Many people are dying off. Whether it be Nazi killings, suicide, disease, or starvation, people are disappearing one by one. Dad has been giving up his meal portion to Filip, who is learning from Me, Kohn, and sometimes mom. Kohn got trapped in a deep depression after pregnant Elza fell ill and eventually died of pneumonia, taking the small life of the unborn child with her. Joshua was taken on one of the trains and Abbey would disappear for days at a time, only briefly stopping in for food. Levy is often found wandering the streets, trying to help people keep their faith.
Kohn, Filip and I are the pillars of hope in our ghetto. We sing hymns, lullabies, and folk songs in attempt to keep spirits up. One child, Maria, found several loose bricks in the wall and every night, several children would climb through to find food, clothing, books, toys, whatever they could find that would be of use. They would gather things in a small bag, hand it to Kohn and return home. He would run them back to me and we would sleep for the night. The next morning, we would distribute everything among families. Children would share toys and sometimes exchange clothes.
Tonight seems to bring less joy to Kohn when he gets back. "Onions, nuts, and bread mostly. A few apples." He plops next to me against the wall and lets out a heavy sigh. I rest my head on his shoulder, basking in the comfortable silence between us. "How long can we keep this up?" More silence, then, the shooting starts. "I don't know" I can see his brilliant blue eyes shining in the darkness. "Damn it Dahlia! We're all going to die eventually!" He whisper-shouts, turning to face me. My eyes widen. "We can only make the best of what we have" "What do we have?" "Stop" My voice cracks. "No, tell me what we have to make anything of!" "Please stop" Tears stream down my face only to have thumbs brush them away, hands caressing my cheeks. They tilt my face to look at the boy in front of me. My cheeks blaze so red that a perfect rose would be jealous of. "Kohn, please" His blue eyes sadden, finally snapping from his depressed trans. "I-I..." After stuttering, he realizes what his hands are doing and drops them. We lean into each other and fall asleep, attempting to ignore the gunshots and screams just outside the building.
YOU ARE READING
Warsaw (On Hold)
General Fiction"Eli Eli Lema Sabachtani!" I cry out, crystal tears washing the grime from my pale cheeks. My eyes ache and my throat is raw from crying and screaming. My head lulls to my bare shoulder as it gets harder to keep my eyes open. ~~~~~ This book is...
