Memoirs from the death camps

Memoirs from the death camps by Lelsi 2011/03/23 15:11
The early morning.The stagnant air.The silence.Everything has stopped. Outside.In the hall.In us.
Like pearls threaded along the walls,the prisoners.Are we all here?Good,no one is missing.They won't have to make a new list.The same routine.Only few are sleeping.Or seems to be asleep.Others are sitting in a twilight, and gazing at themselves a recognizable point.What are they thinking?How are they?
The wounds are healing.Intolerable pain.The uncertainty and fear.It's not the fear of beatings,or death.The fear is something in between,vague and unattainable,unpredictable, when everything stops and waits.
When they beat,first they kill the fear. Simply,you hear your name,it stuffiness the air,it hit the wall somewhere next to you and bounce off like a wedge and crashes down there in the darkness.You go out,without a fear,slowly,empty... And half drunk crowd is waiting for you to come out.You see human creatures,people with names and faces,with batons and rifle butts,bars,chains ...
Only the first kicks hurt.The tenth, fiftieth,hundredth - do not hurt.You see whiteness.White Heat.Everything around you is white.And strangely,it's even pleasant,warm and sticky.And grudge!And defiance!They were masters of life and death.They have the power.I have love.AND love is the power.I'm stronger.I want to be stronger.I will not give up, I, I, I want!I want to live!Well, you will not kill me!