Concealed | ✓

stars

Germany, 1941

Dear Diary,

Weeks, maybe even months, have gone by since my family and I disappeared. We pray our neighbors would see our vanish act as an illusion, a magic trick, merely absent to escape the perpetual air raids; however, they could also possibly see our evanescence as treason or perhaps they'd suspect us as Jews - which we are in fact. Being a Jewish family in Germany is rather dangerous at this time. I as a young child was not aware of the dangers nor was I trusted with the information on where we were headed but even so I could sense trouble looming somewhere in the horizon. You are going to be safe, Elysia, my mother had told me. Now that I am older, I am enlightened of the constant dangers that approach us with each new day.

It all began with the soldiers. They reminded me of my brother's tin figurines: poised, stiff, angry, and evil. Their rumbling marches disturbed my peace. I abhorred their self-possession, their red swastika bands wrapped around their arms. It never occurred to me that they would have feelings, lives, children, or wives. They simply took away my freedom, my childhood and for that I was livid.

My brother's toy soldiers as well as himself and my grandmother had dematerialized too but theirs was not planned like Papa's, Mama's, and mine were. Together, my brother and grandmother went to the market, their yellow stars of David pinned to their jackets proudly although I believe they were intended for insult. Neither my brother nor my grandmother returned. How I miss them so!

The figurines themselves we were forced to give away to the soldiers, along with everything else we owned of any value. They stripped us of our goods and left us bare in a new place - the ghetto. Mother and Father attempted to be optimistic in such a dirty and crowded area but I noticed new wrinkles etched upon their faces like texture of strokes on a painting.

After the soldiers came the whispers. The hushed and deafening silence consumed our home. Mother and Father would sneak away to discuss tragic matters as I played with my paper dolls. And then my friends began to disappear but I paid no mind. I was oblivious to the storm that was hurrying in my family's direction.

One day at school, with my Jewish star positioned on my coat, I was ridiculed by my best friend. He taunted me, called me a dirty pig, and threw rocks at me. The group surrounding us cheered and jeered. The pain was most evident in my heart: the betrayal of the one whom I loved as a brother.

"You dirty scum!" he screamed. "The rest of you will surely be gone soon enough with the 'Final Solution.' Then, Germany will be great again."

I rushed home, scrapes and bruises splattered on every inch of my skin. It was the first of many beatings. My young mind was becoming less naive to the world and I stayed quiet.

My mother and I walked to the market together another day, breaking the law with the absence of our stars. The market was unusually crowded, especially near the train station. I clutched my mother's hand even more so, fear clawing wounds in my heart. The crowd was boarding a train and everyone had one thing in common: their stars on their coats. Their Stars of David were like mine. Hundreds of these Jews boarded the train cars and in a flash they were gone.

Tears sparkled in my mother's eyes. "Elysia?" she asked, a softness carved into her tone, worried lines creasing her face. "Let us leave here at once, child; it is not safe."

That night, when I was safely tucked in the comfort of my bed, Mother told me that the stars were shining brighter because of the many souls that Heaven had gained that day.

"My child," she whispered by the curtain, her attention on sights above where the stars watched over us and glowed in sympathy and natural beauty. "We are leaving tomorrow morning; it is not safe for us here nor anywhere."

The next morning with the stars still illuminating the sky, my father, mother, and I trudged to an old, dilapidated warehouse. We evaporated from the face from the earth and settled in a dungeon of darkness, silence, and sadness. Depression leaked from every corner as we sat unmoving on the wooden planks of our new hideout. A few kind strangers, involved in the attempt to save our lives, brought us food and kept us hidden.

We hid and hid for many days. In fact, we are still hiding now. The only comfort and pastime that is able to waste away the seconds by for me was the stars. At night, the only time I was able to peer to the outside, the stars sparkled. They were splattered everywhere and seemed to entertain me from our tiny attic in the warehouse. It was these stars that have placed a tiny glimmer of hope in the center of my soul. It was those new stars, those of us who didn't survive, that added to the brilliance above and beckoned us - those of us still alive and breathing - to hold on.

And here I sit, Elysia the Jew, waiting for my freedom to play and dance with the Star of David proudly sewn on my jacket and the stars shimmering from above in the inky, vast abyss of the sky.

But for now, I stay - hidden. With only the stars to guide me and the hope inside of me.

Love,
Elysia

P.S. I shall love to write you sooner about more of my story but I'm afraid that I hear commotion below in the warehouse. Farewell! And I'll be sure to talk to you soon, Diary.