I don't know where Papa has gone, and frankly, I am shaking-scared ...

It all started last week.  We were eating supper (fried kugel, boiled potatoes, and spinach), listening to the latest on the Nazi invasion on our radio, when there was a heavy knock on our door and loud, loud shouting. 

I answered the door.  There were two huge Nazi guards standing outside our door.  They pushed me aside and grabbed my father by the scruff of his neck, shouting curses at him.  I don't know what they were saying, but it was obvious that they were up to no good.  Then they dragged him out the door, kicking him and hitting him with their clubs.  It scared me. 

Then the soldiers were gone.

Ever since, Mama and I have been terrified. We don't know where they could have possibly taken Papa, or if we will ever see him again ... alive.  We are scared that the Nazi soldiers might return and take us too, to parts unknown.  There's talk of concentration camps being built all over Europe; we are wondering if Papa has been taken to one of those horrible places.

What I have heard of the concentration camps, the German Nazis want to do everything in their own power to "get rid of us" because, according to their sick, twisted logic, we are inferior to them.  They will stop at nothing, even commit murder or plunder our belongings.  We wonder if we are next on their hit list.

The fear we now face is enough to drive all of us mad, especially since the bad Nazi soldiers have taken my Papa. 

I have decided one thing: I will go and search for my Papa.  We need him; he is the family's chief breadwinner, and we cannot function without him.  It may be a long, arduous, and extremely treacherous journey, but I am willing to do anything possible to get him back home to us, where he belongs!

*End of part one*