused to adhere to such a name.
If he hated that name so much, then why do we live like rats?
How are you Nicolai? How is America? I bet you’re safe and sound in a cozy warm apartment, away from this hell. I wish the best for you. Mama said when Papa gets enough money from scavenging, he’s going get a plane ticket and we all will see you in America.
We will be a family again.
-Your Brother-
Mika
I gently laid the pen down as I held my breath. Outside I could hear the Germans moving about, yelling and scolding the German youths for not finding any Jews. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a happy place, one where war and death never exist. Papa said this was just a silly fight and that it will all be over. I want to believe my papa, I so desperately wanted to believe this was all just a nightmare.
YOU ARE READING
Behind Enemy Lines
Ficción GeneralIt all began in WWII Discalimer: This is something i've always wanted to try out. I've never done a WWll story before. It will contain violent scenes and heavy depictions of what happened during that era. Reader discretion is advised.
