Prizes won in the “Holocaust through the eyes of the children” literature competition – Use of mosaic technique First place: Borche Dimovski, "Marko Cepenkov" Primary School from st. Zeleni-kovo, mentor - Zhaklina Boshkovic Second place: Tanja Vojdinovska, "Grigor Prlichev" Primary School from Ohrid, mentor - Mira Grupcheva Third place: Rijad Gegic, "Marko Cepenkov" Primary School from st. Zelenikovo, mentor - Zhaklina Boshkovic Prizes won in the “Holocaust through the eyes of the children” literature competition. Topic for this year: “My friend, tell me a Holocaust story” First place: Antonia Cvetanoska, "Goce Delchev" Primary School from Bitola, mentor - Emilija Prchkova Second place: Sara Cvetkova, "Mirche Acev" Primary School from Skopje, men-tor - Pavlina Ognenovska Third place: David Bogojevski, "Aleksandar Zdravkovski" Primary School from Jegunovce, mentor - Angjelina Kostovska

“HOLOCAUST IN MY EYES” – FIRST PRIZE WINNER The day wins over the night. It's morning. I wake up, but a dark cloud lies over my soul. Behind the laced curtains, the sun rays are already penetrating the room. A shy shadow peeks out of the ceiling, and as it approaches, it grabs my hand and we sit together by the window. In front of us, like a real gentleman, the old walnut tree is raising tall. A naughty girl is playing under the shade of its canopy. She runs enchanted left and right, singing something to herself. She reminds me of Adina, my best friend, who would often come under the window of my room and would call me to hang out. I, on the other hand, was the "sleepy head" who wanted to sleep longer in the morning, but Adina was always waiting for me patiently on the bench under the old walnut. Many images of events we had experienced together passed through my mind. From one of those events I carry a thousand memories! The sadness presses on my chest, I feel a spasm on my face, and tears are rolling down my cheeks. I am suffocated by a great emptiness and loneliness. Adina is gone! Also gone are other children from the neighborhood who would come under the old walnut tree, so the soft green grass would easily turn into a football field. It's my fondest memory of the summer days, spent hanging out, until it gets dark. The seasons change, the smile of summer fades in the rainy autumn days. The last fall we spent together, I would go to school every morning, and at noon Adina would come to my house to tell her what I had learned. The children from the neighboring "Jewish" street, as everyone called it, were not allowed to attend classes. Adina had a great desire to learn, to learn new things, to solve tasks, and most of all, she wanted to read. I was passing on to her everything the teacher told us and lent her books. Until that seemingly ordinary day, when Adina did not come to my home at all, after my return from school. I realized that something was wrong and I hurried to the street where she lived. It was empty, quiet, there was no... As if it were hinting at something. The next day they were taken away. All of them - our Jewish friends. Adina was not among us anymore. I stopped in front of her house, the blankets were down, and the other houses were empty. The street was painted gray and dark. As I was returning home, I was overwhelmed with grief but also with resentment. I asked my parents why this happened, and why. At first the answer was silence and shrugs, but then they explained to me that all those families had been taken away, just because they were Jews. Where - no one knew. Nothing was clear to me - what does that mean? Why? Why did they take them? The answer was the same: "They are Jews." Then we learned that the Jews had been taken to concentration camps for forced labor, and that they had been brutally killed. They were subjected to harassment, medical experiments, and inhumane treatment that led to certain death. Then for the first time I learned the whole cruel truth that I could not accept at all. What were they different from us? We were all the same, children with good will, there were no differences between us. They did nothing wrong, and were taken away only because they were born as Jews. Well, they were human beings, with their own name, their own face and their own lives! A terrible crime was committed against a helpless people! We must not allow time to erase the reality and change the attitude towards this world evil! We must not remain indifferent, any hatred between nations must cease once and for all. Let the Holocaust be an eternal reminder of the human folly, but also an incentive for eternal love and respect among all of us. Today I sit and watch the roses located in front of my window. With a lot of care, I grow them every day - in honor of Adina. My heart is full of sorrow, grief, tears... I cry quietly, secretly. Pronouncing her name, I folded my hands and pray for her, looking at the bench under the old walnut tree, where we studied and hanged out together.

MY FRIEND, TELL ME A HOLOCAUST STORY – SECOND PRIZE WINNER A sad echo passes through the pages of the new century, my friend. While the pictures of your words are burning me, I pay tribute to the unknown without graves. Your story tightens me like a lump, the bitter nightmare will not be able to escape. For the trembling in the gray, cruel darkness, for the hope in the eyes of the morning ray. Chains trampled by bloodshed, destinies heavy unknowingly lost, silently singing about young life, silently whisper of persecution and hunger. A separated child from a mother's breast had its soul taken in black camps. From the native tree the broken branch under the stroke of the ruthless palm. Aren't they all the same in this world of God? Why did the ice hit the fragrant flower? Isn't the Holocaust a disgrace to the human race? Why would evil reign under this heavenly vault? Like torn roses in the middle of a thorny road, like hot stones around your neck. Like a clear tear in a dark mountain, like a silent prayer in a bloody dawn. Flowers rooted from the native lump, scattered to death in distant worlds! There is no touch that will warm the soul, the longing for justice is forever burning in them! The memories of the gray mornings last forever, do the innocent know they are prisoners? The scars on the heart are like lead stamp on fire, the pictures of the camps have been dragging on for years! Lives thrown into the abyss and shadow of unfulfilled dreams into a thin fate! Death without life, palm without hand, verse after verse for unforgettable suffering! Children like pearls in a dark shell, a bloody seal of the Jewish pain! They carry a longing and steel power on their backs, they wander in the light in the middle of the black night! I promise you, my dear friend, I will convey your memory! Let's plant an eternal desire for peace! Let's fight for a world without sorrow and division!

THIRD PRIZE WINNER My friend, tell me a Holocaust story One cannot describe feelings with words without experiencing them. It's very cold outside, and I went out without my coat. I just forgot it because I was in a hurry. I didn't have time to go back and get it. I sat on the bench, waiting for the bus to arrive. Luckily for me, the bus arrived immediately. I went in and sat down next to an adult who looked at me in astonishment and with a look as if he wanted to ask me where I was going without a coat. As if my blood froze, I could not feel my body, heart and voice. I barely wished him good morning. He gently put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to tell him a truth about a winter coat. He told me that he is coming from a Jewish family. He did not receive a confirmed answer from me, but he still started talking: "That coat was sewn by my grandmother's hands back in 1933, she sewed it for my father. My father was a young boy at the time. At that time the Jews lost their rights. The main culprit for the Holocaust was the then German fuhrer and chancellor, Adolf Hitler. He considered Jews to be enemies of Germany, so he started persecuting them." As I listened, I felt my body warming up. This man told me in more details about the golgotha, the mass killings, and how they had been expelled and taken to a camp, and treated in the most brutal and tragic way. In January 1945, his father was evacuated from Auschwitz. Together with the majority of prisoners, they were sent on a so-called "Death March" that was 50 kilometers in cold weather with subzero temperatures, were dressed in thin clothing. Before being taken to Auschwitz, his father was forced to give his coat to the person from Bitola, because they were forbidden to wear warm clothes. He was slowly bringing this painful story to an end. His father's coat was preserved and taken to the Jewish Holocaust Memorial Center, so those victims are never forgotten so they are not murdered for a second time. He asked me never to allow myself to be someone's victim, even victim of the cold. The bus stopped, and that was his station. The man looked me in the eye and said the last sentence: "The world must never be silent when people are suffering."