Chapter 1: A Dinner's Talk

Emma sat still, using her silver fork to dig into her carrots. The lamp above the dining table shook slightly, as her family around her ate in silence. Father scratched his chin as he looked outside the window, while Mother gently shoved the tomatos into her mouth. Emma's brother, William, was moving his two carrots around with his hands and smashing them into the gravy, making tiny sounds as if the carrots were cars crashing into a strawberry fruit stand. 

"Willam, stop playing with your carrots and eat them, young man!" Mother scolded. "I walk down blocks to get the tastiest carrots I can pay for, and this is how you repay me?" 

 "Sorry, Mother." William muttered as he dropped the gravy covered carrots from his fingers. "I just like to play with cars." 

 "Wipe the gravy off with your napkin, and carrots are for eating, not for playing. Your not two, William. Your eight and I expect better from you." 

 "Besides, son, carrots help you grow a mustache." Father joked as he rubbed his hand on William's hair. 

 Mother slapped Father's arm with her tiny hand. "Tim! They do not! They make you grow smarter and more active."  

 Silence followed. Emma hid her uneaten carrots behind the big blobs of mashed potatoes as she said. "I haven't heard from my friend in weeks." 

 "Is that so, sweetie?" Mother asked. "Why?" 

 Emma shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't letter me. It's very unusual. I do miss her so much. What happened to her?" 

 Mother looked at Father, her eyes glinting with worry. Father shifted in his wooden chair, making the pegs creak on the wooden floor. William started eating the mashed potatoes with his hands but nobody noticed, except Emma. 

 "Dear, there's something that's been going on in Germany right now..." Mother began. 

 "What?" 

 "Well, something's happening to the Jewish people, sweetheart. Something bad. It may happen to us, but I hope it will not come. Your friend may have got involved." 

 "Tell me, Mother." Emma said, rather sharply. "I must hear it. My friend is very important to me, and I need to hear what happened to Bonny." 

 "Jewish people are being killed." Father admitted. "By the Nazis. Something you don't need to worry about, my dear. Just some sca-" 

 "You mean Bonny was killed?" Emma gasped as she jumped from her chair, the fork clattering to the floor. "It can't be true! Mother, Father, tell me it isn't true!" 

 Mother sighed as she got up, dusting the crumbs from her apron as she held Emma's hands. "Listen, sweetheart, I don't know. She could've moved somewhere else, or gotten... killed. Father will try to find out soon enough." 

 Her finger wiped away a tear that was slowly spilling down Emma's cheek. Mother's face had a warm smile, with bright, glowing green eyes and wavy bangs of ginger hair spilling in front of her eyes. Her hair was back in a bun, as she was wearing green leathered clothes, black shoes, and a white apron with a flower sewed into it. She looked like a real mother, with a homey touch. 

 Emma hugged her, sniffing. Bonny was a tough, hard girl. She wouldn't die so easily. She would try to escape or fight with the guards.  

 "Okay, go get changed and into bed." Mother whispered as Emma backed up. "It's almost time for bedtime." 

 "Aw, Mother." William complained. "Can I stay up tonight?" 

 "No." Father replied to him. "You need sleep, mister, for school. Your grades matter more then ever right now." 

 William got up, licking his palms from mashed potatoes as he walked up the stairs, mumbling and grumbling. 

 Mother laughed. "He'll get over it. You can go and read upstairs, Emma. Just don't tell your brother. I don't want any grumpy trolls!" 

Emma agreed as she walked up the stairs. Her Mother sat down besides her Father, whispering to him. What was going on? What was the big problem? 

 

 

Chapter 2: Butterscotch Candy & Poems

Emma sat in her bed, her quilt tucked around her. Her window was halfway open, the noise of the streets below breezing into her room. 

She sat, opening up a old, torn book. The pages were a bit rough and wet on the sides, with splotched ink that was puddled across the pages. Emma sighed as she closed the book and read the title, which said "Princess and Prince: Romance". 

Emma liked books with adventure, history and swords and battles. Romance was for soft, baby like people. Father said to Emma once that adventure books presents the inner traits within one, and Emma believed him, like always. Mother read's romantic stories, and usually shares them to Emma. But Emma tells her that she's not interested, but interested in the war books, with dramatic chapters and horrific battles. Mother told her sharply once that books like that were for men, and women kept to soft, quiet like stories that modivates them to do chores around the house, like cook dinner and clean your family's clothes. Emma didn't want that. 

