Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Cooking or Baking (01/04/07)
-
TITLE: The Main Ingredient | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kristie Derksen
01/11/07 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
She felt as if she were stuck in a nightmare with no escape, felt that her past had been but a surreal dream, a long gone fairytale. But the thing that frightened Monika the most was the thought that she too was a dying skeleton, within a sea of others. This was her present reality, and was probably the last reality she would ever know.
Hearing the approach of a guard, she quickly averted her gaze, trying to avoid being seen. She knew first hand that in this place being ignored wasn’t nearly as bad as being noticed.
They had taken everything from her. Everything but her mind. But it was Monika’s mind that had begun to betray her. Past memories threatened to destroy her. Memories of her loved ones dying and screaming for mercy were permanently embedded in her mind. It haunted her thoughts, night and day. She now waited in anticipation for her turn at death, with only a small piece of her stubbornly clinging to hope.
Her faith in God gave her strength to persevere, even when she thought it was pointless. God’s gift of distraction was memories of good times, when the bad times were too overwhelming. Her most favourite memories were found in the kitchen, cooking with her Mother.
At the beginning of her captivity, when her figure was still existent, her beautiful features were undeniable. Many people envied her beauty, but on this day she would have given anything to be homely. That day more than her freedom was stolen from her, and repeatedly taken for days, until at last she began to blend into the skeleton sea. At these times she would pull back into her mind, into her memories…
“Okay, darling! Now pour flour into the bowl. Good girl! Now…” And since that day she had been reciting the ingredients of favourite recipes when her mind began to wander back to painful memories. And daydreaming about cooking as a little girl would prove to distract her when she was forced to do unpleasant things.
“Well done, Monika! Now what is the most important ingredient?” Her Mother would ask her.
“Sugar!” The chubby, young girl would answer.
“That’s right! Sugar is what makes these cookies worth eating!” Her Mother would say, kissing the top of her head.
The memory quickly faded as the realisation that the guard had seen her registered.
“You there! What are you doing? Get in line.” He said, pushing her forward, causing her to fall. Angrily he dragged her back to her feet, his hand swallowing up her arm. Wincing in pain she regained her feet.
Finally reaching the line, it started forward, and Monika struggled to keep up, her thin legs feeling like dead weights. Abruptly the line stopped, causing her to stumble, but she quickly recovered her footing.
Looking at up their final destination, her breath caught in her throat. Her prayers had been answered, but suddenly she wished they hadn’t. They had reached the brick building. The place where people went in, but nothing but ash came out. The human furnace. Today it would all end. In the minds of the guards, the people in the line up were the main ingredient that made it all worth it, the final touch. Which included Monika. She had heard that the war was ending, that the Americans were coming. But she had heard it millions of times before, without result. But now she knew, because they were getting rid of their evidence. Them.
“Vanilla, flour, sugar of course…” She mumbled under her breath.
And then she heard it. Felt the guard stiffen at her side. A man from the forest was running full tilt and yelling in German,
“The Americans are coming.” And with that the proud guards, began to scatter in fear.
Monika dropped to her knees in relief. Covering her face with her hands, she cried out to God. Thanking him for life, for newfound freedom, the Americans and for his deliverance.
With her body shaking in sobs, she lay in the dirt waiting for God’s angels to deliver her to freedom.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
I also liked the idea that the only thing that kept her sanity was reciting the cookie recipe and remembering her baking times with her mother.
This was so descriptive, I don't know how anyone could remain unmoved or unconvinced that the Holocaust actually happened. Looking forward to reading more of your writing.