Release

Hello. :) This is a holocaust historical fiction short story. It was written for an English assignment. It takes place in concentration camp named Ravensbruck. In case some of you don’t know, Ravensbruck was mainly female camp and consisted of almost all female guards. I hope you find this story educating and moving. 

“Release”

The snow rained from the air. I wiped the cold sweat from my face. My bones creaked in exhaustion. We had been standing for hours. Waiting for the guards, for the day to start, for the sun to come up. Anything. My muscles ached, coated with my cold, thin skin. I had been at the camp for over a year now, sometimes it felt like much more than that. Ravensbruck. I had become sick of that name.

“Aufmerksamkeit! März!” the guards ordered. We all did as we were told and marched. I felt the thick saliva build in the back of my mouth. I cleared my throat silently, and we continued to move. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I held them in. Haunted memories flashed through my brain. Adela. I think silently. The pictures were still fresh in my mind. Her small, weak voice. Her frail body leaning against mine. I still see her falling, trampled by a hundred feet. I wiped my face, trying to hold it together. My sister was dead. Sometimes it was hard for me to stomach that fact.

After letting my mind escape for a moment, I came back to reality. I focused on the setting around me. We had marched for a few minutes, and I recognized the route. We were headed to the labor part of the camp. Some of us had been assigned to the factories, while others were forced to outside labor or electrical work. Because I was on the younger side, I usually did physical labor, or electrical work.

After being sent off to our designated work spaces, I finally let a stray tear roll down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, before anyone could see. I then started my work. A deep want of freedom panged in my chest. My parents were most likely dead. Our home was gone. I would never be able to live a regular life if I were to somehow escape. But the feeling wouldn't leave. The same thing every day. Over and over again. I wanted to break the pattern. I desperately needed for it to all end. I needed release.

I sighed softly, picking up the shovel that was laid in front of me. I dug its end into the hard ground, tearing the soil apart. My movements were mechanical, stiff and repetitive. I turned my body on autopilot, allowing my mind to drift elsewhere.

13 years ago:

The sun was high in the strong, blue sky. The meadow was so expansive that it was almost unbelievable. Miles and miles of outstretched land, unscathed by humankind.

“Come on, Eliana,” my sister called, her small voice barely audible in the large field. I ran quickly to catch up, the cool breeze flying through my long hair. I must have only been seven, Adela, five. I struggled to not fall over my own feet, weaving my way around the overgrown grass. It didn't take very long to catch up, and before we knew it, we were staring at an enormous tree.

“Wow,” Adela said in awe, her eyes sparkling. We made our way under the large blanket of shade, and I watched as Adela sunk to the ground. I followed soon after, our backs resting against the coarse tree bark. I was shocked to discover how cool it was under the tree. Outside of the shade, the meadow baked in the sun’s extreme heat. I wiped a small bead of sweat from my forehead. My heart pounded rapidly, my breathing strained. I let out a long breath, letting the muggy air escape me. We sat in a comfortable silence, watching moments pass. I noticed a butterfly flutter through the air, gently landing on a tree branch. Adela slowly turned to look at me.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked, out of the blue. I chuckled at her erratic behavior.

“Where’s this coming from?” Of course we had talked about it before, but it had always made sense in the context of the conversation.