Emma got up from her bed, brushing some mothballs from her pajamas. She hadn't worn these pajamas since she was only nine, but since she was small and rather skinny, she could fit into any clothes. 

Emma walked over to her nightstand and placed the old book on it. The wooden nightstand creaked a bit, and Emma had to shove her knee forward so one cabniet wouldn't slide from it's cozy space. Emma had old furniture, since Father bought them from the markets so they wouldn't spend food money on fancy couches and stuff. Emma usually swore to herself that one day her bed would fall apart right when she's sleeping on it. 

Emma jumped, startled, as she heard a knock on the door. She sighed, forcing her heart to calm down from the sudden noise as she called softly. "Come in." 

Mother walked in. Mother was wearing a long, white pajama dress that went to her ankles and had blue cotton fabric sewed into it that were shaped like blooming violets. Her hair was back in a ponytail now, and she was wearing white gloves over her hands. Mother was carrying a gray tray that was filled to the brim with small, golden like candy.

"Here, dear." Mother murmured as she placed the tray on the nightstand. "Have some butterscotch candy." 

Usually, Mother made butterscotch dimpling candy pops every night. They were homemade, and she made them with suger, caramel, ice and another secret recipe. She doesn't tell William or Emma, but Emma was determined to find out. 

"Thanks, Mother." Emma said as she grabbed one and popped the candy into her mouth. It was sweet and delicious, her tongue licking at it's creamy surface and her mind bobbing at the taste. "It's great."

"Yes, I'm sure it is." Mother replied as she sat down on a chair next to Emma's bed, as Emma sat on the bed's matteress.

"Honey, I want you to know that whatever happens, I'm here for you." Mother suddenly said as she reached for Emma's hand.

Emma nodded. "I know, Mother."

Mother silently got up and walked out. Emma didn't know why she went so quickly, but she didn't mind. She wanted to be alone.

Emma got up and raced to the window. The street lamps were coming on, their pale light washing the cobblestone streets yellow. Emma could see horses pulling wagons filled with fruit, vegetables or homeless children or adults. Slowly, the lights flickered off from the other houses across the street. Vendors closed up their stands and walked home, pulling their stand on a wooden wagon. The street settled down with darkness and quietness soon after the sun fell. 

Emma grabbed a small notebook from her pocket in her pajamas. She mostly wrote poems, or just advice, in her notebook. She wasn't so good at poems, but poems soothed anyone's worries when you write it down brightly on paper. 

Emma looked out of the window. What should she put down? She grabbed her special orange ink pen, that her grandfather got her at a special market stand. It smelled like fresh, juicy oranges when written down and it's ink sparkled in the light. 

Emma suddenly had an idea after she stared out the window. She grabbed her pen and wrote; 

"Cobblestone is red 

 Lamps are bright 

 Vendor men are nice 

 My street is bright, 

 E.B" 

Emma paused. That sounded nice. When she meant bright, she meant it had lively people and animals, with smooth streets and clean houses. Emma lived in a nice neighborhood. 

Emma sketched a rose on the corner. She also drew a man, with a black, oily mustache giving a little girl a large apple and drew a lamp shining over the cobblestone street. She drew a horse carrying a wagon filled with strawberries and children climbing over the fruit, squashing the strawberries with their heavy feet. 

Emma yawned after a moment of sketching. She closed her notebook and put it in her pocket, along with her sparkly pen. Emma rose from her bending near the window and closed it, the night noises stopping. 

Emma walked over to her bed and climbed in it, covering herself with her colorful, patched quilt that her brother gave her years ago. Blowing the candle off next to her bed, she curled up and closed her eyes, darkness closing over her mind for the night. 

 

 

Chapter 3: Charlie the Rich Kid

Emma was sitting on the couch the next morning, listening to the radio as the newsman reported on plane's zooming above their town in five hours, dropping bombs next to the coastline. William sat on the chair next to the door, shivering in fear as he thought in his little mind that one bomb would drop on their house. Mother explained to him that the thought of it was foolish. Emma agreed, but she had her doubts too. 

Mother was in the kitchen, making some raspberry butter pancakes for breakfast. Father already left for work, being an early bird in his old age. With Father's look of brown eyes, blonde hair and a strong posture, he looked young but was quite old. It made Emma feel old for having an old father, but she tried to annoy it. 

Mother had grabbed the radio from Emma and put it in the kitchen, listening to a favorite tape of hers as she made the batter. William raced after her, helping her squeeze and peel the oranges for orange juice. William liked to take the seeds and grow them out back. One grew to a large orange tree. It proved great by the plenty supplement of oranges for supper, lunch, breakfast or any little snacks when Emma's family got hungry. 

