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Dalia's Story

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Author's note: I was interested in the Holocaust after I learned about it in a history class. So I looked into...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: I was interested in the Holocaust after I learned about it in a history class. So I looked into the history of it more, and when we had to write a short story in English this is what I chose to write about. That was a couple of years ago. I found this story back, and went and made changes that I felt made the story better. I hope you all enjoy, and please give me your feedback.I would love to improve it even more!  « Hide author's note
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Relocation

When we came to a stop everyone seemed to become relieved.
The door came open.
“Out now!” a soldier yelled.
Everyone rushed out as quickly as possible. Even though we were all frightened, we were glad to see sunshine.
Then we looked further. We saw buildings, barracks and barb wire fences.
Where were we I wondered. This certainly didn’t look like the kind of camp I was thinking of. This placed looked run down, and there was something ominous about it.
“Take off all of your jewelry. And any possessions you may have,” A very harsh faced soldier commanded, “If you don’t take them off by the time we get to you we’ll rip them off for you!”
Everyone hurriedly took off jewelry and removed any possessions from their pockets. I happened to be having trouble with my bracelet clasp. A soldier walked up to me and ripped it right off. He did this so hard my skin turned a reddish purple. It burned.
“Now your shoes,” he said.
We removed them as fast as we could.
“I’m sure you are all wondering what this is. It’s where you all are getting resettled,” the man said, “now women and children on one line, men on the other. We will go down the lines sorting you all out by what we think you can do.”
The Germans walked down the lines examining us. They put many young children, sick adults, and elders in one group. When a soldier got to the twins he examined them, and told Meira to go to the other line. She coughed and looked very weak.
“No let her stay with me!” mother cried.
“She is sick. She can not do the same labor as you,” a blond headed German said.
Meira was sobbing, “Mama,” she whispered.
Mother just tearfully looked after Meira as she got taken away with the weaker group.
Maya was young too, but not sick. She was also stronger than Meira.
In the next few hours our heads were shaven, we were tattooed with a number that we needed to remember, and we had to put on striped uniforms. We looked terrible, and I felt so embarrassed.
That night we had to lay down in tiny barracks where we hardly had room to move. I used my imagination to imagine that I was at home sleeping in the room I shared with the twins.
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