The Whispering Town

“There are new friends in the cellar, Anett”. Mama said when I woke up. “Time to take breakfast down to them”.

I paused at the top of the stairs. The cellar scared me because it was dark. But the whispering voices gave me courage.

When I reached the bottom, I entered the secret room where we hid Danish Jews from the Nazis. A woman and her son sat on a cot.

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“Mama! Papa! The soldiers are coming to our house!”

They didn’t answer me. No one was home. I tapped three times on the cellar door.

Then I heard pounding on the front door.

“BOOM. BOOM. BOOM”

I opened it a crack.

“We’ve heard rumors that someone is hiding Jews on this street,” said a soldier, pushing the door open.

“I haven’t heard any rumors,” I said, trying to stop my voice from shaking.

“When we find them, we will arrest everyone” warned the other soldier.

Trembling, I closed the door.

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I thought about being afraid of the dark cellar, and how the whispering voices guided me down the stairs.

“Papa, what if people stood in their doorway and used their voices to guide our friends to the boat?” I suggested.

Papa stood quietly, considering my idea.

“That might work,” he said. “Help me to arrange it.”