Short Story: Church Mice

She had discovered the power of words and it felt so exhilarating! She wrote and explored her new found creative love with passion until the door flew open and Miss Muller and Miss Margot rushed in beaming, "We're heard that the war will soon be over and everyone will be freed." Willy jumped up into the air and twirled and then ran over laughing and hugged the ladies. Joseph who was still feeling rather ill sat and clapped his hands and coughed twice. And Anna smiled happily dropped her pen and paper and declared, "I can't believe that we had survived in your basement for so long. It will be such a pleasure to feel the sunshine on my shoulders again." then she stood up and began to twirl around, and around. Midway through her third twirl a violently tremor tossed her to the floor. Then there was another shake and a loud crash as a squad of German soldiers kicked in the front door. Once the soldiers were in they marched around their blacks boots making a click clock sound on the wood floors as they searching. Everyone held their breath and listened as the soldiers opened squeaky doors and then slamming them shut, door after door until finally they entered into the tiny room where the group five was huddled together. Four were on their feet and other remained seated. The tall SS officer who was in charge smiled at the them and mocked, "We're making merriment yes?" Then he pointed to them squinting his small devious blue eyes and demanded, "What's your names?" Everyone gave their name and he frowned at Joseph and through clenched teeth snickered, "You let's go." Miss Margot ran over and stood in front of Joseph and cried, "No, not him, he has hasn't done anything!" One of the soldiers yelled, "Be quiet and get out the way old lady their only being taken a labor camp. Then he knocked her to the floor with the butt of his gun. Willy gasped for air and Anna dashed over to help her up. The officer smirked with

She pulls her scarlet coat closer wintry wind pushes by. Her delicate features scrunch up in discomfort as the bitter air pricks skin. Maria squints her radiant, jade eyes at the multitudinous papers posted on the wall and sees the multiple reports of missing people. As she warily strolls further down, she notices a large chalkboard covered with an innumerable amount of names. There is space beside the name Alma, and Maria furrows her eyebrows in confusion while searching for a writing tool. Her fingers desperately dig into the snow and uncover a small piece of white chalk. She scribbles her name down, and as she turns around her eyes find a doll that looks identical to her resting within the shop. Her emerald-colored eyes widen like saucers as she inspects the doll. The urge to go to the doll burns bright inside her, as if she is a moth to the flame. She looks at the oddly shaped door, her stomach churning in suspicion. The door is jammed and she gives it one final push with her shoulder, turning around in disappointment. The door opens to reveal her look alike, within her reach! Maria darts towards the doll, but not before nearly tripping over a moving object. Her breathing grows ragged as the doll heads over to the door, its entryway shutting. Her eyes slowly move back to the center table, where the doll no longer stands. Maria's green orbs finally rest on the doll. While debating whether

"So, where are we?" I fell to the ground, annoyed. "You said that without knowing where we were going?!" Madam Red yelled, saying exactly what I was thinking. Ciel explained to us what this place was, but I didn't really listen. None of us made a move to go inside. "Well.." I murmured, opening the door. Inside was spooky and creepy. Webs everywhere, centipedes crawling on the roof, it was certainly a creepy place. I leaned against something I couldn't make out,

Schmitt had turned up and was seated, sipping her strong citrus tea the children pressed their tiny faces up against the door and listened to Mrs. Schmitt's shrill blabbering drown on and on, "Do you know Mrs. Beck's daughter Helga? You remember who Mrs. Beck is don't you? She cleans the mayors house on ... I believe Tuesday and Thursdays, but don't quote me anyhow Helga took in one of those Jews and hid him in her downstairs wardrobe. Can you believe that?"

Others were even more horrific stories of how the siblings were lovers and the tragic death of dear Annabelle birth to the Jaune Child. But these are tales woven by the town's residents and I was not one for such useless blather. However I must admit, seeing this house had sent a shiver down my spine. And though the image of the ruined home gave me a prickled sensation every time I passed, I could not tear my eyes from it. I discover something new with each passing. First, I noticed the make shift shed that had been set up almost like a shrine. Then, there was the stray cat that had slipped out from under the stairs. This time, there was a shadow. It was the shadow of a figure standing on the porch. Perhaps a figment of my imagination, but still it tore a panicked gasp from my

The children’s reaction to the Christmas gifts sent by their parents was overwhelming sadness. Ditching their attention to the toys themselves, Bailey and Maya felt abandoned and unwanted; their parents had made no effort prior to this to make contact with them. Maya was “confident they were both dead,” imagining her mother lying in a coffin with her hair spawn on a white pillow. She viewed this year’s festivities to be a “terrible Christmas” with its “awful presents.” She found her father vain and expectant to send a photograph of him along with the gifts. Her pain notwithstanding, she went outside by the chinaberry tree in the cold winter air, where she “sat down and cried,” Bailey pursuing her, “wiping his eyes.” The glooming silence

“It sounds as though someone is in the kitchen. I will call the police. You stay here and don’t make a sound until I return.” Andrew put on his robe and shoes and tiptoed out of the room. Margaret waited a few minutes before deciding she wanted to see what was going on downstairs. Putting on her robe, and went out into the hallway, to listen. When she was unable to hear anything, she went down the hall and stopped at the top of the stairway.

