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Writer's pictureEmma Smoker

My Life as a Jewish Concentration Camp Prisoner



My name is Eve, and I am 15 years old, although that does not really matter anymore. I grew up in a small village outside of Krakow, with my parents and sisters. I miss them and my old life more than anyone ever will know. But I cannot let the Nazis know that, or they could single me out and kill me.


I am a prisoner, no, a slave, in the Buchenwald camp in Germany. My existence is the same every day. I wake up in the overly crowded bunks, go to role call, doing everything to play the fatal game the Nazis have created and go unnoticed. Being noticed only gets you tortured, killed, or worse, many die because you did something horribly wrong, like trying to run away. Running only gets you and many innocent others shot.


After role call, we go to work, usually at the stone quarry. Today we are made to carry large rocks up a hill on our backs. Still I must not stand out. A prisoner beside me falls, and it takes every last ounce of my willpower to not stop and help her, for if I do, I will also die. So I walk on by, my very soul on fire for the girl. Inwardly, I curse the Nazis, for doing this, Germany, for letting them take over and create this awful thing, and my own self for not doing everything I can to help others in this living hell.

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