Young Writers Society

As the bright sun began to rise over the camp, I pondered my thoughts. Maybe today we would be fed. Maybe today they’d go easy on us with our chores. Maybe today they wouldn’t hurt me.
Even though my thoughts were wounded and were only of the tragic life I now lived, they were mine. The only thing I truly possessed.

The other woman began to stir, and rise from their slumber. I couldn’t understand how they could sleep so peacefully in this hell. I had barely slept through a whole night since id been forced to live the life of a slave.

“Anna?” a hoarse voice questioned my identity. I turned to look at my friend. Her face was battered and bruised from the beating she’d copped the day before.
A siren sounded. It was time for the day to begin and we must not be late. If so, we’d pay the consequences…

* * *

He beat me over and over with his club. It wasn’t the first time I’d been punished. I was almost used to the sting of the blows that I took.
“You think you can be late in my camp, huh?” he screamed with rage. “Well think again!” And he hit me again with his club. When I cried out in agony, he hit harder.

Cold, salty water was poured into the wounds on my back. The pain was excruciating. I let out another scream.
“Take it! You will take what you deserve and enjoy it!” He just kept on yelling and shoving me. He looked down at me, his eyes burnt with anger, and I knew what was coming next.

What he was about to do to me would most leave me fragile and broken. He tore what was left of my striped pyjamas from my body, leaving me naked and cold on the hard, wet floor of the warehouse.

He came at me with abuse in his eyes. I knew it was coming and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. So then I dried my eyes and scattered to my feet. I was not allowed to cry during this particular punishment. I was told I had to enjoy every god forsaken minute of it.

* * *

Every time I shut my eyes I was back in the warehouse. His face filled with authority and abuse, was burnt into the back of my eyelids. I couldn’t escape the abuse.
I sat up screaming. I was reliving the abuse in my nightmares. There was no escape. The tears began to swell up in my eyes until they spilled over the rims and rolled down my cheeks.

As I sat there, everything around me began to fade and then eventually disappear. I didn’t understand what was going on. There was no explanation for objects just disappearing.
“Mildred?” I cried out, trying to wake the other women. “Evelyn? Anyone? Please help!” But no one answered my weak cries. I gave up, and let myself fade away.

Suddenly I was not fading anymore. But I wasn’t me, and I wasn’t at the camp. All of a sudden these strange men were tweaking with buttons and tubes next to the bed I lay in.
“Good evening, Anna. How are you feeling?” The bright eyed man asked with a genuine smile on his face.
Who was he? Where was I?

“Stay back!” My voice wasn’t quite right either. It sounded aged, and throaty. There was a tray of food on my lap. Why was I suddenly being given food? I snatched up all the food and shoved it behind the pillows that I rest upon.
“Don’t hurt me. Please. I beg of you. Just let me be.” I cried out.
The strange men then rushed to my sides and restrained my arms. I screamed. They were going to hurt me. Just like the men back at the camp. Maybe I’d been transferred to another camp…

A different man came at me now with a syringe in his hand.
“It’s okay, Anna. You’re going to be just fine.” And then he injected me with the syringe.
Everything became distant and blurry. And then I was gone again.
I was back at the camp, in my old bunk, with my old friends. What had just happened to me?

* * *

27-10-07

Dear Diary,
Last night my wife Anna had another… episode. Every time she wakes up she thinks she’s back in the concentration camp from decades ago. Every time she wakes up like this, it brings me to tears. It’s happening more often. The doctors say that soon enough it’ll happen every time she wakes up. I can’t explain the heartache that I feel. I’ve lost my dear Anna, my one true love.
Goodbye for now.
Graham.

Hey Tayla!

One thing that kind of confused me... which concentration camp is this? I mean, I'm assuming it's a Nazi-run concentration camp since that's what's typical, but I'm not sure since other countries have also had concentration camps at different periods of history. To make it more specific, try describing their uniforms. Also, there is a lot of literature about women concentration camps for Nazis, so if this is a Nazi-run concentration camp, then, you can look at that.

However, if she's from Argentina-run concentration camp... well... that may a little bit more difficult to find out information, since that was a very recent thing and nobody likes to talk about it.

In any case, I would like to see more of what happens to her. And strange things happen when you start getting beaten... it's not like some long extended period of sharp pain. If she acted the way you did, concentrating solely on the pain, she would die. Too many people have died from having nothing to live for. It's what she loves, what she can escape to which can make her live. So let's see what she loves... let's see what she lives for. Right now, I'm having a hard time that she actually lived through this. There's too much pain and nothing else. Obviously, there is a lot of pain in a concentration camp. But that's not the only thing.

As far as the syringe... how is that important? I mean, it looks like you are implying that the drugs are what are inducing these episodes, but at the same time, this doesn't make sense since concentration camps of ANY sort typically produce post traumatic stress disorder which will create all the symptoms and more. Very scary stuff.

I also don't understand what Graham's position in this is... his diary entry is vague and it does more to muddle what is clear in the story.

Hope this helps!

Hi there,

I read this and it just didn't seem realistic enough. Have you ever seen the movie Sophie's Choice? It displays the camps and the psychological effects afterwards brilliantly, as well as being an amazing film. The narrator just sounded self-pitying, and no one likes someone who's always harping on about how their life stinks.

I think it might be more effective if you didn't write Graham's diary entry but rather showed the reader how Anna reacts around him. Or, alternately, maybe it's all from Graham's perspective: his wife, this bitter old lady he has come to hate, spits at him and calls him "verdammtes Nazi" (d..m Nazi). Graham knows what she's been through, but he's had enough of her games and hits her. Some time later, after Anna's death, he finds her diaries from the year immediately following her release from the camp. Actually, if you decide not to write this story, I'd like to, so if you PM me with permission we could talk about it?

Well, you reviewed mine so i will return the favor. (But be warned I'm not that good at critiquing)
Ah, at the very start i was confused. But i soon got it.
In the positive it's got no grammatical errors that i can see. (Something that I'm constantly tripping up on)
But all in all. Try add some more depth to the story. You could describe yourself (Anna) before and and now at her condition perhaps she was once a beautiful woman and now a walking skeleton that breathes and she has hatred for the SS officers that imprisoned her there.
Any way good story.

good job






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Lovely.

Short & Sweet review.
Ben