Greeeeeeetings elves, demigods, red bloods and silver bloods, wizards and psychic agents! (and i guess you too, humans.)
Today I’m going to be posting a short holocaust story that i wrote for school. We were all entering the “Remember the Holocaust” contest. It is to remember those who were effected by the holocaust, because there are those who will try to make you believe it never happened.
July 16, 1942
Ada Zima’s POV
I bolt upright in bed, woken by screams outside the window. For a moment, I freeze, the shock weighing down in my bones and making me tremble. I race down the hall, and into my parents’ bedroom.
“Papa! Papa!” My voice quivers. I shake my father awake, and he jumps from his bed.
“What’s happening?” he murmurs. Another scream breaks through the silence of the night, and my father’s eyes widen. I kneel by the window and pry apart the blinds with trembling fingers. A rusted, green truck, with a beige tarp draped over the top is parked in the street. German officers surround it, shoving people into the vehicle. Dozens pour onto the streets, stumbling and being dragged by sneering, uniform-wearing men.
“Where are they being taken?” I whisper. But I already know the answer. The Nazis are taking them to the concentration camps. My father grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the window.
“Ada, stay right here.” He commands and gestures towards the bed. I nod and climb onto the plush mattress. My heart beats so I hard I think it might tear out of my chest.
Before I know it, my parents and four siblings are gathered next to me. My baby sister Angelina is wailing. My four-year-old brother cries, “Will they take us away too?”
“No,” My mother says sternly. “They are only taking the Jews, and people who break the law.”
I burst out in tears. “But Eden! Will they take Eden?”
No one answers me.
The next morning, I wake up on the floor next to my snoring brother. Last night’s terror still hangs heavy in the room.
I go downstairs to find Mother brewing some coffee. Dark circles sag under her green eyes. Angelina is sitting in her high chair, reaching for a bowl of warm porridge. I feed her a spoonful and she smiles at me.
I try to smile back, but my lips twist into a grimace. My mind is set on Eden. I remove my coat from the rack in the entryway and put on my fur cap.
“Where do you think you’re going?” My mother cries out. She strides towards me but I slip out the door, slamming it and silencing her protests.
Dark clouds block out any trace of sunlight. A harsh wind whips back my blonde curls. All around me is the town I know. The people I know. But today, I am in a foreign city. I catch a glimpse of my usually cheery schoolteacher, who is weaving her way through a crowd. A bright yellow star is patched to her cardigan. She hangs her head and disappears into an alley.
I walk to the bakery down the street. I turn onto a sidewalk that leads to the busiest side of the town. But the streets are empty. I only see one elderly man limping across the road. Many houses’ windows are boarded up, and plants are wilting on the porch. The bakery approaches and I reach my hand out to turn the big brass doorknob.
But a sign is nailed onto the door. “Out of Business,” it says.
I lean my forehead against the window and peer inside. The lights are off. I still see plates stacked on the back counter. I listen and hear the grandfather clock by the staircase ticking steadily.
“They’re closed.” A deep voice barks. I jump and spin around to see a broad-shouldered man standing behind me. A German soldier. He brushes off his jacket, even though it is spotless.
“Why?” I dare to ask.
“Jewish scum,” he mutters and I see hatred flash in his eyes. “Now scram, kid!”
I turn my back on him and run faster than I ever have before.
. . .
Eden Brimer’s POV
I press my back against the brick wall. My breath quickens as I hear a resounding smack, followed by a scream. I see a woman kneeling on the pavement. A German officer is swinging his bat, preparing for another blow. I tear my eyes away.
“Eden,” my brother Ezra emerges from behind a building. “We need to get back. With all the soldiers roaming around today—”
“Okay,” I interrupt him. I don’t notice that I am shaking until Ezra wraps my arm around his shoulders and lets me lean against him as we head back to our safe place.
Across the street, I catch sight of Ada.
She scans her surroundings with scrutiny, and when she sees me her expression softens with relief. Ada tries to make her way through a throng of pedestrians who stream onto the sidewalk. She struggles to push her way through the current, and I lose sight of her.
Before I know what is happening, I feel my arms be seized in a viselike grip. I shriek and try to squirm away, but my captor kicks the back of my knees. I fall to the ground, and my face scrapes across the pavement.
I hear snickering behind me. I glance sideways and see my brother on the ground beside me, writhing as they pummel him with rocks. A sob escapes my throat. Pain sears through my limbs, leaving me defenseless. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for everything to be over, to escape the suffering.
But I hear a grunt and my eyes peel open to see Ezra picking himself up from the ground. Though his wounds trickle with blood, he steps in front of my shivering form and looks the German in the eyes.
“Do not touch my sister.” He spits. Immediately the German general seizes him by the throat and lifts him off the ground, while the two other generals strike him in the face, twist back his arm until I hear a cracking sound, only stopping when his head lulls to the side. He then drops his body to the pavement, where he lands in unconscious heap.
My scream echoes in my ears and only is silenced when I black out.
Thanks for reading, guys! I know this story was far from a happy one, but it is important to remember what happened during the holocaust. It is important to learn history because we can learn from mistakes that have already been made and be sure not to repeat them.