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I am the wall. I do not move. I never do, I never have. I am paper thin. I have nothing in me, or on me. All I am is wood, boarded up, to hide these bare women. I see them wake every morning. They are all cold and scared. I notice that The people that have been here for along time, are beginning to become thin. The new ones, that come in, about every month, are normal. But they will not be within the next month. Walls can talk, for gossip has spread through the walls of this camp. I hear, they are taken from a dirty car, and the ones that are dead, are tossed like nothing. Even a baby was thrown behind a horse feeding trough. The men and women are sent to there own barracks. They are taken for a shower. But most times, it is gas, to poison these people. But this time, it was just a normal shower. The water was cold, and the women screamed, but they were cleaned underneath the freezing water. Then taken to a prisoner to cut there hair. After that there are placed in a room to chose clothing they will wear for the next weeks, maybe months even. Then taken to there new "Homes".
I watch them scramble in the morning, trying to please the guards. Straightening there beds, and cleaning the place as much as they can, or they are punished. For the children, it is a finger. For the women, it is a life. I see them shiver at night, and hear them cry and moan, in pain. Most are sick, and then sent to the Gas ovens, as they call it "Lilith's Cave". I see them, as cold as can be using there on urine, as a substitute for warmth. Some times, some of them sneak food in. I saw one Mother and Daughter making a soup in their bed. And when the guards came, the Mother rushed to hide it spilling it on the Daughter. Blistering her, which eventually she died.
It is horrible what I see everyday. But us walls are like prisoners our selves. We cannot escape these painful cries we hear at night. We cannot escape the shootings, and gas smoke. And the smell of dead corpses. We have to withstand it, like these poor humans. But we sadly last longer than them.
- by giggley_bubbles |
- Non Fiction
- | Submitted on 03/05/2009 |
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- Title: The walls are talking ..
- Artist: giggley_bubbles
- Description: This is an Essay thing I did for a contest. And I got 1st place!! I had read it in front of the whole school, and it amazed them. I hope you will be amazed as well!
- Date: 03/05/2009
- Tags: wall talking holocaust
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Comments (1 Comments)
- strelko - 03/07/2009
- Really nice. Just one thing: there shouldn´t be "there", but "their". For example: "The men and women are sent to their own barracks." But then again, You wrote it nicely. 5/5
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