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The Diary of Jodie Smith

Short story By: KW156766
Historical fiction

Step into the world of a just turned fourteen year old girl named Jodie Smith. Jodie Smith got ripped away from her family on her birthday and sent to an abusive, strict, do or die concentration camp called Auschwitz.
Grab your bag of popcorn and prepare yourself to get your heart broken and warmed right along with Jodie.

Submitted:May 24, 2014    Reads: 174    Comments: 43    Likes: 13   

Dear Diary,

January 30, 1942 7:24 A.M.

First off, let me say one thing-I know it's stupid to have a diary and to pour your heart out into it because it's just a book with pieces of paper inside… but honestly, I have nobody else to tell my problems to so I have turned to my only option which is you. Diary, you are going to be my best friend from here on out and you have no choice in that matter because you will have all of my deepest and darkest feelings in you that nobody else can dare ever read or find out. Today, for starters, is my fourteenth birthday… and man, what a HORRIBLE birthday this is! Did I mention how utterly terribly horrible it is? World War 2 is going on right now which is the main problem because we Jews are getting punished so I got sent to a stupid concentration camp. Yes, I said concentration camp. Insane, right?! But, before I get into all of this madness, I want to tell you a little bit about myself first. My name is Jodie Smith (I am fourteen years old, TODAY!), and for your information yes I know that I have a simple and boring name but oh well! Before I got sent to this stupid, rough, terrible concentration camp I lived in Germany with my small, but loving family. I have an eleven year old brother, Joseph. Joseph is extremely brave for such a young boy, and he can always make me laugh. Well he always did make me laugh-we got sent to different camps. As for my other siblings, there is my sister who is fifteen and her name is Emily. Emily is a rowdy, hyper, Miss. Know it all girl who thinks she the ruler of the world. We don't get along very well, but since we were sent to the same camp together and are forced to work together for the sake of our lives, so we manage to put up with each other. Then there's my loving, beautiful mother whose name is Jolene. My mother has always been here for me through anything, she is just amazing. Samuel is my father, my strict, unforgiving father-let's just say that he and I do not get along that great so therefore I do not have that much to say about him. My mother always told me "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all!"-so I can't say anything about my father because that would be rude of me. By the way, Diary, if you're wondering what I look like-well there is a picture of me! (Sorry that I'm so ugly.)



Dear Diary

January 31, 1942 2:12 P.M.

Good afternoon, Diary! I hope it's a "good afternoon" for you because it certainly it NOT one for me! Try "terrible afternoon", now that's more like it! Anyways, the camp that my sister and I are at is called the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. And let me try and describe to you how incredibly harsh and terrible this camp is-my sister and I are basically salves here. No, actually, there is no "basically" about it, we ARE slaves. I usually do slave labor in factories or guard the camp, and sometimes I even do personal slave work for the SS people. The SS people are the harsh, bitter, coldhearted people who run this place. They get pleasure out of our tears and sadness. When the Nazis first brought me to the camp yesterday, I was angry and sad and worried and full of so many mixed emotions. I didn't know what to expect of this place except that I knew that it was going to be bad-but I never knew it would be this bad. As soon as I got to the camp, they threw me in a cell with my sister and locked the cell and walked away while laughing evilly and coldheartedly. Then, an hour later, they dragged me out of my cell by my hair and made me stand at the Auschwitz main entrance and guard it. My first day here was hard and emotional because there were thousands of thoughts and questions flooding through my head faster than the speed of lighting like "Is my mother okay?" "Is my little brother okay?" "Is my sister okay?" "Where is my family at?" "Are they going to kill me?" "What are they going to do with me?" "I am going to be a slave." "I am going to have to do manual, hard labor." All I did was cry all day long and wish that my parents were here with me. I mean for gosh sakes, I'm only a fourteen year old girl-how much do they expect from me?! Well the answer to that is-everything, they except everything from me. If I don't do as I am told or follow their rules then I am put to death-no if's and's or but's about it. They are not forgiving people, if you wrong them that's it-say goodbye to your life. I know it sounds harsh, and it is extremely harsh, but it's the reality and realness of this situation. Do as I am told or get killed. This is strictly a do or die camp, to tell the truth. So I have to just make the best of the situation and look on the bright side which I will one day get out of here and be reunited with my family once again. Don't ask me how I plan to do that, but I will think of way-I don't give up that easily. And, Diary, if you want to see how horrible my camp is-then I've added some pictures here for you. Look at your own risk.



Dear Diary,

January 32, 1942 6:42 A.M.

