Well hello there lovely readers! I have come up with a new story idea. This is actually something I've been wanting to write about for a while now.
It's Holocaust inspired. I know this may be a tricky subject to write about, and please do voice any and all concerns you have. This is a very mature read, because I do my research on the Holocaust. My family was involved in the Holocaust as well, them being from Czechoslovakia and all. Please review and read. Also, any historical facts that I may have gotten wrong, feel free to correct me. I try to research enough to get my facts right. :) Thanks!

She remembers the day it happened. It was the middle of June, 1937. She remembers the sound of the shot. Glancing out the window to see the commotion. Seeing the red stain blossom across her father's chest. Her mother running. Screaming. Sobbing. She remembers feeling like her whole world was gone; her perfect life was breaking and crashing into the sea. She knows now that this event in her life was only a small fraction of the terror that was to come. Now, she knows things will get worse. It is inevitable, what with her being who she is.

Rachel remembers that a few weeks after the shooting, she received a letter. It was a condolence letter, something she had gotten used to in the past weeks, but this one was different. The return address was in Lima, Ohio. She knew that was a state in the United States. Her father had told her about his time there once, in a big steel mill. He had worked with a man whom he grew close with. Rachel soon realized that the letter she held was from that man's son, Finn Hudson.

And that one letter started it all.

She pulled herself out of her memories and rifled through her desk drawer until she found it. The first letter he'd sent. She smiled a little as she opened it, her eyes scanning over the messy scrawl of his handwriting. Luckily, she understood the English well enough. Her father had taught her all he knew. She was able to communicate well with Finn.

Dear Miss Berry,

I'm hoping this letter will not seem odd for you to get. While I know you must be getting many condolence letters, and surely it is beginning to seem old to you, I simply want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. My name is Finn Hudson. My father is Christopher Hudson, a very close friend of your father's. We are around the same age, I think. Fourteen or fifteen, I guess? I know you must be going through a very hard time right now. I will not try to sympathize with you, though. I can only imagine the pain you must feel in your heart. Your mother wrote my father to explain the situation to him, and in turn, he explained it to me. I feel that no one should be persecuted on behalf of their beliefs. I know that your father was a good man, or at least that is what my father has always told me. He died a brave man, still a strong believer in his own faith. I understand this is a hard time for you and your mother, but I know that you are strong. I have never met you or spoken to you, but I feel in my heart that you will make it through. If this letter is strange to you, I apologize. I am just a simple boy from Ohio hoping to console you in the slightest bit. I do not expect a return letter, but if you so wish to send one, I will be grateful.

Wishing You the Best,

Finn Christopher Hudson

February 17, 1938

Rachel grinned again as she read over the letter once more. Even when he didn't know her, he was kind. He acted as if they'd known each other forever, and now, after the years of writing each other, she felt that way as well.

After placing the letter securely back in it's home in the drawer, Rachel turned to the new letter resting on her writing desk. She opened it up, then began to read.

Dearest Rachel,

First of all, I want to thank you for the photograph you sent. Now I can finally see who this wonderful girl is that I've been writing! And my suspicions were confirmed. You are truly gorgeous. I always felt that you had a smile that lit up the world. Even from this photograph, I can feel it's warmth. I can feel you radiating out from this image.

In other news, I continue to pray for your safety daily. I do not know much about the war, except the rumors going around. I assume you know many of them yourself, but I encourage you to protect yourself. I already love you too much to lose you. If I could, I would be in Germany tonight to rescue you from the cruel monsters who try to hurt you. You would never have to spend another long night in a bar, letting your lovely voice fill the room until all hours of the morning. You deserve so much better than that. I know that someday you will become a star with that voice of yours. You say it's not that good, but I know in my heart you're amazing.

I want to rescue you from the evil that is around you. I will rescue you, Rachel. We will be together someday. You've just got to stay strong for me.

All My Love,

Finn

March 3, 1941

Rachel sighed sweetly as she read over the letter. Her heart swelled with joy when she learned that he thought she was beautiful. She never thought that about herself. Her nose set her apart. In Germany, that was a bad thing. It may as well have been a sign over her stating 'I'm a Jew. Kill me.'

She sighed and pulled out a fresh sheet of stationery, then set out a pot of ink and a pen. She had a typewriter, of course, but she preferred the handwritten letters. They held more emotion. More personality and love, she thought.

My Dear Finn,

You have no idea the amount of joy I feel when I read that you think I am beautiful. I am so glad you like the pictures, and I will surely send more when I can. You are handsome as well. I never thought a man as lovely as you would find a girl like me attractive. But I struck gold, you see. You are not only handsome, but also caring and compassionate.

It saddens me to know that you are worried for my safety. You should be concerned with other things, Finn. I shall be fine. I know that God will protect me, and what is meant to happen will happen. I want to see you so badly it hurts. I simply must get out of Germany, Finn. I long to touch you, to feel your smooth skin. When this wretched war is over, I will come to America with my mother. We will settle in lovely Ohio, and will marry you.

Love,
Rachel

March 20, 1941

Weeks passed. No letter from Finn had arrived. The spring of 1941 had come and gone, and the summer had set in. The heat was intense, to say the least.

