Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Memoirs of a Night Dweller

My name is Saul Goldztein, and I am 17 years old. I lived peacefully in my hometown of Prague with my mother, father and three younger sisters. I was violently captured one year ago and brought to Terezin, a model concentration camp. Here, Hitler's followers punish us simply for our race: Jew. Never did I know that a person's most true identity could be the near death of him. We are treated like filthy worthless animals here, being devoured by the vicious wolves. I have seen infants, mothers and elders burned alive.

I lay awake on the floor trying so hard to find a hidden strand of hope somewhere in this thick quilt of despair. Yet as optimistic as I pride myself to be, I can never find even one follicle of truth alluding to the fact that life could actually be good. It feels almost criminal to imagine that this situation, this living Hell, this pit of desperation, could be considered the least bit good. It is dark now. Night, I guess that’s what most would call it. But everything seems like one vague blur to me now. What makes night and day so drastically different? The sun rises and the sun sets. However, in this camp, the sun hasn’t risen since the day of capture and it won’t set until the day of liberation.

Liberation. This humble thought of hope eludes most here at the camp. They are counting the days, wishing the end of these derogatory ways would come faster. Better to go ahead and end this pain than to slowly suffer to their own despair. I, myself, am torn; to wish for liberation is too much to covet, but to be tortured is no way to leave this place. This Hell on earth has left a dark flame in place of my soul, it burns within me day by day, or night by night; it is all the same to me now. I see things I once thought appeared only in the darkest men’s souls. This world I am trapped in has become my greatest fear. Hitler’s wrath engulfs all, and with it takes with it their conscience, their integrity, and most important, their humanity. I have witnessed sons killing fathers, brothers killing brothers, and ravenous fighting within the camp. I close my eyes and try to recall happier days, before this torturous life. I try to remember that feeling of happiness, which I used to know so well. But I can recall nothing. All I feel is the heat from the flame that burns within me and the cold of the night that splits my skin.

Everyday more and more is lost, all in the name of what? Life? Equality? Hitler? All humanity is lost here, for we are barely human anymore. I've gone a week without food, a month without sleep, and a year without seeing my family. Every day I think about the easy way to end this torture, but then I realize there's no point to killing myself after making it this far. I try to be optimistic, to think about the past, the future, anytime but now. But it is extremely difficult to smile and reminisce while being beaten by a Nazi.

Mother’s warm voice is overshadowed by the harsh ruff scratched voices of the SS guards. The giggle of my sister forever lost to the piercing sound of my Kapo’s whistle. My father’s face has left me. The faces of my fellow prisoners have stolen my precious memories. I am basked in a darkness that seems everlasting. Dark thoughts of ending the hazy days and nights cross my mind frequently. Throw yourself on that fence. End your pain. Hit that guard. Get yourself shot. Leave this place. Die. My mind fights off the voice telling me to give up. I have to. Yes, the light of hope seems far away, but it is there. I know it is. God seems silent right now, but He will deliver his people from this spell of darkness.

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