Lauren Jones's Diary

September 1940     

I never thought my home would be gone, or my parents. It felt like they just disappeared. In the morning I did the usual goodbye then walked away, maybe with a little eye roll.  

While I was in class, I could feel the ground rumble, shake even. At first, I thought it was an earthquake which didn’t happen very often, so I was still confused. But it all made since when I was walking home from school. I could see the little flames burning from the ashes where my house used to stand. It felt like a big punch to the face not from anyone, but from the biggest bully in school.

My parents, I thought. My dog, my diary, wait were my brothers here when this happened?

All of these thoughts jumped through my brain. The ground started to roar again. It trembled as hard as a herd of elephants running through my hometown. I darted across the darkened with soot roads to the safety building in the back of my cramped neighborhood. That was weeks ago.  

My dairy means a lot to me, but it’s gone. That’s why I’m writing in my notebook from school like I’m ever going to use that again.  

 It’s just me and my two brothers Caleb and Mason now. We are hiding in the subways of Great Britain with my neighbors, we are technically not neighbors because they live in the proper of our neighborhood. But they are darling friends of my parents before they died. I knew them even when I was a baby.

I don’t know where my are friends now, probably trying to escape their houses like the rest of the town. The rachted screams are ringing through my head.

My family was the first house to get bombed by who we assume are the Germans. World War II has been going on for about a year now, I believe, but it feels like a lot longer.

 I am having trouble keeping track of how long I’ve been in the subway, probably two weeks now considering it’s almost October.

But I don’t like it down here it is shadowy, dark, cold, and clammy. It is so murky that it looks like anyone can just emerge from the back of the long, dark halls. I can hear the blaring screams echoing through this stupid subway.

It’s past midnight and now I can hear footsteps…… they are getting louder. As I shake Caleb my oldest brother awake I can feel the cold, wet tears dripping down my cheek.

Caleb sees that it is just another citizen of our town coming into the subway that we now call our homes. Caleb and I huddled together praying that we will survive and that God is taking care of our parents and the rest of the town who did not make it through the first couple bombs.

Caleb whispers into my ear saying, “Good night, I love you, Lauren. I will try to get food in the morning, I promise.”

“Okay,” I whispered back. As lay on the cold, stiff floor of the subway my stomach starts to grumble. My head starts to ache and the room starts to spin.

I must get up off the floor and find food I think. I can’t live a life as weary and short as this. I must rise above and take care of what is left of my family and the closest of friends.

When I get up off the floor where I have been laying for weeks, I can feel my legs begin to quiver as if someone was shaking me. My body is weak but my heart will be forever strong, I remind myself.

That is something my mom used to say all the time. Whether it was before a big test or a soccer game, she would always say it.  

I slowly tip-toe up the wide staircase that will lead me into the city, which is close to where I live, hoping no one will hear me.

It is pitch black and silent, I don’t like it. It is crazy that just years ago I could come outside without a worry in my mind.

“AHHHHHH!” Shouted a tall man.

“Everyone hide! The subways are open!” Screamed a concerned mother.

I dash into a tight valley between my favorite candy shop and an old boutique called “Sara’s”. At Sara’s, they sell these amazing shirts that have turtles on them. It makes me think of when I was little.

The screams start to soften, and I quietly walk out of the valley and start to head near the public garden of the suburbs.

I have been walking for at least a couple of hours, probably about a mile or two. I decide to take a load off my feet and relax on top of a hill very close to the garden.

As I sit on this hill I can see the sun rising, it is the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. The reddish, goldish ball of fire of fire gives me hope. Hope that someday everything will come back to normal. I grasp onto that hope and take it with me to the garden.

It has been about 15 minutes and I can now see the garden. The garden that will save me and take me out of my worst nightmare. I can see the mouthwatering mint, tomatoes, and lemons that can possibly save the lives of many.

I begin to stuff as much food as I can into my hands, shirt, and the basket I brought from the subway.

It will be a long journey back to the subway, and even when I get there, not everything will be normal. Mom and Dad are gone and so is my house and my dog, but I will survive, I determine.  

I can hear absolutely nothing, everything is quiet. Until an obnoxiously loud plane zoomed around the sky. Followed by thundering screams filling the air. The ground started to grumble like my stomach because I haven't eaten in weeks.

I spring down the city and see all the shops that brought me joy when I was younger, wishing they can give me that same feeling now.

As I trot down the subway stairs and peer around the corner, I can see everything is just how I left it. Seeing everyone sleeping peacefully makes me wonder what they had dreamed about. Laying down on the floor, I am happy to call this my home.