The Blitz

"Don't go outside! Don't go outside! Close all your doors and windows!" says our old crinkly radio. It has been going on like that for almost half an hour. As if ANYONE would be stupid enough to go outside when our city of London was being attacked by the Nazis. Instead around 20 of us are huddled together in a damp bomb shelter.

I watch my my seven year old brother , James, bury his small face into my fathers chest, sobbing silently. He hated the noise. I hated the noise too, but i had other things on my mind. Mother. When was she going to come home? She was just ment to go down to the corner shop for milk, but she had been almost an hour. It never ever takes her that long before. Horrid thoughts cross my mind but i banish them sharply to the back of my head. In times like this, its important to stay positive...

I walked around the small cramped area that is the bomb shelter. I looked at the families we are sharing it with; the Grays, The walkers, and the Grangers. I saw an old man in the corner. I think he may have been related to the Grays. His fragile body was hidden under a thin blanket. He was coughing...a lot. I couldn't help feel a bit of worry for him. I saw my friend Violet approaching. I sighed. Violet always looked shockingly beautiful, with her long cheastnut colored hair and huge green eyes. She was tall and slim , much like a model. No one would think she was only 14 like me. I am sadly not beautiful like Violet. I'm small and scrawny with black shoulder lenght messy wavey hair that just can't seem to be tamed, and dark brown eyes that are so dark they look almost black. I turned around to face Violet anyway. Violet smiled "Hey Charity." I nodded "Hey Violet, um how is that old man in the corner?" I asked pointing to the coughing elderly man. Violet shrugged "Oh that's Mr. Hatter. He's staying with us, his wife died recently and it took a large toll on him" I nodded, feeling pity for hi "Why is he coughing?" Violet looked at me "He has pneomonia" I looked at Mr. Hatter and walked over and sat down beside him.

Mr. Hatter looked at me, he narrowed his shocking grey eyes "What do you want missy?" he croaked, then started coughing again. I stammered "I-I-I-I j-just thought you would like some company." I was shaking a little with his gruff voice. He turned away "Hmph! I don't NEED company , what i NEED is for those bloody terrorists to get there deafening planes and annoying bombs out of MY city" he growled. I looked down and mumbled "Nazis not terrorists" Mr. Hatter turned around and snarled "You sassing me missy?!" I looked up and quickly answer "No , sir" Mr . Hatter grumbled a swear word i wasn't familer with and looked away. He didn't seem mad at me though, just angry at everything. I looked down "I know, i wish the Nazis would just go away" i sighed, a black curl falling over my eyes. Mr. Hatter snorted with laughter "Hitler doesn't grant wishes Missy. If he did he would proabably make himself blond haired and blue eyed, like he wants the world to look." I didn't quite know how to answer Mr. Hatters last statement, but it didn't matter. The elderly man had fallen asleep.

I put another blanket on him and stood up again. Suddenly, the radio stopped repeating "Do not go outside!" A male voice came on air. Our prime minister. Churchill. He sounded forlorn "I regret to inform you but under these circumstances, im afraid that Britain has no choice but to go into War" he continued with a big long speech but i couldn't listen anymore. War? What kind of idiot would go into WAR??? I heard churchill in the backround listening peoples names who had died in the bombing. Then I heard her name. Emma Hayes. Mother. She....she had died. My beautiful mother had died. And now Britain was going into war. I felt my world spinning. What in the world would happen next?