The Fall of Family

Never in my lifetime of barely twelve years had I ever had such a killing headache on the cold, icy evening of October. Tomorrow was Halloween, my least favorite day of the year.

With my seven brothers and six sisters yelping loudly about whether or not I was going to help them with their costume, (Which I wasn't but mum made me), I had a massive headache. Only hoping that it would go away soon, I complained to mum and dad, "Can't you help them, mum's better at sewing than I am, and dad can help Wyler with his pirate costume! Please?" Of course I had better things to do than get stupid Lollypops and Horehounds with my younger brothers and sisters.

I was the eldest of fourteen in our little Russain-Jewish family. Even though we lived in Germany, hiding from the Nazi's. In my mind, it had always been a stupid place to hide from the Nazi's since most of them were in Germany already. However, according to our town records, we were whole German, and not Jewish because of an ld rumor my dad started. 1929 was the year of my birth, and World War Two had been about two years into itself at the time.

Totally normal right? Yea, that's what everyone says, because just when I was finished complaining for the twentieth time that day. At exactly 8:46 P.M., six men rammed the door down forceful and very impaitent. Seriously, didn't knock or anything. Anyway, these men wore grey army suits with, on the shoulder, a red symbol. Just like the ones on the flag they made us fly above the roof.

I didn't know why then, but my dad looked scared, my dad! And I could only think of two words at that moment. They know! They know that my father was born into a whole jewish family. That's why we lied, they were attempting to kill all of us. I saw a face on my father I had never seen before, a face that said, I love you, a face that said goodbye, forever. That was the day I lost my father, the day I never complained again, the day I watched my father Fall to his painful death. The last thing I said to him was that I hated him, so all I can think about him now is that I love him more than life itself.

My father, as you know, was sentenced to death that day. He was shot. A week after that, my mother, and all of my siblings, except one, Myra, who was hiding along with me at the time, were sent off to a consentration camp. So then all I had was me and myra, my little 5 month old sister. To feed and take care of all on my own. Me, at the age of 12. That was when my childhood ended, the worrying began, and when the story began.