Only Us (A Holocaust Love Story), Simon and Garfunkel

Chapter 4

"I can't sew." Paul complained.

"Well, I don't either. We've got to figure it out or we will be shot for not working. I've only been pulled off the street once, and it was digging a ditch." Art bit his lip. He remembered the day quite clearly.

It was only a few days after they were transported to the ghetto. Art didn't know as much as he knew now. He went outside and had "fun" with the other kids. They kicked around a piece of trash and pretended it was a ball. They kicked it around.

A soldier had to ruin the kids fun by taking them all by the arm. They all were put to work.

In their eyes Art didn't work hard enough. He didn't just get a slap on the wrist and told to work harder, no he got beat with a cane.

Art felt the pain in his back come back. A shiver went up his spine, "We better learn quick, I don't want to get whipped again."

"I don't want to die." Paul gulpped.

A guard stood in the corner patrolling every move of the people. Down to how their hands were moving. If he didn't see hands moving, he pulled out the cane.

"Please help, I don't know how to sew." Paul whispered to an older woman next to him.

The older woman smiled at him. It would be a pleasure for her to help him. She loved to help people in need, that was always her nature. Most times she had to turn against her nature to survive. This time she wanted to save a little boy's life.

"Here let me show you a simple stitch pattern." The woman whispered almost inaudible.

She grabbed a piece of cloth and simply started to stich. Art wasn't understanding it. Paul was used to using his hands so he didn't think it could be that hard.

She had to show them discreetly so neither of them would get caught. She showed them for as long as she could. Paul played with it for awhile, but he started to understand a little bit.

Art on the other hand was struggling. He struggled to grasp how to sew the pieces together. He was fearing what the guards would do to him. Silent tears rolled down his rosy red cheeks. He wiped away the tears before he was seen.

He wanted to scream and curse, but that would be practically sighing his death certificate right there. It took everything in him to stay silent.

Art felt his heart stop as the guard was right behind him, heavily breathing down his neck. Art wouldn't dare look back, but the guard screamed at him anyway.

"What is going on here? You are the one with the least amount done!" The man screeched.

Art kept his eyes on the ground not answering the man. He would rather not look into his cold eyes. He tried to show he was working, but it wasn't impressing the guard.

I'm so dead.

Art was expecting the guard to shoot him right then and there and show him off as an example.

The woman who helped Art stood up, "That is not the boy's work, that is mine. I wanted him to help me sew." She spoke with confidence. She was going to rat herself out. She was tired of ratting others out.

Art's eyes widened, he thought she can't do that to herself. "No it's mine!"

"Dziecko, don't lie to him. I appreciate you trying to save me, but I cannot do that too you." The woman gave herself up. 

The solider exchanged suspicious glances between the two. He didn't want to believe the woman. She spoke without being told to. He thought, "This ghetto won't live for much longer, so why not do the dirty work."