Franz Kafka said, “we ought to read only books that bite and sting us.” What’s the last thing you read that bit and stung you?
This is a response to the Daily WordPress Prompt.
To be honest, I have no hesitation in answering this question. I don’t have to think for a moment before responding. The memory is still fresh in my mind.
It happened yesterday, where I came across a short-story writing contest. I began typing the scene of an experiment being played out, and then I wondered what could’ve been happening. (I like writing the entire short-story through and then deciding where to go with it. First drafts do not count.)
At that moment, I remembered an art-teacher of mine telling us how, back in the Holocaust, they used to carry out gruesome experiments. Apparently, if cover a baby’s eyes from birth, they grow up blind.
Although tormenting, it fit the mood of my short-story well. I may post it on this Blog soon. Maybe after I’ve entered the contest.
So I researched “Holocaust experiments” and found this.
Saying the experiments were awful is an understatement. And they were. They really were.
But it’s not so much the experiments; it’s how the victims must’ve felt. They have been selected. They have been chosen. Just because they don’t fit a certain perfect picture somebody had in mind, they have to suffer.
Useless. Rag dolls. Just another disposable human being.
“Replenish the earth, and conquer it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” (Genesis 1:18)
What more do they have left? When one has little control over their own body, can’t control what artificial bacteria, inhumane changes are made, can they dream of changing the world; to fulfill the very reason they exist?
There are still dreamers among that bunch. The optimistic, the cheerful, the innocent. That’s what makes me breathe a little deeper, my eyes a little more waterier. So much of the brave, the courageous, the fearless. Most of them didn’t make it alive.
And if they did, when your family, friends and everything you once considered home is destroyed, do you honestly still want to live?
Then I saw this.
Seven-year-old Jacqueline Morgenstern, later a victim of tuberculosis medical experiments at the Neuengamme concentration camp. She was murdered just before the liberation of the camp. Paris, France, 1940.
— Guenther Schwarberg (Source)
I can stare at this girl forever. Her beautifully chubby arms, the pretty buns on either side of her head, and the look of pure innocence. She’s young enough to not experience deceit, but old enough to understand words, remember faces of her parents.
Then I read the “murder” part.
All all I imagine is her dying. And I can’t look at the picture any longer. I close the browser, take a few breaths, and walk away from the computer.
As a side-note, I researched the Holocaust before. I’ve never been interested in historical events before (except for the Renaissance, a time-period I absolutely adore) but one song got me searching.
Just in case you were wondering why The Fray is my favourite band, this song explains it all.