A Ringing Silence

*Ivy's Note* This story is dedicated to all the Holocaust survivors, and all of the Jews who perished during this terrible event. I also dedicate this to Nainika Gupta and Bill Cipher, who gave me critique on it before I even finished it. I'm also dedicating it to Maya Emerson and Sapphire, and all my fellow Reedsy lovers that I haven't met. (Yet.)

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/ccbca4/

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/mufasa/

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/87fbc6/

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/bill-cipher-5ade7f/

Enjoy! :D

Lodz Ghetto, Poland

March 4th, 1941

Afternoon

"Mama! Tatte! Help!"

Sala's cry pierces the quiet afternoon.

It is silenced by a sharp slap.

"Sala! We've told you not to play in the fro-" Sala's mama, Hendla, stops short. She turns pale, and her knees begin to shake in fear.

There, standing in front of them with Sala's arms behind her back, is a Nazi.

"No. No, no, no. The ghetto is supposed to be safe," she whispers. Sala's tatte, Josek, takes Hendla's arm. "Shh. I'll talk to him. Just... stay quiet."

Josek takes a few tentative steps forward. "Sir, please release my daughter. She's only eight, sir, and you're causing her pain."

"Stille, Jude!" The Nazi's accent is harsh, and his abrupt words cause Sala to flinch. Tears are streaming down her cheeks now, and her face is white with pain.

"Please. I beg of you, let her go. She is only a child. She means no harm," pleads Hendla, now too desperate to listen to Josek's words. "Please. Please, just let her go. We... we'll give you money, cigarettes, food, anything, just let her go." Her voice is barely audible, her hands are clasped in front of her. Her sobs are racking her body.

The Nazi seems to hesitate, considering her offer. He nods once, then releases his grip on Sala.

"Mama, Tatte!" Sala rushes into her parent's arms, sobbing aloud, long, heart-wrenching sobs that shake her small, thin frame. The soldier watches them for a moment, then speaks. "Jetzt gib mir das Geld, von dem du gesagt hast, du würdest es mir geben."

Josek, who has picked up many German words, nods, then pulls out his wallet, which contains the little money he has saved. The Nazi snatches it, then dumps its little contents into his large, gloved palm. There are about 20 marks, the official currency of the Lodz ghetto, and two pictures- one of Hendla, and another of Sala. He picks up the small photos, and crumples them. Then he throws them on the ground, puts the money back in the wallet, and walks away, leaving a sobbing mother and daughter, and a wordless father.

Lodz Ghetto, Poland

March 4th, 1941

Evening

The rest of the day passes by slowly. Sala doesn't dare to go outside, not even the back, for fear of the Nazis. Hendla stays with Sala, the two of them sitting in their only chair, the only one they have left. They'd sold their other chairs, along with many other pieces of furniture, in order to have enough money to buy what food they could. Now the money is with the Nazi, and they only have their meager vegetable garden.

"Mama, what if he comes back? What if he comes back and takes Tatte? Tatte's all alone outside," Sala whispers.

"Shh, sheifale, do not worry about Tatte. He will be alright. The Nazi won't come back. We gave him what he wanted, now he will leave us alone," whispers Hendla, knowing all too well that the Nazi might come back. But Sala seems satisfied with her mama's response, because she gives a little nod, and leans her head back against Hendla's shoulder. Hendla strokes Sala's head, and softly sings a Yiddish lullaby, Sala's favorite.

"Shtiler, shtiler, lomir shvaygn

Kvorim vaksn do.

S'hobn zey farflantst si sonim:

Grinen zey tsum blo.

S'firn vegn tsu ponar tsu,

S'firt keyn veg tsurik,

Iz der tate vu farshvundn

Un mit im dos glik.

Shtiler, kind mayns, veyn nit, oytser,

S'helft nit keyn geveyn,

Undzer umglik veln sonim

Say vi nit farshteyn.

S'hobn breges oykh di yamen,

S'hobn oykhet tfises tsamen,

Nor tsu undzer payn

Keyn bisl shayn.

Sala is soon lulled to sleep, and Josek quietly opens the door. He brings in a few small potatoes and onions for dinner, and he gives them to Hendla, then goes the the wash basin and cleans up. Hendla gently slides Sala off of her lap, and goes to the stove. She lights the wood, part of an old broken table, and then sets a pot on the stovetop. She scoops some water out of a barrel in a corner, which contains rainwater that they have collected. They are almost out, and the barrel outside has so very little water in it.

