the ashes of hope

Auschwitz – August 1943

The days blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the next, like a never-ending cycle of labor, hunger, and fear. Hannah barely had time to think anymore. She worked from dawn until dusk, her body exhausted, her mind numbed to the horrors around her.

It was easier that way. To feel nothing.

But sometimes, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the camp fell silent, the memories came rushing back—her family, her home, the life she had before. She remembered the warmth of her mother's embrace and the sound of her father's deep voice telling her stories of the old country. She remembered the laughter of Avi, the joy in his eyes.

And then she remembered that they were gone.

Hannah sat on the cold stone floor of the barracks, her back against the wall. The other women were asleep, though they hardly ever truly rested. The fear of a sudden roll call or a random selection always kept them on edge. But tonight, the barracks were unusually still. It was a small blessing.

"Do you ever wonder if it's worth it?" Esther's voice broke the silence. The older woman had been sitting across from her, her face hollow with fatigue, her eyes distant.

Hannah glanced up. "What do you mean?"

Esther sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. "All of this. Surviving, I mean. I don't know how much more I can take."

Hannah didn't answer at first. It was a question she had asked herself countless times. How much longer could she endure this hell? Could she even remember what it was like to feel truly alive?

"I don't know," Hannah whispered finally. "Sometimes I think about what it would be like to let go, to stop fighting." Her voice cracked. "But then I think of my mother, and my father, and Avi. If I stop, then they've truly died. And I won't let that happen."

Esther nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're a strong girl, Hannah. But strength doesn't always mean surviving. Sometimes it means holding onto your humanity, even in this place."

Hannah didn't know if she believed her. What humanity could survive in a place like this? Auschwitz was a world where the rules had been rewritten, where life had no value, where people were reduced to numbers, to mere shadows of themselves. The only thing left to hold onto was survival—and sometimes, she wasn't sure if that was worth the price.

The next morning, Hannah woke to the loud clanging of a bell. It echoed through the barracks, jarring her awake and forcing her body to move against its will. The line for the morning roll call was already forming outside. The guards stood at attention, rifles slung over their shoulders, their eyes scanning the prisoners for any sign of weakness or disobedience.

Hannah joined the line, standing as straight as she could, despite the tremble in her legs. It wasn't the physical exhaustion that wore her down—it was the mental toll of knowing that any moment could be her last. The SS guards were unpredictable, their cruelty as constant as the wind. They could choose anyone. Anyone.

As she waited, she glanced around the line. She saw Isaac Levin, a young boy from the ghetto, standing beside her. His face was pale, his features gaunt from the starvation that ravaged them all, but his eyes still held something—a spark. Hope, perhaps.

"How are you holding up?" Isaac whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of water.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Hannah admitted. "Every day feels like a lifetime."

Isaac nodded. "It does. But we have to keep going. If we give up now, then all of it—the suffering, the loss—it's like it was for nothing."

Hannah couldn't say anything to that. She wasn't sure if she agreed. But what other choice did she have?

The sound of boots approaching made her tense. The Kapos, the prisoner overseers, moved down the line, checking for any sign of weakness or disorder. They were just as cruel as the guards, and sometimes more so.

"Rosenberg," a voice barked.

Hannah froze. Her heart leaped into her throat. She had no idea why they were calling her. The line was moving, so she had to step forward.

She had heard stories of those who were called to the front, those who were never seen again. They were the ones sent to the gas chambers. They were the ones whose names faded from memory.

But then the guard's face softened slightly as he looked at her.

"Rosenberg, move to the left," he commanded.

Confusion rippled through her as she stumbled forward. Left? Was she being punished? Or was she being spared? She glanced nervously at Isaac, but he didn't seem to have any answers.

"Quickly!" the guard shouted.

She shuffled along with the other prisoners who had been singled out, her heart pounding in her chest. They were led toward a small building at the edge of the camp, a place she had never seen before. A sense of dread gripped her.

When they reached the door, a woman in a white coat stood waiting. She had short black hair and a stern expression on her face.

"Come in," she ordered, motioning for them to step inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, with a few benches along the walls. It smelled faintly of disinfectant.

"What is this place?" Hannah asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman looked at her coldly. "This is the medical selection. You've been chosen to be examined."

Hannah's heart skipped a beat. Medical selection. The words sent a chill down her spine. She had heard rumors of what happened in the medical selection. It was where the weak, the sick, the frail were chosen to be exterminated.

"Please, I'm not sick!" Hannah cried, her voice trembling.

But the woman didn't respond. She simply gestured for Hannah to sit on a nearby bench. The others were being lined up as well, their expressions a mix of confusion and terror.

Minutes passed like hours as Hannah waited, her stomach churning with fear. What was happening? Why were they here? Was this the end?

Then, the woman came back. She looked over the prisoners one by one, her expression unreadable. When she reached Hannah, she stopped.

"You're lucky," she said, her voice colder than the air around them. "You're still useful. You may go."

Hannah's breath came in sharp gasps. She had been spared. For now.

But she couldn't escape the nagging feeling that this was just another part of the cycle. A cycle that would keep spinning until there was nothing left.

When she returned to the barracks, she collapsed on the wooden floor, her heart still racing. She had survived the selection—but at what cost? The price of survival was becoming clearer with every passing day.