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15 months - creative writing

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Seosamh Fox S2D Mrs McLean Creative writing 15 months I sat there and hadn't moved a muscle for over three hours; my feet and hands were numb because of the cold. The only form of entertainment was trying to count the number of slow heavy paces that the nearest guard made before he turned around and repeated the process again and again. I was actually starting to get quite good at it. I had begun to wonder if it was all worth it, it was so cold and my fingers were dark blue but then I remembered what the alternative was- a gas chamber! I could have been mistaken for thinking that I was trying to escape from a concentration camp in Siberia never mind Auschwitz, southern Poland. Every minute seemed like an hour, every hour seemed like an eternity, although there was the comfort in knowing that the guards were due to end their shifts any time soon, I knew this because I had made a copy of the timetable for their shifts, the week beforehand in preparation for my attempted escape. Finally I heard the phone ring from inside the rundown cabin beside the main gates. I knew every step of this next sequence, phone rings; guard answers phone; guard comes out and gets into truck; gates open; truck leaves. ...read more.


the road and tumbled down the hill, I crashed my head against the ground several times before I finally came to rest in a pool of freezing cold water at the bottom. I lay there still. I could hear the noise of the truck fading away into the distance. Any feeling in my body had long gone. The sound of the Wisla meandering its way through the mountainside nearby was somewhat therapeutic. But time was a commodity that I didn't have much of. I knew that there was no going back now, I could survive and make my way to some acquaintances in the north of France or I could die. It was as simple as that. I had about an hour before my escape was discovered, and I was determined to take full advantage of that. I dragged myself up and had a look around to get my bearings. I was about five hundred yards away from the railway line - but I was in a bad way and the terrain was rough. I knew if I could get there then I would be able to relax for a while. All those nights lying in that flea bitten excuse for a mattress, listening to trains come and go close by, had paid off. I had memorised the times almost subconsciously. ...read more.


It was like I was in a nightmare and no matter how fast I tried to run, I couldn't, it was like I was in quicksand. Every bark was getting louder, they were following close behind. I knew they still couldn't see me because if they could they would shoot. I was so close to freedom and yet so close to certain death. This was it! The final furlong! I could smell the smoke of the train as it started to draw away from the station. There was no one in front of me. The dogs were about 30 feet behind me, and the guards were further still behind them. The train was starting to accelerate. I was so close! I held onto the back of the train and ran, with it pulling me. I just needed one last surge in energy to haul myself up. The dogs were almost right behind me. I heaved myself on to the back of the train and almost died with relief. I took the soaking wet overcoat off me and flung it off the side of the train. I crawled and leaned my back against the train. A smile spread across my face as I watched my coat being torn into a thousand pieces. The rain beat down on my face as the remote cries of the Gestapo finally arriving faded away. I was on my way home. I was free at last. ...read more.

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