The snow fell heavily on them as they ran. The wind was gesticulating wildly, hindering their balance as they made their way through the perplexing dark woods. All she could hear was the huff and puff of her breath. She didn’t know why she was running. Every time she looked back, her father would push her to increase her speed. She was cold, she was tired. Her old yellow boots were soaked in water. Her legs were frozen. She looked at her father’s eyes and the fear she saw advised her to continue running, that whatever was chasing her made her father afraid. She had never seen her father afraid. So she ran.



“Ariella, light the eighth candle,” her mother commanded her. She took the server candle and lit the eighth one. She marvelled at the beauty of the light. Her father took the Torah and began Zot Hanukkah. He read Numbers 7:84. She listened, watching the lights on the candle tops. The lights flicked as if they were in fear of the voice of her father reading the words of Moses.



Now there were shots coming from behind them. Shots coming from the trees. Her father took her hands leading her to run even faster. She wasn’t touching the snow, she was flying now. Her mother, ahead of her, did not look back. The pots and pans she carried from the house banged against each other with every step.

“Drop them, Hadassah! Drop those pots, they can hear us!”

Her mother kept running. She heard them. But she did not look back. She kept running through the woods. All they could hear was the sound of the pots: clock, clock.



“They destroyed the first temple, Ariella. Nehemiah was rebuilding the second Holy Temple of God. We celebrate Hanukkah to remember our freedom, our coming back home. We are finally home. Home.” Ariella continued watching the lights. They were beautiful, those lights.



Her father fell. His leg against the root of the tree. He groaned in pain. Ariella dropped with him as well. He tried to get up, but there was no way. His leg was fractured. She called for her mother to come help her, but her mother did not look back. She kept running. Faster. Until she disappeared in the shadow of the dark.

“Go! Run! Ariella, please, run!” He was crying now. He pushed her away from him. The sounds were getting closer. She could not leave him there. She could not run. The voices was getting closer and closer. He urged Ariella to go.

Ariella stood up and began to run. She stopped. She stood behind the big lifeless oak tree. She watched. Men. They had green suits with a red band on their right arm with a black swastika. It was the sign the Nazis. She had heard of them, but did not know why they were running from them. She watched them. They spoke in German. The language was harsh and cold. They spit on her father and kick him, he grunted.

The one of the German man, the one with the gold hair and sea-blue eyes took his gun. He held it over her father. With a devilish smile, he shot him. Ariella jumped at every shot. She cried, muffling the sound by pressing her ice hands on her lips. She waited until they went. Anger build up inside of her.



“Why did they destroy the temple, Father? Why did they enslave us, and take our land?”

He looked at her .“Adonai knew why. He knew why. All we have to do is trust him and believe he has a reason for everything.”



She walked over to her father’s body. Blood covered his corpse. The blood-stained snow made a tomb for him. She sat, placing her back resting on the tree.

“No, Abba, I can’t trust this God.” she cried.

The snow softly continued to fall.