A Hot Supper For Friends
#85.6 Theft
Two weeks had passed since I finally came awake and met the young Amarante. I was still trapped in the small house that she and her grandfather shared on the grounds of the Chateau de Rochefort. I think that perhaps I may be going insane. Even spending the winter at Pepe's house I have never been inside a building, without even going outside to use the outhouse, this long. I have taken to sitting in a chair pressed against the wall next to the window. Using the back of a silver spoon, I have polished for endless hours against my shirt, I watch the comings and goings outside the window. In two weeks I have seen exactly five rabbits, four squirrels, one fox, umpteen birds that I can't identify and one German supply truck. Exactly fifteen minutes ago.
I had pulled my boots and jacket on, making sure my knife was in my belt. I slipped out the front door, sticking to well trodden paths. My soft souled boots leaving barely an indentation. As I neared the manor house I spotted the tracks of the truck leading around behind. I snuck around quietly around the manor house, sticking to late afternoon shadows util the final corner was insight.
The truck driver stood smoking a cigarette and speaking inlow tones to an SS Colonel while an enlisted man read over the cargo manifest with an older French woman in servants cloths. I watched and waited quietly until at last the Colonel turned and went back into the house. The driver turned, cursing in German and strode into the house. The serving woman and the German soldier turned gesturing for two others to begin unloading the truck.
As the loads of goods began disappearing into the house I darted around to the far side of the truck and lifted the flap nearest the front. I reached up inside, grabbing the wooden edge and pulled myself up over the box's. Looking around I took stock of what was available. I quickly grabbed two tins of pork, stuffing them into my jacket, and couple of apples. To this I added a package of tobacco and a bundle of rolling papers, some matches.
The sound of voices speaking German froze me in mid action. I released the bag of dried figs and ducked down behind a large box. To burly German soldiers smoking cigarettes leaped up into the bed of the truck and slung two large bags of flour between them. Tossing these down to their companions below the moved further in and I caught my breath. Not breathing, my hand crept to my knife, I tensed waiting. They grabbed a box next to the one I hid behind and hefted it into the air. Grunting they carried it towards the back of the truck and lowered it down. Dropping after it they lifted it again and followed the two with the flour sacks into the kitchen.
I slipped out the back of the truck quickly and bolted around the corner just as a man dressed in the uniform of a junior officer came around the far side of the manor. He walked with a young woman dressed as a maid. The weren't quite arm in arm, but his quiet voice carried over the snow. I stopped and slipped behind a scrap bin, almost discovered for a second time.
Time dragged on and the cold began to set in. It was probably only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Finally the maid the Officer parted company and my chance to escape presented its self. I dashed down the trails, bobbing and weaving the whole way. I made certain that my tracks were obscured, smudged and only in well walked places.
At last I made it through the door of the little cottage, the air burning my lungs like liquid fire and my legs shaking beneath me. A wide grin spread across my face as I unloaded my ill gotten gains. Two tins of ham and four big, tasty looking apples, plus the tobacco and rolling papers.
I quickly looked for places to stash the apples and tobacco. Finding a small hole where one of the rafters wasn't tight against the wall, I slipped in the tobacco and papers then stashed the apples under a stack of old blankets. Lastly I popped oped the hams and put them in a kettle over the fire. The best place to hide food is always in ones own belly. Draining the water from the tins into the pot I slipped the empty tins into my jacket and slipped back outside.
I ran quickly back to the kitchen area of the chateau, using the lengthening early evening shadows as cover. I rounded the corner and checked for guards or soldiers hanging around the truck. All was quiet and the truck was shut off. The driver and his escort were probably still sitting in the kitchen drinking tea or coffee, trying to put off the inevitable trip back out into the cold, winter night.
I slipped up next too the driver side door and eased it open. I quickly slid the tins out of my jacket and slipped them up behind the drivers seat, under the spare blanket stashed in the cab. Making sure that enough of the can showed that some one looking hard enough would notice it there, then I quietly shut the door. I slipped back into my hiding spot behind the scrap bins and waited.
It wasn't long before I heard raised voice speaking in both French and German. The older French woman came out the door behind the driver and the guard, followed by the same Junior Officer I had seen earlier. He was alternating between French, asking the woman to assure the Colonel that the lost supplies would be quickly replaced and berating the driver for his carelessness.
"Sir, the good were all there, I checked the manifest myself." the driver said, a note of worry underlying his crisp response.
"Well then, Private, maybe we simply missed something in the truck, shall we look again?" the Lieutenant climbed up in the back and looked around. "Well this seems to be empty, shall we check the cab next?"
Chuckling quietly I slipped back into the shadows and slunk back to the house. My hosts were safe from reprisal and a good dinner would be waiting when they returned.
I slipped through the door and removed my boots and jacket. Whistling softly to my self, I dug out the apples and began cutting them up and tossing them into the pot on the fire. Munching the core I selected seasonings and set a kettle boiling. Satisfied with a hard days work well done I sat back and waited for my hosts return.
