Her hands covered her ears. The explosions and gunshots sounded like drums. She sank to the ground and covered her ears even more. Her heart was pounding. She was sure she was going to die. She looked across the street and saw a woman’s face peeking out of a window. Anya couldn’t make out the woman’s face, but she didn’t look afraid. Anya exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. The woman was going to be alright. She smiled. Then, another explosion sounded. She inhaled sharply. She was sure that this sound was for her.

She was safe as long as she stayed on the street. She listened to the sounds of the world around her. The soldiers on the other side of the street were indiscriminately shooting. It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a city. They were killing hundreds of people daily. Some of the people they were shooting were probably innocent.

Anya had never been shot at. At least, not yet. She was still living in Poland as Hitler stepped up his attack on his neighbors to the east. Poland was a country, not a city. It had a coastline. She was in the town of Gdansk, a coastal town on the Baltic Sea. Anya knew that the Nazi’s were going to invade the continent, but she didn’t know exactly how, when, or where.

I her head, Anya travelled. She was flying, floating. She was moving very fast. After a few moments, she arrived. She was in a village but the village looked completely different. It didn’t even look like it was occupied by people. There were tiny wooden houses and massive, beautiful farmhouses. The ground beneath her feet was covered in dirt, but not dirt-dirt. It was a spectacular golden color. It looked like the grass in a lush garden. People were walking around like they just wanted to go from one place to another. There didn’t seem to be any urgency, as if there was no place to be. They just walked to get somewhere. She had this feeling that she was somewhere in Poland, but maybe it was because it looked like home.

The woman walking on the road looked up at her and smiled. Her smile went right to Anya’s heart. “What are you doing here?” Anya asked. The woman didn’t respond. Her smile didn’t falter. Anya held her smile.

“Hi, I’m Anya. What’s your name?” Anya said. The woman smiled. The woman hesitated. “Call me Angie,” The pretty woman said. Her hand wavesed back and forth a few times. “I’m Angie.”

“Do you know where we are?” Anya asked. Angie shook her head. Her eyes searched the ground and continued to smile.

Another explosion threw her to the ground and back to reality – the fantasy was over.

Pieces of buildings were breaking into pieces and slamming into the ground. Anya opened up her eyes wide. She closed them immediately. But when she opened them again, there was no change. The world was still exploding and she was still alive and still in the same place. She was still thirteen years old and still in Poland. She was still alive.

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Her heart felt like it was going to collapse. She was going to throw up.

She was going to scream, either way. Her eyes began to well up with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Her chest was getting tighter and tighter. She was going to die. The world wasn’t going to see the person she had grown up to be. All of her dreams were going to be left unfulfilled.

She was heading down to the woods to die.

Then, she turned around. Her eyes were locked on the house across from her.