Cold. That's the first thing I feel when I wake up. I suppose the fire went out; my blanket fell off.
Rain. That's the first thing I hear when I wake up. Leaking through the roof; pattering the ground.
Mold. That's the first thing I smell when I wake up. Invading every crevice of this wooden box.
Bile. That's the first thing I taste when I wake up. Can't afford much food; surviving on what I find.
I finally open my eyes. I see black and white and brown and green. No colour, no life, no happiness. I'm numb.
Hey world :) Here it is! This is the first part of my story, and I hope you're going to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it (as cliche as that sounds...). Anyways, I'll be updating more often, so keep an eye out for that. Talk to you soon <3
YOU ARE READING
I don't think I've lived before I met you
Historical FictionSet during World War Two in Amsterdam. An orphan is sent to a concentration camp, where he has too much time to think. Throughout torture, dehumanization, love and loss, he finds home.
