A Fictional Holocaust Story
by Kirsten B.
My parents have always hated Jewish people for as long as I can
remember, and their hatred for them never really affected me until one
day, and that was the day I saw the Jewish family next door being taken
away from their home. The Nazis pushed and shoved them into the back of
the green truck that they had, but then the father of the family tried
to escape. One of the Nazis took the handle of his gun, and hit him
with it on his head. He was knocked out cold, and two other Nazis
helped him carry the father into the truck. Anger flooded through my
face, and I instantly ran inside before I could see anything else. I
was fifteen then, and something told me that I could make a difference
by hiding these innocent people so they wouldn't be taken away from
their homes. That's when I found a family, a family named the
Goldstein's, and took them in under my care. Even though I knew that I
would need a miracle to save my life if I was caught hiding this Jewish
family, I knew that my choice was the right one. So, disregarding the
fact that my parents would disapprove of my decision, I hid the
Goldstein family in the loft of our barn.
I looked up the stairs to make sure my parents weren't watching, and I
hurried over to the counter where the leftover bread was from dinner. I
quickly stuffed four of them under my shirt, and checked once again to
make sure nobody was looking. Then, I opened the back door, and stepped
out onto the back lawn, and to the empty barn that we had. I could
barely see what lay in front of me because it was pretty late at night,
and I could hear nothing except the noise of my shoes slipping on the
wet grass. I made it to the barn, and looking around me to make sure
nobody was there, I pulled open the barn doors. I shut the doors behind
me, and sought on the ground for the lamp and matches that I kept close
to the door. Somehow I lit it, and looked up to the loft.
"Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein? It's me, Katherine.
I have some bread for you," I whispered as
I saw two little heads of the children pop out from
the loft. I climbed up the rickety ladder to the loft,
and handed the four pieces of bread to Mrs.
Goldstein. She smiled and gave the other
three pieces to the rest of her family. The two
children took their pieces hungrily, and quickly
the bread was gone. I sat watching them
for a few minutes, and then stood up. "Well,
I guess I better go. I'll try to get some food
for you in the morning." I climbed back down the
ladder, and was about to blow out the light in the
lamp, when Mr. Goldstein spoke up.
"Thank you," Mr. Goldstein whispered. I smiled slightly and blew out
"No problem," I replied and opened the barn doors. I looked back at
the pitch-black loft once again, and then I stepped out onto the wet
The next week, I was walking to the market to get some milk and bread
for my mother, when I saw an old Jewish man being yelled at from some
teenage boys around my age. The man walked a little bit faster to get
away from the boys, but the boys continued to yell and curse at him. I
balled up my fists and wanted to scream at the boys to stop, but I kept
my mouth shut and walked onward.
I started to cross the street from the market after I bought my milk
and bread, and had to stop abruptly when a Nazi truck zoomed by without
even slowing down. I watched it as it sped down the street and sighed.
The brown bags that held the milk and bread grew heavy on my arms, and I
shifted them and continued to walk. I looked down at my feet while I
walked, but then I saw something that caught my eye. A man was lying on
the ground by an oak tree, and when I looked closer, I saw that it was
the old man that was being yelled at by the boys. But as I continued to
walk, I saw a large cut that ran from his forehead to his throat, and a
black eye. His left arm was twisted under him in an awkward way, and
his clothes were torn and stained with blood. I nearly lost my balance
by just staring at him, and without thinking, I ran over to him-dropping
my bags as I ran. He stared up blankly at me as I checked to see if he
had any broken bones, but when I gingerly moved his arm from under him,
he winced in pain.
broken," I muttered under my breath. Then, I placed a hand on
his elbow, and he yelled in pain. "It's okay. Shh,"
I said not touching that arm anymore. Then, I looked around to make
sure no one was looking, and sighed. "Can you stand? Do
you want me to help you?" I asked. The man continued to stare
at me, and then he tried to get up. He needed some assistance, but
he was up on his feet, but he was favoring his left arm. "You
have a family?" I questioned, not knowing what to do. The
man shook his head no, and he looked down at his feet. I paused for a
moment, and then realized that I could take him in. "You
want to come with me?" The man stared at me and didn't say a
"It's okay, I-I," I stopped for a moment and looked around me to make
sure nobody else was there. "I've been hiding a family out in the loft
of my, or my family's barn, and I would like for you to join the family
that I have in there," I whispered. The man looked at me, and then
touched the star on his coat. He paused, and then he nodded his head
slowly. I smiled back at him, and then helped him walk to the barn in
my backyard but I took the long way through the woods, so it would be
least likely that I would be caught with a Jew.
"Andy look! Over there. Look what she's doing," one of the boys that
beat up the old man whispered. His best friend, Andy, walked out from
the bush that he was hiding behind of, and he smiled slightly.
"Come on, let's go Jack," he replied, and he took off running as fast
as he could.
"In here, get in before my parents see you," I opened the barn doors
and let the man inside. I stepped into the barn, and closed the doors
behind me. "Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein? Noam? Manya? It's me,
Katherine. I found another man who would like to hide with you if that
would be fine with you guys," I whispered. The room was quiet, and then
I could hear Mr. Goldstein's muffled voice.
"That would be fine with us," he said softly.
"Good, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, Noam, and Manya, meet Meyer Fildman," I
said patting the old man on his sore arm gingerly. I led him up the
ladder to the loft, and he climbed up it clumsily. Once we got to the
top, Meyer shook everyone's hands, and then sat down in the hay with his
arm in his lap. "Okay, I guess I-" my sentence was cut short as the
barn door slammed open and Nazi soldiers stormed in. My heart pounded
in my ears as the men spotted all six of us in the loft. I looked back
at them, and then saw out of the corner of my eye, the two boys who beat
up and yelled at Meyer earlier in the day. I knew that once they got
all six of us on that truck, the odds of us getting out, would be
||It has been
exactly 23 years after we were taken to the concentration camp. Mr.
Goldstein and I were sent to Mauthausen in Austria, Noam and Manya were
taken to Dachau in Germany, Mrs. Goldstein was in Leitmeritz in
Czechoslovakia, and lastly, Meyer was taken to Auschwitz. Everyone,
except for Meyer Fildman survived the horror of the concentration camps
during the Holocaust, and we were reunited last week when my mother, who
once hated the Jews, found the Goldstein family in a phonebook.
We had a big reunion, where they gave me all these flowers for risking my life
for them, and we made a memorial service for Meyer who was only with us
for about 30 minutes. Today, Mr. Goldstein passed away from old age,
and on his grave read: A survivor of the Holocaust, thanks to Katherine