this is my assignment for applying an art school (known as perpich; as you can tell from the title) that i got excepted to and will be attending..the literary arts teachers like it very much,saying that is was the only one they have read of that kind...but i dont know if they read anything else like it but whatever... i thought i migh tas well put it up here for all those great writers on here to see and tell me what they think of my assignment...

A/N: this is about the Jews going to Auschwitz during WWII. when i wrote this i have just finished watching Schindler's List in history class. so some of this is based of what i have watched from the movie.

I remember the stories I heard from other Jews about the camp in Auschwitz. They would send people to a room and get them undressed and send them all to another room where they would shower, but once they went in they never came back out.

I remembered this when our train stopped in front of the Auschwitz camp. I could here men outside yelling orders out to the Jewish slaves who were scrambling to get wooden planks to the front of the train car doors so that, us, the new arrivals, could get out.

The car door opened, and we ran out of the car as fast as we could, trying our best not to anger the Nazis who were yelling at us to hurry up; herding us up like a bunch of cattle.

After that they branched us off into two groups: men and boys, and women and girls. Then they sent us to separate rooms. I followed my mother, afraid of what was happening; and her holding me close to her.

We ran into a room where a row of chairs were and they told those first in our group to sit down. They shaved our heads and then made us strip bare naked. Taking our clothes and anything else that was on us so that we had nothing on at all.

They bestowed upon each person a bar of soap, then told us to run into the showers so that we could get cleaned. The room was big with no windows at all; just cement walls and ceilings, with showerheads lined against the walls and above us from metal railings. My mother pulled me close to her; bringing us toward a niche of the shower room. Then I heard the doors being closed.

I was clutching hard on my mother. Scared to death of what is happening. The lights turned off after a moment, and then everyone started to scream. No one could see anything. I could feel my heart beat rapidly in my chest as the screaming grew louder with each second. The terror of dying in this place was overwhelming me. I then heard a noise. The lights came back on but very dim, and then I saw gas coming out of the showerheads.

My mother was praying and clutching me tight, trying to hide and cover me so that no gas would come near me. I saw her tears slipping down her cheeks. Suddenly I felt the air erratically leave my lungs, making me cough and gasp for air. My eyesight was going blurry. I could hear the screams becoming faint with each minute of breathing in the gas, and then my world was spiraling around me; the screams dying, and then nothing.