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Age : 24
Location : Looking for a way out of Purgatory.

PostSubject: Schuld    Mon Jun 27, 2011 7:20 pm

This is a companion/sorta-kinda-sequel to Glück. I s'pose you don't really have to read Glück first, but it might make more sense that way. "Schuld" is German for "guilt".


When they came recruiting, I was one of the first to sign up. To me, it seemed a grand opportunity to escape the poverty our Fatherland had fallen into: a chance to prove to the rest of the world just how strong we truly were.

As the main branch of the von Ostermaur line, we had never been wanting for anything, save a few extra toys that we hadn't really needed anyway. My sister had never grown upset over such things, however, and I thought it prudent to follow her example.

She was perfect in every way; even now, I wonder just how she managed it. Perfect grades, perfect athletic performance, perfect
artistic skill: if I'd made an attempt at copying her portfolio, I probably would've given up partway through.

Appearance-wise, I suppose I wasn't half-bad. We shared our elegant stature, carefully chiseled bone-structure, vibrant blue eyes, bright blond hair, and milky white skin. I even possessed a fair amount of both brains and brawn.

That was why they recruited me, and that was why I began to steadily ascend the ranks, finally attaining a position in the SS: his personal guard. I never felt a particular motivation to protect him or advocate his beliefs; I just wanted my country to be great again.

If I had known how wrong I was, how wrong all of it was, perhaps I would have quit. Or perhaps not. Horrible deeds were around every bend, taking me by surprise time after time. How could I do these things? How could I live with myself; with all that I had done?

There was once a time when my sister was just a tiny little thing, all round and soft: pure. Holding in her arms back then, I'd thought that above all else, I had to protect her. No one would get to her while I still lived; not kidnappers, not murderers, not even our own parents, should they choose to neglect us.

Of course he wanted to see her, and as he did so, I could see it in his eyes. Those mad, barren eyes, watching her as she politely exchanged conversation, and poured coffee, and did all the things ladies were supposed to do in the company of others.

I just knew what he was planning; I knew the time had come for me to protect her. Before they came that night, I woke her from her slumber and grabbed her by the arm, forcibly dragging her out of our less-than-modest home. She did not protest, even as I bit into my lower lip (a habit she often expressed her dissatisfaction with) out of nerves.

No, not out of nerves--out of guilt. Guilt so horribly great, I felt it would crush me with its sheer enormity. Bearing the weight of my guilt was comparable to bearing the weight of the literal Earth.

I knew where we were going, and so, I later realized, did she. Nevertheless, I tried to defend my actions, and stop the guilt from manifesting so powerfully. Worse things would happen if I left her to their whims; I knew them to be depraved creatures, most of unsound minds, who would not hesitate to rip her very humanity away. At least my way allowed her to leave the world still whole, in both body and spirit.

Only now do I realize how foolish I was to believe that by sending her to her death, I was still keeping my promise to protect her. That, by handing her over myself, her fate would not be the same in the end.

Yes, I now know what I had not consciously recognized then; I thought she would live. I believed in their honor as men and women of our nation; I believed in second chances.

How stupid I was, that I did not see I may as well have killed her myself.

I did not lay a hand on her, but her blood coats them nonetheless.

~I have an odd fascination with WWII, particularly the circumstances of the German side. I may continue this through the point of view of the brother, or I may start a new piece involving German child soldiers...For anyone who cares to know.~
~I'm a bit unsure as to the wording of some of this, but I'm working on that aspect of my writing.~
~SS, or Schutzstaffel, was Hitler's personal guard.~
~Oh, and once again, for those who are curious, I listened to the song "You're the Conversation" by Chris Corner whilst writing.~

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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PostSubject: Re: Schuld    Thu Jun 30, 2011 12:04 pm

I think it's a very powerful story. A brother wants to protect is sister from evil men, so he does what he thinks is right. Then, of course, there's regret. It's a wonderful story; they both are. And it's not too terribly odd for you to be interested in WW2. I'm interested in tradgies of the world, like the Titanic and such. Please contiue to write. We all know what happened from the views of the American people, and a little from the Britsih people and survivors of the ghettos and concentration camps. But there are very few books written from the German peoples perspective. "The Nazi Officers Wife" is one, along with "The Boy Who Dared." But those are only two. I think your stories could get very interesting, especially from the view of German children soldiers. Best of luck with the rest of your writing.
-Rachelle41 I love you
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