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Short Story: Guardian

as told to Rayzel Reich by her grandmother, Mrs. Jenia Reich

It is Shabbos. Shabbos is a peaceful day, a day of rest. Today is not peaceful. There is something wrong. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if anyone knows what it is. But we can tell that something is wrong.

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

It has been this way for weeks. Rumors, and more rumors, of terrible things coming to the ghetto … of the ghetto being no more…

But they are rumors, and nobody really knows. The not knowing is, perhaps, worse than knowing. It is hope, mixed with hopelessness, and that creates anxiety; terrible, unending anxiety that twists your stomach and makes your fingers twitch. That makes Tattu run here and there and everywhere, looking for some way out of the something that may be nothing. The anxiety is there, inside of you, all the time, so that we know no peace.

But today is Shabbos. And so we try to sing, and to be happy, in our very small corner. We try to feel the peace of Shabbos, just a little...

But there is something…something...

It cannot be peace.

 

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