Fear

Fear. That one word mentioned and immediately you think of a thousand things you are afraid of. Everyone is afraid of something, whether it be spiders or snakes, or that there is someone watching you, I can assure you now that most people are afraid of death. In my opinon, it is not that people are afraid to die, but of how they will die. They often think and then rethink different scenarios, leaving them paranoid on how they will die. They often ask themselves; "Will it hurt?"

This story has no pleasant ending, but in reality, what ending is pleasant?

I woke up in the early morning, seeing the sunrise out of the bay window that I slept on, that the sky was changing from a murky dark blue, to a welcoming orange. Lodz looked to have another pleasant day. My feet made it onto the cold wooden floors, making the floorboards creak ever so slightly. I shuddered and stopped to see or hear if anyone had woken. There was silence. Strangers around me slept on their suitcases, against walls or even leaning against people they didn't even know. I took in a deep breath, only to smell unwashed bodies and clothing. The stench stayed in my nose and throat. The window was barred closed, but I could still open it a little. I took the handle of the window and pulled onto it, the hinge making an awful screeching sound. Again, I stopped. Still, there was silence. I put my nose in between the glass and the wall, taking deep breaths of cold morning air. Then there was knocking on the door. I jumped and the window creaked back into place. "Wake up you filthy vermin! Get up!" The knocking intensified and people started to wake up. I knew it was the SS officer. His voice was strong, demanding. "Aufstehen. Get up! Wach!" He started speaking in German, but I could understand his message. It was the same, to get up, to wake up. The faces all around me started to awake, their faces swollen from deep sleep. I heard groaning from most, as if their bones were made stiff from eternal sleep. "Oskar! Help me up will you." A familiar face, my fathers. He slept next to me, just below the bay window. I stood up onto the floor, the creaks from below swallowed from the noise of chatter. A woman was talking to, who I assume, was her friend. She spoke in Polish, about what had been told to her. "We're going to be put onto trains, and taken home!" She told her friend with great enthusiasm. "We're going home!"
"Don't be stupid." A man broke her speech. "There is no home now. If you were to go home, you would only see what is left of it. There would be rubble and cracked glass like the night of Kristal naught. Don't be fooled, my lady, for your friend was fooled by the Germans."
"Then where are we going, Mr. I know everything."
"We're going to labor camps, and you'll be lucky to live with your sarcasm." He answered bitterly.
"Oskar. Help me up." I looked down at papa. He was getting old. He had the most solid brown eyes I had ever seen in my life. His hair, a black mess, but that mess was something beautiful to me. He reached out his hand towards me. I took it and helped him up. "Papa-" He limped and almost fell down. I caught him and then finished my sentence. "Papa, are you ok?"
"Yes, Oskar, please. Get me my cane." I walked over to our bag and got his cane. "Here Papa."
"Thank you son." I got our bag and then the SS officer told us that we were to assemble at the market-place. We all nodded in unison. It's funny what you notice when you stay quiet. I noticed the unfamiliar faces, who were people, like us. They had their stories and so did we, and we could never share them.

We arrived at the market place, with our suitcases and barely any layers of clothing on us. It was cold, and the SS soldiers mocked us with their green jackets. All of them stood tall and proud, all with blue eyes and almost blonde hair. How warm they would be. I started to shiver. "Get into three groups! Children, adolescents and adults, and elderly people. Hurry up, hurry up!" We did what they said quickly. I was in the middle group with Papa. That was the first time I had experienced gun fire. They started killing the elderly and the children. One by one, pausing with each shot to give it a terrible atmosphere. Their faces showed no emotion, some were even smiling. That's when I started to feel fear properly for the first time. Something in my head told me that sooner or later we are going to end up like the people on the floor. Innocent people. I looked to my left, to see the bodies laying in the pools of blood. There was a little girl, the last of the children, standing there, motionless, staring into the face of her death. Bang. She fell down, her curly brown hair falling over her face. I heard crying all around me, screaming, and gunshots with pauses in between. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I was frozen in place. "Oskar, we are in the good line. We are ok." Papa said. I nudged him in approval, closing my eyes, to try and block out everything. The last gunshot was blast and then there was pause. Everyone fell silent, there was no crying, no screaming. I looked around to see the faces of mothers, fathers, everyone around me. Their faces showed pain and fear. They had lost someone close to them, and yet even those who didn't have children or grandparents with them, knew this is what had happened to their families somewhere else. "Now. You must keep up with us. Leave your baggage here, you will meet up with it at the station." The SS officer from this morning talked to us now. "If any of you are to fall behind, you will be shot." I looked at Papa, and his face crumpled in fear. "Papa..."
"Oskar, it will be ok. I will have to hop as fast as I can. Do not leave me."
"I won't Papa." The SS officer had bicycles, and we had to keep up with them.