I cannot sleep, Diary, so I thought I'd tell you about some of the amazing and down to earth people that I have met so far. I'll start off with this girl named Annie. Well, yesterday, I was walking to the front entrance door to guard it (again) and this short girl who seemed to be about 4'10 stopped me. She had light brown hair that went down a couple inches past her shoulders. She had the kindest looking grey eyes that I have ever seen, but yet they showed some sadness as well. I got good vibes from this girl, and instantly knew that she was a good person from the time that I laid eyes on her. She told me that her name was Lilly, and that she was forced from her home and ripped away from her family just like I was-so we got a long good. We talked for a couple minutes, but then a SS person spotted us and marched over, smacking both of us severely hard in the arm with a whip and then making me rush to my duty. Next, I met an older boy named Tommy. Tommy was much taller than me, and around sixteen years old is my guess. He had short, dirty blonde hair that sparkled with grease. He, on the other hand, was not a nice person. He was mean, and spoke very sarcastically. But it was a mean sarcastic, not a funny HA-HA type of sarcastic. He told me that I should, and I quote, "shut up and stop acting like such a goodie two shoes and just mind my own business unless I wanted to get us all put to our death."-however I had no idea what he was talking about because I DID mind my own business and I DID keep to myself, I think that he was just trying to be a show off. Lastly, I met this little girl who was about ten years old. Her name was Paige, and she was the most beautiful little girl that I have ever seen in my life. She was not just beautiful on the outside, but she was also beautiful on the inside. Her hair was long (about to her bellybutton) and flowed in black waves. She had this smile that lit up the whole room, her smile could make anybody smile (well, except for the SS people, that is.) She told me that she thought that I was pretty, and that she hoped all the very best for my sister and I-I then agreed that whenever I escaped this place, I would absolutely take her along with me. Well, diary, if you want to see what the mean teenage boy I met looked like, here he is. Oh, and by the way, just in case you forgot, his name is Tommy!



Dear Diary,

January 33, 1942 1:33 P.M.

I don't think you want to hear about some of the things that I have seen at this horrid place, but since I promised to tell you everything-I will tell you. You better feel special, diary, because you are special-well to me, at least. My first few minutes here at Auschwitz Concentration Camp I seen a girl (around my age) get beat to death by one of the SS people. She was first pushed to the ground so hard that I could hear her jaw crack as it hit the bottom of the cold, hard, concrete floor. Once they got her on the ground three of the SS people began kicking at her sides with all of the force that they had within them, and they began spitting on her and treating her as if she were a dog instead of a fragile, human being. I felt so incredibly bad for the girl, and as much as I longed to do something in some way to try and help her there was nothing that I could possibly do-or I would have surely been beaten to my death as well right at that very moment. Tears were streaming down my face like a waterfall as I watched the SS people choke and forcefully punch her at least a dozen times. Then, I swear my heart almost stopped beating as I watched the poor girl take her last breath of air-and with that, she was gone. That may have been the worst thing that I have seen so far, but I have also seen a couple other pretty horrible things as well. I watched a young boy (probably about the age of nine) get smacked in the head twice with a metal rod, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces as the boy fell to the floor crying for his mommy and asking her to come and rescue him. Another thing that I have seen that made stuck a knife right through my fourteen year old heart is when I watched my sister get punched in the right eye by eleven SS people, and the worst part of all is that I could not help my very own sister or else my own life would be put in danger. But what made it even worse is when she then came running over to me with a severely black and blue bruised eye, telling me how much she wanted to be out of this place. And I agree one hundred and ten percent with her, we need out of this place like as soon as possible-or one of us is either going to end up severely hurt or even worst yet, dead. I have never felt less safe anywhere in my life as I do here at this wretched place. I wish I could have my own person genie who could grant me three wishes, because if I did my first wish would be to get my sister and me out of here and reunited with our family. But, I might as well just keep on dreaming and wishing for one, because genies are only real in fiction books. Diary, since I show you a picture in each diary entry that I write you, I decided to show you a picture of my sister after she got punched by the SS people. I'm warning you, it's graphic so once again you may look at you own risk.



Dear Diary,

January 34, 1942 9:51 P.M.

