It started.

They took control of the radio and newspaper. What we heard was what they wanted us to hear. Restrictions were set upon us: We could only go into certain restaurants; others forbade us. Walking in the park was out of the question. Our jobs and businesses were taken away and we were given a curfew. Everytime they passed, whether it be on the streets or in a train, we bowed to them for fear of the consequences.

I was afriad.

But at least I still had my home.

They moved us to the ghetto, separating us from the world. We were given poor and small housing, pushed and cramped together while they took away our few possessions. Each day people were shot in the streets, women died screaming, children were beaten to death and babies were smothered.

It was cruel.

But at least I still had my family.

Then the trains came, one after another. We were herded like cattle into the square, where we were sorted. My brothers, sisters, mother and father were all pushed to one side, and I to another. As we marched, they laughed and pointed to the thick black smoke billowing overhead.

See where your family has gone?

I was lonely.

But at least I still had my pride.

We came to the concentration camp. They forced us to strip until we all stood naked. They shaved our heads and gave us impossible jobs and tasks, ridiculing us the entire way. To them we were no more than the dirt on which they walked.

It was hard.

But at least I still had my life.

But then they came and shot me.

So now what do I have?

= = =

This is just something I thought of while I was watching The Pianist...Such a haunting movie...

I've never written something "historical" before, so I'd really really REALLY (Really...You have no idea) appreciate it if you reviewed – Be honest!

And please excuse the spacing. I'm still not sure how to fix that.