August 16th, 1800.
…
I saw mom and dad in the living room.
They were lying on top of each other like lovers. They didn't move at all.
I knew they wouldn't move, but I still watched them, wanting to believe otherwise.
They did not breathe, they did not blink, they did not speak.
They were not playing dead for the enemy to be confused. Rather, they got killed before they could do anything.
Under the kitchen table is where I felt safe, but what if the enemy found me there? What would they do with me if killing wasn't the only bad thing they did? I could not stay any longer, so I ran away from home. Many did. My friends did too. Some of their moms and dads were alive, but not all of them, and those who were alive helped us.
I never thought I'd be crossing enemy lines by running down the streets where I used to play hopscotch.
We didn't know where to go. The enemy knew we weren't fighting, but running away from them, so they hid near the gates and began killing the people who were running away in plain sight. They did not care who they killed. If they cared, they would leave us alone.
My friends and I stood still in the grass until the adults took care of the bad people. After a while, we did not hear any sound. To be sure, I crawled quietly to see what happened. Then, I saw it. I was scared. I couldn't move. Both the enemy and the adults were like mom and dad, except they didn't love each other.
I can't remember for how long I hid in the grass until it was over. Whenever I go home, I see someone in the corner, but I don't know who. They disappear so quickly, as if they weren't there. As if they didn't want to be seen.