"No," I say more emphatically. "There's no one else here."
I stand with my family. I stand on the creaky old floorboards afraid of their frailty. I stand afraid because there are more beneath my feet. Five more.
The man in the grey uniform continues to scowl. I keep the bored look on my face. My little Adelina is scared, clinging to my wife's skirt, and I will the harsh man to leave.
But I could never say so. Even if the double "S" was not stitched in red on his collar. Even if his Mauser Karabiner 98 wasn't slung on his shoulder. We would still be at war.
And I am a traitor.
The SS officer in grey finally gives another disdainful glance around my home and leaves. I suppose he is satisfied with my answers. He slams the door.
I can almost hear the floor below me heave a sigh of relief. Though I know it doesn't. The five souls below me have hardly uttered a sound since I yanked up my floor to hide them in the crawl space below.
The baker's family next door. They are the ones that inhabit my floor. Emmiel, the baker and father and friend. He came to me that night of terror. The night their reality shattered along with the wide window of their bakery.
"We need a place to hide," he pleaded.
"You need to get out," I replied.
Emmiel swallowed and glanced at his wife and three children. They are all blonde. His sons are twins with deep brown eyes. It is his oldest, his only daughter who has the blue eyes the party idolizes. But she is Jewish. They all are. Emmiel knows he cannot protect them all tonight. This night of broken glass.
I hide them. I cannot deny them this small comfort. It is dangerous. But these days, there is little that is not.
I close my eyes. Remembering these events is tiring. More so is the question they bring to mind of the future. How will I get them out of this country?
"Daddy?" Adelina asks, as she tugs my sleeve.
"What, my little cupcake?"
"I said," her small hands are now on her hips, mimicking the impatient stance her mother makes when I am late for supper. "Why did that man come into our house?"
I scoop her up into my arms, unsure of how to answer my five-year-old daughter. I don't want to lie to her. But is telling a five-year-old the truth too dangerous?
"He just wanted to know who lives here, sweetheart."
"Isn't he a soldier?"
"Yes."
"Then why isn't he fighting in the war?"
I smile but it is laced with heavy sadness. This war is not just with other countries. It is with some of our own citizens. This war of domination and purification. "He's a special soldier and he stays here." These thoughts sicken me and I hope Adelina has no more questions for me.
She seems content and wriggles until I release her to the ground. She runs to Fritz and begs him to play. My twelve-year-old roll his eyes, but is only joking with her. I am relieved to see his face returned to his jovial nature instead of the worried look he wore while the SS officer inspected our home.
My wife, Cora, slips he slender arms around me from behind.
"I was so nervous," she whispers, hoping the Jews we harbor cannot hear her. She rests her head on my back.
"What do we do, Bernd, if they come back?"
I take a deep breath before I answer.
"The same thing."
I feel her sigh. She worries. About us. About our children. About what might happen.
"I will get them out," I promise. She releases her embrace and i turn to face her. Cora's lovely face in my hands.
"I'll get them to safety."
Cora smiles, but it's tainted with concern.
I cannot stop the next lie.
"Everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it."
I'm sorry that I've been so long in my response. Writing is HARD it takes tiiime. *whines*
ReplyDeleteOkay, here we go.
This is a nice, powerful little piece. I like how short it is. The title "3 Lies" is very nice and when it comes back at the end to the lie of "Everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it." It's just great.
I like the touching father daughter scene next to the tense one with the SS Officers. Nice contrast.
I'm a little confused about the space that Bernd is keeping his neighbors in. I mean, I know it's beneath their feet, but what is it exactly? Is it a cellar? A crawlspace? Do they ever come out of there?
I like the part about how the baker's family had their world shattered along with their window. That's a nice line. There's one other references to the night of broken glass and I think that you don't need to make such an obvious reference to it. I figured out what you were talking about just from the image of the window shattering.
I really like the name Adelina. That's neither here nor there, I just do.
I feel like there's a little bit of tension in the story where Cora talks about how she was nervous when the SS Officer were there and it says that she hopes their neighbors can't hear them. I like the idea that harboring your neighbor, even though it's the right thing to do, is very dangerous and it would be nice to see a little more inner turmoil at the decision.
Good prompt and good story. Good job!
Loved this story. Sosososososo much. It pulls at the right heartstrings with its simplicity (GOOD THING) and leaves one to take what they want out of it, which is probably not far off from what you wanted them to take out of, which is never the easiest thing to do in writing, so I commend you for that!
ReplyDeleteI had a bit of a question regarding Cora and her position in the matter. I understand her husband more than her, but I figured that she might have had some objections to it, especially since they've got two kids to think of as well. Not to say that Cora can't be understanding, but a little bit of an insight on her part would really flesh out her character and the family's character as well.
I don't know why, but I really enjoyed how resolute the narrator is. Sometimes that's really all you can afford to get through the hard times. Any more pondering could endanger all of them. Just concentrating on what's right and focusing on that...it really moved me.
Loved this story. loveloveloved it. I'm working on that prompt now, but it's a bit of a longer story, and I'm putting it up in parts :)