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Pendula Vera Part I

Boots

April 3rd

Leaves crunched under boots, cool steel held in calloused hands. Gun powder wafted under the door and into the room.

They are coming.

My class stayed huddled together in the back holding hands. Dipping our heads so they wouldn’t see our faces.

Boots clomped on the ground as they sounded by the door.

They are here.

I open my eyes and peak at my sister. She is shaking, her eyes wide as she stares at the door.

Most of them look towards the door, waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the soldiers to come in and take us out. Like blowing out a candle, first, their barrels will smoke and then we will all turn to dust.

It’s a tale as old as time, one I wished I didn’t have to live.

They yell and shout at my teacher, her voice quivers as she shouts back. She strains pushing all the desks in a pile against the doorknob.

One of the boys jumps out and helps her. She waves him off tears streaking her cheeks.

We are fortunate enough to be one of the classes on the inside of the building. But unlucky enough to be one of the classes chosen.

Their heavy bodies thump against the door one after another. Their boots ground them. Shiny, leather, and tough. Two belt buckles at the top tightened to its tightest loop. Their clothes layered in camo, under it is bulletproof vests and pants, their gloves fit their hands bulky. Black gloves with star insignia on the back.

They’re inside.

The door bursts open. My teacher is thrown back and my peer stands there with his arms out. I lower my head as the guns click and they pull the trigger.

It is quiet before his body thuds against the ground. Silent.

I hold my breath as my sister holds my hand tighter. She pushes her head against mine and we look into each other’s eyes.

Black leather boots stand by us. Rough gloves grab my shoulder and sever me from the group.

“Look at me.” the gruff man says. He smells like vomit, his breath heavy and hot as it fans my face.

“Look…at…me.” He demands. I don’t take my eyes from my sisters as he drops me to the ground and spins me around.

The rest I am afraid to say.

No one said a word that day.

No one.

Recommended4 Simily SnapsPublished in Historical Fiction, Young Adult (YA)

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