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Hitler's Birthday, 1940: The Book Thief By Hans Huberman

963 Words4 Pages

Hitler’s Birthday, 1940 The Mayor’s Wife There was a book burning today. My husband and I began the speeches for Hitler’s birthday event, but after half an hour I had to stop. My breath became short, my heart pounded and my legs gave way under me. Edgy thoughts entered my mind about Jews. It was a crisis. A catastrophe. Coward. Evil. Names roared all day and night around the streets. Something happened today after the book burning. It’s a secret. Between me and the book thief. I saw it all. I could have caught her but I didn’t. She was vulnerable. And my clothes washer’s daughter. Hans Huberman I was proud. But the burn on her skin from the stolen book was fiery; bubbly red splodges. The steal saved me a few decent cigarettes …show more content…

These Nazi people are wild. You never know where they are. I pledge I will help those unfortunate Jews out there. One at a time I say to myself. First Delivery Since the Secret Began The Mayor’s Wife Clothes delivery came today. She had a friend. Not today but another day I will let her in. Alone. Our little secret. Hans Huberman Why my little book thief was walking down Himmel Street like a newly-born foal I don’t know. It was delivery day to the Mayor’s house today. She never spoke to the Mayor, or his wife, and they never spoke to her. The …show more content…

‘The Whistler’ The Mayor’s Wife I hadn’t seen the book thief in a while. But today was different to every other. The book thief never read a whole book from my library. Only small segments of each, but I noticed today that she was lured in to read large sections of ‘The Whistler’. The book is quite gruesome. What, in ‘The Whistler’, has trapped her from reading just one small segment? My husband is a man of his word. It’s draining and appalling keeping up with the Fuhrer. He may be the Mayor, and say and do terrible things, but my man has a heart. He is simply trying to keep himself and his family alive. Me. Hans Huberman I drew a little secret out of my little book thief today. She fights. I can only be happy. Her strength is being put to good use. Her heart is being used greatly too, as one might say. She brings a newspaper home every Thursday now for a certain someone to complete the crossword. It makes me wonder what type of books the book thief reads up at the Mayor’s house. Most certainly everyday a newly learnt word is painted onto the basement wall under the correct

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