"Hoot, hoot! Helena could hear the owls. Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking like insane. It had seemed to her that she had been in bed forever, but she only thought that because was worrying. She was an innocent girl, but today at school, she had been in trouble with her art teacher. Her name was Mrs Fireball. She had been drawing a self portrait that apparently wasn't good enough for Mrs Fireballs liking. When you are in trouble with Mrs Fireball, she creeps into your house at night and steals all your cool things without you seeing. Helena's stomach was in knots, her knees were trembling, and she was frightened that Mrs Fireball will sneak into her house tonight. Covering herself with her blanket, she finally fell asleep shivering

The man handed me a hankercheif of pity, and I buried my face in the small napki. My God, I was immature. Almost sixteen and crying in front of the entire mall..._nce upon a time, there was a little girl named Elle. Elle was a very good girl. She always listened to her Mommy and Daddy, and hated dissapointing people. But when Elle grew up, she got arrested..._ The same story rewinds over and over in my head as I sit in the police station, waiting for Maria to arrive. It’s already been five hours since I was put to my “arrest.” When I least expect it, Maria barges through the door, a few hair curlers still askew in her hair. Dark bags float underneath her eyes. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO GET ARRESTED, YOU SCUM BAG!” Maria roars furiously. “DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO GET HERE?! “ Her face fires up into a red masterpiece. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Mar-“ “YOU KNOW WHAT?” she replies, fuming with fury.”I DON’T CARE. JUST GET IN THE CAR!” I am slightly relieved Maria has come so angry, for hoping the police might notice. No such luck. The police looked as bored as ever, setled back in their rock hard chairs. Where was help when you needed

They heard someone coming down the stairs and got up quickly. They saw Fran, leading an old lady, come around the corner. The old lady was no taller than Fran's shoulder. She stood up straight and had on an old red and brown ruffled dress. Her face was kind with her soft, deep set eyes, her small thin mouth, and her wrinkles made her look kind and wise. Her grey hair, pinned up and curly, shaped her face perfectly. She smiled when she saw them and a look of rejoiced recognition spread across her

The police took the miss out of the house and looked at the girl weirdly as if she had something on her face. They chose to ignore the adolescent and drove away with the woman in the backseat. The lady was screaming like a banshee. That night, around 11:00 pm, the woman, who somehow got out of the jailhouse, broke into the girl’s house. The lass didn’t even take notice and just continued staring blankly at the opposite wall. The woman asked for the letter loudly and the girl just got up and took out the letter from its hiding place. She taunted the woman and eventually the female jumped the poor girl.

Her sunset hair danced along the night sky, slapping back and forth like a flag in the wind. And out of her bright, emerald eyes crept just enough light from the high up moon for onlookers to have the opportunity to see the outline of this youthful, round face from their apartment windows. She was out of place -to be seen in the center of town, so late at night, at such a young age, being only two or three years old, without a parent by her side, nor any suggestion of a caretaker of guardian of some sorts.

As I was using my bright pink pencil to write everything my strict teacher was writing down on the board, the loud aggravating bell rang. Which meant it was time for lunch. As the rancid smell of Mrs. Stone’s perfume came near I knew that Regie, Martie, Dan and I were going to be dismissed too line up for lunch. The expired milk smelt so awful sitting next to my squared piece of pizza, I gaged. I scarfed down the pizza feeling like I had to throw up. “Emma what are you going to do for the presentation in social studies?” asked Martie. “I don’t know, maybe my dad’s ancient baseball card collection.” I responded. “Sounds..” The bell rang. Lunch was over. As I was walking on the holy and cracked sidewalk to get home I decided that I would do

The floorboard in the hallway creaked again. Emma flew off the bed and dashed for cover behind the silk dressing screen. Her heart pounded. Sweat trickled down the side of her face. Trembling, she peeked around the edge of the screen and watched as a tall figure entered the room. When he stepped into the light of the fireplace, her hand flew to her mouth to silence the gasp. It could not be him. He would never poison her mother. Would

Just as I had finished setting things up, the doorbell rang. Jesse Berst was the first to show up; being the new reporter that he is he is always very punctual. Of course he was dressed in his usual suit and tie. His white hair was neatly combed back and he had a bottle of wine in his hand. “Here you are,” he said politely. After the many thanks and “oh’s” and “ah” over the wine I ran to the kicthen to put in refrigerator. Just as I was walking back to the living room the doorbell rang again. This time it was Julia Walker. She was wearing a simple long black dress and had no jewerly on except a sivler watch that matched her earings. She was very tall and slender, almost as tall as Mr. Berst. Just as I was about to introduce them Molly Masland peeked in through the still slightly opened door. “Howdy there,” she joyful said like the typical souther woman that she was. She wore a a pastel colored evening dress with white shoes of course. “ I made ya’ll some of my simply delicious peach cobbler,” she said as she handed me her container.