Journey To Auschwitz [Part Uno]

Notage:

Hiya, so this is an outcome of my trip to Auschwitz... and a mix of some of the stories that i heard from surviors while there...just had to get in down on paper so i hope that its not too rough...just let me know if its pants and i should stop now... or if u think its ok... plz comment...

Father. When did this nightmare begin? When will it end? How will it end? So many unanswered questions; that will remain unanswered. They whiz around my mind in an endless cycle, filling the silence - the void - that has irrevocably become life for the past several years. One word stands out, ruptures through my mind: the root of the entire unknown. Why?

So much meaning in that word. Why. Why has this happened? Why did he take her: my salvation? Why don't people face up to what's happening; instead of turning their backs and burying their heads in sand because it's easier then the truth? Why. I resent that word. For it's lingering simplicity and depth. So much hidden behind the shallow scores. Why...

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, bringing me back to reality. They fill the death skies with luminescent sparks that skip through the cracks in the crisp, dry boards above; like mocking messages of hope from beyond; undiluted in radiance. They leave wandering eyes susceptible to the chaos of the night's wraith. The moon hangs lows in the sky, as if suspended from a spiders thread, cast in the shadow of the retreating night. Such a night for the paranormal to take possession of the mind and soul: for the supernatural beings of the underworld to rise once again and create chaos and havoc on the imperfect mortals of the sky world.

The train violently shakes from side to side, as if it's jeering that it's thrown us all into the mayhem it feels. Wedged in all round me are the sad remains of A people - shells of their former selves: unrecognisable - reduced to hiding in sewers and scuttling around like rats to survive. Do less painful words exist to change the bitter truth?

The rotting stench of stale faeces and urine pollutes the air, sticking like sap to the gullet, and with each breath a new realm of intoxication. I can feel it squelching under me as it permeates its way into my shoes. The stink is made even more prominent due to the dense climate of heat radiating from the surrounding sea of bodies in the carriage.

All around me, people, all different, yet all the same. A family bare foot, dressed in thin war issued night clothes - snatched from their beds, no doubt. Obviously not allowed to even stop for overcoats or shoes; we're not allowed that privilege. The privilege of mild comfort. No, we are made to freeze; though more through the numbing terror then the coldness. A mother, a father, a daughter. The father stands half naked and blue-lipped, while the thick bands of muscle in his arms flex as his body quivers; though the cold never managing to quite break through his carefully controlled façade as he clutched his family closer. Possibly for the last time...

No. I can't think like that, that's dangerous ground to tread. Unstable ground. I can't think that. I can't embrace the inevitable end. Not just yet.