Maybe

March 9, 1913

5:33 am

I woke up today early. Everything seemed to be alright. I pressed my nose on my window, none of the soldiers seemed to be patrolling. I went downstairs to make "breakfast" for mother and Quinn. Ever since the soldiers came our resources grew less and no food was the slightest bit good. We had just ran out of herbs for Quinn's "tea". Mother doesn't let me go out this early so I decided not to make any tea for Quinn, she's a dreadful sister anyway. I looked for something to cook. All I found was a small jar of hidden sugar, some bits of meat which didn't look appetizing, and five slices of bread. At least I didn't have to worry about cooking too much. I got our rusted pan, took the bits of meat, placed them on the fire, and made our sad breakfast. As soon as I finished placing the cooked meats on the bread I heard the bomb sirens.

5:54 am

We all ran to the bomb shelter, leaving our sad little breakfast behind. Mother stayed calm while Quinn panicked, shaking me around like a baby's rattle. We heard the sounds of the bombs comming down. The house shelter began to shake, the sounds of bombs exploding came from all around us. We all went under our emergency beds. Quinn was still panicking, muttering to herself what might happen to her "friends". At that point I felt sorry for her, she really cared for them. The bombs stopped comming. We waited a bit more then walked out of the shelter. Smoke surrounded us but we could still see our house. It survived all the explosions. But we weren't concerned about that. How was father? I hoped, we hoped, he was still alive. Just maybe.