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Old 05-29-2010, 03:13 PM
EmmaR EmmaR is offline
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Default Yom HaShoah (posted on KidPub)

I ran my fingers over the stone wall, feeling the names under my hand. Through that wall I could feel the pain, desperation, fear. The hopeful and the hopeless. The cries of the old and young, falling to the bullets of prejudice. Remembering, my ears filled with the sound of a blasting siren, and my mind's eye saw the frozen streets of Israel, as we all remember the fallen and broken. An old memory ran through my head, almost as if seen on an ancient projector. The mothers and their small babies, old men and young boys, all lined up to be shot down. I was peering down that line trying to see what was over the line of broad shoulders in front of me. A little girl, no more, no less, oblivious to the fact that in a day I would be an orphan. I stood behind my parents. I was excited to get to the front, thinking there was some sort of reward there. I thought wrong. I saw my father walk into the room and a minute later I heard seven guns go off at once. I kept waiting for my father to come out, for us to return to our little home, but it never happened. Then my mother walked in, kissing me on the forehead one last time, bouncing my red curls, looking into my blue eyes. I heard the seven guns go off again. I waited at that place for days, even after the killing was over, waiting for mama and papa, but they never came back out. The siren in my head stopped, and I was swung at a sickening rate back to the present day, my hand still touching the names engraved into the stone. 5.9 million names, all with a story behind them. But I wasn't here for their story, I was here for mine.
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