Narrative Written in the Perspective of a Holocaust Victim
Margot Heuman
February 17, 1928
Hellenthal, Germany http://www.museumoftolerance.com/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=tmL6KfNVLtH&b=5759983&ct=7872847 In early 1942, 14-year old Margot and her family were arrested, being sent to the Theresiestadt ghettos in Czechoslovakia. Her family was not separated until later when they were transported to Auschwitz.
Seen One Day, Gone Another I've become emotionless, knowing the events that occur around me. Living in the ghettos in 1942 is hell; for me and everyone here, our lives have become a routine of slave labor and starvation. My sister and I work hard to produce anything our ruthless enemies want, in the hopes of getting another ration of bread. They work us to the bones in the factory till dusk. After being outrageously worn out, sweating away our lives at the factory, my stomach screams of hunger. Like a pack of starved lions being released and set toward their favorite prey, I feel the hunger boiling inside of me. I rush toward the already-forming line for nutrition. I reach the front of the line, grabbing a single slice of bread- the only dinner we are allowed. As I chew the tiny slice, I can sense the dry sourdough bread scratching my throat, like sand paper to wood. The pain that overtakes my body is unbearable, yet the thought of my beating heart that still circulates brings me joy; after all, this could be my last day alive. Standing with my family, we talk of the old days; the days when we were not starving for air or food, the days back in Hellenthal, Germany,
"I miss your cooking, Momma. Your food always makes me happy." said Lore, with as much breath as her body can allow, for her breath is weak and stained with smoke. She is the youngest in my family, making it hard to explain to her what is happening in her life. Being fifteen, even I understand the serious changes that have been made to our lives.
"I know darling, don't worry. You are here with us. Everything is alright. But you have to understand,
February 17, 1928
Hellenthal, Germany http://www.museumoftolerance.com/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=tmL6KfNVLtH&b=5759983&ct=7872847 In early 1942, 14-year old Margot and her family were arrested, being sent to the Theresiestadt ghettos in Czechoslovakia. Her family was not separated until later when they were transported to Auschwitz.
Seen One Day, Gone Another I've become emotionless, knowing the events that occur around me. Living in the ghettos in 1942 is hell; for me and everyone here, our lives have become a routine of slave labor and starvation. My sister and I work hard to produce anything our ruthless enemies want, in the hopes of getting another ration of bread. They work us to the bones in the factory till dusk. After being outrageously worn out, sweating away our lives at the factory, my stomach screams of hunger. Like a pack of starved lions being released and set toward their favorite prey, I feel the hunger boiling inside of me. I rush toward the already-forming line for nutrition. I reach the front of the line, grabbing a single slice of bread- the only dinner we are allowed. As I chew the tiny slice, I can sense the dry sourdough bread scratching my throat, like sand paper to wood. The pain that overtakes my body is unbearable, yet the thought of my beating heart that still circulates brings me joy; after all, this could be my last day alive. Standing with my family, we talk of the old days; the days when we were not starving for air or food, the days back in Hellenthal, Germany,
"I miss your cooking, Momma. Your food always makes me happy." said Lore, with as much breath as her body can allow, for her breath is weak and stained with smoke. She is the youngest in my family, making it hard to explain to her what is happening in her life. Being fifteen, even I understand the serious changes that have been made to our lives.
"I know darling, don't worry. You are here with us. Everything is alright. But you have to understand,