Holocaustor or Holocausted Game

What if, in a past life, you lived the Holocaust?

Say you were there. You were in it. For this, you get to choose whether your role was as a victim, or as an aggressor.

Choose one.  Which do you choose?

Just for a minute, pretend. Pretend that you do believe in past lives, Even if you don’t.

If you do happen to believe in past lives, skip this part.

Step up.

Choose one or the other. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a mater of which.

Imagine, unimaginable quantum possibilities as you return to your past. Remember, then feel, go deep. Re-live your experience.

Choose:

Yourself, suddenly, deemed murderer of Christ. You are beginning to get looked down on more, and more. You hear public speeches full of lies about you and your good people. Your bright eyes dim with all the babies in you community crying around the clock. No big deal though, such has happened for centuries to some degree or other down the generations since your ancestors. Just not the babies all crying all the time, not that.

In the open aggressive old chums shun you passing in the street. Your own friends do it.  Your sweet old customers give your sour filthy looks. A once respectable man, he had respected you, now suddenly he has no qualms openly stealing from you. The police do not respond. They laugh. After a while you wear a big red star on your clothes.

Your community, your neighborhoods, are collapsing in whimpering chaos around you. Your livelihood  falls to ruin. How will you family survive? Your customers no longer come to your graffiti pocked, locked business, except to take what they can carry in wheelbarrows. Once friendly neighbors wildly, sack your ancestral heritage shop in the night. You stare defenseless subdued, by tear streaked helplessness at the blaze billowing  smoke. You a hide on roof . Your old friends en mob are gleefully burning you property to sticks.

Somehow you start turning into a beast, a big dirty hungry cockroach. Then, like the infesting insect you are hunted down, and exterminated.  Your family cower for months, hidden by a couple of terrified old friends. You barely just exist, cramped, fearful in the damp dark, starving, dreading, again, again, the sharp stab, dull dreading.

Creeping months of terrifying dieing, bang bang bang in the dead of night! Police shout at the door, again. You feel your friends fear, and the guilt as you hear them yelled at, beaten, moaning, all for your unworthy sake. You hear your friend beg them to stop hurting his wife. They don’t stop. The wall crashes down. You vomit with terror, then miss snatching up the baby, before you are beaten, arrested, and dragged away. Your protectors are arrested, too. Baby is left.

Your beloved coughing, bleeding, sick and broken, dies defeated, eyes wide with horror, arms still around you. You are left helpless, undefended in the cruel alone, on the never ending, freezing train. You arrive at Auschwitz.

There, your few acquaintances are beaten to death for your benefit. Working in freezing weather your rag-swaddled feet get frostbitten. Blue, red, cuts, swelling, swollen like ripe fruit, red infected, juicy oozing. You work, or you die on these feet. You watch your sick frail father stripped of his clothes beaten in the freeze, moaning, writhing on the ground, then still.  You can’t help him. You get no last word, no comfort for him. He watches you watch him beat. You are marched away. You never see him again.

You starve while you get frozen again, and again every day. You are worked till you drop. You fall and can’t get up again. You can’t move. No one can help you.

As an example of what happens when you aren’t worth your shovel, year are beaten numb with it. The faintest spark of hope, of grace disappears, you feel abandoned by God, feeling hollow, soul-rotted, unsaved. You don’t care anymore. Curse them, you die.

Or:

You are a respected, upstanding God-fearing citizen of a proud wonderful race. Your eyes are eager and bright. You adore your family sweet wife and bright boys and a darling girl, with golden curls and dimples, just like her mother. You work hard to take good care of them, especially your aging mother. You get this job, at first, just to pay for her treatment by a renown surgeon specializing in her condition.

When you realize that there is an internal threat to your country, it’s no question weather you are going to defend it. That’s when you get really into your work. You excel, are paid well, and promoted.  Finally, mother gets proper medical treatment. Your sons attend proper young citizen youth training in the best academy. Miraculously, Mother is improving. This is the one doctor that could help her. You did it.

That’s when you start to really get it, and understand what is really going on in your country. Everyone is awakening to realize the persistent massive evil threat. How our, unique, superior, ethics and ways that the future morality of your children depend on, is in jeopardy. They have always been a threat, since they killed Jesus. No one has ever been man enough to totally do something about it. But, before all the world, we are now. Which but this superior race would take on and complete such a massive, and daunting task? To cleanse the world of all disease baring, destructive, biting, swarming, pesky, stinging, crawling vermin. Imagine the world with mo mosquitoes or roaches. This is even better.

It’s not even a question. Your only purpose is following this is noble ever revered way of life. You are proud to step up to your duty to serve God and Country.

You get promoted to the slaughter house were one of the biggest challenges is to realize that though sometimes these animals may seem human, they are unquestionably not. So, you absolutely don’t allow their impure tears or cries of such children, or wails of mothers, to ever make you weak.  The moaning deceitful enemy will do anything to entice you like snakes to be allowed to re-infest, and infect the land. Ha! You know better. You know what is right.

The work is abominable work, and doing it makes you hard as stone like a soldier should be.  You are strong, and you know it.  You prevail. You are unmoved.

You help the good cause process more than a hundred thousand of the vermin right out of threatening the greater good. Sometimes teasing, and taunting lifts your spirits.  Making sport with the animals helps with comic relief from the drudgery of this dirty job. You get as much sport, and fun from your job as you can. Why not?

You where doing a great job, really saving the world from this threat to humanity… Then, betrayed! The glorious work is cut short by the army of Satan. You know you are the good guys. You know it, but you get defamed, persecuted, hunted, captured, accused, and put on trial for your beliefs–the dictates of your own conscience.

These traitors! Yellow cowards, couldn’t stomach what needs to be finished.  Enticed by their weakness, their inferior minds, let their emotions take over and control them.  They are weak. You are not. The whole world, at first, had sighed with sweet relief, agreeing with your magnificent work.  Everyone know something had to be done! Inferior race! They changed their weak minds like a bunch of geese when success was withing reach. So, close.

You, the pinnacle of creation, the only ones worthy to survive pure, now abandoned. It’s in your nature to persevere. What else would a truly honorable servant of the state do?

Now, suddenly, after doing all the good dirty work, you get screwed out of respect honor and your reward as the devout soldier you are. Then, further, you get humiliated, stripped of your position, dignity, and disrespected. Your superior country is lost. All is lost.

You start to be seen as a monster, abhorred and shunned by all the world, now. You are treated like an animal.

You don’t understand……

Which role did you choose?

Oh so, you really would choose a game like this?

I wonder how it was offered. What enticed us to play it in the first place?

This game is like baseball, maybe that’s it.

Three strikes! You’re out! We are up!

Now, switch places.

This game scenario is Major League.

There is no shame if you prefer to play Little League.

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