Emma started to read a magazine as she heard a knock on the door. Emma ignored it, but as it grew louder, Mother screamed from the kitchen and above the tunes. "Emma, get the door please!" 

Emma groaned as she dropped the magazine and walked over to the door. She brushed her long, black hair back, tried to make her green eyes sparkle, and cleared her throat before opening the door. But Emma saw a sight that made her almost puke. 

One tall, skinny boy was in the doorway. The boy had flat, orange hair with blue eyes and freckles on his dappled cheeks. He was wearing a black suit, with polished shoes and black pants. He was smiling a huge, white smile as he had roses wrapped in golden silk in his hands. The one and only 14 year old Charlie Gem. 

"Hal-llo, Emma my rose." He purred in a soft, silky voice as he grabbed Emma's hand and kissed it with a bow of his knee. "I come to claim your heart." 

"Beat it, squirrel." Emma hissed as she blocked the doorway view, so Mother didn't see Charlie. "I don't like you and I'm busy." 

"Who on earth is it, Emma?" Mother's voice came from the kitchen. 

Emma was about to say the newsletter guy before Charlie stood on his tiptoes and waved his hand to Mother. "It's me, Charlie Gem, Mrs. Blackclover. I've come to see your precious, pretty daughter and ask you the most important question." 

Emma almost flipped over as Mother stopped the radio and her cooking. She jogged away from William, who was shoving seeds up his nose, and to the doorway, shoving Emma into the wall. 

"Come in, Mr. Gem." She greeted as Charlie walked into the room. "Make yourself at home." 

Mother closed the door as she grabbed Emma's hand and pulled Emma to the couch. 

Charlie sat down in the rocking chair, a piece of wheat sticking from his mouth. He put the roses on the counter before sitting, actually, and William grabbed them and started pouring gallons of water onto them. 

Mother sat down on the chair as Emma sat on the couch, very far from Charlie. Charlie was the richest kid in the school. He bragged to everyone and was mean to every kid he could see. Except Emma. He was always giving her these diamonds and bringing her loads of chocloates and dresses. He would invite her to parties and special meetings and would always give her loads of stuff on holidays. Charlie tried to impress her, but Emma ignored him every day. 

"So, what's your important question, Charlie?" Mother asked eagerly. Every since Emma was eleven, Mother has been trying to get her a boy, who in the future would be her husband. Mother always wanted grandchildren, and tried to make it happen as quick as possible. But Emma doesn't want Charlie as a husband. Never. EVER. 

"I, Mrs. Blackclover, want your daughter to be my lady, until we die. She's more beautiful then a blooming rosebud, more smarter then a scientist, more clever then a fox and more lovely then the white snow itself. I want to claim her heart in marriage and love her until we breathe our last breaths. I want to see the sunset with her, calmly go down a crystal river in a boat with her, and have little children together and be parents. I want to stay with her forever. She's so pretty I want to kiss her lips until they turn to smooth ice. Could I claim her heart until she's old enough to be my part?" Charlie Gem announced. 

Emma stopped herself from gagging. MARRY HIM? HAVE CHILDREN TOGETHER? NO WAY! Emma hated Charlie and liked someone else! Mother wouldn't agree to it when Emma didn't approve it... right? 

"Oh, Charlie, you are a charmer." Mother laughed as she sipped some iced tea she got from a glass cup. "I agree. You will be Emma's part until she grows old enough to marry!" 

"WHAT! Mother, you can't do this! I DON'T like him! I like someone else! I HATE HIM! I love John from school and I don't want Charlie! Mother, don't do this!" Emma gasped as she jumped up. 

"Emma, you won't get a chance like this for ages." Mother replied sternly. "Charlie is a perfect choice. He loves you. That boy probably doesn't." 

"He does!" Emma argued. "I bet he does! Charlie just wants me to get all of our richest jewels that grandmother gave us! He's a fraud, Mother, and I won't be his part! Ever!" 

Before Mother replied, Emma turned and marched up the stairs. Mother stood, shockless, as Charlie frowned to himself. 

Charlie the lover. Emma wouldn't go near him ever again. 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: No One Understands

Emma sat outside on the steps from the front door. The vendors called out, holding up rich fruit and showing crowds large, healthy horses and cattle. Money was raised for certain animals and Emma watched as some young horses were seperated from their mothers. The sun was sinking behind the buildings, as hooves clambored over the cobblestone streets. 

