a flicker in the dark

Auschwitz – December 1943

The days blurred into one another, a never-ending cycle of hunger, work, and fear. The snow had begun to fall more heavily now, blanketing the camp in a cold, suffocating silence. The barracks were even colder than before, the thin blankets offering little protection from the freezing temperatures. It felt as though the entire world had been frozen in time, and Auschwitz was the only place left, a black hole that consumed all light.

Hannah's body had become a shadow of its former self. The once strong, defiant girl who had clung to life now found herself weak, her skin pale and stretched tight over her bones. Hunger gnawed at her constantly, and every breath felt like a struggle.

But it wasn't just the physical toll. It was the mental exhaustion—the constant vigilance, the fear of being selected, of being pushed further toward the abyss. The uncertainty of each day was its own kind of poison.

Yet somehow, they still survived.

Esther remained her only constant, her only tether to whatever humanity still lingered in the camp. They clung to one another, supporting each other in the small, invisible ways that kept them going. A soft word. A shared look. A fleeting smile, though it was rare.

That morning, the prisoners were called to their usual labor detail. They were assigned to clear more rubble from the area near the crematorium. Hannah's heart sank as soon as she saw where they were headed. It wasn't the first time they had been forced to work near the place where death was so brutally manufactured. The black smoke rising from the chimneys was a constant reminder of what awaited those who couldn't keep up.

As they walked, the biting wind whipping against their faces, Hannah could hear the faint screams carried on the wind—distorted, almost unreal. It was the sound of the crematorium's fires consuming everything in their path, the ashes of the dead rising toward the sky.

Hannah swallowed hard, trying to block out the images that flooded her mind. She kept her eyes on the ground as she walked, the crunch of snow beneath her boots the only sound that filled her ears. It was easier that way—easier to pretend that the world was still normal, that she wasn't walking through the gates of hell.

Esther, walking beside her, spoke in a low voice. "Do you ever think about escape?"

Hannah blinked, her thoughts snapping back to the present. Escape? It seemed like such a foreign concept now. How could they escape a place like this? The gates, the fences, the guards—they were all designed to keep them in, to prevent any hope from slipping through.

Still, the thought lingered in her mind. What would it take to escape this nightmare? Would it even be possible?

"I think about it all the time," Esther whispered. "But... where would we go? What's left for us?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and painful.

But then, a flicker of something caught Hannah's eye. It was barely visible through the swirling snow, a small movement behind the fence. She paused, her breath catching in her throat.

"Esther," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "do you see that?"

Esther followed her gaze, her eyes narrowing. There, just beyond the barbed wire, a figure stood in the distance, shrouded in the snow.

For a moment, it seemed like a mirage. A trick of the wind or the light. But then, the figure moved again. A woman, small and hunched, her face hidden beneath a ragged scarf. She moved quickly, almost too quickly for a prisoner. Hannah felt her heart race in her chest.

"Who is that?" Esther asked, her voice full of quiet urgency.

"I don't know," Hannah whispered. "But we need to find out."

As the day wore on, Hannah couldn't shake the image of the woman standing by the fence. Who was she? Why was she out there? Prisoners weren't allowed to leave the work areas, especially not without permission. The guards would never let someone wander that close to the perimeter.

By the time the work detail was finished, the woman had disappeared into the snow. But something deep in Hannah's gut told her that there was more to this than met the eye.

That night, after the barracks had quieted down and the other women had drifted off to sleep, Hannah turned to Esther, her face grim.

"I need to know who that woman was," she said, her voice low. "Something isn't right."

Esther met her gaze, her expression uncertain. "What are you going to do? If you get caught, it's over. You know that, right?"

"I know," Hannah replied, her voice steely. "But I can't let it go. I have to find out."

The next morning, as the prisoners were once again called to their work details, Hannah and Esther set out under the cover of the snowstorm, their steps deliberate and quiet. The guards were distracted, their attention focused on the work of the camp rather than the prisoners' movements. This was their chance—if only for a brief moment.

They approached the area near the fence slowly, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the mysterious woman. The snow had begun to fall heavier, reducing their visibility, but it also provided a cover. The wind howled through the camp, muffling their footsteps.

Then, through the veil of snow, Hannah saw her again. The woman was standing by the fence, just as before. She was holding something—something small, tucked against her chest. She was watching the guards with a steady gaze, her movements careful but purposeful.

Hannah felt a rush of adrenaline. "We have to get closer," she whispered.

Esther hesitated, glancing nervously at the guards in the distance. "Are you crazy? They'll kill us."

But Hannah's resolve was firm. She took a step forward, urging Esther to follow her. "If we're going to survive, we need to take risks. This might be our only chance."

They moved in the direction of the woman, keeping low and using the snowstorm to shield them from the guards' sight. As they neared the fence, Hannah could see the woman more clearly now. She was thin, gaunt, like the rest of them, but her eyes—her eyes were sharp and determined.

The woman glanced up just as Hannah and Esther reached the edge of the fence. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and in that fleeting instant, something passed between them—an unspoken understanding.

The woman pulled something from her coat and threw it over the fence to them. A small bundle, wrapped in cloth.

Hannah's heart raced as she caught it, unwrapping it quickly to reveal a handful of bread—fresh, warm, and so much more than a meal. It was a lifeline.

The woman nodded once, her eyes scanning the area to make sure they hadn't been seen. Then, without a word, she turned and disappeared into the snowstorm.

Hannah and Esther stood frozen, the bread clutched tightly in their hands, their breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Who was that?" Esther whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don't know," Hannah replied, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But she just saved our lives."

They ran back to the barracks, their hearts still pounding. The bread was a miracle, but it was also a sign—a flicker of hope in the darkness.

The woman had come from somewhere. And Hannah realized, with a sudden, terrifying clarity, that she wasn't just a prisoner in Auschwitz. She was part of something much larger, something bigger than herself.

And maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for escape. For survival.

But for now, she would hold onto the bread. And she would hold onto the hope that had been reignited, no matter how small.