The Traveler

A U S C H W I T Z
| D E C E M B E R 1944

It was bitter cold.

Even with our bodies packed together in a somewhat foreshadowing mass grave, neither of us could retain heat long enough for any relief. We had shuffled all the children to the centre of our casing, trying to offer their smaller selves some of the relief we now denied ourselves.

Snowflakes rushed in through the only opening, keeping the temperature to a minimum.

The vapor of dirty breath filled the damp, crowded compartment that we had all been shoved into three days prior.

Finding myself standing near the small opening that was supposed to be a window of some sorts, I counted myself fortunate.

I could watch the pink hues of the winter sun stretching out its fingers across the dunes of snow that littered forestry with its pure appearance.

"You're not Jewish, are you child?" At first, it was so foreign, hearing someone speak, that I nearly didn't register.

"No, ma'am."

I couldn't look at her. All of my failings and shortcomings were reflected in her eyes. The lives lost because I could not move them to a new location in time.

A murmur started within the casket; the train was coming to a stop.

What was to happen next was unknown, and many of us suddenly preferred being trapped in this forsaken wooden box on rails.

I took this time to try and hide my copy of The Hobbit a little better on my person.

"You best hide it well, child." The old woman whispered urgently as the train came to a full stop.