Charlie left an hour ago to go home. He left fifty dollars to Mother to talk Emma into the marriage, but Mother refused and forced him to raise the tax. He gave her two hundred dollars. Mother was joyful but Emma was not. She was upset. She wouldn't marry Charlie. He was.... just... ew. Not her type, if she could explain it. 

Father got home too. Mother told him about Emma and with Charlie but Father did not take part. He didn't like to get into girl drama with boys and love. Mother was quite rude about it, saying he wasn't a proper father to his children and a good husband to her if he didn't get involved. But he ignored her, saying that Emma needed to solve it herself. 

Emma sighed as she saw one peach roll over to her. One vender seemed to knock over some peaches from his pile and they rolled down the cobblestone paths. Emma wiped the peach from dirt and gravel before she bit into it. It was sweet and juicey and tasted good. Like her victory if she ever got any part of it. Probably not. Emma swallowed as she dug out the seed. 

Emma would give William the seed. He would be surprised on how big it was and would be excited. Besides, she could repay him for the dollar he loaned to her a week ago so she could buy John some ice cream from the parlor. 

Emma sighed. John. John was a musclear, tall and handsome boy. He had flat, brown hair that went to his eyes and had dark, creamy brown eyes. John seemed to envy her, too, and was Jewish like her. Charlie was not Jewish, which Emma didn't envy him for that either.  

Emma heard a hefty grunt as she turned to see Father come down the steps and sit next to her. He smelled like the smoke coming from a candle mixed with grilled chicken and sauce. Emma was realived that it wasn't Mother coming out, for she was trying to ignore Mother. But she still wanted to be alone. 

"I'm busy." Emma muttered as she folded up her legs and put her arms on her knees and buried her head into her arm fold. 

"No, your not." Father replied. "Your upset. I know what happened with you, your mother, and Charlie Gem but you have to accept it." 

"I do not." Emma shot back as she met his gaze. "Father, this is unfair. I hate Charlie Gem. I want to marry someone else when I'm older. Charlie is a fraud. He wants us for those jewels and expensive counter tops. Don't you see the evil in his eyes, Father?" 

"No. I never met 'em." Father confessed but then his tone lightened. "I never wanted to marry your mother, to admit it, Emma." 

"What? Then why did you marry her, Father?" 

Father scratched his mustache before he said. "It was the good for the family and company, sweetie. Then, I got to know her and love her. I then had two lovely children with her." 

"I don't like her." Emma scatched as she brushed some hair from her eyes. "She thinks she's so that. Why doesn't she think that I could make my own sensible, adult like choice? I'm not a baby like William, Father, if you haven't noticed." 

William then came out. He had syrup all over his face from some waffles he ate some hours ago. He came and jumped down the steps, dancing along the sidewalk as he looked at Emma and Father. 

"What are you doin' out here?" 

"None of your wax, pinhead." Emma retorted as her eyes narrowed to William. She grabbed the peach seed from her pocket and threw it at him. "Go away!" 

"Emma!" Father snarled as William started whining. "Don't ever throw anything at your sibling! Do you understand? He didn't do anything to you."

"See? Your just like Mother! William is a little horse butt all over again! He covers my sheets in sugar, pours ants in my socks and puts steak sauce in my bottles of hair gel! He's a rat and I can prove it!" Emma rose from the steps, fists clenched. 

"Young lady, you may be forced to do somethings but never to be so rude and irrigant to your little brother! I expected better." Father growled as he stood up. 

"Well, your wrong then, Father." 

Emma then stuck out her tongue, quite rudely, before marching into the house, slamming the door as she was screaming in her mind. 

 

Chapter 5: The Long Poems

Emma marched up to her room and walked in, slamming the door. She locked it securely, anger throbbing into her belly. Father and Mother were tight people! If they were her, and had to put up with William, they would have a cow! Emma was usually a quiet, caring girl but right now, a raging, killer lion ready to pounce and rip into it's prey. 

Emma kicked her nightstand. It didn't hurt, but the nightstand shook loudly. She could hear Father's voice talking to Mother's. Emma grabbed some torn old paper as she ripped it, trying to get the rage from her body out and into the cold, still air so it could move and throb around outside her heart, which was burning and was on bright fire.

Emma sighed after some moments of tearing. She kicked the paper under her bed before jumping on her back in her blanket, staring at the ceiling.

Cold tears came to her eyes. She was never rude to her father, netherless Mother. Something lighted inside her, something that exploded into ashes and came out, redder then blood itself.

