In the musty cellar, we listened for more bombs to be dropped.

A faraway boom sounded, and many more followed it, seemingly in beat with each other. They got louder and louder, and we shrank further back into the corner of the room with every sound.

The war started three months ago, and the whole city had come upon the news that it’d ended just two weeks later. Everything had been peaceful, going fine.. that is, until now.

“Are we safe?” I asked them.

“Of course we are,” Papa said, though I could see the doubt right on his face.

A huge cracking sound shook some loose dirt off the bare walls of the cellar, and the small lightbulb we had hanging from the ceiling went out.

“Papa, I’m scared,” I whimpered, and he hugged me tighter.

“You don’t have to be scared, we’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Another bomb fell somewhere in the city, louder than the rest, so loud that the piles of clean blankets and clothes fell off of their shelves and to the floor.

Then, everything was silent.