ikikouchiha9668
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this is a story I wrote when I was deep into studying the Holocaust about a young Jewish girl, Mirele, and her little brother, Abe.
I stared at my little brother, Abe, gaped in awe at the work camp that we call ‘Hell’s Gate’. Abe snuggled into my stomach and sniffled. I stroked his dark brown hair as I sung the song that our mother sang to us from the cradle.
Our mother, stunning features and lovely voice, sang the lovely tune. She would always lay us in the same crib and rock it slowly. She was always rather sick, but she always saved our lives. She protected us from the cruel world while she desperately hung on to her own life. When the Nazis invaded our Denmark, she would lay us in bed so early to make sure that we were safe. But, one day, the loving arms of our mother snapped as the despicable Nazis dragged her away to the camp that lay in front of us. I knew that she would want me to take care of my brother and be the loving arms he always needed.
“Danish children,” A Nazi soldier spit at our dirt stained faces. “Go home to your mother! The curfew is about to fall upon us.” His Danish was horrible. The Nazis didn’t even bother with our complicated language when they invaded our home land. If he had the power, I bet King Christian X would have made sure that ever Nazi that crossed our land would never see another day; do the same thing they do to us Jewish and weak people.
“You already took our mommy away, mean man.” Abe spit on the polished black shoe and the perfect black strings of the German soldier. I grabbed his skinny shoulder.
“Jewish children!” He yanked me by hair to the side, spewing chunks from my hair.
“Mirele!” Abe bawled after me as the unsightly German soldier hauled me across the one hundred fifty yard field. Another soldier seized his forearm, cracking his ulna, the most extended bone in the forearm. I was weeping, but I could barely hear my cries over Abe’s shrieks and whimpers. We had halted our whimpers and whines. I tried to cheer myself up, saying that we just ran out of water to cry, but nothing could make this horrid camp happy.
Droopy eyes gaped at us as we entered. The Jewish and sick were just bones; a lot of their skin had been shredded back to reveal blood that oozed from the dirt covered arms. Sweat leaked from the clogged pores. Blood spewed and stained the dirty ground that scuffled our fish skin shoes. The wired fences hung decaying bodies on the side of the six inch spikes. I caught Abe’s head swivel downwards for I knew this scene was much to graphic for an eight year old boy.
I saw a small child huddling next to his mother, crying in her chest. I smiled at the heart warming scene, but immediately gazed away as a Nazi soldier ripped the boy from the arms of the mother. I heard the hissing crack of his body as he was slammed into a large brick wall, that was now splattered with blood.
The undersized rundown shed that they had thrust Abe and me into embraced the unsanitary conditions. People were practically stacked on top of each other, struggling to find a small matter of space to relieve themselves from urine and feces that scattered the cramped area. Older woman flicked off the lice that the young had. I glanced at the black specks-fleas- that flew onto people while they slept. Some elderly men had laid down various spots of hay on the ground were the elderly and sick seemed to be dead to the world.
For what seemed like centuries, Abe and I battled health conditions, labor, starvation, and deplorable surroundings. Abe’s weak immune system contended against a fatal disease that was eating away at his lungs.
“The smoke that escaped from the burning ditch,” A younger man, Beneshi, once told me. “is tearing away at our lungs; the fact that we only get half a piece of bread a day is not helping much either” He gazed upon my scummy face. “It is surprising that you do not have the disease yourself, Mirele, considering that you give your little brother your slice of bread.” He flashed me a grin before Nazis yanked out the older men to do the hourly toil.
Three weeks from Abe’s death, pawns of that loathsome Hitler became even more evil, which I did not think was possible. I thought we were already living in Hell. They started spitting at our faces and chuckling to friends while screeching at us in their Native language. The crack! of each whip that stung our backs like a million bee stings became a more familiar sound than any other. They purposely crafted the sizzling hot days to be lengthy and frigid nights even more bitter. I could sense the fear that trickled from the small children as the gas chambers darkness faced them. The screams of anguish and despair became a familiar type of sound we heard on the camps.
Abe wouldn’t even utter anything to me by this point. Everyone who had actually cherished the lives of the children always asked him yes and no questions. I would lace a smile of reassurance to comfort him in the nights he wailed in my chest from the agonizing pain in his chest. I would fondle his matted head to aid him in his slumber. I hummed the tune that he always fell asleep to. The lyrics slipped into the melody that Beneshi now carried.
The night grows restless.
Animals caught in slumber.
Soldiers coming
But you’ll be safe with me
I will stay by your side.
And clear the bumpy road
Don’t you worry
About them coming
The safety in my arms
Is locked tight.
