It was somewhat dark out in the deep and seemingly never-ending alleyways of Germany. Its 1899, and there has been multiple conflicts in this country, conflicts of which I want no involvement in. Our factories have been taken over completely- used for war preparation. Great Britain seems to be watching us closely for any suspicious moves, but we are smart enough to secretly work on supplies and gear. Our chancellor is aware now of the issues that are being caused by a man in a silver mask, bearing armour I have never seen before, and the German soldiers are wearing extra armoured helmets, and gear... But that man, his name is the Fantom. He seemingly wants to make unstoppable tanks, which as of right now, he is succeeding greatly. He walks into factories, with his soldiers, takes the scientists or highest ranked workers and imprisons them until they give up and work for him. His face has been in the papers for a little while now- his scary mask, and his creepy eyes with ruined skin...terrifying man. And to be in the papers is just what he needs. To get his message across, to teach people not to mess with him. To not even try to stop him. A few raindrops hit my hair, as I try to move quickly and quietly along the eerie alley. I keep my head down, almost unable to see my black shoes through the greyish fog. I clutch my books tight to my chest, and my book bag bangs against my right leg as I walk. Night classes aren't fun....in fact, it can be real scary walking home at night, because of the small riots or the drunkards who wander the streets. Looking down the alleyways beyond, I feel a slight tug on my hair. I shrug my shoulders and keep moving on. Maybe it was just my book bag's strap. I reach back to pull my hair from beneath the leather strap, only to find the strap beneath my hair, not my hair beneath the strap. Slightly confused, I keep walking. I walk for a few moments, only to feel another tug on my hair. Maybe it was just the small wind passing through. Tilting my head to the side with confusion, I turn my head around.
I start to walk a bit faster, and look down at the ground. Then, I feel my bag come off of my shoulder, and I turn around quickly. I nearly scream when I see my bag floating in mid air. I reach for it, dropping all my books in the process. The bag goes backwards, out of my reach. My heart pumping, "Give it back!" I shout, sounding like a little girl when her older sibling takes her wooden horse. Receiving a small laugh from whatever it is, I back away, my eyes as wide as plated. "Wh-who are you...?" I say quietly. "Why I'm Skinner, Rodney Skinner, and I just took your bag! Now let me see...anything you know that is special to you in 'ere?" A British accent says, and my bag's latch opens, and stuff goes flying out. "Nope. Nope. No, no, and no. You've got nothing! And here I was thinking that a pretty girl like you would have something worth while." The man- man?- says. My bag drops into the damp ground, and I quickly rush to pick everything up, and gather my scattered books. "What do you think you're doing?" A German voice says from just down the alley. I get up and turn around, and point behind me. "A British man stole my bag and went through my things, sir!" I shout. He looks like me like I'm an idiot. I turn around, and the man isn't there. "Ma'am, maybe you're just seeing things." The soldier says, and walks off. Sighing, I pick up the remainder of my things, and stand, turn around a start to walk off. "'Scuse me? Ma'am, do you need any help? I'm partially and somewhat apologetic for what I did to you." He states, and I run. Run fast.
I enter the house, my mother sitting in her rocking chair, two needles guided by nimble hands, lead a soft blue string that is helping make a beautiful blanket, a blanket with the Moon and all the sky's stars. I've always had a thing for the Moon. Its mysterious glow in the night sky- its quite fascinating.
The scientists used to be so into the Moon, but now that the Fantom's plans and ideas for war took toll and priority, especially due to the fact that all the scientists and astronomers were imprisoned and ordered to do the will of the Fantom, or death.
"Go to bed, Genevieve." Mother insructs, and I nod, trying to hide my damp bookbag, but mother's gaze is following me intently, and is as sharp as a hawk's. "Genevieve, why is your bookbag all wet?" She questions, looking over the golden rim of her glasses. "I dropped my bag. It fell off my shoulders." I reply quickly. "Alright." She says, her eyes darting to the stairs up to the attic and back. I nod, and quickly head up the stairs to the attic door on the roof, pull it down with a loud creak, and quietly bring the ladder down. Climbing up the moaning ladder, I toss my bag across the room into the peeking moonlight from the unfixed patches in the roof. A small gust of wind whines as it passes through the gaping patches, and sends a chill crawling up my spine. I quickly change into my pyjamas, and grab my journal from the compartment I had made in my drawer. Writing down every detail of what happened today, it hits me like a train at full speed. I forgot to write about that invisible man.
Tonight was an odd night indeed, and I concluded my entry. Putting the journal back into the compartment, I lie down and stare at the Moon in all its glorious glow.
I make the sign of the cross, and pray my night prayer,
'Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled
As to console,
To be understood
As to understand,
To be loved, as to love
With all my heart.
With all my heart.'