The Silence of the Night

Hi, guys! Here's a short story I wrote a few weeks ago that you may enjoy. Hope you like it!
~Emily

                                                                                                                                    

            I’m laying in my bed, listening to the sounds around me. Silence. That’s all I hear. Before now, just weeks ago, I would have heard the radio going. Mum and Dad would have been laughing at some program. I might have even been awake with them, doing my homework but not really concentrating. The streetlights would have been on, cars rumbling happily down the lane, happy to be driving somewhere.

            Of course, that’s the old London now. The London we have to live in right now is dark and defensive, almost expecting bombs to pour out of sky at any moment, breaking the fragile peace we have right now.

            I wish this wasn’t happening, wish the Nazis hadn’t decided to start this. Why did they decide this was the place they wanted? Why do some people believe the world isn’t something to live in, you have to take it over too?

            I hear a noise, creaking floorboards. My parents are going to bed, making as little noise as possible. They weren’t the kind of people to creep around before this happened. My dad would stride places, hands in his pockets, back straight. He wore a lot of suits and worked in a bank. My mum wore flowered dresses and was always cheerful, always humming some tune from the radio. Some nights, I’d hear them dancing together, swaying back and forth to the crooning pouring from the radio. I longed to join them, with a boy of my own.

            The house is quiet now, much too quiet. There is no radio pouring swing music into the living room, my father and mother are in bed. My mum cries much more now, too much. My dad creeps around, tiptoeing on the thin ice the Nazis have put over the city. And the silence of the night breaks my heart.