The Diary In The Attic (Part 3)

[Timl1980]

The Diary in the Attic

 

Part 3: The World Shatters

 

Some pages don’t just tell of history...they drag you into its chaos. Anna braced herself as the diary carried her into a world at war.

 

The house was quiet. Her brother’s soft snoring drifted through the thin wall, and the hum of the refrigerator downstairs was the only other sound. Anna lay in bed, the diary hidden under her pillow.

 

She waited until the hallway light clicked off and her parents’ footsteps faded. Then she pulled the diary out, switched on her flashlight, and opened to the next page. Her hands trembled...not just from weakness, but from anticipation.

 

The treatments had left her exhausted, but tonight she couldn’t sleep. The words in the diary tugged at her like a current, pulling her deeper.

 

July 28, 1914 Dearest Diary,

 

War has broken out in Europe. The newspapers shout it from every corner. Crowds gather on the streets to read the headlines. Some cheer, waving flags. Others stand silent, their faces pale. I cannot believe it. Only yesterday the world seemed so calm. Today it feels as though the earth itself has shifted beneath our feet.

 

The bedroom around Anna seemed to dissolve. The hum of the refrigerator faded into the clamor of city streets. Newspaper boys darted between carriages, their voices shrill: “War! War in Europe!” Men in bowler hats clustered on corners, reading the bold black headlines. Women clutched their children’s hands tighter, whispering to one another. Flags appeared in windows overnight, as though patriotism had bloomed like a sudden fever.

 

And in the midst of it all, the Bible Students gathered quietly in their meeting hall. The contrast was stark: outside, the fever of war; inside, the hush of prayer and scripture.

 

Brother Williams stood at the front, his Bible open, his face grave.

 

“Brethren,” he said, “do not be swept away by the fervor of the nations. Remember the words of our Lord: ‘Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.’ This is not the end, but it is the sign that the Gentile Times have reached their close. The Kingdom of Christ is established in the heavens. The world will rage, but Jehovah’s purpose stands.”

 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Yet Anna Müller felt a knot of fear in her stomach. She thought of her brother Emil, strong and restless, already talking of enlisting if America were drawn in. She thought of Jacob, her fiancé, who worked in New York and wrote of the growing tension in the city.

 

She pressed her diary against her lap and wrote quickly, her hand trembling: “The world we knew is gone. What lies ahead, only Jehovah knows.”

 

The lamplight dimmed, and Anna Fischer was back in her bedroom. Her flashlight beam wavered across the page as she lowered the diary. Her chest ached, and she pressed a hand against her ribs until the pain eased.

 

The words felt heavy, as though they had been written for her. The world we knew is gone. She thought of her own world...2025. The protests, the headlines, the constant sense that everything was unraveling.

 

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready for her world to be gone. Not yet.

 

August 4, 1914 Britain has declared war on Germany. The whole world seems to be unraveling. Brother Russell says this is the fulfillment of prophecy, that the Gentile Times have ended. Some rejoice, saying the Kingdom has come. Others are confused, even disappointed, for they expected more visible signs. But I believe. I must believe. The Scriptures are clear. The nations rage, but Jehovah’s King reigns.

 

Anna’s flashlight flickered. She rubbed her eyes, but the words seemed to burn brighter, as though they were alive. She could almost hear the scratch of the pen, the urgency in Anna Müller’s hand as she wrote.

 

Her own breath quickened. She thought of the way her doctors spoke in hushed tones, the way her parents tried to smile even when their eyes betrayed fear. The world she knew...her world...was unraveling too.

 

She turned the page, her breath shallow. The next entry began with a single line, written in hurried script:

 

“Jacob has been called to serve...”

 

Her throat tightened. She snapped the diary shut and shoved it back under her pillow as footsteps passed in the hall.

 

She lay in the dark, her heart pounding, whispering into the silence: “No… not Jacob.”

 

And she knew she

would not sleep until she read what came next.