AN: WARNING: THE CONTENT OF THIS STORY MAY UPSET SOME READERS.

I was set a history assessment to write an account of someone in Auschwitz (a concentration camp in ww2) when I got my mark back my teacher had actually commented on it's authentisity. I know that I don't normally post things based on non-fiction and especially topics that are upsetting but I thought that as it's a legal requirement for this subject to be taught I would like to see what you guys think of it. I would really appreciate some feedback telling me what you think.


Once upon a time there was a young girl called Clara – that's me! She lived happily with her parents in Germany. Then the war broke out. That's when the fairy tale turned into a horror story.

When war was declared we tried to run – my parents and me – but we were too late. Hitler had already sealed our fate and the fate of hundreds of others. We were sent to a concentration camp called Auschwitz – otherwise known as 'the place you're sent to die' As soon as we arrived, my parents were told that they were to have a shower after the long journey but when I tried to follow, the soldiers held me back saying I couldn't go in. The next time I saw my parents they were laying on the floor, lifeless. I cried the minute the soldier closed the door separating us as I could hear their pain filled screams, everyone outside the door could. They yelled out for what seemed like hours until every last drip of life had ran out of them.

The door was opened again and as I was held back by several official looking people suddenly, all I could feel was anger, anger at those horrible people who ripped my life to shreds. I was given a set of very scratchy clothes and was forced to hand over all my possessions – including the locket with the photo of my parents in, as you can probably guess I was very reluctant to hand this over but after seeing the woman next to me getting whipped for refusing to hand over her wedding ring I thought it'd be best if I took the shorter option and give it to the soldiers.

I was sent to work in a place called Canada where I was to sort through the clothes of everyone here – even the dead - and put all their possessions into a sealed box in the centre of the room - little did I know that this was actually a blessing in this place. One day while I was sorting through a pile of clothes, I found my locket. I traced my fingers along the engraving on the back and held it close making sure the tears I felt didn't fall down my face. As I was lost in my thoughts I didn't notice a long shadow towering over me until the person it belonged to gave me a quick tap on the shoulder. I swung round clutching the locket in my hands and looked up at a boy around my age that was on the same train as me when I first arrived here with my parents. He looked down at me and upon seeing the locket he simply nodded and stood facing the guards leaving me with the perfect chance to slip it into my shoe. He later told me that he did that at least 5 times – in his mind because the soldiers stole things - and they haven't had to endure the same things as us - we should have been able to keep what was rightfully ours. I'm not sure about this logic but was just happy to get my locket back and feel closer to my parents.

I'm surrounded by all my friends, people I've known my entire life, I try to ask them what they're doing here and tell them to run but I can't. Someone has pressed a button on the wall and now my entire world has been engulfed by darkness. The only thing I see is flashing images of my friend's faces around me I even see me parents screaming for me to get out, get out, get out. I can't breathe, I can't move, I'm trapped. My lungs tighten as I try to get air into them and suddenly I know...it's the end.

I bolted upright in the shelf I'd been put on to sleep and hit my head on the layer of solid concrete above me. I gasped for air and clung to the locket around my neck. Thank goodness it was just a dream I thought. It was just a bad dream. But I know that it was some people's reality. That it really happened.

For the next year and a half every time I closed my eyes – even just for a second – I could see the faces of everyone in my dream. Times when my eyes were open weren't much better, every day as I walked with my fellow workers to Canada I could see starving people being worked to death, children barely a few months old having experiments done on them, even more people delivered to their deaths in the gas chambers. It was like that place had been designed so that everywhere you looked there was something to make you want to run and hide until the pain went away... it's just that there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere in this place was safe. Not for someone like me anyway.

I was lucky. Although I lost my parents and witnessed all the tortures of this place I was given food, I kept my locket and, unlike most people sent to Auschwitz, I survived. I got out.

The war ended and although nothing would ever be the same there was still the comfort that nobody would ever have to experience what I have ever again. Oh and that boy who helped me get my locket back – we became close once we got home and ended up falling in love. It's nice to know that he understands what I've been through and I understand what he's been through too. We never talk about the war because we already know so we don't need or want to relive it.

Everyone expects a story as sad as ours to end with 'and they all lived happily ever after' but that's not true. There could never be a happy ending after Auschwitz...