I came up with this story one day in History. It just popped into my head and I just had to use it. I hope you enjoy it and make sure to review at the end!!!! Does anyone know how to say: left, right, and quickly in German? Please send me a review telling me! Thank you!
One word you will need to know is Untermenschen, it means sub humans.
- Disclaimer: I do not own any Inuyasha characters and I was not in any way involved with the Holocaust.
The Holocaust was such a sad thing… I almost cried while writing some of my chapters to this… Even though this is the only one I've posted so far. Now Read On!!!
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Chapter One
I screamed as the men in dark clothing broke down the door of out house. Momman told me to run.
"Go Kagome! Do not let them see you!" I did/ I ran to my brother's room and hid behind his toy box. Sota had not returned from school today. Momman cried. She would not tell me why. But I knew. The men. The men had gotten him. We had thought it was safe. Had though we had time to get away. Papa said we should have left months ago, when the first signs of danger shown. But Momman refused. She told him we had time.
"The Germans can not get to us here Marcus." Momman was wrong. After Sota did not come home she had ordered me to pack. Papa said he had tickets to America. America, he said, we could go to school without being spit on. Wishful thinking Momman had replied. But if I try hard I can remember a time here in Strasbourg when I was not spit on at school. I even had a best friend. Ayume was her name. That was long ago. Ayume and I do not speech now. She pretends like I do not exist. We share the same class; No one seems to like me anymore. The teacher, Mr. Henri tells me that soon I will not be aloud to attend school anymore. It makes me sad. I enjoy literature.
I heard Papa yell at the man, and Momman scream. I did not hear what the man said. His voice was very mean. He sounded German. I heard more men enter the house, one man walked past me; he did not realize I was there though. He wore the same dark clothing as the other man. I heard Momman and Papa being dragged out of the house. I held back tears as a loud shot was heard. Then another. I remember hearing Momman scream… She screamed 'Sota'. Then… Another shot. Then there was nothing but the laughter of the cruel men who I knew had shot my family. A moment later I heard other families scream. Mrs. Frank. Poor Mrs. Frank and her husband. I remember sitting there for a long while, until the streets were quite. I slowly got up. It was only in Gods mercy that the men did not find me behind my brother's toy box. My family though… They were gone. I went outside. Blood stained the street. I was alone.
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I walked for hours that night. Making sure to stay in the shadows. If the men saw me… God may not have mercy twice. I walked until I reached Ayume's house. So many good memories there. When I was five Momman had let me stay at Ayume's house. We had played with our favorite dolls for hours. I had not been there in a long time. Walking to the door I know now I should have walked away. It would have saved me a lot of pain. I could have remembered Ayume as my best friend, but I knocked on the door. Ayume answered.
"What do you want?" Her voice was mean, but I ignored it. I broke down and cried. Told her how my Momman, Papa, and Sota were gone. How I was alone and had escaped the men.
"May I stay with you Ayume? Only for tonight." I thought I saw something flash in her eyes, but she only glared.
"Why would I help a stupid Jew? Go away. It is a shame the Nazis didn't kill you with your family." She turned and shut the door in my face. The last thing I heard her say was 'Stinking Jew' from inside the house. I was surprised. Ayume had been my best friend. Once when we were nine Ayume had run away and stayed at my house until she stopped crying. She had once been so sweet. I could not believe she had done that to me… could not believe she had been so mean.
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I woke to someone kicking me in the side. It was cold. I had found a dark corner next to a closed coffee shop and slept there. The kicking came again.
"You, wench. Get up." I opened my eyes. A man in dark clothing stood above me. I felt my heart pound in fear. He was one of the men who had raided my house. He must have seen the fear in my eyes for he smirked at me as I stood.
"So you are a Jew." His eyes drifted over me making me feel naked.
"Where is your star? It is a crime to be a Jew and not wear the Star. Get in the truck." I nodded. Afraid if I disobeyed he would shoot me with the gun strapped to his hip. I reached for the doorknob. A hand grabbed my hair pulling me onto the ground.
"Not the front Jew! The back! Now!" His hand twitched beside the gun. I stood quickly climbing into the cab of the truck. In the can were many people, all holding the same expression. Fear. Two men in dark clothing, just as the man in front, sat with us back there. Mothers held their children to their chests, muting their cries. I sat alone. I had no family. No friends. Just me.
