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Message to Readers

I really suck at historical fiction. It's what I would call my challenge genre. But, here it is!

Death Parade #supposedtobe

March 8, 2019


I watched as they dragged their feet across the snowy field. I wanted to help them. I really did. But, I knew better. All of my friends, who were standing on my curb beside me, knew better too. They knew that if they were to help a Jewish man, they would be shamed by the whole community. Heck, all of Germany even. For, if you help a Jew, you become dirt and filth just like them. 
At that moment, I thought of Mila. She was my very first Jewish friend. My very first true friend. Even though we had different faiths, we were both united by our love for art. Whether it be sculptures or fingerprinting, Mila and I would do it together. What would she think of me just standing there, doing nothing? Surely, she would be disappointed. But, not surprised or angry. Mila was always a fighter, going against the people who presented problems for her people. And, I, just kinda sit in the back and protest in my head. I could never be as brave as Mila. In fact, most couldn't be as brave as Mila. What other sixteen-year-old girl would walk right up to a strong, intimidating Nazi solider and spit on his jackboot? Although, that was a truly stupid descision. Maybe if she hadn't done that, she wouldn't have dragged her away. Maybe she would still be here today.
"It's like a parade!" Leslie, my younger sister, commented.
I looked at the group of Jews trudging through the snow. Parades are supposed to be happy events, in which you sit on your father's shoulder and watch the happy people marched by. This was no parade. There was nothing happy about hundreds of men and women trudging through the snow, chains on their feet to secure that they couldn't escape. And there were no happy faces.
I told myself, I will draw a picture of all this. In honor of Mila, of course.
And, later that night, I did exactly that. I drew the horrid death parade. I drew the sky, cloudy and miserable. I drew the Nazi soldiers, their jackboots reminding me of that horrid day with Mila. I drew the legs of the Jewish marchers, confined by tight chains. I drew the gathering crowd, making sure to include myself. But, what I concentrate on the most was everyone's faces. You can tell a lot about people by their facial expressions. The Nazi soldier's were faces that wore mean scowls. Most of the crowd's were faces that wore smiles, happy that the Jews were "getting what they deserved". Although in the crowd about a dozen were faces that wore a look of pity for people that they wanted to help but couldn't. And the Jew's were faces that are guilt-free.
The bolded phrase is line two from The Bubbling Pen's poem, "Supposed To Be"

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  • LittleWolf

    This was beautiful

    9 months ago
  • The Bubbling Pen

    I love reading historical fiction and this piece is fantastic! Good luck for my contest <3

    10 months ago