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xMMKayx3
Guest
The clouds began to clear, the sun began to shine, and people peeked out from behind the heavy curtains of their houses. The roads were slick, the grass sticky with a mix of morning dew and rain.
The playground stood vacant, swings still squeaking, and small puddles accumulating around the bottom of the slides.
Tall men with dark clothing walked militantly up and down the sidewalks, looking around to make sure that everything was well. Inside small, cramped apartments,
people hid, afraid of those that had made them go into hiding in the first place. Small candles burned, and all of the peoples’ belongings were packed into small trunks, all across the city.
The people thirsted for water, but there was none to drink. They hungered for food, but there was none to eat. Some families were smaller than they had originally been, and the ones that were left mourned for lives lost.
Many young people slaved away, hiding from the police. They gave food to the hungry and what money they had to the poor. They distributed newspapers telling about what was really happening in this wretched war. Times were hard. But still the people kept their faith. They prayed their religious prayers and continued their rituals in secret.
One little girl, Annemarie, tugged on her mother’s skirt as she bustled about, fetching bread from a cupboard and water from a small, cracked pitcher. Her mother, Belle, put the things on the crate they had for a table and asked, “Yes, what is the matter, darling?”
“Mama, can I go outside now? I want to see the sun so badly,” Annemarie begged in a voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Belle said sharply.
“Why not, Mama?”
All of the lines etched into Belle’s face suddenly stood out, as her bony hands shook. She stared, as if looking at a far-off place.
“Honey, we’re Jewish”
The playground stood vacant, swings still squeaking, and small puddles accumulating around the bottom of the slides.
Tall men with dark clothing walked militantly up and down the sidewalks, looking around to make sure that everything was well. Inside small, cramped apartments,
people hid, afraid of those that had made them go into hiding in the first place. Small candles burned, and all of the peoples’ belongings were packed into small trunks, all across the city.
The people thirsted for water, but there was none to drink. They hungered for food, but there was none to eat. Some families were smaller than they had originally been, and the ones that were left mourned for lives lost.
Many young people slaved away, hiding from the police. They gave food to the hungry and what money they had to the poor. They distributed newspapers telling about what was really happening in this wretched war. Times were hard. But still the people kept their faith. They prayed their religious prayers and continued their rituals in secret.
One little girl, Annemarie, tugged on her mother’s skirt as she bustled about, fetching bread from a cupboard and water from a small, cracked pitcher. Her mother, Belle, put the things on the crate they had for a table and asked, “Yes, what is the matter, darling?”
“Mama, can I go outside now? I want to see the sun so badly,” Annemarie begged in a voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Belle said sharply.
“Why not, Mama?”
All of the lines etched into Belle’s face suddenly stood out, as her bony hands shook. She stared, as if looking at a far-off place.
“Honey, we’re Jewish”
