• Chapter 1

    Warsaw, Poland, 1942…

    …The small boy ran down the narrow streets
    of Warsaw. As he ran, he heeded the urgent
    message to the unaware villagers.
    “The Nazis are coming! Quickly! Get back
    to your homes! The Nazis are invading!” he
    shouted, pushing through the thick crowd. As
    the warning reached the villagers, they started
    to scream and scramble. The women and
    wives grabbed their children and ran quickly
    back to the nearest shelter. The men readied
    themselves for the invasion, willing to give
    their lives to protect their family.
    Finally, the crowd thinned and the streets
    were left deserted. Proud of his accomplishment
    but too scared to think about it, he started back
    home to protect his mother and younger sister…
    …But it was too late. He could already hear
    the Nazis making their way through the streets
    close by. The boy estimated they would catch up
    to him in no more than five minutes.
    He had to hide…and quickly. His house was
    in a remote area and the nearest building was the
    old Yuler home. Despite the frightening stories,
    the boy decided to hide there.
    As he started to make his way to the
    abandoned building, he heart footsteps nearby,
    followed by a voice with a thick German accent
    shout, “Search the area for any scum!”
    Finally, he reached the building and threw
    himself up the stairs. The building was in ruins.
    Everything was covered in cobwebs and there
    were cracks running the length of the ceiling. The
    floorboards creaked with old age and the scamper
    of rats could be heard through the walls. There
    were no furnishings in the building; it was
    completely empty.
    He searched the upstairs rooms for any
    place he could hide. He searched from room to
    room until he saw a closet in one of the
    smaller rooms with no windows. As he crept
    into the closet, he heard the front door slam
    open and the heavy clunk of boots as the
    soldiers searched the rooms downstairs.
    When the boys eyes adjusted to the
    darkness, he saw a small door on the other side
    of the closet. Willing to risk the chance, he
    dived through the door and locked it behind
    him.
    He was in a small space, small enough not
    to be noticed from the outside, but big enough
    to fit a large man.
    At first, the room didn’t seem special, but
    as the boy looked closer, he saw that it was not
    completely empty.
    A book.
    It was leather bound and thick enough to
    have at least 300 pages in it. The front cover
    boar wording, unlike anything he had seen
    before. The words seemed weird to the boy
    and gave him a bad feeling. He wanted to look
    away from the awful thing, but instead flipped
    through the pages.
    He wasn’t surprised to find the words
    inside as unreadable as the ones on the cover.
    It wasn’t that he couldn’t read,- he had plenty
    of education dealing with that specific genre-
    but more that the book was written in a
    completely different language.
    He waited for at least 20 minutes before he
    heard the Nazis leave. He quietly left the closet
    and headed for home.
    As he left, he looked down at the book
    resting in his hands…
    …Somehow, he knew that the book was
    meant to be protected for as long as he lived.

    Chapter 2

    Coren, Wyoming, 2007…

    …I live in the small town of Coren.
    Population: 482.
    My family has lived in our small, 2 story,
    old farmhouse since a long, long time ago.
    From what I know, my grandparents
    moved here in the 1950s- not that it really
    matters.
    My complete family is composed of two
    brothers, both older than me- one named Nick,
    with black hair and green eyes- and the other,
    called Peter, with brown hair and green eyes. My
    mother- called Rebeka(aka Mom), with brown
    hair and green eyes. And my father- nicknamed
    Raven(aka Dad), with black hair and blue eyes.
    We never used my father’s real name for reasons I
    don’t know of.
    My name is Carmen Black- age 16.
    I have black hair and blue eyes, just like
    my father, but I have the grace and beauty of
    my mother (as my father always claims,
    though I’m certain he just says that because
    he’s my father).
    Our home is surrounded my trees, with
    miles and miles of forest in every direction.
    The nearest house is 20 miles away. The town
    is so small, we have only one school for all
    grades; one through twelve. Both of my
    brothers work as waiters for the only diner in
    town, the Red Wagon Diner. My family
    doesn’t have very much money, so Nick never
    attended college. Instead, he uses his money
    that he gets off tips as a way to provide for us.
    My father prefers him to save his money, but he
    doesn’t force him to keep it to himself. My father
    hates to admit it, but his two jobs don’t pay
    enough for him to provide for us completely.
    My mother always wanted to get a job, but
    because of her illness, my father won’t allow her
    to get one. Most of his money is spent on medical
    bills for her. Because of her sickness, she has to
    stay inside all day and is only allowed to leave on
    rare occasions.
    I also work at the Red Wagon, but I work as a
    cook. I always loved to cook, but now that I spend
    nearly all of time cooking, I’ve come to loath it. I
    continue, though, because it’s for the good of my
    family.
    I’m a sophomore; I’m almost the oldest in my
    class. Peter is in twelfth grade and we walk to and
    from school everyday together. I have trouble in
    school; I always get picked on by some of the
    seniors.
    Today, it was unusually quiet as we walked to
    school. I was suspicious, but I thought nothing of
    it at the time.
    I said farewell to Peter and was told to
    meet him at the same table as usual for lunch.
    After he sauntered away through the crowd, I
    headed for my locker.
    While I was gathering my books for first
    period, I heard a quiet voice behind me. I
    waited as he passed by. Hoping to not see him,
    I slowly turned around… only to find myself
    face to face with Chris Marco.
    In the few seconds of surprise, I took in
    every detail of his perfection: his beautiful
    brown hair, his mesmerizing green eyes, his
    muscular frame, and his black, leather jacket,
    torn jeans, and converse.
    This was Chris Marco- school
    quarterback, most popular and smartest guy in
    the whole school- and he was staring at me.
    I took a deep, shaky breath and asked
    quietly, “Y-yes?”
    That’s just my luck. I find myself in a rare
    chance under Chris Marco’s full attention and
    all I could do was stutter yes? Perfect.
    But after a minute, Chris just smiled with his
    perfect, blindingly white teeth and said, “I don’t
    know what it is about you today, but you look
    different.”
    I gawked, but managed to say, “How would
    you know that? You’ve never seen me before.”
    He frowned. “What do you mean? Of course
    I’ve seen you! I watch you everyday!”
    I gawked even more. “You watch me…
    everyday?”
    He laughed. “Of course! Who wouldn’t? You
    have the most beautiful face I have ever seen! And
    your eyes!”
    By this point, I couldn’t have gawked
    anymore if I tried, which I did I might add.
    This has to be a dream! This isn’t possible!
    “You are so beautiful, you know. No girl
    compares to your type of beauty,” he said as he
    played with my hair.
    I had to get out of there. Of course, I loved
    the fact that Chris Marco was hitting on me, but
    this was just too much. At just the right moment,
    the bell rang and I slipped out from under him.
    Saved by the bell.
    Yet, I was still incredibly confused.
    As I headed for Spanish III, I contemplated
    my situation. Before entering the class, I decided
    to just forget the whole thing.
    By the time I walked into the classroom, class
    had already started.
    Oh, no. This is not good! I’m late to the worst
    class possible. Mr. Falis is the meanest teacher I
    have this year.
    Prepared for the reprimand, I waited by the
    door. Finally, Mr. Falis noticed me.
    And he told me to sit down.
    No yelling. No detentions. No sentences.
    Nothing. Today had definitely been interesting so
    far.
    And it had only just begun.