Poland Descriptive Writing

The violent rattle of the train crawling along the tracks shook me awake. If only it had been a dream. I lifted my head and looked around, taking in the sheer horror that marked everyone’s face. The tears, the sweat, the cries of the children. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up. I could barely move around the cramped car, but I looked up to the window. The bleak landscape rushed by, just as it had yesterday, and all I could think of is where we were going. Somewhere in Poland, someone told me. I’d never been to Poland, but these days everyone knows that Poland means certain death. Yesterday, I lost my mother. My sister and I got separated from her as the chaos ensued. For all I know, she could be on a different train going
They tore at our clothes, the ones we had worked for and paid for ourselves. My little sister’s favorite dress, pink with a little ribbon, was now laying in the dirt and being trampled by thousands of bare feet. Everything we had on us was taken and thrown to the ground. Some soldiers were handing out new clothes for us to wear, which were rough and uncomfortable. My sister was practically swimming in hers. Next, they shaved our hair. They grabbed my sister’s braid in their hands and cut it right off. She stifled a cry of despair out of fear of getting hit again. Her head was still dripping blood, and I wondered if they would give her anything to help. But they still just ignored it, even as they shaved the remainder of her glittering blonde
A guard with an unfamiliar face approached our door. “You are going to take a shower now,” the guard snared from the doorway of our barrack. We shuffled out from our bunks and moved out the door. The soldier strutted with pride in front of us, as if he was proud of what he was doing. The now familiar stench of burning flesh stung my nostrils. I watched my bare feet navigate the rugged terrain until we stopped in front of a square brick building with one doorway and two sets of chained windows.
“This is the shower,” he said. “Now take off your clothes and put them in a pile there,” He pointed at the ground next to the door. I ripped off my torn, bloody clothes and threw them in a heap. I was relieved to finally be taking a shower after this awful week. The other men from my barrack took off their clothes hesitantly, and they all had fear written in their eyes. I didn’t understand why they seemed so scared. A shower could not be nearly as bad as what we have been through