• Sitting in a dark, dank place,
    The humid air fills my unwilling lungs.
    The stench is nearly unbearable.
    Dark green mold creeps slimly along the wooden walls.
    My hands run against the wooden attic floor.
    It is rough with jutting splinters cutting into my tender adolescent fingers.

    There are no candles, no brightness.
    I hear noises of people from outside.
    People yelling and running,
    Others warning their friends and family,
    “Run,” they say, “run for your life”.

    I feel fear over coming my small figure.
    The fear seizes my body and shakes it viciously.
    I close my eyes tightly.
    Warm tears stream down my pale, thin cheeks.

    I curl up in a tiny ball of bone and skin.
    I hear footsteps drumming in my ear.
    They are the footsteps of men, army men.
    Their boots beat against the cobblestone street violently.
    Left, right, left, right in a steady pattern.
    The clanking metal of the guns hitting the belts is rattling harshly.

    I look to the others in the room,
    Rather, the immense fear upon their faces.
    Some cry, some look to the ground.
    Some show lost or forgotten hope.
    They seem just as afraid as I.

    I hear…screaming of children,
    Screaming women and even proud men.
    Loud words are bellowing from strong military voices.
    There is a soft click and I knew what was to follow.
    A loud fiery shot pierces the early morning air.
    Then again, and again, and again.

    Soon, there is nothing.
    Nothing, but the most terrifying noise of all.
    The absence of noise.
    No more screaming.
    No more begging.
    No more crying.
    Just silence.
    Pure silence.