My Soul to Keep

Joslyn Stanfield

Smoke seeped through the small cracks in the window like an eager phantom. Gunshots echoed through my thoughts, fighting my attempts to see the sunlight. Through the dust and smoke I could make out my desperate mother, clawing at our shirts to keep us together. My brothers were screaming, confusion controlling their emotions, tears eroding their cheeks, and my baby sister too young to recollect the tears that should be shed over this moment in our lives. The smell was numb against my senses, but I could smell my sight, the dead bodies spread like fallen leaves against the cold ground, rust and rotting food hit my face with every gust of colored wind.

My youth was a barrier against my understanding, but I knew our lives were being taken. We found the single silent corner in this confusion and our mother pulled us to the ground, my cold hip fell against an uncomfortable rift in the ground. My mother’s mouth assured us safety but her eyes told the truth. Our chances of survival were skimming the cliffs edge, waiting for a chance to slip. Screaming roared through the camp like a broken siren unattended. There were no pauses in the strained faces, no one cared to stop and help the hollowed eyes of the now broken families.

Once again the running began, my mother burrowed her fingers into my brothers’ torn shirts. The faces through the camp were faces of pain, faces of anxiety. I followed silently, waiting for a chance to comfort my independent mother the way she comforts us. My mother is strong; I only hope to become so resilient. Auschwitz has been my home for months; I am one of the lucky ones. My family is new to this camp, and our stay is not lasting. The empty eyes of my friends and families compared to the eager eyes of the officers frighten me; their disgust for my race is overwhelming.

The cabin I stayed in with my youngest brother and twenty others, and the cabin that held my mother, oldest brother, and sister are now being paraded to a dark building. The building is tall and ominous; smoke barreling from the chimney brings images of malevolence. The putrid smell that fills the once sunlit sky stuns my senses, and tackles my brothers’ innocence. The tears alone shed by these strangers are enough to drown my mothers’ strength, as I can see her begin to wither from the approaching darkness. The ground became colder and I realized we were on cement now; the color was a deceiving moss green with veins of blue, much like the worn faces surrounding us.

My mother stopped us, ashes began to fall to the ground as though the cold had finally unleashed its anger, and the screams had begun to fall as well. Small children searched frantically for their parents, “where is my mother?” I heard many of the children ask the officers, the officers brushed off their questions as little pin pricks and simply pointed to the layering cloud in the sky. Sickness spread across my face as I began to understand, and yet confusion stayed with the small children, this I was thankful for.

            Someone cried in the distance, I snapped my head to see my mother wailing from a hit one of the officers had stretched across her face. “KEEP WALKING!” they pushed us, my brother fell to the ground. They kept pushing until my brother was lost in the sea of grey. My mother screamed in horror, I could see instinct fierce in her eyes. She clawed at the parade, pushed her way through until she found my helpless brother being treaded on. With only my sister, my brother and I together now I knew it was my turn to be the adult. I threw my arms around them like a sick willow and cradled them both until my mother was back with my young brother clung to her thin shoulders.

            More screaming, the building was rising above our small heads; more of my people were forced into the doors, some crying for help and others giving in. Ashes fell over our thick black hair; a chill erupted through my body. It was our turn, I looked at my mother with frantic eyes, so many questions I had. The officers shoved us into the dark hallway and stripped us of the clothes we were given when we entered the camp. Another door opened; there were no officers in here to push us along. The doors behind us began rattling, loud sounds spread across the small room, the sounds alone were enough to make us progress.

            The room, which held our lives, now was bigger, it was dark. Creaking sounds pulled my family tighter together. The long doors behind us swung shut with a shuttering sound. The once musty smell began to become acidic to our young noses and the screaming began again. I felt my sister latch onto my leg; my mother surrounded us with her pale arms. I felt tears flood my darkened eyes; I looked for my mothers face in the dark, nothing. More chills rendered my spine and everyone fell silent. I listened intently for someone to make a sound, all I heard was my mothers small voice “be strong, we will be together again.”