The hazy breathing of Abe’s signaled that he was asleep. I popped up from my sleeping position with tears that pasted my face. Beneshi’s hands swept my tears away. “Hush, Mirele,” He tenderly swiped away my dark bangs that was glued to sweat from the day’s heat. “I know you want out; we all do, but just wait. I will present a perfect plan to escape. I swear on my Jewish life that I will save our lives.” I nodded with the most hesitation I had in all my life.
One week exactly from the night, Beneshi pressed his body close to mine to elude the pile of feces close to our bodies. The plot for fleeing the vile hell that the Germans call camps were memorized by our small Resistance. Sebastian, the man leading them, would carry out in large numbers to climb over the eight foot fence. Beneshi said that if you placed your foot correctly on the spikes then you would not get highly electrocuted.
Beneshi had called me to the side, pondering me why I had chosen not to follow the Resistance. I replied, “I follow the Resistance with my heart and soul, but I have to look after my brother, who would not be able to climb that wretched fence. I am his rock; his protector. I will do absolutely everything in my power to keep him alive to see another day.”
“You sound exactly like your mother.” Beneshi smiled. “How did you-” He lift up his hand, silencing my talk. “You forget, Mirele, that I have been here for a lot longer than you have.” He gave Abe and me a lengthy farewell and joined the Resistance. I knew that I would never see these men ever again.
A next dawn broke the darkness as the Nazis gathered us in a formal line. That wretched excuse of a man paced the dirt, careful to not scuff his polished boots.
“Everyone friends with those wretched weasels who escaped last night step forward now.” His thick German accent pulled no one forward. My little brother, limping, took a huge step forward. “Beneshi was like my dad.” His hoarse voice carried to the perfect ears of Hitler.
“Abe!” I leaped forward and took a stand by my brave young brother.
“Line them up.” My weak German picked those words up. I gripped Abe’s shoulders and cried silently to myself.
I knew that we were coming face to face with the gaseous death as we approached the room. Abe stood strong in front of me.
“Listen, Abe, I just wanted to let you know that you are the best little brother a Jewish girl like me could ever have.” I leaned down and pecked his bloody cheek. His smile was full of innocence and kindness as he smooched my lips.
I made sure the grip on his hand was tight as we entered the chamber. My eye caught the last bit of light before darkness surrounded me and life itself slipped from my hands.
I stared at my little brother, Abe, gaped in awe at the work camp that we call ‘Hell’s Gate’. Abe snuggled into my stomach and sniffled. I stroked his dark brown hair as I sung the song that our mother sang to us from the cradle.
Our mother, stunning features and lovely voice, sang the lovely tune. She would always lay us in the same crib and rock it slowly. She was always rather sick, but she always saved our lives. She protected us from the cruel world while she desperately hung on to her own life. When the Nazis invaded our Denmark, she would lay us in bed so early to make sure that we were safe. But, one day, the loving arms of our mother snapped as the despicable Nazis dragged her away to the camp that lay in front of us. I knew that she would want me to take care of my brother and be the loving arms he always needed.
“Danish children,” A Nazi soldier spit at our dirt stained faces. “Go home to your mother! The curfew is about to fall upon us.” His Danish was horrible. The Nazis didn’t even bother with our complicated language when they invaded our home land. If he had the power, I bet King Christian X would have made sure that ever Nazi that crossed our land would never see another day; do the same thing they do to us Jewish and weak people.
“You already took our mommy away, mean man.” Abe spit on the polished black shoe and the perfect black strings of the German soldier. I grabbed his skinny shoulder.
“Jewish children!” He yanked me by hair to the side, spewing chunks from my hair.
“Mirele!” Abe bawled after me as the unsightly German soldier hauled me across the one hundred fifty yard field. Another soldier seized his forearm, cracking his ulna, the most extended bone in the forearm. I was weeping, but I could barely hear my cries over Abe’s shrieks and whimpers. We had halted our whimpers and whines. I tried to cheer myself up, saying that we just ran out of water to cry, but nothing could make this horrid camp happy.
Droopy eyes gaped at us as we entered. The Jewish and sick were just bones; a lot of their skin had been shredded back to reveal blood that oozed from the dirt covered arms. Sweat leaked from the clogged pores. Blood spewed and stained the dirty ground that scuffled our fish skin shoes. The wired fences hung decaying bodies on the side of the six inch spikes. I caught Abe’s head swivel downwards for I knew this scene was much to graphic for an eight year old boy.