Rachel paced around her bedroom, trying to drown out the sounds of the busy Berlin street below. Her windows were open wide because it was simply too hot to keep them closed.
She was slightly worried, not about Finn, but about her letters. Surely he had sent one...But could it be that the Gestapo was keeping all letters from reaching her? That was a possibility, for sure.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her long, brown mane. Maybe he hadn't replied? Perhaps he thought it too risky to continue sending letters. Or perhaps he just didn't want to talk to her anymore? Perhaps he believed the stereotypes and propaganda posed against the Jews of Germany and all of Europe. Perhaps.

Rachel had barely sat down at her desk before she heard yelling down in the streets. She stood quickly and looked out one of her windows only to see the Gestapo rounding people up, kicking them, hitting them, and in some cases, shooting them. Rachel's heart started to race. No, this wasn't happening now. This couldn't be happening now.

She heard feet race up the stairs and was relieved to see only her mother standing in her doorway.

"Rachel, come now. Pack a bag. Quickly, child. We haven't got much time. Pack clothing, warm clothing especially. Wear your heavy woolen coat as well."

"But mother, it's the middle of Summer!" Rachel protested, carefully retrieving the large leather suitcase from her closet.

"Do not argue. Do as I say." her mother replied gravely. "We have no idea how long we will be gone."

Rachel nodded once and began packing every article of clothing she could inside her suitcase. She put a few valuables in as well - money, photographs, jewelry- and closed her suitcase up. Reluctantly, she pulled her heavy winter coat around her shoulders. She remembered something though.

Rachel reached into her desk drawer and pulled out the letters from Finn. She took his single photograph out and placed it in her pocket, holding it securely in her hand.

As soon as she'd finished packing, there came a commotion from downstairs. She glanced out the window quickly to see that the Gestapo was indeed at the front door of her home. She then heard heavy boots on the stairs. Then she saw them.

They had the devil's eyes. They were evil.

One man, a very large blonde-haired, blue-eyed man, grabbed her by her arm and threw her to the door. She held her suitcase tightly in her hand, trying to catch her balance.

"Out! Now! Hurry, get out!" He barked at her, pushing her a little. The other Gestapo officers yelled at her as well, pushing her hurriedly down the stairs. She soon met up with her mother and held onto her hand tightly.

"Mother, what's happening? Please tell me what's happening? It can't be what I think it is.." She asked worriedly.

"Rachel, you listen to them. Do not cause a panic. Simply do as they say and follow orders. We are going away for a while.

Once they were successfully prodded outside, Rachel took one last glance at her home. The large home she'd grown up in. The dark brick always felt so protective. The dark cherry wood flooring and accents had always felt so warm to her. She had always felt as though this home would protect her from all the bad things in the world. She was wrong.

Outside, there was panic and chaos. Adults yelled and thrashed, children screamed. Rachel and her mother were packed into large trucks, along with many other people. She huddled close to her mother, seeking her warmth. She felt so cold, even in the extreme heat of a Berlin summer. Rachel's heart raced. She only wanted to leave. To go to America and be with Finn. He would protect her. But he couldn't do that here. Because he wasn't here. He wouldn't be here to protect her.

Her thumb and forefinger found the photograph in her pocket and rubbed along the edges of the square. She felt soothed by this. He wasn't physically here, but as long as she had that photograph, she knew she'd be okay.

Perhaps they were simply being relocated. She'd heard of other cities having provided segregated areas of the city for Jews. While she didn't want that, Rachel knew it was better than the rumors she'd been hearing about some of the Jews in Germany. Perhaps they would be home in a few days? She hoped so.

She began to hum quietly to herself. It was a good stress reliever for her.

Rachel closed her eyes and her world melted away, if only for a little while.

Later, she awoke, rather startled. Her back was stiff from the long ride and the sunlight burned her eyes when they were finally let off of the truck. She looked around after having gotten adjusted to the light and discovered that there had to have been thousands of Jews here in this spot, which seemed to be nowhere. It was desolate, except for train tracks and a large platform on which several SS Officers stood. They were on one side of the tracks. The other side held a forrest; dark and creepy to say the least.

Rachel watched as one by one, Gestapo picked out several people; the elderly and sick, and pushed them aside in their own group. After all had been picked through, the large group of the elderly and sick were escorted over the tracks and into the forrest.

After what seemed like a while, shots rang out in the air, causing complete silence among the crowd. Birds flew out of the forrest. Rachel immediately knew what had happened. Those people wouldn't come back.

She bit her lip gently and sat on the ground, taking the small photograph of Finn out of her pocket and looking at it. She gazed into his eyes and she could feel herself being transported to another time and place; one where she and Finn were together and none of these atrocities were happening.

But then she looked up, and she realized she was in the middle of it all. There was no way she would get out.

And suddenly, she was confused as she saw the cattle cars coming into view. What could those be for? Surely not us, she thought. But the train came to a screeching halt and once the first car was opened, and she saw the emptiness inside of it, she knew what it was for.

"Oh mother." She whispered, a tear spilling from her eye. It fell onto the picture she held in her hand. She wiped it quickly, then sent a silent prayer to God, asking, no, begging for help. Finn would protect her. He had to, right?