Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Snippets For March.

Snippet time over at Katie's Blog!


“No, Fraulein. (miss) We had no idea of the news.” There were tears in Esther’s eyes, but she held her chin up.
“Ah, I see. Well, you may go along home, of course.”

“But Fraulein--”
“Go along, Esther.” There was firmness in Teacher’s voice, but in the back of her eyes Ana saw a spark of pity. 
Her lips trembling, Esther backed away, then turned and ran out of the schoolyard, her hand over her mouth. Ana started to go after her, but Oscar grabbed her arm. “Stay away from her, Ana Huber. Don’t you go mixing with those Jews. Esther’s not worth it.” ~Shattered.


“Thank you,” she whispered to me, though there was no trace of thanks in her heartbroken voice.
“Mama?” the little boy asked, his eyes alarmed. “Mama, what is it?”
“Your father,” she said softly, stroking his hair. “He... he won’t be coming home.”
The little boy’s face took on the most anguished, angry and horrified expression I had even seen and he began to cry. The mother, also crying, hurried back into the house but the boy remained in front of me, wiping at his tears with his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing how else to take my leave. “I’m really sorry.”
He lifted his head and glared at me, tears shining on his cheeks. In his eyes I caught sight of all the expressions I had seen in the dozens of other people who had received bad news by my hand. Behind the tears glistened a rage for death, killing and all the inhumanities of war, and a sorrow deeper than the deepest part of the ocean for the pain cause by the inhumanities. For a long moment we looked at each other, then the boy reached up and slammed the door in my face. ~ We Regret to Inform You...

Stupid logs, stupid fence, stupid chores. Tim ground his teeth furiously, swinging the ax with a vigor that made his arms hurt. The resisting log, almost as stubborn as Tim himself, firmly refused to split. ~War Boy

“I’ve wanted to fight for so long,” Tim confided. “And now I might get to real soon! What’s it like?”
Jeremiah turned to look at him, a strange glint in his eye. “It’s the worst, the most exciting, the scariest, the most thrilling experience.” For a moment a gloom came over his eyes. “But I almost wish I had sent you away back at the creek. You're too young to be in the army.”
Tim felt his face getting hot. “Jeremiah! Not five minutes ago you spoke up for me, and now...”
His friend put his hands on his shoulders. “Tim, listen to me. It isn’t that I don’t think you're capable of fighting, or handling a gun. It’s that war is a terrible thing, a horror that never leaves you. Battles are terrifying.”
Tim set his jaw. “I ain’t scared.”
Jeremiah tipped his head to the side, as if considering Tim. “No,” he smiled finally, clapping Tim’s shoulder, “I reckon you’re not. Welcome to the sixty-fourth New York regiment, Tim.” ~War Boy

“Forward!” The order came back through the lines and Tim gripped his gun so hard the skin on one of his knuckles cracked. This was what he had been waiting for. ~War Boy

Harry, the fourth man in the tent, knelt up. “That’s the signal for battle! Come on, fellows! Get up!” His words went through them a like a bolt of lightning and Tim jumped to a crouching position, his knee smacking Jeremiah’s nose.
The man groaned and clapped a hand to the bleeding nose. “Timothy! Be careful where you put your knees or I’ll report you for violent conduct!” ~War Boy

“Because I’m afraid of fire!” Aidan blurted. “It terrifies me! I know you want me to be a firefighter like you when I grow up, but I don’t want to! Fire makes me more scared than anything else! I can't stand it! Last night I felt like I was going to faint! I couldn’t move, not until I realized that it was probably a drill. Dad, I can't stand fire or fighting fires!” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she realized she’d been almost shouting. ~Fireman's Daughter

There was a beeping, a small, annoying, insistent beeping coming from near the doorway. Exasperated and stressed, Aidan turned her head and smelled smoke. Into her mind flashed a picture of the candle sitting dangerously close to the curtains in the kitchen. It was then that panic seized her. “No,” she whispered. “No, there can’t be a fire!”
But there was, and from the sound of it it was big and roaring and getting closer. ~Fireman's Daughter

“William, come back to you family soon. They miss you already.”
Indeed, Mistress Phillips was being supported by her husband. Her head was down and sobs wrenched from her as she mourned her son. “I just know he’ll get killed!” she cried.
Master Phillips patted his wife’s shoulder. “We must pray, my dear. Pray very hard.”
Mamie watched them go inside, their shoulders bent under the weight of their sorrow. Oh William, she thought sadly. Why did you have to leave them? They think you’ll be killed, and.... so do I. ~ Battle of the Bull.

“You mean... that I’d be your little boy, and you’d never just give me up because you don’t want me anymore? You’ll always love me?” ~West by Train.




7 comments:

Jack said...

Shattered! I got to read that one! It was very good, and sad. But I liked it a lot.

All of the other snippets sound really good too!

Emma Clifton said...

Ooh, We Regret to Inform You piques my interest. Very nice snippets!

Molly said...

Jack: Thanks! I'm flattered; I'm so glad you enjoyed it.

Emma Clifton: Thank you!



Bound and Freed said...

These look fascinating!

Molly said...

Bound and Freed: Why, thank you!

Katelyn Sabelko said...

Molly! I always enjoy your snippets! This one in particular, from your story War Boy, caught my attention: '“Forward!” The order came back through the lines and Tim gripped his gun so hard the skin on one of his knuckles cracked. This was what he had been waiting for.'

I can feel the mixture of excitement and fear flowing through Tim in this snippet. Fantastic!

Molly said...

Katelyn Sabelko: Thanks! I had fun writing Tim's story, thought it was hard figuring out the battle scene.