Concentration Camp Creative Writing

“Time to get up Liz!”
That was the the sentence that woke me up almost every morning. The words of my six year old sister, Mallery. She is the youngest child in my family. I have two older siblings and 3 younger ones. Peter is the oldest, 17 years old. Rebekah is the oldest girl, 16 years. I am the third child, 13 years old. Next are there twins. Adele and Derik are 11 years old.And then the baby of the family, Mallery. Plus Mama, Papa,and our dog, Fritz, there are 9 people living in my two story house in Kassel, Germany. Our house is quite big enough that the maximum amount of people in a bedroom is two. I share a room with Mallery. Our room is small as all of the rooms in our house. Everything is colored pink and smells like flowers. Mama
War had grown across Europe since May. Even though it was only the second week of June, things had grown for the worse. Nazis had been invading other countries and taking them over. I soon found out what concentration camps were. They were places where Jews were sent. Many had already died because of the hard labor and the cruel ways of killing people, like gas chambers. Such things like these gave me nightmares. Every time I saw a Nazi soldier I was afraid they were going to pick me up and put me in a concentration camp. My parents tell me that there’s nothing to be afraid of since we're not Jewish and German. But I still get worried when I hear the stories of people getting taken to those
We just don't have the money,” Mama explained to the six year old. “Now go wash up.”
“Why doesn't Mallery understand that we're in the middle of war and our money could be used for other things more important than a doll?” Adele asked as Rebekah and I walked up the stairs to our rooms.
“Probably because she's only six and isn't aware of what's going on in the world besides her wanting that doll,” Rebekah replied in her soothing voice.
I didn't include anything in this conversation because I was afraid of saying something wrong that might make things worse with the doll situation. I wish I was more like Rebekah, more like a small mother. I have always left the situations that involve crying children, giving of advice, and helping other family members or people. She always has the best things to say to fix the situation or person. As always, Rebekah was telling Adele to try to understand that Mallery was just six and didn't understand war. Adele was listening as everyone did when Rebekah talked.
After Peter got home from work, we all sat down for supper. Another delicious round of bratwurst. Mama and Papa were looking quite serious when supper started.
“Children, we have some big news,” Papa said very