Some Things Don’t Change

Most people lie. The difference is I lie for a reason. I guess all people say that but raising a young child in the middle of a civil war makes it more important.

“Mama, how long do we have to hide?”
“Quiet, Draga, sleep.”
“Mama, I’m hungry.”
“I said, sleep. We can eat when they are gone.”

History was repeating itself. Baka had talked about hiding out from the Nazis here in the cellar. Fearing the invasion, her father, my great-grandfather, had dug out a room behind a false wall. Since then, it had mostly been used to hide gifts from the children. That is until 1991 and neighbors turned against each other because of the alphabet they used or their religion. Now it was saving my daughter and me. I dared not sing to her, so I stroked her hair until I heard the change in her breathing that told me she was asleep.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Powered by

Up ↑

BRILLIANT flash fiction

Published quarterly on the last day of January, March, June and September



Word Craft

The Art of Writing is the Art of Discovering what you Believe - Gustave Haubert

Writing Excuses

Fifteen minutes long, because you're in a hurry, and we're not that smart.

%d bloggers like this: