Personal Narrative Ghetto

Retaliation The year is 1943, April 19th, and I’m a young Jewish 16 year old girl. Deep in the ghetto of Warsaw is my new home where I live with my 3 older brothers; Micah, Johnathan, Alexander and me, Katrina Doran. My mother and father are Ezra and Keren Doran. They are both deadly sick from the ghetto. My brothers and I tend to them as much as we can. For 3 years my family has been in this ghetto, plotting, scheming, behind the Germans perfectly unbeaten backs. We’ve joined an unwavering resistance.
My brothers are strong, all looking remarkably similar, as if they were triplets. Micah, the eldest has bushy eyebrows, bright green eyes and floppy brown hair that covers his left eye. Johnathan, whom is the second oldest has a large nose that was broken once or twice by a Nazi, has those same enormous bushy eyebrows and those same green eyes. Lastly, Alexander was different he had short hair, green eyes and deep dimples when he smiled but, I don’t see him smile often or any of my brothers. My mother tried so hard to have a little girl luckily here I am today. I am 16 years of age, flat chest, long spider legs, brown eyes, and a haircut to my shoulders. Growing up with brothers meant I am

Just as we finished hiding the last couple weapons the Nazi’s barged in and pushing my brother and I outside our home, I glance back just in time to see the outline of my parents’ bodies and a fire inside my stomach went into flames and I knew that I was going to escape this hell for my parents, who wanted a much better life for my siblings and I. Word spreads like a wild fire in the ghetto, I bump into Zivia on the way to the trains and she shows me her weapon under her coat to show that she has the same idea. 360,000 people are in this ghetto, and 260,000 have slowly been deported to the unknown. As they line us up to shove us into the train our members were everywhere, and we all knew it was time to strike