I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. My will to live wouldn’t allow it.
I could still smell the gunpowder, like a mixture of iron and rust, its stank scent burning a hole straight through me. The wound in his chest was open, gaping; his dark blood gathered around him like a cloak, wrapping him in welcomed death. I mourned for him. I envied him. I vowed never to be like him. The gun cocked again loudly and the boy’s sister began to cry. Her mother reached to muffle the deafening sound, but it was futile. The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against the little girl’s forehead in a world where all was gray. It sounded in quick repetition—one shot and then another. There was fear. Anger. Despair. Numbness.
I could still smell the gunpowder, like a mixture of iron and rust, its stank scent burning a hole straight through me. The wound in his chest was open, gaping; his dark blood gathered around him like a cloak, wrapping him in welcomed death. I mourned for him. I envied him. I vowed never to be like him. The gun cocked again loudly and the boy’s sister began to cry. Her mother reached to muffle the deafening sound, but it was futile. The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against the little girl’s forehead in a world where all was gray. It sounded in quick repetition—one shot and then another. There was fear. Anger. Despair. Numbness.
It had begun.
The bright red color of the patch on his arm blazed like a
fire in the depth of the night. It was three a.m. The hanging temperature gauge
read twenty four degrees and I was naked. Their lifeless bodies lay before me,
crumpled, tiny, alone. They were only four years old.
I vowed to never cry again.
I am so...well, I don't know if it's appropriate to say "excited" about a Holocaust novel, but it sounds incredible. I went to Dachau when I was in Europe and it was life changing. It was the only time I've ever written a poem (and I don't do those often) start to finish in my head, without changing anything. The emotion of the place just overwhelms you. I am so, so, so proud of you. Your talents are endless, Emily.
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