Life’s Short ~Bella Fernando
“Life’s Short,” was never true for me... life is a long, painful, sad thing. My name is Emeline, I live in Amsterdam, well I think. It all started September 1st, 1939. I went to school like normal and was prepared to go through a normal school day but something about that day was weird. My teacher had to separate the class, in his gruff voice he said, “All Jewish kids raise your hand, you are all coming with me.” I raised my hand being a Jew with many others. At the time I did not know what terrible thing was coming my way.
We all got on a bus, and moved toward a small building made of bricks. We were told that was our new school, and all of us thought it was a good thing. My teacher showed us around the school, and right when I walked in, it was smelly, and I could see bugs running around, I was disgusted. I was considered a happy person, but for once in my life I was disappointed. I felt my gag reflexes working for sure, it was revolting. We were the rejects, why did WE have to get the rubbish school, I thought being Jewish was special, but I guess it was really just a punishment.
In a small room there was 10 chairs and desks, they were for the 2nd graders. They were the only thing that was nice, they were brand new and beautiful, it was like the elephant in the room. The rest of the room was dull, there was one bush outside the window, the only sense of color. It was like a black and white movie but in reality, it was as dull as dull can get. We got comfortable, well not really, I mean we got settled. We had a rug, some comfy chairs, and a chalk board, but still everything was ugly.
To one of my classmates, I said “We need some color, don't you think?” Then she snarked “Does it look like I want to talk to you? Go away you weirdo.” So I did. Now I was stuck with a crappy school, no friends, and a long walk home. My old school was about a 10 minute walk, but now my walk turned into 30.
I came home and there were my parents paying attention to my baby sister, Mahalia, as usual. I walked up to them, “You are late, we were worried sick,” said my father Gus. Then I said “All of the jews had to move schools, and my walk is now 30 minutes.” I rolled my eyes, “And if you were really worried then you should have called the cops,” I stormed up into my room, crying. Ever since the baby came, I was ignored, they would scream at me for no reason, and fight all of the time. I was hated, not only by my school mates, but also by my family.
I went to bed early because I did not want to deal with my parents, but I also went to bed hungry. I did not eat dinner for a whole week. The next day I woke up, got dressed, and ate breakfast, but left without saying goodbye not knowing that I wouldn’t see my family again after that day.
When I arrived at school we all continued to learn about what we were before… Everything seemed so normal. It was everything but normal, it’s a new school! I mean how is that a normal thing, and the only reason we moved was because of our religion, and what we believed in.
They called us for lunch, but I did not eat that day, I forgot to make my lunch. If I don’t pack my lunch I starve, my parents have never bothered to make me anything. After lunch we went out for recess. Like usual, I was in the corner playing with my yo-yo, all by myself.
Eventually when I got home, it was an empty house. Which was really surprising, but kind of worrying. The thing is, we did not have any phones because we could not afford them. Worried, I sat around for a couple of hours, 2 long, worrisome, boring hours.
I heard loud, terrifying screaming from outside, followed by loud booms, almost like bombs. What could this be?! I slowly crept downstairs, still no one home. My heart was beating faster and I began to become even more terrified. I looked out the little peephole in the door, and all I could see is smoke and fire. With instinct I ran and found the best hiding place I could, in that same room in a basket covered with a blanket. Little me knew how to hide, but this hiding spot was not good enough… I heard banging at the door, not a knock, but a pound. Of course even I was not stupid enough to open the door.
Eventually the pounding stopped, 5 seconds later, people come running in. Not just any people, they were people from the army, at least I think. They were wearing a brown uniform with a black swastika sewed on. I have seen the weird looking star a couple of times before, but never knew what it meant. I was scared out of my mind. I thought it was the end of my short 7 years. It went quiet, too quiet, I took a deep breath in. That breath I took was a big mistake.
“I found someone!” a young man yelled. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. They locked me up and threw me into a large truck with many other people already piled in, it was like I was being packaged up.
We were driving for hours, maybe even days. I eventually fell asleep, and was woken up by a sudden stop. Me and all the other “prisoners” walked out one by one, once I got out, I saw something that looked like a prison. We got changed into old clothing. A blue shirt and grey pants and had numbers tattooed onto all of our left arms, we all walked into the building and was directed to our sections.
It was all dark inside, even though it was light outside. I was shown to a solid metal bunk bed with an older girl, maybe 16 or so. I asked “Where are we?” and she responded in a sweet voice “We are held in captivity.”
I gasped ”for what!”
Her voice cracked “Because we are Jewish.” I pouted, and got into my bed.
That was the bed I spent my nights in for the next 6 years. I am now 13 years old and I am still held in captivity. I have not talked to my family.
Or heard anything from them.
I don’t know if they are even alive.
-Bella Fernando P.4
As my stomach turned and the count downed happend 3….2...and then that one fateful number 1….like a cheetah chasing down his prey, we went up down side to side we all get jostled around then we went to a big screeching halt and then I realized the ride was over.
-Anthony Didonato
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