1938 October 20th
My name is Shira Lewenberg, I've had this so-called 'Diary' with me my whole life and have never thought to touch it. But I feel that now is the best time to write down my story. My birth mother gave this to me before I fled Germany and left her behind. I will never forget the look of worry on her face as I embraced her one last time. The lost little girl I was 3 years ago had no idea what was waiting for her. That's the only memory I remember from my childhood, and I remember every detail of it.
I hate Hitler. Hitler hates Jews. He believes we are to blame for Germany's defeat in the great war and that Jewish businessmen are plotting to take control of the world. But in reality words are being placed into the mouths of millions of Jews without the simple, distant, truth,
It's all a lie.
In school we are always taught to love ourselves, but how can we when millions of us are being discriminated against everyday for how we look, dress, talk. It's obvious that I'm a jew because of my features. The profile of my nose concaves, and my brown hair gives it away, people glare at me for it. It makes me sick to the stomach imagining the future for Germany, how this new 'war' is going to change the world for the worse and no one's prepared. I feel oblivious to the outside world. The world's changing around me so drastically yet nothing in me has changed, I feel the same as I've always felt. A kind old German couple have taken me in as their own. I'll forever be grateful for the roof over my head and the hot food they have given me.
Once I arrived in my new home we didn't want my identity to be out there in the public, just in case the rumors were true about what happens to Jews. Because of this I didn't bother going to school.
YOU ARE READING
See You Soon
Action"And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, you won't be the same person who walked in, that's what this storm's all about."~Haruki Murakami A Jews perspective throughout world war 2. Shira Lewenberg is a fictionnal Ch...
