OK so I'd REALLY like someone to harshly critique this in general, and I have a few specific concerns @ the end--the prompt is the experience one for common app
THANKS!!! :D
I went to Auschwitz for a day. As a reform Jew, I consider myself more filled-in than most who trek across the eerily well-preserved death factory. But as visitors have unanimously said since its opening, "nothing can prepare you for the horrors of the place."
Our tour guide was eerily thorough and eerily blunt; "This is a room full of human hair. If you look in that case to your right (graceful hand gesture), you will see some rough-looking blankets. They are made from the hairs of the people admitted to Auschwitz." His accent was harsh, precise; unyielding in its deliberate apathy. The gray gravel was eerily deafening under our feet. Everyone's faces were eerily stone-like. Until
from behind, I heard an explosion. Naturally I glanced back, and saw one of our number inundating the eerie, gray gravel with tears. That's one down. Will I be next? Hesitantly--awkwardly, I tried to comfort her; rub her back? I had no idea what to do. Relief arrived in the form of an experienced counselor, and so I left my unwanted post.
We shuffled on. The more we shuffled, the more I felt an inexplicable urge to kick, to scatter, to annihilate the eerie, bullet-sized stones that comprised the eerie, gray gravel. I did this for ten minutes or so without knowing why. Then, suddenly, I became aware of the vicious anger.
Typically, I get ticked at my dad for shrinking a shirt in the wash, or at my brother for breaking into my e-mail; under a more serious circumstance, I resist my furious gut-reaction and think deeper, which usually leads to feelings more akin to sympathy or pity. But in this case, I had gotten plenty of time to consider the Shoah. Before the visit, my emotions were in character; I pitied the brainwashed Nazis and I sympathized with the citizens who claimed they knew nothing, or were too scared to act. But the instant I scattered the first stones, anger burned all other emotion to ash. How could humans do, or worse, ignore something like this? I still can't understand it, and if I do someday, I'm screwed.
Our crew stopped at a guard tower on the outskirts of camp. Before me was barbed wire and a sign inscribed with the words, "HALT! STOP!" I felt affronted, as if the sign were demanding that I must HALT. My response was to kick some more of those abundant eerie gray pebbles.
I went to Auschwitz for a day. As a reform Jew, I consider myself more informed than most who trek across the eerily well-preserved death factory. But as visitors have unanimously said since its opening, "nothing can prepare you for the horrors of the place."
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How bad does the ending suck/how can I make it better?
Would it be more powerful if I cut out the first paragraph and mentioned Auschwitz only at the end?
Does the "eerie" repetition help or hurt?
Is the whole thing too stilted?
THANKS!!! :D
I went to Auschwitz for a day. As a reform Jew, I consider myself more filled-in than most who trek across the eerily well-preserved death factory. But as visitors have unanimously said since its opening, "nothing can prepare you for the horrors of the place."
Our tour guide was eerily thorough and eerily blunt; "This is a room full of human hair. If you look in that case to your right (graceful hand gesture), you will see some rough-looking blankets. They are made from the hairs of the people admitted to Auschwitz." His accent was harsh, precise; unyielding in its deliberate apathy. The gray gravel was eerily deafening under our feet. Everyone's faces were eerily stone-like. Until
from behind, I heard an explosion. Naturally I glanced back, and saw one of our number inundating the eerie, gray gravel with tears. That's one down. Will I be next? Hesitantly--awkwardly, I tried to comfort her; rub her back? I had no idea what to do. Relief arrived in the form of an experienced counselor, and so I left my unwanted post.
We shuffled on. The more we shuffled, the more I felt an inexplicable urge to kick, to scatter, to annihilate the eerie, bullet-sized stones that comprised the eerie, gray gravel. I did this for ten minutes or so without knowing why. Then, suddenly, I became aware of the vicious anger.
Typically, I get ticked at my dad for shrinking a shirt in the wash, or at my brother for breaking into my e-mail; under a more serious circumstance, I resist my furious gut-reaction and think deeper, which usually leads to feelings more akin to sympathy or pity. But in this case, I had gotten plenty of time to consider the Shoah. Before the visit, my emotions were in character; I pitied the brainwashed Nazis and I sympathized with the citizens who claimed they knew nothing, or were too scared to act. But the instant I scattered the first stones, anger burned all other emotion to ash. How could humans do, or worse, ignore something like this? I still can't understand it, and if I do someday, I'm screwed.
Our crew stopped at a guard tower on the outskirts of camp. Before me was barbed wire and a sign inscribed with the words, "HALT! STOP!" I felt affronted, as if the sign were demanding that I must HALT. My response was to kick some more of those abundant eerie gray pebbles.
I went to Auschwitz for a day. As a reform Jew, I consider myself more informed than most who trek across the eerily well-preserved death factory. But as visitors have unanimously said since its opening, "nothing can prepare you for the horrors of the place."
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How bad does the ending suck/how can I make it better?
Would it be more powerful if I cut out the first paragraph and mentioned Auschwitz only at the end?
Does the "eerie" repetition help or hurt?
Is the whole thing too stilted?