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 Glück (Short Story)

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Posts : 360
WL Points : 19182
Join date : 2010-04-29
Age : 24
Location : Looking for a way out of Purgatory.

PostSubject: Glück (Short Story)   Sun Mar 20, 2011 12:38 am


It was my brother that handed me over. He was Schutzstaffel--SS. That wasn't what he wanted, though, so don't blame him.
What happened...wasn't his fault.
It was mine.
I was Aryan, with gorgeous blue eyes and soft blond hair. I was of the Christian faith. I did brilliantly in school; I was the best in my class. Personality-wise, I was quiet and submissive, but strong. Physically strong, too. Few could compete with me when it came to athletics. My heritage was purely German; my family had been around since Caesar referred to the land east of the Rhine as "Germania".
Ich entschuldige mich. The past is...humorous to me, now. Sometimes, I just feel like laughing.
If I do not laugh, I will cry.
My brother was SS, and I was perfect.
Maybe too perfect, because that is the only reason I can give. I was not Jewish, I was not Roma, I was not homosexual, I was not unstable in any way.
I met him. That was the worst day of my life. A Monday. My brother was there. Our dead parents were not.
I met him. Pleasantries were exchanged. Conversation ensued. I thought nothing of it, until my brother was gripping my arm that night, leading me away from our house with blood dripping down his chin. I worried he would recieve punishment for tearing up his lower lip with his teeth like that.
Later on, I worried I would never see him again.
I never did.
He lived.
The ride was very, very long. At least it was not in the carts, where I would slowly break from insanity...but it was still far too long. The car was black, and reminded me of a hearse. Now I think that is what it really was.
At the gates, "Arbeit macht frei" greeted me. I knew what it meant, and I knew it was a lie. My brother had told me how this place worked. They didn't send me to Buna.
On my way to Death, another SS stopped me. Perhaps he knew my brother (for we were so alike) and recognized me, or perhaps it was simply because I stood out.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, pointedly staring at the iron cross around my neck. At that point, it had not been confiscated.
"...I am the only daughter of the von Ostermaur family. Yourself?"
He chuckled lightly, but the cheer did not reach his eyes. "Lukas Kirsch. This is not a place for little rich dolls to play," he chided, taking a step closer to me, "so what are you doing here?"
By that point, we had drawn the attention of many other prisoners, as well as the officers who ordered them about. Everything seemed to pause, waiting, just for me, the special little rich doll.
"Hitler does not like me."

Glück - Luck
Schutzstaffel - Hitler's personal guard
Ich entschuldige mich - I apologize
Arbeit macht frei - Work will set you free

Life is like thunder; powerful, confusing, wonderous, loud, inexplainable, sudden, beautiful in ways you can't even begin to describe, and completely unexpected. Death is like lightning; it strikes even the most powerful things, and shoots through the ground to everyone nearby, leaving them with only a painful aftershock.

Almost dying changes nothing. Dying changes everything.

Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
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