I saw a small child huddling next to his mother, crying in her chest. I smiled at the heart warming scene, but immediately gazed away as a Nazi soldier ripped the boy from the arms of the mother. I heard the hissing crack of his body as he was slammed into a large brick wall, that was now splattered with blood.
The undersized rundown shed that they had thrust Abe and me into embraced the unsanitary conditions. People were practically stacked on top of each other, struggling to find a small matter of space to relieve themselves from urine and feces that scattered the cramped area. Older woman flicked off the lice that the young had. I glanced at the black specks-fleas- that flew onto people while they slept. Some elderly men had laid down various spots of hay on the ground were the elderly and sick seemed to be dead to the world.
For what seemed like centuries, Abe and I battled health conditions, labor, starvation, and deplorable surroundings. Abe’s weak immune system contended against a fatal disease that was eating away at his lungs.
“The smoke that escaped from the burning ditch,” A younger man, Beneshi, once told me. “is tearing away at our lungs; the fact that we only get half a piece of bread a day is not helping much either” He gazed upon my scummy face. “It is surprising that you do not have the disease yourself, Mirele, considering that you give your little brother your slice of bread.” He flashed me a grin before Nazis yanked out the older men to do the hourly toil.
Three weeks from Abe’s death, pawns of that loathsome Hitler became even more evil, which I did not think was possible. I thought we were already living in Hell. They started spitting at our faces and chuckling to friends while screeching at us in their Native language. The crack! of each whip that stung our backs like a million bee stings became a more familiar sound than any other. They purposely crafted the sizzling hot days to be lengthy and frigid nights even more bitter. I could sense the fear that trickled from the small children as the gas chambers darkness faced them. The screams of anguish and despair became a familiar type of sound we heard on the camps.
Abe wouldn’t even utter anything to me by this point. Everyone who had actually cherished the lives of the children always asked him yes and no questions. I would lace a smile of reassurance to comfort him in the nights he wailed in my chest from the agonizing pain in his chest. I would fondle his matted head to aid him in his slumber. I hummed the tune that he always fell asleep to. The lyrics slipped into the melody that Beneshi now carried.
The night grows restless.
Animals caught in slumber.
Soldiers coming
But you’ll be safe with me
I will stay by your side.
And clear the bumpy road
Don’t you worry
About them coming
The safety in my arms
Is locked tight.
The hazy breathing of Abe’s signaled that he was asleep. I popped up from my sleeping position with tears that pasted my face. Beneshi’s hands swept my tears away. “Hush, Mirele,” He tenderly swiped away my dark bangs that was glued to sweat from the day’s heat. “I know you want out; we all do, but just wait. I will present a perfect plan to escape. I swear on my Jewish life that I will save our lives.” I nodded with the most hesitation I had in all my life.
One week exactly from the night, Beneshi pressed his body close to mine to elude the pile of feces close to our bodies. The plot for fleeing the vile hell that the Germans call camps were memorized by our small Resistance. Sebastian, the man leading them, would carry out in large numbers to climb over the eight foot fence. Beneshi said that if you placed your foot correctly on the spikes then you would not get highly electrocuted.
Beneshi had called me to the side, pondering me why I had chosen not to follow the Resistance. I replied, “I follow the Resistance with my heart and soul, but I have to look after my brother, who would not be able to climb that wretched fence. I am his rock; his protector. I will do absolutely everything in my power to keep him alive to see another day.”
“You sound exactly like your mother.” Beneshi smiled. “How did you-” He lift up his hand, silencing my talk. “You forget, Mirele, that I have been here for a lot longer than you have.” He gave Abe and me a lengthy farewell and joined the Resistance. I knew that I would never see these men ever again.
A next dawn broke the darkness as the Nazis gathered us in a formal line. That wretched excuse of a man paced the dirt, careful to not scuff his polished boots.
“Everyone friends with those wretched weasels who escaped last night step forward now.” His thick German accent pulled no one forward. My little brother, limping, took a huge step forward. “Beneshi was like my dad.” His hoarse voice carried to the perfect ears of Hitler.
“Abe!” I leaped forward and took a stand by my brave young brother.
“Line them up.” My weak German picked those words up. I gripped Abe’s shoulders and cried silently to myself.
I knew that we were coming face to face with the gaseous death as we approached the room. Abe stood strong in front of me.
“Listen, Abe, I just wanted to let you know that you are the best little brother a Jewish girl like me could ever have.” I leaned down and pecked his bloody cheek. His smile was full of innocence and kindness as he smooched my lips.
I made sure the grip on his hand was tight as we entered the chamber. My eye caught the last bit of light before darkness surrounded me and life itself slipped from my hands.
