This story is inspired by the countless heroes who risked everything to smuggle Jewish children out of Nazi Germany. Their stand will always be remembered.
We cling to each other like dirty rats below the wooden floor. Parasites, they call us. Cleanse the Reich, they scream. They came into our village and took our parents away. They came with their golden hair and red armbands. We hid. Into the floors we went. Like vermin.
I can see the coffins through the cracks in the floor beams. Dark wood, freshly sawn. They’re for us. Our birthright. Every day Mr. Zimmermann makes more. He works like a madman, stopping only to get more wood. He keeps us awake all night with the sound of his chainsaw. The sound cuts deep into my bones. Saw, saw, saw. Bang, bang, bang. He nails the wood together. One more done. Stack it. Get more wood. Yank the choke. Pull. Pull. Pull. The chainsaw screams like a bomber plane.
Nine, I count. Nine coffins. Not enough for all of us. Our numbers grow daily. They don’t want us to live.
I hear sobbing. Shush, quiet, someone says. Mr. Zimmermann stops hammering. The sobbing continues, more muffled now. Bang, bang, bang. The hammering returns. Sharp elbows poke me. Someone is trying to stretch.
There’s a pounding at the door. Mr. Zimmermann puts down the hammer. Large shapes enter the room. Shadows…
