Hello, I would like feedback on this piece of writing. 25 points + brainliest for whoever gives best feedback. It was for my Eng
lish class, in which we had to write a 1st person narrative in the perspective of someone who was in the holocaust.
(Dark themes warning)
Here it is. This is only half of it, the other half will be in 'Ask for Details':
"PIPER - 11/16/18
THE MONSTERS & THE BURNINGS
A NOTE FROM AHARON ARONOWITZ
All of my troubles started back in 1941. I was sitting in the cattle car, my older brother Aryeh standing in the corner, his eyes darting around the enclosed space. Even after all the previous warnings of what was going to happen to us, no one had done anything. Or even cared, for that matter. I was confused, to say the least. However, what I was most confused about was the fact that I was there in the first place. I myself was not of Jewish faith. Neither was my father, nor my brother or mother. The only Jew in our family who actively practiced his faith was our grandfather. I don’t know how the Germans found that out. Perhaps it was because of our names. Aharon and Aryeh Aronowitz… They were both obviously not german, first of all. According to what my brother found in my father’s journal, they were both Jewish names. We were named what we were as a tribute to our grandfather, who had passed away before my brother and I were born. On the other hand, maybe it was because of our looks. We looked like our grandfather: black, curly hair & pale skin with freckles. Then again, so did a lot of people… Either way, there was no way to change our fate, whatever that was. We had been taken out of Sighet. We were in one of the last groups to leave as well. In all honesty, I didn’t miss our small town, but I missed my bed. Sleep was beckoning me, I was completely exhausted. My brother, on the other hand, was miserable; He had had many friends there. Of course, I had much less, as I truly was an indoor person. My brother and I lived alone in a small cottage. Unfortunately, our parents could not live with us; they had died when I was quite young (I about 15 or so.) We made a decent living in Sighet. My brother worked hard, picking vegetables from our garden daily. They were then sold by me, usually to the cooks in the town. This is how we earned our money. Though it wasn’t much, it was something. Even now, my brother was working hard. By German order, he had been put in charge of the cattle car. They told Aryeh that if someone escaped, it would be his fault. He would be shot if this was to occur. A few minutes passed. I saw my brother talk to a family. Lecturing them, most likely. That was his favorite hobby, after all. I remember chuckling at this thought. I saw him gesture for the family to stand up, and so they did. He led them to the window next to me, of which had a large crack in it. He sighed and closed his fist tightly, about to break the window. He was trying to save them. One thought flashed through my mind. “Don’t be a hero, Aryeh.”
