Remaining Hidden

Everyone knows about the holocaust when Hitler and many others killed innocent Jews including many children. This is for the historical fiction competition. Where my story is about a family, a family of Jews and how life was for them through the holocaust. If anything is offense, or rude or incorrect please don't hate me and tell me.


1. Mother

Mother P.O.V

I walk swiftly to the window, my sunshine yellow dress floating in the wind. I look at my watch repeatedly, my heart pounding rapidly. I look at my reflection in the mirror, and smile. Being aged twenty nine I still looked young. I looked like a women in her early twenties and smiled. My glossy chestnut brown hair in waves that reach my waist. I was beautiful, and I was young. I look at my watch again, then bite my nails. Calm down Chana, I tell myself. My eyes looking for Peter, my lovely husband. We had received news, that Jews should not go outside and remain at home. First, I was confused, thinking why just Jews? But then my husband had told me it was to keep us Jews away. But why us? We are nice kind people, and have never done anything bad, ever. I fidget nervously with my fingers, wiping a sweat that trickles down my face. What is Peter has been injured? What id he is being tortured? What am I thinking? Peter is fine, he is just taking a little bit longer to finish his work. Peter worked as a primary school teacher. I looked at the clock seven pm. Normally, Peter was home by five pm, five-thirty at the longest. I take a deep breath and calm myself, nothing had happened to Peter I was just being paranoid.

"Mummy, are you waiting for daddy" a voice asks.

I turn around to see my seven year old daughter Aliza. Like her name, she is my joy. She is beautiful and delicate. Juliet looks a lot like her father. She has my ocean dark blue eyes, and gold hair up to her waist, she smiles at me.

"Yes  I am sweetie, do you want to eat your dinner" I ask her.

"No daddy, I will wait till daddy comes, will daddy come soon" Aliza asks.

"Yes sweetie very soon, come let us get your brother" I tell Aliza, holding her hand, we walk into the living room. I gasp in shock their sits my five year old son Daniel, his old dirty ragged teddy beside him. A yellow substance on the Teddy's mouth.

Daniel looks like Peter too, washed out blonde hair, and Peter's brown eyes.

"What has been going on, didn't I  tell your sister to look after you" I ask Daniel.

"But she is poopy" Daniel exclaims.

Poopy had been Daniel's new favorite word. It was another way he said poo.

"I am not poopy you are" Aliza protests.

"Says one to know one poopy" Daniel laughs.

"You are poopy!" Aliza exclaims, walking towards Daniel.

"Poopy" Max cries out, pulling a strand of her gold hair.

Aliza cries loudly, tears trickling down her cheeks. Her face goes red. Her ocean dark blue eyes stare at me, upset. Daniel grins cheekily, still holding onto his sister hair.

"Owww, mummy" Aliza cries in pain.

"Daniel let go off your sister's hair right now, or no toys" I order.

Daniel drops hold of Juliet hair. Then sticks his tongue at me, his steel blue eyes stare at me.

"Daniel I exclaim.

"I hate you" Daniel shouts angrily.

Suddenly I feel so lost. Peter is not here. I need him. To comfort me, my own son hates me. I collapse on the floor, and cry, tears trickling down my face.

"Look what you did Max, you made mummy cry" Aliza complains.

Daniel looks at me, crying, my hands covering my hand. Daniel runs to me.

"I'm sorry mummy, I did not mean it. I really love you" Max confesses, removing my hands. I hug Daniel tightly, burying myself. I kiss his forehead.

"I'm sorry mummy. I love you very much, and I won't be horrible to Aliza anymore" Daniel tells me, hugging me.

I gesture Aliza to come closer to me. She walks towards me, and hugs me tightly. I smile, tears streaming down my face, as my two beautiful children hug me. I missed Peter. What if something happened to him? I hold my children tightly, telling myself that nothing would happened to Peter.

"My two beautiful babies" I whisper, hugging them.


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