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Personal Narrative-The Epiphage Children

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A truck peels away from the house across the street. Inside there is a family of seven. A mother and her six children, the oldest being just fourteen. The father was killed in the war along with Markus. Today they are being carted off to the gas chambers upon discovery that they were in fact, Jewish. I sit on my porch, rocking back and forth like I do on most days. The orphanage children are out playing soccer again. The little girls with braids and dresses; the boys with matching caps and shorts. They cheered and giggled, to some that would sound happy, but to me it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. The orphanage instructor was just there staring off into space, not giving a care in the world. There was a very thin layer of snow hugging the ground, just enough so that people would stay inside. Living just outside of Munich, in a small town called Freising. Not that many people come to visit, so all the faces are familiar. Though today, there was a new one. A little girl from the orphanage stood in the back of the crowd trying to kick the ball back and forth with the other kids, yet she was much too small. Her frail body kept being pushed and shoved away by the older and stronger kids. She ended up sitting on the curb twirling a bit of grass in her fingers. Her hair is plaited back into two braids, instead of the uniform of …show more content…

I the proceed to sit down on the worn leather couch. I made sure to sit on the left side, Markus always sat on the right side. I brought the tea up to my lips, the heat flowed through my bones. I gazed at the pictures of me and Markus on the walls. I see our wedding picture from when we were both young, pictures of us dancing and laughing. My desk had piles of cards on it that he wrote to me while he was in the field. There was an unopened one sitting on top. It said “Happy Birthday Darling” on the envelope. I couldn’t bring myself to open it, for it had arrived after his

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