Emma grabbed her notebook from her pocket and went to the window, sniffing. Maybe a poem will soothe her, and calm down her throbbing mind. 

Emma got out her glittery pen. Skipping some written pages, she found a nice, clean one. She started to write; 

"No one cares, 

 No one minds, 

No one minds that I'm dying inside 

I stay here, whisping out tears, 

My mind burning in rage, 

Ready to avage 

Of all bloody lies 

Told and gone, 

The lost love, 

 of a mother and son

 turn son to daughter, 

 comes out clean, 

 with years to come, 

 on spares I sing, 

 Let blood come, 

 to my bloody knife, 

 sing a lullaby 

 to the moon's first, 

 killer light, 

 E.B" 

Emma stopped writing. Her fingers trembled for more bright, soothing poems. She started writing again, her breaths raspy now. 

"Father and Mother, 

 why don't you care, 

 for your daughter's 

  inside mind

 you leave me out to melt, 

 in the sun's, 

 heating dark hell, 

 I sit and wait,  

 for water to come 

 but you bring me for pain 

 by calling in your friend's son 

 who want's to marry me 

 and take my first approval 

 but now you will sing 

to endless disapproval 

 I will not bow 

 to his gooey fingers'

I will reject 

 untill the sun turns, 

to cold water. 

E.B" 

Emma started to laugh softly. This poem... it was great. A modavation to life. She would not kiss nor marry Charlie Gem. She would marry and kiss John Gray till her last breath. Her mind singed with new poems but she couldn't write them. She was too.. troubled. 

She dropped the pen into her pocket along with her notebook and breathed in the still, warm air. 

Suddenly, she heard a clatter downstairs. Emma heard Mother's scream and Father's raging voice. The sudden air turned to black, wispy smoke as dark voices commanded downstairs, pounding against the floor. 

Emma froze. 

The Nazis. 

 

Chapter 6: Taken Away..

Emma heard footsteps pound along the hallway's floors. Emma dropped to the floor, crawling as the smoke got heavier. She coughed and gasped for air. Her locked door recieved a knock then a SLAM. 

Emma froze as the door kept on getting slams. Finally, it stopped. Emma coughed as she blinked. Was it just a daydream? 

Suddenly, the door flew open, hitting her mirror that was attached to the wall. Emma screamed in horror as the mirror pieces fell to the floor, cut and sharp. 

Men in dark black suits and with long, black hats came in. They had spears and were wearing smoldering boots with buttons to their suits and coats. They grabbed Emma from the ground with their rough gloves and pulled her through the smoke. 

Emma blinked her watery eyes to see. William was being dragged like Emma, crying as he screamed and pulled to be free. Emma cried his name, trying to get to her little brother. But she couldn't. One guard grabbed her neck and threw her forward. Emma gasped at the pain in her back. 

The guards carried William and her downstairs. Emma saw Father and Mother too locked up by the Nazis. Father was screaming, thrusting and pulling while Mother was crying. 

"Don't hurt the children!" Mother cried. 

"We won't hurt 'em." One guard promised, his voice dark and harsh. "We'll just take 'em with us. But... you two may have to go." 

Mother and Father froze. Their eyes widened as the guard reached for a long, heavy looking weapon in his belt.

Emma felt her heart leap to her throat as the guard pulled out a large wooden rifle. It's polished surface glinted off the light. Emma knew what was going to happen. Oh no... 

 "Stop!" 

BOOM. 

Emma stopped struggling. The guard put down his gun, smiling in intense sastifaction. Mother fell to the ground, limp and dead. Mother's skin turned instantly white as snow as the bullet wound, which was at her neck, was bleeding all over her shirt and floor. A thin trail of blood was pouring from her open mouth. Father fell too, pale and bloody like Mother. 

"No! Mother, Father!" Emma screeched. 

William started sobbing again. The guards ordered something to each other in German before they yanked Emma and William out of the house. 

It was dark outside. Lanterns were hanging everywhere and Emma could see people on the porchsteps of their houses, watching them silently with sorrow. 

Emma stopped pulling too. Her muscles ached and the spots where the guards gloves bore into her skin were red. Emma saw them pull William away, but she was too exhausted to scream out. 

Emma felt her belly churn as she saw the guards light up matches and throw them into her house's windows. Suddenly, a fire broke out inside the house. The orange flames licked up the flammable areas as smoke bellowed from the open windows and into the air. Emma could see the flames inside her room, eating up her precious stuff. 

