Not Greek Chronicles. Just a story about the Holocaust.
"Mama, what was it like when you were young?"
I asked her this question often, usually she never answered. But today was different. Nothing special. I could tell by the expression on Mama's face that she had felt a pang in her heart, that there was something there that she tried with so much effort to let go of, but simply had to remain.
"When I was young," she repeated with such tone in her voice, I could tell she was getting ready to go in to one of her endless tales, the ones she always used to tell me. I may have been eleven, but I have never (and, hopefully,
will never) get tired of them.
My brother, however, reacted very differently.
"BLAH BLAH BLAH!" He put his hands on the sides of his head and wiggled his fingers ferociously. "Mom, I'm too OLD to hear about Unicorns and Fairies. I want something DIFFERENT!"
My mother smiled knowingly. "I doubt you will be disappointed."
She leaned back in her chair, sighing. "I was much like you when I was young," she grinned, tickling my cheek. "And your uncle Jonathan cloned you, too," She glanced at my brother, and rubbed his cheek affectionately. Stubborn as he was, I could see that he was trying desperately to hide a grin.
"The different thing," Mama grimaced,"was that our lives were in danger.
"We lived in 1943, in Denmark. We lived under fear, anxiety, and longing. For loved ones, for good meals, for freedom. My family was -"
"Hold on a second!" My brother leaped up with such forced that a glass knocked over and loudly reached its end, "Wasn't 1943 World War Two? Wasn't that when
Hit-"
My mother glared at him through beautiful, yet tired eyes. Her icy stare was like a tiger's ferocious roar when it has lost its baby. It pierced through him like a bloody arrow, and he stepped back, uncertain. Never had my mother looked like this. Never had she been as angry as she was right now.
"Do. Not. Say. His. Name." The words were expressionless. It was like my mother was possessed by an evil, menacing creature. Hungry for power. Desperate to be ruler.
That creature was probably the ghost of her past.
My mother's eyes became softer, and she glanced down at us kids. "Anyway, I remember our family was being hunted down by a group known as the" - she gulped - "Nazis. We were Jewish, after all. Oh, how I
wish we could be different than we already were! Several of our family members have already been sent to a Jewish Work Camp, and at least have of them had starved to death. My mother was determined to get us out safely, out of the treacherous land they call
theirs.
"I still remember the day when my father became determined that, sooner or later, we would be taken to work camp. Of course, everyone predicted the same, spine chilling prediction, but my father wanted us desperately to escape. I still remember when that day came," Mama, I could see, started talking more to herself than to Jonathan and I.
"The problem was, of course, we didn't know what day that was. Every day seemed imperfect. The Nazis didn't know we were Jewish until one of them went into the Synagogue and stole the names of all the Jewish people. It happened very suddenly. I remember my father coming home from work one day, and walking straight to the living room. I could have swore I heard him crying."
A long silence followed. My brother and I didn't know how to break it, so we just sat there, as the flickering torch flickered on and on in the chilly living room.
And then it started again.
"When my father finally came for dinner, his cheeks were a light shade of crimson red. He told us there was a tunnel in the attic that could help us escape. I remember what he said back then, 'whatever happens, if I get killed, take of running.' He made our mother, Jonathan and I promise that we would.
"Getting out the passage was okay, but escaping in hiding was hard. When we got out of the passage, we all stayed low and kept silent as a stone - our father didn't need to tell us to do so.
"A voice came from behind us, 'and just where do you think you are going?'
"The Nazis had come.
"My heart was beating in my chest, so much so that I was wondering why it hadn't collapsed from exhaustion yet. I looked up at my father, but he didn't look back, although i could tell he was yearning to take me in his arms, to kiss my cheek, to tell me everything was going to be okay.
"My father betrayed emotions like that.
"Instead, he looked up at the Nazi soldier in his eye, and said, 'we were going out for a walk.'
"The Nazi - which i could tell was clearly looking forward to doing so - shot my father straight in the chest. He did so my mother and brother, too. Luckily, I was the only one in my family who decided to wear black, so the Nazi couldn't see me.
"But oh, I ran. Faster than I ever thought possible. When I was around ten yards away, the soldier saw me. I could tell that he was young, new, and confused. But he followed me.
"Which was how, after that, I was brought in to hiding, then, when the war was over, to Canada."
I leaped up out of my chair, "But Mama,
how did you get to Canada?
Who brought you in to hiding?"
"That," she told us, "Is a story for another time."
How has he changed us magnificently in the past decade? 
