Holocaust Story

Hey everyone! I know I haven't written in a while. But, in my LA class, we are learning about the Holocaust. We recently had to write an account as if we were children experiencing life at the hands of Nazi's. I was considering writing a Holocaust story based off of this, so please tell me what you think.



Alanna Roberts, March 22, 1944

We’ve been hiding in my Aunt’s basement for three months now. It’s small, and dark, and cramped, but it’s better than the ghetto. And it’s sure as anything better then the concentration camps. My Aunt isn’t Jewish, and so her bookbinding business isn’t being watched, so for now we are relatively safe, my mom and I. It gets so boring down here during the daytime, but I am trying to pass the time by writing more, and practicing my drawing. I’m not getting much better-it’s too dark to see much of anything.
I miss the sunshine the most. I haven’t seen the sun in the three months I have been here. The only time I can venture upstairs is at night, when everyone is asleep. It’s warmer up there, and a bit cleaner. It’s nice getting a breath of the nicer air. If only I could go for a walk outside-just a quick one, late at night. But neither my mother nor my Aunt will let me. They say it is too dangerous, even if I am not wearing the Star of David on my clothes.
I wish I could go back to my school for a day, and see al of my friends again, before they started to ridicule me. I always used to complain about my schooling, and the teachers and the homework. Now I would give almost anything to be able to go back. Even for a day! I must be going crazy in my solitude.
I can hear my Aunt talking to a customer, and the sound of boots on the wooden floor. There is music playing in the streets, and I wish I could go up and dance around with my friends. I used to love to sing with them, all kinds of songs.
Their talking gets louder and there are more boots on the floor. Soldiers? The Gestapo? That cannot be. My Aunt was never under observation. Nobody knows about us, that we are here. My mother is still sleeping, even through all the noise. The basement door is opening, and I can see a ray of sunlight. It takes all I have not to jump up and run out the door. But I can’t, lest there be soldiers waiting up there.
The boots are coming down the stairs, now. I am scared that they will find me.

Alanna, March 29, 1944

It’s been a week since the Gestapo took me and Mama away from my Aunt’s bookshop. We are in one of their dreadful camps, and I am sick and tired. I managed to steal you away with me, but it is hard trying to hide you. They almost found both you and my pen, but I hid you well.
The camp isn’t quite as bad as I thought it would be. Here I can see the sun, and stretch my muscles. Mama and I are in the same barracks together, so I am not very scared. The work here is hard, though, and if slow for even a moment, you get whipped. I started to make one friend here, Lissa, but she stopped working here, and they took her somewhere else.
A lot of my friends have been taken in the past three days. I have given up on making any more. What is the point when they are all taken away? Mama tells me not to give up hope, and that a young girl like me has a chance of living through this and making it out of the horrid place. But I am not so sure. The living conditions are awful. There are rats the size of small dogs, the barracks smell of ammonia, there is sickness and madness everywhere, and people are dropping dead like flies. And though she doesn’t let on, I can see the start of sickness in my mother.
It is cold outside, and when I work for too long, I cannot feel my limbs, and my face and hands turn red. Sometimes, it gets hard to breathe. I hope I am not getting sick, too. If I do, the Germans will take me away from Mama.
They are coming around again, I can hear their boots. I will be sure to write again soon.

Alanna, June 1, 1944

I am free! The Americans have finally come to save us, and liberated us from this place! It is sad, though, that none of my family can come with me. I don’t know what will become of me now. I know nothing of my Aunt, and my mother died of typhus a month ago. I hope I am not sent to an orphanage, but at least now I am free of this life. I will tell whatever family I get about this, and make sure people remember, and that nobody forgets about us, and what we have been put through.
I wish my mother could have held on only a little bit longer, then she could be with me, and we could start our lives over again. My only hope now is to find my Aunt, or someone kind, who can understand me. Maybe, I will even have siblings. It is like creating a new life, while still inhabiting the old one.
It’s almost like waiting for a new adventure to begin.

Alanna, January 3, 1945

I have a family now, and three sisters. My new parents, Roza and Jakub are wonderful. They have listened to my stories, and they have been so nice to me. They treat me like one of their own. My sisters, who are all younger than me, still do not know my story, because they are too young to really understand. But someday, I will tell them what happened, and they will know what life was like for their Jewish sister, and so many others like me. I hope my sisters will understand, as my new parents have.
Something tells me, though, that even if they don’t understand, this event will be remembered for a very long time.