Dear Diary,

I have been terrified every since I lost my parents to the Nazis at the synagon. I will probably never get to see them again. I am very thankful that Annemarie’s family are taking care of me and keeping me safe. I am pretending to be Lise Johanson and trying to not be taken away by the Nzai’s like my parents.

I am very pleased that the Johanson’s are keeping me safe during the relocation of Jews. I will never forget the time when my parents were taken away from me. The last words I heard from my mother was “I Love You!”, and those words were racing through my mind for the rest of the night until a sudden loud banging on the door awoke the family. My eyes wide open in fear and my heart beating like drums.

Three German soldiers marched into the living room like a herd of zebras. Their boots shocked the ground in roar and left me to be as scared as I have ever been. The three German soldiers rampaged through the house trying to find what they were looking for. The German soldiers stomped into the room that Annemarie and I were staying in. The soldiers looked through everything in the room and flashed a light towards Annemarie and I. “Get up out of the bed!” said the one of the German soldiers in a horrible danish accent. Annemarie and I stood straight up in fear and walked into the living room. One of the German soldiers grabbed my hair and held it very tight. Mr. Johanson swiftly went towards the bookshelf and took out our family photo album. He tore out 3 different pictures and shoved the pictures into the German soldier. Each picture labeled each Infant’s name, “Kriten Elizabith, Lise Johanson, Annemarie Johanson…?” said the soldier in a anger. The soldier threw the pictures towards the ground and walked towards the door and left the room.

Sincerely,
Ellen