I lived a quiet life in Transylvania, Romania. Then one day, I was awoken by urgent rapping on my door. Sluggishly, I answered it. It was one of my neighbours, his black hair was disheveled and the buttons on his shirt were buttoned in all the wrong places, but I'm sure I didn't look much better. I caught a haunting look in his dark eyes and a flash of guilt on his face, but then it was gone. He wore a bleak expression; all emotion swept clean. The only words he said were, "Tomorrow you will be expelled. Please ready yourself for the journey and be quick about it." His words were clipped an sounded slightly strained, but a job is a job and his was to deliver a message. It doesn't matter if I was having dinner with this guy just last week. Or if just yesterday I had given him a bag of tomatoes from my garden to take home with him. Before I had a chance to respond, he had turned on his heels and hurried away to the next house. I stood in the doorframe stupefied, still in a dreamy state. Little did I know that this moment would change my life forever. I now realize that it was this particular moment and decision to blindly follow my neighbour's vague instructions that signified the beginning of my end, my bittersweet end.

What I wouldn't give to have my agonizingly boring old life back—to be able to slave away at the office, spending the day filing paperwork again. At least back then I had the luxury of returning to the comfort of my own home, going to bed with clean clothes, a satisfied hunger and quenched thirst. For the last six months I've been trapped in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Buchenwald. It's been nothing less of a living death. At first I found myself complaining about the lack of food, water, sanitation, and poor working conditions... However, the pain you receive as a consequence from not working doesn't remotely compare.

Now I fall asleep on a cold, hard floor amongst the dead. My once blond hair is now brown and matted with grime, blood, sweat, and whatever else has been on these floors. I learned the hard way to sleep with my clothes tucked underneath me to prevent others from stealing them. I awake to the screams of the people around me trying to wake their dead loved ones. I shower once a week and survive off of: false hope that ill get out of here one day; the disgraceful hot water we refer to as coffee; a thin, meatless, vegetable soup, and; a small ration of mouldy bread. This is my nourishment for a day if I'm lucky. It's less than 700 calories. If I were a subject for live medical experimentation I might receive more food, but I'm sure I wouldn't survive long enough to enjoy it.

Here's something new, today I awoke to the deafening sound of metal hitting metal. My head felt as though it were about to split into two. Gingerly, I reached up to touch my head to see if I could locate the source of the pain. As soon as my hand merely brushed my head I felt a surge of pain. Instinctively, I flinched and pulled my hand away from my head as quick as possible. In the process, my arm collided with a wall of metal, resulting in a loud, echoing clang. "What on earth is that?" I asked myself. "Where am I?"

I fought back the fatigue and opened my eyes. I was surrounded by darkness. The only thing I could see was a small rectangular window of light in front of me, only big enough to fit a deck of cards. Then I remembered. This was my plan - the peaceful death I had been awaiting. I'm entirely convinced this torturous camp would be the death of me sooner or later, so I devised a plan. I strategically violated numerous rules and pulled a few lame attempts at escaping the camp. Correspondingly, they sentenced me to death in Block 11; or as we like to call it, das Gefängnis im Gefängnis; the prison within prison.

The place I'm in now is called a "dark cell." Prisoners like me are confined here until we either die from lack of food and water or from gradual suffocation by using up all the air in this small cell. Sometimes an SS would even light a candle in these cells to use up the oxygen more quickly. I woke up only moments ago, but I feel as though I hadn't even slept at all. I don't feel the least bit energized and barely have enough strength to hold my head up. I can't remember when I last ate. I never thought I'd actually miss that sad excuse for coffee and soup. In spite of that, I'm glad. I have the privilege of dying here, as peaceful as possible. I imagined my soul slipping away from me this very moment, leaving my body behind. The pain, the thirst, the hunger, all feelings were ebbing away into oblivion. I welcomed the darkness as it enveloped me one last time and swallowed me whole.

A/N: This historical little story was based off of the concentration camps that various Jews were sent to during WWII. It's not that bad or anything, but it was also written way back in 2015 for English class. I figured I'd mind as well post it on here and share it with you guys since it was just sitting on my computer.

It's rather short and depressing, but that was just how it was during that time. A lot of people died in the Holocaust and the main character isn't any exception.

I might consider rewriting this one day and giving them some kind of connection with another one of the victims of these camps, since the MC was rather isolated in this one. Maybe I'll even have them survive it together. Who knows?

As always, any feedback is welcomed and appreciated.