My experience at sachsenhausen concentration camp.

A Story by Ab

TOPIC: A visit to a concentration camp

The morning mist is rolling through the once blood filled fields, as if trying to purify the evil, to bring back the innocents who died in vain but to no avail. Slowly as the mist begins to dissipate the tourists enter, eager to learn yet in grief at the events that took place. Four magnificently terrifying towers stand over the camp, once patrolling the grounds with its brilliance of a bright eye, but now to be kept asleep till the end of time. The pilgrims visiting these unholy grounds seemed to be marvelling at the cruelty exposed here, for never had anyone seen something so dark on such a bright day.

Nearby a wall stands, or whatever is left of it, riddled with many bullets. A hallucination causes the silky red liquid to flow out of these holes, as if trying to show that the spirits have not left, that they still linger on watching people visiting what once only could've been their doom. The chimney nearby, once spewing smoke and separating souls from bodies, stands crumbling, charred from both the atrocities and the smoke that would never again carry death to the skies of Europe. Attached to the chimney came the worst part of the camp, the gas chamber. Inside, the walls have been chipped off, not by time but by the soon to be deceased trying to get out, but with no luck. A heavy metal door was perched there blocking life from entering and allowing death to exit following the path to a crematorium, as if trying to burn the dead would wipe away the stains of that room. A nearby stable still managed to stand despite it's rotting planks, a small ray of sun seemed to flood the place with light, almost giving off an impression of an abandoned farm rather than a slaughter house.

Surrounded by decomposing fences, with a bent spine due to old age, the strangers wander around blinded by tears and consumed with misery. A wind begins to howl through the camp, sounding like the whispers of the ones who never made it out alive. The kids used to be so full of life, happiness and love but now those who survived are drained of such feelings, helplessly they look around at what once was the place they grew up. Where there childhood was put to the firing squad, just like their families. Train tracks run through the camp, the veins for pumping in prisoners as well as the supplies which were responsible for killing millions, the sound of it pulling in resonated only one word, ‘death’.

A museum sits there, once an old prisoner holding. Behind each glass case are possessions of the deceased, broken glasses twinkle back both the tears and the sun rays whereas the mountain of dolls seems so full of shattered dreams and hopes. A monument to oppression. But the worst display was the prisoners uniform, the stripes of blue and white, a flag towards the solidarity and brotherhood created by the suffering as well as the loss of personal relations. A flag dedicated to a united revolt against fascism and all those who followed it. An oath till the end to keep their heads up high despite the inhuman treatments shown throughout their captivity.

Slowly the sun begins to set, distraught visitors try to find their way back out, their eyes adjusting to the hues of orange beaming upon them unsure about what they feel but one feeling was certain, gratefulness for the sacrifices of the soldiers and the rebels to live in this newly shaped world. The sound of running engines fills the air, this time it was people leaving not coming in. The towers still nestle there, silently gazing as people leave. Alas the gate closes. Yet still a janitor walks on nearby, sweeping the dust and dirt, he looks up at the towers and scans them with a look of disgust, then his eyes reach the chimneys. So glorious with the setting sun behind it yet it’s story is enough to make a villain look like a hero. He gazes upon them, and on the gathering tears a Star of David flashes across. The day is finally over.