I could hear crying and other unknown voices. Me and Papa were hiding in the coat closet by the door. I could hear his unsteady breathing. The Nazis were here, at my own house.
After what seemed like a decade, Papa turned and whispered, "I think they're gone. We can go now."
I waited a bit longer, then I pushed the door open so we could climb out.
We left at half- past midnight, almost 4 hours after my bedtime. I opened the squeaky old door that was almost as loud as a lion's roar.
The cold windy night whooshed into the kitchen. I shivered like a newborn kitten.
"Are you sure we can't wear a jacket?" I murmured.
"Yes, Child. It'll slow you down and you don't want that, yes?" I nodded sadly.
I ran as fast as a gazelle running from a lion. My delicate fingers were icicles. My soft wool boots were filling up with snow and making my feet as cold as Antarctic ice.
Some lights were still flicked on and I didn't want the people to see me.
"Peter! Slow down, there's nobody coming." Papa called from behind me, but I didn't stop running.
I couldn't seem to find the sewer Papa told me to find. I suppose it was my wild- eyed stare at three opened windows.
"It should be to the left of the red brick schoolhouse." Papa's words echoed in my mind.
My foot kicked something, hard. I tripped and fell with a loud "THUMP!" I saw- behind a curtain- a silhouette of a little girl coming to the window. This was NOT good!
"Papa! Someone's coming! Lemme have the screwdriver. This is the sewer," I whisper- yelled; looking at a red building and then a small grey sewer lid.
Papa came up behind me and gave me a tiny yellow tool. I undid the screws and hesitated for a moment. I started turning around just as Papa shrieked,"PETER! Someone's coming! Jump in and I'll follow!"
I frantically yanked the lid off, jumped in, and let the lid clang down above me. The last thing I ever saw of Papa was him covering his face with his hands screaming, "Peter! Run! Run!"
Papa didn't follow me down. Footsteps pounded above me and were gone like a buffalo stampede.
YOU ARE READING
In Hiding
Historical FictionThis is a story I wrote last year about WWII. The main character is a jewish boy named Peter who is hiding in the sewers to escape from his Nazi-ridden hometown in Poland after the rest of his family is captured by Nazis and taken to Camps.