The guards pulled Emma along until they reached a wooden wagon near her house. It had other Jews in it too, but they were all children, smaller then her. The puller of the wagon was a old white horse eating some grass between the cobblestone layers. The guards threw her into the wagon and tied a rope around her hands and feet, placing her onto the wagon's bottom firmly so she wouldn't move. They then mounted the seats at the front and whipped the horse. The horse snorted before lifting it's head and trotting down the street in a fair pace. 

Emma felt her heart turn cold. William went into another wagon farther away from the house. His cries for her echoed into the night. 

Emma watched as the orange glow of the fire vanished into the shadows as the wagon retreated. The other children were quiet, looking at the houses as the wagon passed by. 

Emma's chest tightened painfully. Everything was gone. Her parents, her brother, her house... everything. She never got to apologize to her mother or father, or her brother. She was terrible. 

Emma rested her chin on the wagon's side, feeling it scrape her skin. Where to now? She would die inside the camp that they were taking her soon. She knew it and she would never make it. 

Emma gritted her teeth as she saw two bright, glowing blue eyes near one large, fancy house on the corner. It was him. 

Charlie Gem. 

 

Chapter 7: The Traitor

Emma hissed as the wagon pulled over to Charlie Gem. They were turning to the next road, that led to the outside train station. Emma managed to pull out the rope that was pulling her feet down. She turned over to the side of the wagon, facing Charlie as they stopped the wagon so the guards to go get some water fuels. 

"Hallo, Emma Blackclover, darling." Charlie chirped, eyes glowing mindly as he walked up, wearing a fancy cloverstone vest and white pants, with pearly black shoes bigger then the wagon's wheels. "Having a fancy day?"

"You-you idiot traitor!" Emma snapped as she looked into his eyes, her own green eyes glowing with fire. "You called the Nazis!" 

"I did not so!" Charlie retorted, his voice high. "I did nothing of the sort. Why would I send you to death when I love you ever so much?"

"You never loved me! You only wanted me for my family's high riches! Well, pretty boy, you can forget that! There all gone!" Emma growled. 

"Gone?" Charlie echoed. His voice seemed puzzled. "Gone? Why, that can't be possible." 

"The Nazis burned my house. It burned the jewels, too." Emma replied. Emma liked the despair in his eyes for the once lovely glowing purple jewels. 

Charlie stomped his foot as he pointed an accusing finger to Emma. His finger almost touched her nose as he snapped. "You... you... you black-headed snotty little girl! Those jewels were mine from the start! I never loved you! And your right.. I did call the Nazis! Good thing your parents are dead, girl." 

Emma felt rage twist inside her chest. "You'll pay for this!" 

"Boo hoo. Sure." Charlie hissed. 

Emma turned her arm. One of her hands twisted out of the rope's bind. With full force, she hit Charlie's nose. She heard a crack and Charlie yelped. The ginger-headed boy toppled back over the sidewalk and into a puddle. When Charlie lifted his hand, blood was pouring from his swollen and brittle nose. 

"You made me bleed!" He gasped in shock. 

"Good. You need to bleed and feel the pain you've inflected on me. You need it, Charlie Gem. Your a high snotty kid who thinks he has everything. Well, your wrong." 

The guards came back from the store. They climbed into the wagon, ignoring Charlie and his bloody nose, and whipped the horse. The horse trotted down the now coming dirt road and to the train station. 

Emma watched, grimacing, as she tolled away from Charlie. He was still in the puddle, blood pouring from his broken nose as he watched her in shock. 

Emma winced as he vanished from sight. Revenge was a killing thing. Anyone would go inside their hearts and rip it out, puting pain on the other person. It was life. 

Emma needed to deal with it. 

Chapter 8: The Train to Doom

Emma breathed deeply as the horse pulled the wagon to the train station. The station was empty. The old benches were broken as the ground in the pavillion were stained with red and orange stains. There were more Nazis, meaner and darker then the regular drivers, who unlocked the Jews from the ropes and locked their wrists in silver cuffs before dragging them inside. 

The old train station was wooden, to Emma's surprise. The planks were splintered and broken. She saw wooden carts, small and colored, connected to each other on a track. 

Emma tried to squirm from the guard's grip as they opened one cart's wooden door. The cart inside was small, with smelly hay and boarded walls. The guards threw Emma and the children in the cart before they locked the door, yelling out commands to one another. 

Emma scrambled from the hay pile... 

TO BE CONTINUED.. 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.05.2013

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
To Mrs. Barnhart. Thanks for the education.