The Iris

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The Iris








January 18 1940
Dear Journal,

I fear the times of smiles and happiness have ended. Ever since father died the days seem to only get worse. The sky is no longer the bright blue it was before the war, but now a dreadful grey. It’s clear my mother wishes to hide her worries from me but I see that she fears for me and my future brother or sister. See, she’s 4 months pregnant and I still think she made a mistake in telling me the truth. How I wish she had lied to me about the ugly war, how we were being hunted and how father died. I try to stay strong for her but it’s hard for an 8 year old to accept. So we live in constant fear hoping that the bad people will forget about us.




Sincerely,





Ava








April 19 1940
Dear Journal,

I look back at to my last few months of terror and sadness and can almost laugh at how I thought life could get no worse. For now I see how wrong I was. Today was a greyer day than usual, pouring rain, the roads turning to mud. They came so quickly and were brutal and mean calling me and my mother rude names. We had been found. I often found a pair of eyes trained on me throughout our terrible trip to a mucky train station. He was a tall man who appeared to be in his late thirties, one of the Nazis soldiers who had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, much like the sky used to be so long ago. I stared at those eyes imagining that this had never happened and I was home in the meadow with my father. Although I quickly snapped out of my daze when I noticed the mean soldiers pushing me away from my mother, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get to her and was forced into the stinky train.
I am not alone, all around me are little girls some even younger than me clutching each other and crying for their families. Even though I feel like crying myself I try to comfort them telling them that every thing is going to be ok and only feeling a little guilty about lying to them, but quickly ignore it. Why put them through more pain than they have to? For if I’m right on where were going, they’re going to be in enough pain soon enough. Again I regret my mother telling me everything and not shielding me from the truth, perhaps if I didn’t know these next three hours would be bearable. I could have had hope of coming home with no war and the birds singing once again with the promise of a better day. Since I haven’t been shielded I can’t fool myself, I have to realize that I’ll never return home and that every inch closer to the end of the tracks brings me closer to my death.



Sincerely, Ava










April 19 1940
Dear Journal,

Today was a hard day and I can’t help but question what I’m doing. On my usual rounds with the other soldiers we discovered a Jewish family. The mother was pregnant and single handedly raising a little girl. It’s not uncommon to find someone pregnant, but less usual to find them nowadays, or even to find a Jewish parent raising their child alone. I still continued to follow protocol even if it felt like a stab in the heart, not due to circumstances because when I looked at the little girl all I could see was my little Alese. Alese meaning beautiful soul was the name given to my little girl who everyday became more beautiful. She had flowing blond hair and eyes bluer than the sea when it was calm. My daughter was an angel, who cried when others did before she even knew what was wrong, for she felt everyone’s pain. Till one day she was around 9 when she became very sick and no matter what I did I couldn’t save her and she died. I must admit ever since she died my heart has turned to ice even after the birth of my son I have not forgiven the world for taking her. I’m afraid I may not be the greatest father to my son Blaz meaning unwavering protector. The image of my daughter still comes to mind when I look at the little girl even though she doesn’t really resemble Alese with the girls dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. The thing that reminds me of her is her small size, the way she moved like she had wings on her feet and the way she only cared for her family’s safety when we arrived. The innocence and strength in her eyes so reminded me of images of Alese I wished to forget.

The whole time I brought her to the station I felt a sense of wrong that was foreign to me. I don’t enjoy my job as some do, even if everyone says its right, but it keeps my family safe and healthy. Also it’s not like I personally kill them so their blood isn’t on my hands. Although this time I can’t shake the feeling that this is horribly wrong, I quickly depress it from my thoughts. Such things are dangerous to even think about.




Sincerely,





Ehren








April 21 1940
Dear Journal,

My life has turned into a nightmare one that I can’t seem to wake from. This place is worse than I could have ever imagined the stench of death hangs in the air, the chorus of the hopeless sounds in my ears all through the night. Even the few hours of peace that I received sleep have ceased with the constant grumble of my hungry tummy. Even if I could close my eyes all I would see is their faces filled with pain, hate, sadness, despair and hunger flash behind my eyelids making me re-live what I wish to forget. The only thought I cling to is that they’ll have to kill me eventually, although I put every ounce of hope and delusion I have into my family surviving. The younger ones who still cry at night are the one reason I cling to life. For every night I try to give them something I could never have, sleep unaffected by reality. So I sing to them sometimes songs my mother taught me other times ones I just made up, anything to try and calm them enough to sleep. The ones who cannot sleep like me are at least comforted. Their relaxation against all odds brings me the only happiness I can mange due to circumstances. I only wish that my mother could hear me for she might be calmed too, for she always loved to hear me sing that’s why she named me Ava meaning “Bird” after the ones she used to hear sing. Maybe I could comfort her and the baby so they too could escape this world for awhile.




Sincerely,





Ava








April 24 1940
Dear Journal,

Ever since I was positioned at the concentration camp I’ve felt nothing but sadness and guilt. I don’t know how I could be so cold all this time ignoring children and women as they beg for food, mercy and life. The little girl, who I heard someone call Ava, seems to have warmed my heart. I almost wish I had never seen her because now it seems to be killing me slowly watching these people waste away to nothing. It doesn’t even matter what I might be thinking, there is nothing I can do. If I try to help them I will surely be killed along with my family. I can only hope that I become that horrible monster again or that this war will end and my family won’t be punished. I’m almost glad that Alese is gone for this world would destroy her. My inner demons seem to be tearing me apart and I can only feel that this is punishment that I deserve.




Sincerely,





Ehren








May 2 1940
Dear Journal,

I’m afraid that this might be my last entry for I fear my time is up. Word has spread that I have been giving happiness and comfort to the others, which in a place of pain and despair is unacceptable. I feel oddly enough a sense of relief that I no longer have to wonder when my day will come. My dying wish is that this horrid war will end and become again what it used to be, not just for my family but for the others too. I try to convince myself that this is possible as I’m marched out to be executed in the courtyard; it’s hard though in a place so evil. I quickly give in to despair. Just then when searching for something, anything beautiful to be the last thing I see my eyes land on a little blue iris and I know that this war will end, the world will become beautiful again and I will always be home. Then for the first time and what seems like forever a smile finds my lips.





Sincerely,






Ava








May 2 1940 (5 minutes later)
Dear Journal,

There are no words to describe what I feel. It’s like Alese dying all over again. As I watch an innocent child have her life ripped from her, I know beyond a doubt that this is wrong no matter who she is and that I will be punished forever for what I’ve done or haven’t done. I know now that the world is a horrible and unfair place that kills the only ones capable of changing it. The pain of knowing that my son will have to grow up in this world consumes me, leaving me incapable to process what happened. My mind keeps replaying the scene of Ava’s death over and over again and finally something odd strikes me. Right before she died she looked at something and smiled. I search desperately in the direction she was looking and almost instantly zone in on a flower. The flower is an Iris, like the ones in the meadow where I used to bring Alese as a child. It’s amazing that a flower of any kind could survive against all odds in a place like this. That’s when I know why Ava smiled. There is hope for this world, even with pain, death and everything against you there is always hope, for it cannot be destroyed or lost no matter what. Hope is that nagging voice in your head telling you to live to breathe one more breath. Then for the first time since Alese died I feel alive.





Sincerely,






Ehren



















Written by: Jade





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Bookworm said...
Mar. 21, 2010 at 2:07 pm
Wow!! This was so amazing i starter crying it not only shows thé horrors of thé holocaust in a flowy way but also shows you that there us And always Will be hope in thé world as long as one person believes it so!!! This was exelently written with loads of émotion!
 
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