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The Girl in the Haystack
The Girl in the Haystack
The Girl in the Haystack
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The Girl in the Haystack

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Hours after Germany invades the Soviet Union in 1941, nationalists in a small Ukrainian town carry out a pogrom against local Jews, killing dozens and leaving others for dead. One survivor is a seven-year-old girl. Lyuba is forced from her home into a Nazi ghetto, then spirited away, into hiding, for nearly two years -- on a farm, in haystacks.


Under the hay Lyuba discovers the will to persevere, to survive. Even as her eyes open to the moral failings of her Ukrainian neighbors, she takes heart in the kindness of the Ukrainian farmer who is hiding her at great risk to himself and his family. She's encouraged, too, by thoughts of reunion with her older sister, Hanna, who is in hiding in town. But it's her uncommon bond with the farmer's dog, Brisko, that helps Lyuba through her greatest moments of peril, and despair.


For Lyuba the dog becomes not just a guardian, but a guardian angel.


The real Lyuba -- now living under a different name in the United States -- tells her own story in The Girl in the Haystack, weaving a vivid, suspenseful narrative that addresses simply the complex matters of culture and ethnicity, trust and distrust, courage and cowardice. It is a story that has waited more than seventy years to be told.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 29, 2019
ISBN9781947175099
The Girl in the Haystack

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    Book preview

    The Girl in the Haystack - Bryon MacWilliams

    The Girl in the Haystack

    by

    Bryon MacWilliams

    The Girl in the Haystack

    Copyright © 2019 Bryon MacWilliams

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

    ISBN: 978-1-947175-09-9

    Ebook ISBN: 978-1-947175-14-3

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2018912693

    Cover Design by Kristen Radtke

    Serving House Books logo by Barry Lereng Wilmont

    Published by Serving House Books

    Copenhagen, Denmark, Florham Park, NJ

    www.servinghousebooks.com

    Member of The Independent Book Publishers Association

    First Serving House Books Edition 2019

    For Laura

    Contents

    Author’s Note

    The Day After

    Grandmother’s House

    Secret Places

    The Ghetto

    Just in Time

    Dog Meets Girl

    First Haystack

    More and More People

    Mice, Rats, Lice

    The Barn

    Stillness

    Eighteen Months

    The Horsemen

    Unexpected Visitors

    Like Out of a Book

    Goodbyes

    Liberation

    About

    Tuchin During the Holocaust

    Acknowledgments

    About the Author

    Author’s Note

    This story was told to me, in conversations, by the woman who lived through it — as a girl — nearly eighty years ago. Voices are recreated, facts are not.

    — B.D.M.

    The Day After

    My father is calling my name.

    I say, I’m over here!

    He walks over to me, stops, looks down. He’s crying. He turns, calls my name again, walks away. He walks over, walks away, walks over. He won’t stop calling my name.

    Here I am! Here I am!

    Wait. Why is a sheet covering my face, my body?

    I can see the light bulb in the kitchen through the fabric. I can see my father.

    Why can’t he see me?

    I try to lift my arm to pull aside the sheet but nothing happens, nothing moves.

    Last night our neighbors, men, dragged my mother from the house into the dirt road. They kicked her and hit her with the fat ends of their guns. My older sister, Hanna, and I watched them do it. We stood in the doorway, screaming. When the men were done they walked back toward the house, toward us. Hanna pulled me away by the hand.

    When I next opened my eyes I was on the floor, under a bed. My mother’s clothes iron was under the bed, too. I reached for it, but my hand wouldn’t move. I tried to crawl out from under, but my body wouldn’t move.

    Now I’m lying on my back on the divan and I’m covered by a sheet.

    My uncle says from somewhere, Let’s help Pirl, my mother, at least she’s still with us.

    Oh.

    My Uncle Friedel thinks I’m dead. My father thinks I’m dead.

    This isn’t just a sheet, it’s a shroud.

    That’s why there’s something hard beneath my head — the Hebrew Bible, maybe, or a prayer book.

    Oh my God! I’m not dead, I’m alive!

    Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, alone.

    I want to talk, but I can’t. I want to move, but I can’t. I can see, but no one sees me.

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