"Shut that thing up or I will!" One of the men screamed at a mother holding her infant. The mother tried to quite the child, but the crying continued. I saw what would happen moments before it did. The man in uniforms muscles tensed. He locked his jaw, but then, he smiled. The mother screamed as he took the baby from her arms flinging it out the truck. I stood to catch the child… But it was too late. Moments later, all in the truck were bathed in bed as the other man shot the mother screaming for her dead child. The ride was silent after that. All of us seeing the woman and her child die over and over in our minds.
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When the truck stopped the men ordered us out. Outside was a town. The town was behind brick. Tall brick walls. Inside the brick, the town was dirty. Rats scampered through the streets, the smell of urine and other body waste was strong. And a smell I did not yet know.
"Welcome home." The men laughed, and then shut the only exit from that place. We were all alone.
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I spent a year in that place. It became habit to call it home. But it was not. It was a prison. We were fed only when they wanted to feed us. Many of us starved. Why did the men, the Nazis, hate us Jews? Papa had always said we were all equal. But if we are all equal, then why do the bad people get the pretty housed and food every night, when all we get, the people who have done no wrong, live in sewer, and are only given a potato a house hold? Though I am sure not everyone in our home, the prison, was innocent, but none deserved that. The sewer, as I called it, Was a horrible place to live. In each house we had at least seven families. In winter we had only the cloths on our backs, and some owned a blanket. Not all were torn from their house as I had been. Some had been told lies. Told they were one of many who got to live in the new housing complexes. They were given time to pack. But others, others were only given five minutes, aloud only two suit cases. Then there were people like me. Taken. No belongings. Just ourselves. Many died that winter. They froze to death. Not even the dead were treated with respect. We were told to lay our dead outside. By only the middle of that year, there was no walking space in the streets. You learned to not think about it. Pretend that the squishy feeling under your bare feet was not a body, but mud. That summer I realized what the other stench was. Dead bodies. It disgusted you, made you want to vomit. But you learned not to. If you did, you would have no food in your stomach. Without food, you would starve. I once saw a child walk outside of her crowded house, to see her mother's body. Flies swarmed inside her mouth and maggots filled her eye sockets. The child puked but then went on her hands and knees eating it back up. She called to her brother and the two of them ate the maggots from their dead mother's eyes. It was horrible to see, yet I knew it was necessary. The children had to eat. Those who let their pride get to them, died.
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Every day we lived in fear the Nazis would come. They always came, once or twice a week at first, then, whenever they pleased I suppose. Choosing day they called it. They would come and have us all stand in a line in front of them. They would always have trucks. Like the one that had taken me to the sewer. Momman always said to stand up for what's right. But once a man did that here… And the Nazis shot him. Mothers and Fathers would try to hide their children from the men, but, The Nazis always found them. Except for the littlest. A little girl with long red hair. There was a small hole in one of the walls. That day it was choosing day. They were taking all with red hair. The child had been unfortunate in resembling her mother who also had long red hair. The mother tried frantically to hide the child, but I knew they would find her. So I took the girl, and showed her the hole, she ran our. I never found out what happened to her afterward. All I know… Is she escaped.
Choosing day was always the worst. They would take the children some days. Other days the elders or people with blue eyes, ect. I always tried to close my eyes when they took the children. It was awful. They would sometimes take infants and throw them in the air. They played it as a game. See who could shoot it the most. Then, when the baby fell to the ground, the dogs they had would tear it apart. It the mother made one noise, they would be shot also, or be chosen to go to the 'camp'. They almost always made a noise… None of us knew what the 'camp' was. All we knew, was no one ever came back. I always thought the ones that were chosen were lucky. Back when I was a small child Papa would take me and Sota camping in Paris I believed that's where the people that were chosen went. It only proves how young and naive I was.
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I was one of the chosen on that spring day. I was not happy, but I was glad to finally be chosen to finally leave the sewer.
"All women with brown eyes. In the back! Viet!" I stepped out from my safe place in the line and walked quickly with the other woman to the truck. I closed my eyes when I heard a mother's strangled cry, and two shots. Yes. The camp would be better. I was thirteen then. My birthday was the day before. There had not been a celebration. No one had known.
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We drove for three hours I believe. None spoke. Finally the truck stopped.
"Our. Now! Onto the train!" We climbed and were surprised to see others climbing out of trucks also and filing into a cattle car.
