Summer Young Writers Anthology - University at Albany

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a young boy. She rocked him as he
glanced frantically at the still-new
surroundings. The woman was
somewhat pretty, though heavily
worn-down and showing signs of
emaciation. She looked familiar, and
Kurt racked his brain, trying to
recall where he recognized this
woman from.
The next group rose shakily when
called. Smoke poured from the top of
the crematorium, and Kurt gave a
small cough, something he tended to
do when he accidentally inhaled it. At
least the smell no longer bothered
him. All the while he continued to
ponder why that girl seemed so very
familiar. It was most curious; he had,
after all, been separated from Jews all
his life. Rarely had he had any
interaction with them, at least if he
could avoid it.
The mysterious woman, he
thought to himself, looked almost
reminiscent of a girl Margot—whom
his brother had fallen for a few years
back. Their father, though, had made
it clear that to associate with Jews
was a sin. Ehren had stubbornly
disagreed, and the words he had
spoken the night he left had forever
stuck with Kurt. “What is religion,
father, between lovers? Between
family? We are all people. Shouldn’t
that be enough to let us live
harmoniously?” he had foolishly
questioned. Though Kurt could see
how much Margot had meant to
Ehren, Kurt couldn’t possibly
imagine abandoning their father; to
abandon him for a Jew was simply
unfathomable. His father had
repeatedly insisted that they were
better off without Ehren, but, even
still, Kurt wondered what had
become of his beloved only brother.
Again, the smoke seeped into the
sky, and the second to last group
crept forward. They entered the
chamber, some praying in their
native tongue, others silent and
emotionless. One younger man,
“This week has
been wonderful,
both as an aid to all
our creative
endeavors and as a
means by which to
meet kindred
spirits.”
— Ada O’Higgins
panicked and hysterical, struggled to
escape, pushing furiously through
the forlorn crowd. Kurt promptly
gave him a sharp, forceful kick to his
abdomen. He tumbled onto the
ground, and lay still for a few
moments. Then, after regaining
consciousness, he began to pray
furiously. Kurt responded by
taunting “Our father, who art in
heaven. . . .” The Jew began to cry.
Kurt hoisted him up and shoved him
through the entrance, reuniting him
with his fellow group members. He
patted the door as he locked it.
Several yards away, Kurt’s father
nodded in his direction, as if by cue.
Kurt glanced at the final group,
huddled together several feet away.
Even the woman had joined them
now, protectively gripping the boy
on her lap. Kurt now had a clear
view of him, and he studied the boy
as he had studied the mother. He,
too, looked startlingly familiar and
once again Kurt was baffled. With
hair the color of a newborn chick’s,
and eyes a crystal blue, he certainly
looked out of place. The child also
possessed a curiosity about him that
kind of reminded Kurt of how he
himself had been as a boy.
Like they had three times before,
the chamber doors swung open,
welcoming the final group inside.
The small, remaining mob stood and
began to file in, calmer than any
group previous. When the woman,
holding her small son’s hand, passed
Kurt, something struck him. As their
pleading eyes met his, memories
rushed through his mind. Days of
exploring the woods with a young
Ehren jolted him, along with the
vision of his intense blue eyes, always
alert and mischievous. His knees
weakened as he replayed the first
time he met Margot in his head,
when he had been unaware of her
religion but enthralled by her
affectionate nature. Recollections
arose of countless nights when he
had covered for Ehren as he snuck
out to meet his forbidden love. All at
once the strong connection surfaced;
his face paled as the realization hit
him, and he nearly collapsed with
horror. Kurt vaguely heard a door
slam behind him, and suddenly the
all-too familiar roar of a fire
sounded as he caught his father
nodding at him in the distance. �
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