Image+Writing+(Historical+Fiction)

=**Image Writing**=

Link---> **[|http://isurvived.org/Pictures_iSur]****[|viv]****[|e]****[|d-4/HOLOCAUST-children2.GIF]**

"Write about this image using the perspective of people in the image." JC's work! =__**HOLOCAUST GAS CHAMBERS**__ =  //**1. From the perspective of a young boy (8 yr old) from the picture.**// "Where are we going, mama," I curiously ask.   "They told us we are going to have dinner in that room over there."   I obediently follow the group of strangers with my mama toward that room. Suddenly, I hear something unexpected. A man shrieks loudly. "Ahhhh!" That voice deeply intrudes my ears. <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> I'm really confused. Why would someone scream that loud when they eat? Is that man choking? But then he would be coughing, not screaming. Right? <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> The men in the green elegant uniforms are so mean to us. This one is dragging a kid in front of me like he's a bag of trash. They also speak a language that sounds gibberish to me. I don't care and leave behind my questions, because we're going to have food anyway. I haven't have food all day and my belly is yelling at me. I am not going to care about anything but food. So I walk along and occasionally look at the tired face of mama. I hope we could stay here because they are going to give us free food! It's better than back home because we didn't have enough money to buy much food. I don't know what they are serving in that room, but I hope we get drinks too because my throat is becoming a desert. <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> Just then, I hear more people screaming. Now there are crying and laughing inside the room. Are they crying because they don't like the food inside? I just can't wait to go in. This line is just too long; I guess it'll take an hour for us to get in there.

<span style="color: rgb(22, 202, 47);"> //**<span style="color: rgb(22, 192, 58);">2. <span style="color: rgb(32, 157, 70);"> 3rd person from the perspective of the mother **//

<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> <span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;"> <span style="color: rgb(12, 192, 42);"> **<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive;">The mother was pretty sure they are not going where they said they're going. The soldiers told them to go into that room for their meal, but the room emits conspicuous shrieking from people. The son is skipping along cheerfully. The son can be described as a naive eight year old but that's a natural characteristic of little kids; especially one who has never receive any education.

Fear started to build up inside this woman's heart. She held her happy son closer and urged him to calm down. They had about twenty more steps until steeping foot into the room.

Nothing matters now. She remembered the time she got into this camp. A police came to her door and hustled them into a truck, saying all Jewish citizens must go. Her husband died long time ago. She sat restlessly at the back of the truck with her son. Her son thought they were moving to a new home. Indeed, you can call the camp a new home, right? Food and shelter are provided. Isn't that what a new home promises? They will soon find out when they place their foot onto the steps of the door. ** <span style="color: rgb(15, 194, 40);">

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