My Time: the journal of a jewish girl in WW2

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My Time: the journal of a jewish girl in WW2

Status: Finished

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My Time: the journal of a jewish girl in WW2

Book by: tigerscurse

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Genre: Other

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Summary

Mira is a 9 year old girl in WW2. Her father is dead her mother is sick and Hitler is descending upon them. She wishes that this was over.

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Summary

Mira is a 9 year old girl in WW2. Her father is dead her mother is sick and Hitler is descending upon them. She wishes that this was over.

Author Chapter Note

Mira is a 9 year old girl in WW2. Her father is dead her mother is sick and Hitler is descending upon them. She wishes that this was over.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 08, 2013

Reads: 37

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 08, 2013

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August

 

 

August 30th, 1939

 

Mama is scared. There has been rumors of a killer named Hitler in Germany. I am scared to. Papa just died so now it is just me and Mama with an occasional visit from Uncle Jerod. I am not scared for my self but for Mama. She only has me and Uncle. She can not die at this time.

 

September

 

September 1st, 1939

 

Mama is sick in bed. While collecting medicine, Dr. Abram was talking. He said, “Hitler a envahi la Pologne et vient de cette façon ! ” His tone was worried. Mama taught me English when I was très petit so my french was not great. “Dr. Abram?” I asked. He turned his head. “Oui?” “Ce qui fait a envahi la Pologne et vient de cette façon vouloir dire?” I asked as I made sure I was saying it right as I said it, “What does, ….. mean?” His face went pale. “Demandez à votre mère,” he said shakily then walked away. I raced home the medicine bouncing in my hand. “Mama! Mama!” I shrieked as I threw the door open. “Yes, mon petit?” was her weak reply. “Dr. Abram told me to demandez-vous what Hitler a envahi la Pologne et vient de cette façon vouloir dire?” I said. Her face also when slack and she collapsed into a fit of coughs. I très soigneusement gave her the medicine. At this moment Oncle Jerod walked in and Mama said quietly, “He's coming!” “Oh non ce n'est très mauvais !” he cried sinking onto the floor. “Quel oncle?!” I asked. “We must take Mira away Isabel!” he cried. Mama started to cough and Uncle Jerod took me away. “It is time to sleep ma belle fille,” he whispered. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

 

 

September 3rd. 1939

 

I can not sleep tonight. Mama is even more sick, with fits of coughing every hour. I am praying she will get better for it is getting colder. She might die but I don't want to think of that to often. I am praying tonight again. I ray she will live. For I don't know how to live with out her.


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