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Jane Richardson

English coursework on “Fear”


I am afraid.  I cling close to my sister Sarah in the dark.  Even though there is little light, I can see her bright eyes.  My older sister holds me tight, occasionally telling me, “Hush, Zoe,” when I try to cry out for Mama and Papa and even for John, my mean older brother.  John, who had been so helpful the last few minutes we were together, pulling the loose planks off the floor and helping us down into a secret hole beneath the house.  John, who was so kind to us, telling us that he would always love us and would see us again soon.  He didn’t even laugh when I started to cry as he lowered us under the floor.  My calm big brother, who used to be so critical, became so nice to me so suddenly.  He did his best to calm Sarah and I, hugging us and kissing our foreheads.  He even handed me my favorite doll, which I named Molly after my grandmother.  Mama said that grandmother and she shared that name.  I think she said that because they both were called Molly.  Where was Mama anyway?  Oh, I am so scared!

         I remember when Papa was talking about the secret hole; he said that if the Nazis came we would have to hide in it. I didn’t know who the Nazis were, so I asked him, and I remember John laughed and called me “Stupid Zoe” like he always did.  Dad scowled at John, telling him that I was not stupid just because I asked questions; he had said that I was very smart for my age, which made me blush with delight, and then smiled at me before telling me about the Nazis.  He said they were the people who controlled our little town and said that Adolf Hitler was the leader.  Papa had asked me if I had ever heard of Hitler.  I said I had, and it was true.  I saw his pictures all over the city and had heard him on the radio.  I thought he was funny with his little tiny moustache and his fast, German talk.  In his pictures he looked important, his hand stretched out and his fancy uniform with the strange symbol on his arm.  The thing that looked like two squiggles crossed together.  I had asked Papa why he had two squiggles on his arm.  Papa had said that it was the symbol of the Nazis.  He told me that if I ever saw a big group of people with the squiggles on their arms, to come and tell him.  Papa had hugged me and told me how much he wanted me to be safe, away from all the Nazis.  I hugged him back, even though I didn’t really understand why the Nazis scared Papa so much.

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As Sarah cradled me in her lap, I thought I knew why big strong Papa, who was never afraid of anything, was so scared of the Nazis.  I looked out the window of our house that morning, only to see a line of soldiers with the squiggles on their arms come marching down our street, stopping at each house.  I ran and told Papa, his face suddenly turned white at my news.  He asked if I was sure and I told him yes. Papa called down Mama, John, and Sarah.  He told John to pull up the planks ...

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