Well, diary, I've had enough of putting up with these ridiculously evil SS people. Early this morning (like as soon as I woke up) I got whipped at least two dozen times on my side and on the back of my neck. I cannot even begin to try and describe to the excruciating pain that I felt this morning-it felt like the worst pain you could ever imagine. Getting ran over by a car twice?-no, twice as bad as that. I am bleeding so bad from those two spots that my shirt and pants are now stained with my own blood. I can still feel the intense stinging and burning in those spots, and all I want to do it curl up in a ball and cry and stay like that forever. Enough is enough and I've had it with these people. Who do they think they are? I can answer that question for you. They are just evil, mean, coldhearted, disrespectful, commanding demons that are trapped inside a human body. Good thing that I have God in my life protecting me, because without him I have no idea if I would even be alive right now. I feel like I am trapped inside a nightmare that I cannot wake up from no matter how many times I pinch myself. However, I do have a plan to get myself and that little girl out of this indescribably horrific place. Whenever it seems like the right time I will wait until its night time so most of the people here in Auschwitz are sleeping, then I will quietly sneak through the back hall and grab Paige and Lilly. After I have both of them by my side I will go to the bathroom stall and slide open the teeny tiny window and squeeze myself and them through it. After we get through the window and out into freedom I will then find a safe place for us to hide for the rest of the night until we find some place to go where we will be safe from the Nazis. I don't know when I can find the right day to try and do this, but it has to be sometime soon before something bad happens to one of us. It might not be the best and smartest plan out there, but it will have to do for now and if it means getting my friends and family safe then I am willing to risk anything. Diary, I have added a picture of the tiny window that I am going to try and escape out of. I hope you don't think I'm too crazy for trying to squeeze through that!



Dear Diary,

January 35, 1942 11:59 P.M.

Diary, don't yell at me for being up so late-yes I know that it is almost midnight but I cannot help but to think about my mom and my brother and even my father. I miss the heck out of those guys. My mom and my little brother were my world, my everything, my heart. Without them half of my heart feels like it is missing, like I am incomplete. I do not know how to go on with life knowing that they might not still be alive or that they might be in great danger. I wish God would give me a sign that they are okay, because I have been crying buckets of tears all night worrying about this and I have been praying harder than I ever have before asking God to watch over them and keep them safe. And about my father-I know that I said how much I don't like him and stuff but being in here made me realize some stuff and think some stuff over. He is my father, and he's the only one that I've got. Without him, I wouldn't even be in this world existing (which might not be such a bad thing, considering the circumstances I'm in right now). I also just realized that no matter how mean or how hateful I have gotten towards him, he has always just turned the other cheek and jokingly said "You'll get over it eventually-you teenagers have crazy emotions and mood swings." So I guess I have just come to realize how much of a jerk and an idiot I have been in the past, I need to straighten out and be a nicer person. If I don't change myself around for the better then how do I expect myself to ever be truly happy in life? If you're a negative person, then you're going to affect all of the other people who are around you and put them in bad moods as well. Anyways, diary, I think you've heard enough of my ranting about my father and I think that I need some sleep tonight before I pass out with this pencil in my hand. So, goodnight, diary, and sweet dreams to you! Oh, and just letting you know that I added a picture of my father since he means a lot to me. He's a handsome man, right? Eh, you don't need to answer that question-I already know that he is. I get my looks from him!



Dear Diary,

January 36, 1942 10:26 A.M.

Hi there, it's me, again, like always! I just wanted to stop by and tell you how completely and utterly absurd and terrible my day was today. The SS people came in around five in the morning and pulled me out of bed and let me fall onto the stone hard concrete. They then laughed at me and said "Better get up, buttercup. You got work to do. Get up now before I get you up myself." I slowly pulled myself up off of the ground and felt the large knot that was forming on the back of my head. And, ouch, that bump hurts really really bad right now! OUCH! Anyways, on with what I was telling you… Okay, so then they told me that somebody overnight did their business all over the bathroom floor and that I was the one who had to clean it up because they didn't feel like doing it. Legitimate answer, right? Psssh, they are just lazy. So I walk into the bathroom to find fecal matter and urine all over the floor and wall-it honestly looked like people just splattered it all over the walls like a freaking art project (gross, right?!). So not wanting to but having to unless I wanted to get killed I reluctantly cleaned up some other unrespectable person's nasty stuff which took me over four hours. After I was done cleaning the bathroom the SS people came in to check and see how well I cleaned up. Well, it turned out that I missed a little piece of fecal matter so one of the SS guards picked it up with a glove and threw it at me and it splattered against my face like a flat pancake. I have never ever ever been so disgusted in my life. I couldn't believe that he did that to me. Shame on him, shame on them all. But he is the one in trouble here, because one day when he stands before God-God will remind him of all of the terrible things he has done to me, and he will go straight to hell. A different SS guard then dragged me by my hair and down the hall to where the front entrance was-and he made me stand there for a whole hour and guard the door with somebody else's fecal matter on my face. How disgusting! That stuff was like baking on my face in the shining hot sun, it smelled terrible-I have never experienced anything as nasty as I have earlier today! Well, an hour later after I cleaned myself up a different SS guard made me rub his disgustingly bunion covered feet and spread lotion on his dead and peeling skin that was in between his toes. Yes I know how disgustingly disgusting my day was-you don't need to sit there and tell me again, diary! Well guess what, diary? I have a secret to tell you. Tonight is the night that I am getting my sister, Paige, and myself out of this despicable place! Diary, I have added a picture of the guard that pulled me out of bed early this morning-look at how evil he looks!



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