Warning: Content is completely fictional, and any relation to real things is entirely coincidental.

Tuesday, April 24, 1941

Dear Diary,

It's not safe out here. I have been running from the Nazis for two weeks now.

It is still cold at night, but fortunately I brought some warm clothing. I wish I could be somewhere else, preferably somewhere warm, but I don't really have a choice. Unless I want to go to one of the Nazis' AWFUL concentration camps. Mama and Papa were taken to one of those, and they promised they'd come back for me and my sisters. They never did.

Shortly thereafter, my sisters Esther and Rose were taken away by the Nazis, probably to a different concentration camp. There was only one reason the Nazis didn't take me too: I had hidden in the cellar with the rug over the trapdoor so they wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Fearing they would come back for me, I ran away that night. I only took you, diary, a pencil, warm clothing, and some provisions.

However, now I am running low on food, and am searching for a village to beg something to eat.

Later on Tuesday

Dear Diary,

Guess where I am right now! I'm in a barn, the barn of Mr. and Mrs. Chesner, kind people who are secretly working against the Nazis. Their barn is extremely cosy, and there is plenty of hay about. Using the hay, I have made myself a relatively comfortable bed out of it to sleep on for the night, upon which I am currently writing.

In the morning, I will scatter the hay so there is no trace of me ever being here, and hopefully it will make it harder for the Nazis to find me.

The animals in here are extraordinarily noisy, however, this is a good thing because the animals will muffle any sound I should make during the night.

I believe I will turn in now, for I am yawning as I write this. Goodnight Diary.

Early on Wednesday

Dear Diary,

It is quite early currently, but I must get up to scatter my bed of hay. I have become accustomed to this routine, so I am not overly bothered by it. This odd routine has become a normality in my life. I will get back to you later, Diary, for I must depart this dear couple's barn. Until later.

Wednesday, April 25, 1941

Today I was reminiscing about the last time I went to a library. I'm not completely sure why I was thinking about this, but lately I've been having thoughts about what I used to do all the time, before the Nazis came.

Mama would take Rose and I to the public library once a month to borrow books. It would be our pleasure trip, because we didn't have enough money to go abroad. Rose and I love to read, and the library was our favourite place to go.

The past aside, I am looking for another small town, having left the Chesners' barn behind early this morning. I will write more upon my finding of a small town.

Thursday, April 26, 1941

Dear Diary,

Success! I have found a quaint, normal-looking village after looking for only one day. It exudes a small European town aura that I thought would be my best bet to get some sustenance from. I am writing this later in the day, because with all of the happenings that took place, I didn't have time to write earlier.

When I was walking through the village, I came upon the town square. There was a 'Wanted: Eva Katz' poster with a picture of me tacked up in the middle of the square. Over the Wanted, someone had scribbled it out with a pencil and written, Keep up the fight! Diary, it warmed my heart to see people supporting my decision, and made me think it was more likely to be able to receive some food from the citizens.

I went up to one of the houses on the outskirts of the village and knocked on the door, hoping there were kind people behind it.

Seven Years Later

Thursday, April 26, 1948

Dear Diary,

I am very sorry that it has been a long time since I wrote to you. Exactly seven years, in fact. Much has happened to transition me from the young scared girl named Eva Katz I was to the older-but-still young confident woman named Emma Keen I am now.

There is quite a long story, but I will make it shorter because my hand will cramp up if I write excessively. That is one thing that hasn't changed from back then.

I found a couple who wished to have children to take care of, but they weren't able. They adopted me and changed my name so no one would know who I was. My name is now Emma Keen, daughter of Aubrey and James Keen, and we live in the city of London, England in Mr. and Mrs. Keens' flat next to the river Thames. Yes, Diary, you heard me correctly. I made it to London, and the Nazis weren't able to find me.

Speaking of the Nazis, they were defeated and disbanded three years ago. Some say my decision played a large part in it. I do not know whether this is true or not. All that matters now is that I am free, and the only thing I have from my old life is you and my now-tiny pencil that I used to write with so long ago. I do not use my pencil anymore: I just keep it for sentimental value.

Now that the Nazis have surrendered and I am safe, I wish to meet my family again, Mama and Papa and Esther and Rose.

But for now, I must simply hope. And wait.