Sum Stories I wrote...

The Dark Side of the World

I believe in God, like all the other Jews in this prison. But I also believe that hating something, or someone is not a sin. I can feel my blood bubble beneath the surface of my skin, just thinking about the Germans. We deserve to go about our happy lives just as any other humans. Or at least that’s what I think.

I was promised to a family in Canada. I was promised happiness, hope and love. I didn’t understand what was to become of me, if I decided not to go.

Before the war my life was not perfection anyway. I didn’t have any friends, and my parents always worked night shifts. I only had Kevin; my boyfriend. I was a flower, in a garden of but two seeds. It was hard for me, I cried often, but when I got notice to go to Canada, I figured I shouldn’t disown Kevin. I stayed.

Time past on, and my failure to go resulted in my being treated like dirt. The war sneaked up on me, like my shadow often did. There were signs the war was coming, but I’m not a mind reader.

Soon us Jews were packaged up, in a huge train, and sent away. A concentration camp. Lodz. My worst nightmare. I don’t believe God follows us wherever we go, for he never followed us Jews to our pit of hell. He does, however, carry you when you can’t walk on your own, I know this now, or maybe he just granted me wings, and I carried myself…

Life to me is like a huge game, the kind of game you can’t afford to lose… Many Jews lost their game, and so did many Germans. In the end.

We were pushed off the train, and from there pushed into a line. There wasn’t just one train; there was at least four. I heard children crying, and women screaming, and the sound of gun shots, constantly. I was shaking in my new shoes, on that day in my life. I thank God a guard never handed me a gun, for I would have shot myself right there. I couldn’t see my family. But just as the line was being pushed forward, I noticed my mother and my father.

My mother’s face lit up, like a jar of fireflies, and she ran toward me. She never made it. She was shot in the back of the head, before she even got half way to me. I saw the guards take her shoes, and her clothing. I watched them carry away my mother’s body. Even though she worked; we were close. I like to remember my mother, when she ran toward me, with a beautiful smile on her face. I don’t like remembering the sound of the gun shot as it went off in my ear. That sounded like hell. If you’ve ever heard someone say they know what hell sounds like, it’s true.

I began to hate the Germans from then on.

My father and I made it through the selection of “healthy” Jews, and I was working at a sewing company; sewing hideous suits for the Germans. My father was working in the hospital. He was one of the doctors, who helped Jews heal. Or die. Sometimes the German doctors would ask my father to help them in their “experiments” and he had no choice…

One little boy, that sticks out in my mind, is John.

I was on my day off, so I decided to see if my father needed any help with his patients. I could hear little John screaming from the operating room, and I could hear my fathers soothing words.

“John, you must stay still. Please, do not fight it; the pain will be more unbearable.”

“Please doctor, I do not wish to die, please do not amputate my arm! For there is nothing wrong with it!”

I gasped. I turned and ran out of the hospital. I couldn’t understand what my father was doing. Had he taken the Germans side?

“Shoshauna!” my father called softly, “wake up! I need your help!”

My father grabbed my arm and pulled me outside. I saw John. He had but one arm. I looked into my fathers pain filled eyes. John was crying.

“We must steal a prosthetic for him, Shoshauna. Please help me. I had no choice. They said if I didn’t do it, they would use me for the scientific experiment. All they needed was an arm. That’s all they wanted, Shoshauna.”

Now, my mother and I had been close. But my father and I were not as nearly as inseparable. I had always thought he was too selfish. My theory was proved right. But at least he wanted to help the poor boy.

“Fine,” I whispered to my father, “let’s go.” I motioned for John and him to follow. They kept the prosthetics in a glass room; it was right by the sewing factory. So I knew where to tiptoe.

We got the poor boy an arm. But a few months later, he was back in the hospital. He had typhus. The doctors had decided he was almost useless with but one arm, so they tested their frostbite antidote on him. He died.

I began to hate the Germans even more.

I was working at the sewing factory one morning, and a girl across from me smiled. I smiled back at her. Her name was Heidi. We became instant friends. We had so many interests, I was happy, I had a friend. Soon nothing mattered to me but Heidi. I even forgot about my father, for a time.

I was so happy with my only friend, that I didn’t see where I was going, slipped, and fell. A guard saw me. He shot at me, and the bullet went right in my back. I was taken to the hospital, and my father fixed me up, before anyone saw I was “unhealthy.”

This particular guard became a fast contribution to my mental enemy list. He hit me often. Above all other guards, he was the one that my heart set out to kill. I hated him. I hated him.

Our living conditions grew worse, as the war dragged on. It was impossible to even think for a second you were beautiful, knowing you had a shaved head, and lice infested clothes. Mostly, the fact that you were undernourished. It was disgusting. It came to a day where I could literally see my rib cage through my skin. I shiver when I think about this. One morning, we were being shipped out to another camp. But Heidi wasn’t on a train. I never saw her. We were headed to Auschwitz. We came from Lodz. We were headed to the death camp. All my hatred had built up a wall inside my heart, and I was not scared, for I had nothing to lose. My own life was no longer a concern of mine. I was one of the few that were not scared; we kept the others in balance.

I stepped off of this train. I looked around. I saw that awful guard, who spotted me, as well. He walked over to me, half smiling. He kicked me in the stomach. Then tried to shoot me. I grabbed his gun. I shot him straight in the head, for he deserved what he received. My victory was well lived. The guards took me away…

In the morning, after my full day’s work, I will be taken to the gas chambers. I leave a note for my father to find.

Dearest father,

Do not cry for my soul. I’m going to mother. Please fight this, you are the strong one. You can have more children, and marry again. Please do not do anything-foolish father. I do not want to see you in heaven until your well past eighty. I love you. I always will. That guard was going to shoot me anyway. I don’t matter. I do not fear death. I fear what is ahead. If you ever see Kevin again, tell him I loved him. Try to forget this dark side of the world…

Love you always, Shoshauna...

As I walk towards the chamber doors, I realize I’m about to die. I do not feel any drops of tears run down my cheeks. I only feel relieved. For, I don’t think Kevin lived anyway.

I step into the chamber. They shut the doors. I see fear in the faces of children, and adults. One woman faints. I shut my eyes, and began to cough. I know, soon enough I’ll see my mother’s face in the clouds…