“Blow out the candles, Emilia,” Mother hissed as we heard the blaring of the air-raid alarm. Hurriedly, I obeyed as she ran to turned off the radio. Then my father, brother, mother, and I rushed out of the house and ran for the cellar. As I ran, I saw the planes whiz above my head. “Come on, Emilia,” my mother called ten steps away.
I don’t remember how many days we had stayed in the cellar but when I was finally allowed to return to the house, I immediately ran to the last room I was in before the alarms.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.