"But sir, that is for cows." One man who looked to be about eighteen said. A Nazi smirked and pushed him in with the hilt of his gun.
The ride was long and hot. And at night cold. It was hard to breath there were so many of us. There was no room to sit; we had no choice but to stand. If we felt the need to relieve ourselves we had no choice but to wet ourselves, though there was a pot in the very back, but there were too many to be able to reach it. The cattle cart stank so horribly, from both cow waste and human. The ride lasted for what seemed like years. I have no idea how long it truly was. In all the time we were on the train we only stopped once. Only a few of us were given the privilege of water. By the time we reached our destination there was room enough to sit. Many died. From suffocation and lack of nutrition
"Women over there!" A man in a doctor's coat told us. The men were told to go to the right. He had a good look at all of them and made us two more lines.
"Left! Right!" He would scream. I was put to the left. All of the people who looked more sickly than I were sent to the showers. I was mad. I was filthy. I deserved a shower! But I later learned to be thankful that I was sent to the left.
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We were taken to a small building were we had to go into yet another line. My life seemed to be made of lines. Sad, horrible lines that lead to nothing but disappointment. It took forever but finally I was close enough to see what we were lined up for. Many women sat behind a long table and were tattooing something on each persons arm. I could not see what. At last it was my turn. The woman behind the table lowered the needle point to my arm.
"I want a sunflower please." The woman looked up at me startled, and then gave me a sad smile that almost went unnoticed. Looking around I saw none were smiling. They all seemed to be afraid to show emotion. The needle touched my skin.
"What is your name?" I smiled at her proud to say my name. No one ever asked. These days, no one ever wanted a friend, afraid they might lose them in death, or they would turn their backs on them like so many had done.
"Kagome Higarashi."
"How old?"
"Thirteen." I was so very proud. I thought I had made a friend. I was so naive back then. I winced and gave a startled yelp as she pushed the needle into my skin piercing it. The woman stopped and looked around worriedly, talking to me in a hushed voice.
"Shush child!" Child? She was younger than I was!
"If they hear you, then you die. I die. Please be quite." I knew then this was not Paris with my Papa. This was another prison. A cry was heard then a cracking sound. A man left the room. He had just broken a woman's neck. The needle girl whispered sadly.
"Annemarie…" Or I too would be lying in my own blood. Just as so many people in my life so far had been. I held back another yelp as the girl trace numbers into my arm. I was told by her in her hushed voice to memorize that number. It was almost like a life line.
750801315
As I walked away, following the endless line, the girl touched my hand glancing around scared.
"Do not forget your name." Forget my name? The girl was full of foolishness. Yet, her eyes seemed to hold more wisdom than that of a grandmother.
We were led to another room where we had to sit in a chair. I held back tears as my long black hair was cut, then shaved from my head. I did not understand why all of this had to be done, all I knew, was I must do what I was told. And that was to sit still, while the people shaved my head. I wanted to cry so badly. Funny thing to get so sad over a little hair, yet I did. My hair was my only possession. It was all I had, and I was proud of it. Somehow, through that long year in the sewer I had managed to take care of my hair. It had grown long, well past my bum. But now it was gone. 'Don't cry. It will grow back.' I comforted myself. But I was still sad. I owned nothing. Looking down at my arm I felt as if I did not even own my body. It was as if I was branded cattle. Just what they intended I found.
After we were shaved we were taken to the showers and given cloths. They were raggedy, and mine were too small, but we made do. We undressed and stepped into the room. We had to stand in a line once again as a woman shaved our vagina hair. I tried not to care. Tried not to think of how I was naked in front of people I did not know. But I had been raised with modesty. My face turned as red as a tomato. The woman shaving us glared at our red faces and smacked me.
"Here you have no modesty. You are cows. Untermenschem. You have no modesty." I blinked and looked around. She was half right. We did not look like humans with our shaved heads and numbers on our arm. That was what they intended. Many girls ran through the showers trying to find a friend of family member. It was almost impossible. We all looked the same. Pale and bald. A corien woman was next to me showering and leaning her head back to drink the water. She was not Jewish, I could tell.
"Why are you here?" I asked quietly she replied sadly looking at her marked arm.
"Because I am foreign. Even though I was born here in Germany…." So they hated more than Jews… How sad.
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Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! Don't worry the next chapters will be way better! Please REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you! I should be updating in about a week or two!
