A/N:

Here is my third Fictionpress, but hopefully I will finish this one.

Please review, as it will be muchly appreciated.


London, England. 1940.

I pick my way through the crowds of people filling up the sidewalks. They are all queuing for their food, ration cards at the ready. I pat my pockets in a sudden thought of panic, had I brought my card? The soft worn cardboard comes as a relief to my fingertips and I let out a sigh. The skies above are darkening and I know I only have an hour at the most before black out, so I pick up my pace and hurry down a narrow sidewalk between two towering buildings. The smell of freshly baked bread tells me of the bakery's presence before the bright lights of the shop front. A few people are queuing up but most have gone home in a hurry. I know I am pushing my luck coming here but there is something which I must do.

I enter the warmth of the building and I shake off the cold and walk to the counter where an overweight man is stood behind the till.

"Hello Mr Smith." I say politely.

"You want Annabelle?" he asks giving me a once over, I nod. Mr Smith disappears out the back and reappears a few minutes later with Annabelle close behind.

"Hello Jack, what can I do for you?" she asks, her voice so soft almost makes me weak at the knees.

I open my mouth to speak, what was I meant to be asking her again? The thought soon comes to me and I close my mouth as bile rises in the back of my throat.

"Are you alright?" Annabelle's blue eyes are full of concern, I nod hastily.

"." I say.

"Could you please repeat that?" she asks.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and smiles sadly at the ground. "I'm sorry Jack, but Reg already asked me."

It felt like someone had punched me and all the air had been knocked out of body. I can feel my face turning red and my vision blur in anger as I picture Reg's smirking face.

"Look I'm so sorry." Annabelle says reaching out touch my arm.

I give her a wobbly smile. "It's okay."

I turn and leave the shop heading back down the alleyway. I kick out at a rubbish bin in anger and clatters to ground with a crash.

"Bloody Reg!" I growl under my breath, clenching my fists.

I am two blocks away from my parent's house when the air raid sirens shatter the silent night. I stop in my tracks, could I possibly make it? I take a deep breath as bangs and fires fill the night. I lift my knees as high as possible while pumping my arms at my side, willing my legs to go faster. I run along the street and across the roads, leaving angry voices and tooting horns behind me. I jog up the front path and rip the front door open.

"Mum? Dad?" I shout tearing down the front hall; I stumble over the coat stand and scrabble to my feet continuing out the door to the garden. The bomb shelter sat in the corner of the garden, a shelter from this terrible time. If only I was old enough to fight. There is a high pitched whistle from the sky above, but I never find out what it is because there is an intense pain shooting through my body, an intense light and then nothing but blackness.