Creative Writing: Elie Wiesel's Night-Personal Narrative

In the memoir, Night by Elie Wiesel begins in his hometown, Transylvania. He was living life as a normal boy. Slowly everything began to change when his teacher, Moshe the Beadle was deported. Moshe returns and tells the towns people what had happened to him, the German police had took over the train they were in and lead them into the woods to murder them, but no one believed him. Soon after the Jews from Elie’s town were forced to move out of their homes and into ghettos. They were then forced onto cattle cars and shipped to concentration camps.

Through his first-person memoir Night, Elie Wiesel reveals that people experience changes in their attitude as they become products of their environments.

Elie Wiesel was a Holocaust survivor who wrote a firsthand account of his experiences – Night. He was from Sighet. Although, given the opportunity to flee to Palestine, most of the Jews who were in Sighet did not believe that the Nazis would be able to get to them before World War II would come to an end (Wiesel 8). Wiesel and his family – his mother, his father and three sisters – were evacuated from their home in 1944 – near the end of World War II. Night by Elie Wiesel demonstrates that tragedy does not disappear from a person’s memory; instead, it shapes that person to be more empathetic, aware of the importance of hope and the need for a purpose in life.

January 30, 1933 the Holocaust began,This was the birth of one of the worst horrors in war history, The Holocaust was the transportation of many people of all races, to the ghettos, then being transported to a concentration camp to where nearly 11 million people died in the span of 12 years . Many stories have been displayed of the apathetic, brutality of living in conditions of the concentration camps, but one particular story stands on how exactly it was to live in. Night by Elie Wiesel; this is his story.

It is finally Halloween, and the pageant will be happening this evenin’. The night is still and pitch black, the perfect setting for what I have planned for tonight. I'll show that no good niggerlovin’ bastard what happens when you mess with a Ewell. I'll show him what happens when someone has the nerve to make me and my daughter look like damn fools. If he won't be man enough to fight me when I go lookin' for one, I'll have to do it the hard way. I'll catch him while he's walking his kids home, and make sure he'll never ruin my family's reputation again. I'll leave the kids to deliver my message to this county, letting ‘em all know that Ewells mean business and we don't back down from a fight. I grabbed my kitchen knife and made sure it was

It’s the grassy greens, near the winding pebbly road I remember first. The long stalks of spinifex still line the edges, though now neatly trimmed all around. The uneven crunch-crunch-crunch of the gravel as I drive my sunny Porsche across town. Even in winter, bindies pepper the half soccer field, other foliage: a bush dotted with withered yellow berries and emerging saplings surround the patchy lawn like spectators. Smack bang in the middle, winter clawing its way in, stands a grandiose resilient oak, basking under the mild heat of the country sun, glorified as it houses two tombs. Its boughs stretch towards me invitingly and I smile…

The book I’m reading is Night by Elie Wiesel. This book took place back in the Nazi days when Adolf Hitler was the ruler. The Nazi killed and punished the Jews for not obeying the rules or not believing in what Adolf Hitler believed in. Elie Wiesel was a regular young boy who wasn’t going for bad. He lived a normal childhood life until the Nazis started capturing the Jews and killing them. He was a young boy so he didn’t know what was going on at that moment.

I don't have the stomach for this, I think and then laugh at myself, the irony. I had gotten stuck with Evan as a last minute partner kind of deal. Sophie had glued herself to Jack Weston - incredibly hot but incredibly jerky too. I had warned her, but the girl can make her own decisions. My boyfriend Ben had arrived late, and therefore got reassigned to another student. So I was left with Evan Winters - neighbour for all of my life and a guy of little words. I used to think he had the inability to speak. He was so quiet. But when I had been playing the Breakfast Club songs on repeat, had opened his window and screamed at me. I was more shocked that he made a noise then what he said to me, - which by the way was an unintelligent string of curse words. So I had Evan, or my other choice had been a teacher. I figured at least Evan wouldn't try to talk to me.

I thought when I met Nino, he wasn’t too deep into these types of shit. I thought

His green eyes pierced through mine as he towered a few inches over me. His chocolate curls were swept to the side messily creating a look of pure perfection. His lips were tugged up slightly forming a curved smile. “I’m Harry.” His voice was deep but yet smooth, he spoke slower than most, something I found fascinating and intriguing. His rather large hands rested inside his black leather jacket’s pockets as he indulged every single detail of me with his beautiful striking eyes.

But still, it might have been fun to see dad try and talk his way out of something like that with a police officer. But I’m sure he could. He is very smart. I think that is why Charlotte loves him. She probably thinks that people will think she is smarter cause of him. Whatever. If she won’t be nice to me then I won’t be nice to her. I bet she sent me to camp to get me away for the summer. She wants to have him all to herself. Why can’t she ever let me have anything?! Well, I know that my Hummy cares about me. I can see in the way he looks at me. Deep down in those steely, blue, European eyes, I know he cares. I bet his eyes look are the same color as whats it called. That place in Europe. The Medityranny? Yea that’s it. His eyes are definitely the same color as The Medityrannical Sea. I can picture it now. A calm beautiful surface extending far as the eye can see, and just filled, filled with life and commotion underneath; I can tell that no matter what those eyes show, there’s even more going on underneath. I know he loves me. Even if he can’t show it very much when other people are around. But it makes me so sad and mad sometimes though. I want people us to see how much he loves me. And how much I like him.

MAMA: It don’t sound nice for a young girl to say things like that. . .

“I’ll call his mother and have her send him over here. Your wife always parks her car out front, and we help her with her laundry,” she said, weeping while calling her daughter. “Please, send Jorge over here, we want to talk to him,” she said hanging up the phone.

Her mother surprised her by walking up to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Sometimes, one’s gentleman suitor doesn’t suit.”

Her mother’s smile grew ever warmer. “You’re a sweetheart,” she said, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead and gently stroking her hair. “I promise...I’ll be back soon.” She climbed to her feet and moved back toward the outskirts of their tiny shelter; just before departing, she turned back. “Remember...be as silent as possible.”