CLING! DING! DONG! The obnoxious, loud and severely out of tune bells of the clock tower rang across the town. Awakening me out of deep sleep, I feared if today might be the day. As I walked on the cold hardwood floor, I tried not to step on it too hard as that would cause it to creak. The top floor of the tower remained dark and tranquil, even when the sun shone bright outside. It felt like we were mourning for someone....perhaps ourselves. Across from my bed, I could smell a slightly fruity and peppery aroma in the kitchen. And there she was, dressed in her bright blue and white skirt, gifted by Papa on their 25th wedding anniversary. Whisking the eggs as quietly as she could, Mama was preparing a traditional Kugel for tonight's celebration.
We weren’t permitted to make any noise, as that would give away our secret hiding spot. So, we would all sit at the table in the centre of our small room. Quietly, for 18 hours until the sun went down and there was no sight of any men in Khaki uniform on the streets. Nava, my older sister, would read for most of her time spent at the table. She is the smartest in our family. Nava told me she wanted to become a Teacher and live in America, a week before the explosions first began. Papa, on the other hand, was a patriot to this country and all that it provided his successful furniture business. Mama would weave sweaters for when the attic would get cooler than the Arctic sea. Yesterday, our neighbor and Papa’s beloved friend, Mr. Friedmann, joined us along with his troublesome Cat, Miriam. They would both
spend time securing our vintage radio with some connection. And I....would write, it was the one thing that made me feel heard amidst the constant fire parades in the sky.
BOOM! BAM! A terrifying sound had us all in jump scares. Everyday they would turn a new building into flames within seconds, but this time I could smell the raw coal. I peeked through the tiny hole in our old curtain made out of rags from our old clothes, all I could see was a thick sheet of bright orangy yellow and dusty fog covering my view. I could hear cries in the distance, so I desperately looked around for a fire extinguisher. We hurried to the lower level below the fire and I locked the door before it would burn us all into ashes. “Oh look, fireworks on Hanukkah night!” exclaimed Mr. Friedmann. He was being sarcastic while we were all desperate to flee this scary country. “People have now found a way to dig tunnels out of their hidings in order to escape this hazardous state,” called out a partially audible
voice from our radio. Yesterday, someone attacked the Reichstag in an attempt to kill the dictator. “This is our chance,” I whispered softly.
Written by: Ackshat Tiwari
Assisted by: Dhwani Zala
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