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The Lost Soldier
?She awoke a couple minutes after the lightning. The thunder pounding through her skull to her brain.
She was under attack! She dived for the floor, feeling the pain of the impact, and realized she was home.
?Her sleeping soul awoke to the thunder again
?The army was far away. So was her gun, her trusted friend, which had protected her. Yet her last wound was still there.
The thunder had not been a bomb. But yet nature’s alarm clock scaring innocent children and adults alike. It treated all equally unlike her enemies, the evil, the ones she had killed.
The ones who had taken away her life.
?Her sleeping soul awoke to the blistering sound of the thunder again
?The pounding resided the process never ending, the beat of it fast, but she could never dance. Never again.
She was aware of her surroundings. Eagles were common on the walls.
The red and black insignia, a source of fear, for the people who bore David’s symbol. But fear will reach everyone they said, except her, she was a soldier trained never to give up.
She never will.
Her form will never shift, as will her loyalty, her secrets kept. Her sister safe. They were locked when the pure race stole her from her blood.
She escaped, only to be captured again, their hatred still choking her. Her tomb classified to her superiors. Never found but lost.
?Her sleeping soul awoke to the blistering sound of thunder that pierced her ears again
?The pounding was still there relentless. Her career had made her strong, a dancer, but that was before the war. So long ago.
Her performance and family in the bloody past.
Her dreams were sleepless the only image their flag, their bloody symbol of cross perfection, and their purifying cause.
?Her sleeping soul awoke to the blistering sound of thunder that pierced her ears again inducing a reaction of fear
?But she was not pure, her nose and black hair, made her stand out like the immense silence of her vacant hometown. Her faith was false and so were her hopes.
She knew every time she called out to her sister she wouldn’t appear. Her extravagant perfume would never be smelt again.
Yet like every time before and just like her military she wouldn’t give up.
She never did.
Her sleeping soul awoke to the blistering sound of thunder that pierced her ears again inducing a reaction of fear that swept though her curling body as if an inhumane death was imminent
A last memory appeared after her awakening. The last thing she saw was the pistol, the shooting, the bullet.
It was done the life gone.
The camp now quiet content with its dead occupants.
Her resting place Auschwitz.