The Holocaust Mashup

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I would call this a PG 13 kind of thing, but meh. This is a short story I did for my English class. It required me to add in all my 'vocabulary words'. I enjoyed writing it, so I decided to post it up. Note: I forget the translations of the foreign languages, but all translations are done using a website called translation2.paralink.com

Submitted: April 23, 2010

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Submitted: April 23, 2010

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“I warned you dangit!”
“I chose not to listen!”
“Just like the rest of our marriage!”
“God woman! Can’t you calm down?! It’s always yell, yell, yell with you! JUST SHUT YOUR BLATHERING MOUTH!”
“I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE LIQUIDATED EVERYTHING, BUT NOOOOOOO, MISTER SUCCESSFUL WOULDN’T HAVE ANY OF IT!”
My face was red. My parents had been arguing like this for days on the train cars now, and by days I mean three hours since we were herded out of our ghetto. A cocky German commander, arrogantly waving his truncheon around in whatever direction and ordering his troops to do the most benign tasks, we all just laughed.
"Sie! Tragen Sie diese leere Kiste da drüben!"
He would glance around for some other stupid task to order his men to do.
"Sie! Entleeren Sie das Wasser in den Fluss!"
We were chuckling at this point.
"Warum? Weil Sie so sagten?!"
Despite the pestilential nature of it, me and my compatriots were laughing.
"Ja! Kommen Sie jetzt, um Sie fauler Hund zu arbeiten!"
Me and a few others nearly fell over on the ground laughing, tears of laughter exiting our eyes and coating the ground around us. Some smartbutt decided to speak out. I had a sort of premonition of his execution, but couldn’t stop him.
"Oh wow, der urkomisch war."
The officer, who my family had billeted, became red and drew his pistol. The man that voiced himself cringed, but was too late as the crack rang across the street. Someone screamed as dark blood coated their shirt, and a few Germans threw water on the person, laughing as they did so.
"Ja, sehr komisch, BEKOMMEN SIE DAS BEWEGEN!"
Seeing that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot again, we quickly moved our feet forward. The officer forced us to pass the dead man and look at his face. I nearly vomited, but at the thought of ending up like the man in front of me, I held it down.
My father, never a completely pious Jew, was praying to God like there was no tomorrow. The local rabbi covered his eyes, but one of the guards forced his hand down violently. The old man began to weep, and soon most of us were, myself included. I don’t know about the others, but, for me, the stench, the terrible stench. It was the opposite of roses, lilacs, tulips and sunflowers. It was the stench of Death
That’s when my parents began their argument, and they haven’t stopped. The others were quickly tiring of their arguing and eventually called the guards when we stopped to check on something at the back. Apparently they had heard it as well and put my parents in constraints, hermetically restraining their sides and covering their mouths. I just looked away, embarrassed for them.
The train ride was all two years ago. I somehow managed to survive the move to seven different camps and still keep moving. When I arrived at Auschwitz I came down with a cold and was left behind when the camp was evacuated. Now I could hear the Russians running into the camp. The door creaked and the muzzle of a gun poked through, then the door opened. Before me was a Russian boy of about 18, pale as a ghost, whose mouth was stammering. A larger man shouldered past the boy, who quickly stood at attention, and before me was a Commissar of the Russian army.
"????? ????? ??????? ?????"
Who knows Russian….I remembered a few words from my studies.
"? ?????, ???."
The giant smiled.
"??????? ???? ????????, ??? ??? ????....???, ?? ?????? ?????? ???? ? ???????. ????????!"
The young man by the door jumped and replied.
"?? ?????????"
"???????? ??????? ? ????????? ????!"
"?? ???!"
The boy saluted and ran off to grab some food and a mirror. The Commissar put a hand on my shoulder, shook his head, and walked away. A moment later, the boy returned with food, which he distributed around, and gave me the mirror. I looked in and saw death. My entire body was mostly bones, my once slightly large head was shriveled, I had wrinkles at the age of 19, my hair was thin, my face was bearded, my nose had hairs sticking out at odd angles. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and looked back again.
This time I saw my bony legs and arms, and then I looked closer at my face. My eyebrows were singed off and my eyes….my eyes I shall never forget. I saw blackness, an abyss. My eyeballs were not to be seen until I looked closer. It didn’t work and I literally grabbed the large bags under my eyes and pulled them down. Then I saw a sea of red and in the middle faded blue. The faded blue housed a tiny island of a black pupil. I stared at myself for one more minute, then vomited blood on my sheets. The young Russian ran up and shook me to keep me awake. A doctor ran in and then I fainted.
As you have read my anecdote, I must say that I didn’t awake until three days later. I will never forget the horrors I saw those few years, but I know how I live. I live by continuing life to the fullest as possible, for I realized that a man has only one life, and he must use it well. I attempt to enjoy myself as much as I can; everything I could ever think of. So, dear reader, I now bid you ado.


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