Loading...
Loading...
on the way toLoading...
DEATH Loading...
A short story about a boy on the way to a concentration camp, during WW2
It was cold, dark and cramped. The only illumination in the back of the truck came from a miniscule crack near the foot of the door. The boy crouched on the uncomfortable, wooden bench, his only consolation another freezing hand on top of his.
“Jolt. Bump. Crash.” The ancient, green truck bounced as it hit some irksome ridges in the cobblestone road. He could just make out some other people’s numb, lolling faces; some asleep, some’s eyes glowing in the gloom.
In the corner, he could see a little family: an anxious mother hugging her sleeping daughter tight, and the troubled father, with an arm around his pale son. He wished his parents were with him, but they were long gone. They had been separated from each other, and he missed them ever so much.
“Will we ever get there, Mama?” The little boy whined, staring up into his mother’s clouded eyes. The woman hesitated, then whispered;
“We’re almost there, Agi. Almost there.”
“But, Mama, you said that ages ago. I don’t believe you!” The boy had sat up, his green eyes now reflected in the light from the door. It looked eerie.
“Be quiet now, Agi, You’ll wake Milani.” the father gestured towards the sleeping girl, whose hair had fallen into her face, and who had slumped to the floor. Mama quickly picked her up, and propped her head upon her shoulder.
“Hmm… Why did you wake me up?” Milani yawned.
“Hey, it’s Mama’s fault for lying!” The boy accused.
“Now, don’t you blame your mother!” the man shout-whispered.
People around them, muttered;
“Keep your voices down, the Nazis’ll hear us.”
He flinched as they ran into another series of bumps. This could never get any worse. Yet it always did.
“Jolt. Bump. Crash.” The ancient, green truck bounced as it hit some irksome ridges in the cobblestone road. He could just make out some other people’s numb, lolling faces; some asleep, some’s eyes glowing in the gloom.
In the corner, he could see a little family: an anxious mother hugging her sleeping daughter tight, and the troubled father, with an arm around his pale son. He wished his parents were with him, but they were long gone. They had been separated from each other, and he missed them ever so much.
“Will we ever get there, Mama?” The little boy whined, staring up into his mother’s clouded eyes. The woman hesitated, then whispered;
“We’re almost there, Agi. Almost there.”
“But, Mama, you said that ages ago. I don’t believe you!” The boy had sat up, his green eyes now reflected in the light from the door. It looked eerie.
“Be quiet now, Agi, You’ll wake Milani.” the father gestured towards the sleeping girl, whose hair had fallen into her face, and who had slumped to the floor. Mama quickly picked her up, and propped her head upon her shoulder.
“Hmm… Why did you wake me up?” Milani yawned.
“Hey, it’s Mama’s fault for lying!” The boy accused.
“Now, don’t you blame your mother!” the man shout-whispered.
People around them, muttered;
“Keep your voices down, the Nazis’ll hear us.”
He flinched as they ran into another series of bumps. This could never get any worse. Yet it always did.
Thanks for reading!