"Starvation and dehydration will kill us before the Nazi's do," Hendla thinks grimly. She pours the water in the pot to boil, and starts to cut the potatoes and onions. In just a few minutes, she is done. She dumps them into the pot, and pours in a little bit of precious broth. Soon the soup is done. "Josek, Sala, it's dinner time," she says softly. She pours a little into three bowls, then pours the rest into another bowl. She covers it, then sets it on the counter for tomorrow. Then they all sit down at the table. They pray a small prayer, then begin. They eat slowly and quietly, trying to savor their watery soup. Sala sighs. "Mama, when can we have bigos, and pierogi, and Polskie naleśniki? I am tired of watery potato and onion soup. Even borscht would be nice."

"I don't know, sheifale, I don't know. Maybe soon. Maybe soon this war will be over, and we will be eating so much bigos, and pierogi that our buttons will pop off our clothes, and we will never eat another potato and onion soup again," Hendla says, giving Sala a warm smile. Sala laughs, a gleeful laugh, the first in a long time. Josek chuckles, then raises his bowl in a toast.

"To bigos, and Polskie naleśniki, and pierogi. May we never starve again when this cruel war is over." They all laugh, and raise their bowls, and tap them gently together. They begin to talk of happier times, a little color back in their cheeks, happy once more, at least for now.

After dinner, they rinse their bowls with a little water, and put them away. Then they get ready for bed, and soon they are snuggled together, on the small bed that they all share to keep warm. They drop off to sleep, sleeping fitfully all night.

Lodz Ghetto, Poland

March 5th, 1941

Morning

Hendla, Josek, and Sala wake to bright sunshine. As they get dressed, they think about how today might be a little better than yesterday. They eat their leftover soup, and then it is time to work. "Sala, your tatte and I will be out in the vegetable garden. You stay in here and be a good girl."

Sala nods, then quietly goes to a corner in the room, where her only toy, a worn wooden spoon doll, lays with a torn dress that her Mama had made for her. She loves this doll, and it is one of her most precious possessions. She begins playing with the doll, and Hendla and Josek pull on their threadbare jackets and hobnail boots. They wave to Sala, and remind her not to go outside. Sala nods once more, before she is lost in her game.

Lodz Ghetto, Poland

March 5th, 1941

Afternoon

"Hinten draußen! Los Los! Das Mädchen ist drinnen!"

The harsh, familiar accent startles Sala. She looks up, then listens. There is more shouting, more harsh voices shouting words she doesn't understand. There are gunshots, and then... Sala rushes into the bedroom, and crawls under the bed, holding her breath. The front door opens slowly, and the floorboards creak. "Mama? Tatte?" she whispers, as she slowly creeps out from under the bed. She slowly tiptoes into the kitchen. There is a pause, and the room is so quiet, so very quiet. Then Sala is grabbed roughly from behind. There is a large gloved hand over her face, and she struggles. Her heart is pounding as she is carried outside. Then there is bright sunlight, so sudden it blinds her momentarily. She looks around, and sees blood pooling in a dip in the road. Her eyes follow the trail of blood, reaching two bodies, limp and lifeless. Her eyes widen. It is her neighbors, Chana and Abram Gomolinski.

"They are Jewish too," she thinks. She looks around again. This time, she sees her captor. It is the same Nazi that had seized her yesterday. He is wearing the same uniform, the same crisp, clean brown jacket, and a Swastika armband. Sala looks down at her own armband. It is a Star of David, clearly marking her as a Jew.

The Nazi lifts his gun. Another soldier, one she has not seen before, pushes her against the side of the building, her head hitting the brick hard. She sees more soldiers dragging two more bodies out from the back of the house. They are lifeless, and covered in blood. She wonders who it might be. Then Nazi with the gun points it at her, right at her heart. A scream escapes her, but she is frozen in place, her legs not moving, not listening to her brain. Her mind is racing, swarming with thoughts, like a beehive swarming with bees. Her heart is pounding so hard, so fast, like it is trying to escape.

"Mama! Tatte! Help!"

Sala's cry pierces the quiet afternoon.

It is silenced by a gunshot.