Dear Stranger,
(or ghost perhaps)
I've had a long life, well at least 14 years of it. And I'm ready to die. I'm ready to be sacrificed if that's what it takes.
I know it's not much of an introduction, much less an invitation to read the rest I will write in this place. It will be my escape for now. And I hope you will stay for the journey. (When did I sound so pretentious?)
This war is killing us and I'm tired of hiding away. I don't want to huddle underneath the creaky floor boards of Frau Steiner. Even she gives me the shivers.
I'd already given up on my dreams by the time the Nazis took over. Mama and Papa promised me all would be fine, there was nothing to worry about—but they were just making empty promises to God. I begged and begged that we flee to grandmama in Switzerland, but they wouldn't listen. Soon, we were forced into the ghetto where everyone else lived, and that's when I knew that there was no way out. It would only get worse.
Because when did anything get better in this world?
Was I wrong? Of course not. And oh how I wish I was still at the ghetto when I could play with all the other children. We were watched and we all knew, but not even the guards themselves knew our little nooks and hiding spots.
Now I'm stuck in a dank, moldy cellar that reeks of rat poison and dust. And none of us can get out.
I know I should be grateful. It's a miracle I'm still alive and not shipped away to Dachau or Mautheisen.
Yana, my only friend from the ghetto, suddenly left one day. I suppose they carted her off to Dachau. God only knows where she is. I miss her. I really do.
I suppose I'll stop for now.
Your Esther Hoffmann
YOU ARE READING
The Sound of Silence
Ficção Histórica"God had given us a miracle, and I wasn't sure there would be one next." Winter 1942, one of the coldest years in history. Hans Steiner, a man of his late thirties, looks through the iron fence, through the hollow eyes that follow him, and to the as...
