Broken Beginnings: Chapter Four and Chapter Five (Final Revisions)

Chapter Four:

November.21.1938

The days blend together, and the fear settles in, as if it’s an unwanted person at our table. Mother abandoned Father are on edge as Nazi Soldiers continue to Mark around, if we do not show them respect we can be shot, we must jump out of the way when they walk by, if we don’t we can be shot.

It is no longer safe for Naomi even to play in the garden, so I have taken to entertaining her with stories of far away lands, with princes and princesses,and all the food that they could ever eat.

I do my best to keep Naomi entertained, I play with her, give her my toys, and tell her stories, and read to her from my storybooks. We are both the same age, as twins, Mother says that Naomi came first though, and at first they had no idea anything was wrong, but it soon became evident something was wrong with Naomi, but I don’t see it that way, I think Naomi is perfect the way G-d made her and it wasn’t until the Nazi’s came that I longed for my sister to be different, to be normal, and that was only because she would be safer that way, and I must keep Naomi safe.

I do not want her to worry the way we are. I do not want her to live in the fear we are living in, I do not want her worrying everyday that we are going to be marched away and taken to someplace where we are all thrown into ghetto’s that are not fit for animals. But we cannot hide, we have no where to go.

I must believe that G-d will see us through, but I am wondering where G-d is in all of this. I am questioning the very G-d I used to pray to every night. Now when I do try to pray, the prayer sounds more like angry words.

Am I a bad person because I question G-d?

I do not know the answer to these questions, and I don’t know that I ever will. I can only pray that even with my questions and doubts, G-d still protects us.

It is time for lunch, and I must try to find something to fix Naomi, they have once again cut our rations, but Naomi must eat, she’s so thin, I’m afraid she will wither away.

I hope the next time I write, I will have something good to share, the pages in this journal are sad, and I want to…