Somehow, today’s Friday Fictioneers story got posted on my Bible Study page. I’ve reblogged it to its appropriate place, but decided to leave it there as well. We need to remember. We like to say, “Never Again!” But it could happen again. The hearts of mankind don’t change from one generation to the next.
Shlomo, bent and frail, watched as busloads of tourists filed under the Arbeit Macht Frei gateway. Loaded with water bottles–which made Shlomo smile –and cameras, they gazed with intense curiosity, as if they expected to see ghosts. Most became very quiet.
There wasn’t even any birdsong, as if nature itself revered the spirits of those who had suffered there.
Shlomo, aided by a grandson on each side, walked away from the tourists toward the barracks that he knew best. Wordless, he and his grandsons stood and gazed into the interior.
Wordless, they walked away.