Narrative Essay: My Little Town Of Sainte-Mere-Eglise

The wind has picked up in our little town of Sainte-Mere-Eglise . I could see the grass moving very fast now. Typical me, just staring out into the open field, when I should really be inside, in the safety of my own room; tucked in the far most corner of our little house. Decorated with little cows and boats, and splashed on with my favorite color: Bleu.
Ever since the war started, I have been finding lots of comfort in my room. I could think there, write fantasmes and play pretend war with my little chevaux! Playing war is my favorite because I could decide who gets to win it. One time I decided that all the other countries won the war except Germany, but I shouted to loud and poor Mama scolded me for thinking of such an impossible outcome.
But Papa always tells me that not all Germans are bad. But I answer that they are all bad because they decided the future of Germany’s Jews and then Europe’s. At first my parents told me that the Germans would never come here to our little town. But as the months passed the Germans kept gaining new land, and in less than nine months after my parents told me that then assuring answer, they came. Dressed in green uniforms and black shining boots, they came. They came in groups, marching perfectly, whilst holding a National Socialist Party flag. They all had one look, the look of evil. They were probably thinking of how they could ruin our organized little town. Yet they didn’t, but they remain here, with the same look. My ten year old self always wonders “ Sont-ils payés pour simplement regarder et marcher?” and then that's where Papa comes in telling me that they are supposed to do that, so we could get scared. Of which only the housewife does after she goes to the market and encounters one! Oh! The men laugh at the face she
At least the sun is shining. Today it appears then disappears behind the dark, stormy, coastal clouds. Poor sun, is that too getting affected by this crisis? I hope not, or else everything could potentially spread to the farthest galaxy in the heavens above. With this happening, I feel like the Moon is the one who belongs with us day and night, it is silent, doesn’t affect us and brings in a sad gloomy feel to our little town, besides! Look at the color, Gris, a color that the Germans brought in with them, before that, all was very colorful and everyone was happy. No one looks colorful, everyone looks like a moon; gray, dull.

I move to the street, very dangerous, but who cares nowadays? I see a military car, parked all the way in the back. In it are two tall men. Blond. Blue eyed, etc. Everything you could find in a German. They are looking towards me; each with a pair of binoculars. Should I run? They put them down, the car starts. OFF I GO!

One minute I was staring at the grass and then I blinked and they have to appear? They ruin everything, from life to personal thinking.
I run through the street, passing houses, people and animals. No time for saying at least a Désolé or a Excusez-Moi. Instead I continue zipping through the street. Until I reach my home, with bruises and