Name; Alexandre Pestrala
Fandome; OC, WOD, WWII
Words; 1133
RP with sunnotshadows
Two weeks had passed since I finally came awake and met the young Amarante. I was still trapped in the small house that she and her grandfather shared on the grounds of the Chateau de Rochefort. I think that perhaps I may be going insane. Even spending the winter at Pepe's house I have never been inside a building, without even going outside to use the outhouse, this long. I have taken to sitting in a chair pressed against the wall next to the window. Using the back of a silver spoon, I have polished for endless hours against my shirt, I watch the comings and goings outside the window. In two weeks I have seen exactly five rabbits, four squirrels, one fox, umpteen birds that I can't identify and one German supply truck. Exactly fifteen minutes ago.
I had pulled my boots and jacket on, making sure my knife was in my belt. I slipped out the front door, sticking to well trodden paths. My soft souled boots leaving barely an indentation. As I neared the manor house I spotted the tracks of the truck leading around behind. I snuck around quietly around the manor house, sticking to late afternoon shadows util the final corner was insight.
The truck driver stood smoking a cigarette and speaking inlow tones to an SS Colonel while an enlisted man read over the cargo manifest with an older French woman in servants cloths. I watched and waited quietly until at last the Colonel turned and went back into the house. The driver turned, cursing in German and strode into the house. The serving woman and the German soldier turned gesturing for two others to begin unloading the truck.
As the loads of goods began disappearing into the house I darted around to the far side of the truck and lifted the flap nearest the front. I reached up inside, grabbing the wooden edge and pulled myself up over the box's. Looking around I took stock of what was available. I quickly grabbed two tins of pork, stuffing them into my jacket, and couple of apples. To this I added a package of tobacco and a bundle of rolling papers, some matches.
The sound of voices speaking German froze me in mid action. I released the bag of dried figs and ducked down behind a large box. To burly German soldiers smoking cigarettes leaped up into the bed of the truck and slung two large bags of flour between them. Tossing these down to their companions below the moved further in and I caught my breath. Not breathing, my hand crept to my knife, I tensed waiting. They grabbed a box next to the one I hid behind and hefted it into the air. Grunting they carried it towards the back of the truck and lowered it down. Dropping after it they lifted it again and followed the two with the flour sacks into the kitchen.
I slipped out the back of the truck quickly and bolted around the corner just as a man dressed in the uniform of a junior officer came around the far side of the manor. He walked with a young woman dressed as a maid. The weren't quite arm in arm, but his quiet voice carried over the snow. I stopped and slipped behind a scrap bin, almost discovered for a second time.
Time dragged on and the cold began to set in. It was probably only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Finally the maid the Officer parted company and my chance to escape presented its self. I dashed down the trails, bobbing and weaving the whole way. I made certain that my tracks were obscured, smudged and only in well walked places.
At last I made it through the door of the little cottage, the air burning my lungs like liquid fire and my legs shaking beneath me. A wide grin spread across my face as I unloaded my ill gotten gains. Two tins of ham and four big, tasty looking apples, plus the tobacco and rolling papers.
I quickly looked for places to stash the apples and tobacco. Finding a small hole where one of the rafters wasn't tight against the wall, I slipped in the tobacco and papers then stashed the apples under a stack of old blankets. Lastly I popped oped the hams and put them in a kettle over the fire. The best place to hide food is always in ones own belly. Draining the water from the tins into the pot I slipped the empty tins into my jacket and slipped back outside.
I ran quickly back to the kitchen area of the chateau, using the lengthening early evening shadows as cover. I rounded the corner and checked for guards or soldiers hanging around the truck. All was quiet and the truck was shut off. The driver and his escort were probably still sitting in the kitchen drinking tea or coffee, trying to put off the inevitable trip back out into the cold, winter night.
I slipped up next too the driver side door and eased it open. I quickly slid the tins out of my jacket and slipped them up behind the drivers seat, under the spare blanket stashed in the cab. Making sure that enough of the can showed that some one looking hard enough would notice it there, then I quietly shut the door. I slipped back into my hiding spot behind the scrap bins and waited.
It wasn't long before I heard raised voice speaking in both French and German. The older French woman came out the door behind the driver and the guard, followed by the same Junior Officer I had seen earlier. He was alternating between French, asking the woman to assure the Colonel that the lost supplies would be quickly replaced and berating the driver for his carelessness.
"Sir, the good were all there, I checked the manifest myself." the driver said, a note of worry underlying his crisp response.
"Well then, Private, maybe we simply missed something in the truck, shall we look again?" the Lieutenant climbed up in the back and looked around. "Well this seems to be empty, shall we check the cab next?"
Chuckling quietly I slipped back into the shadows and slunk back to the house. My hosts were safe from reprisal and a good dinner would be waiting when they returned.
I slipped through the door and removed my boots and jacket. Whistling softly to my self, I dug out the apples and began cutting them up and tossing them into the pot on the fire. Munching the core I selected seasonings and set a kettle boiling. Satisfied with a hard days work well done I sat back and waited for my hosts return.
Name; Alexandre Pestrala
Fandome; OC, WOD, WWII
Words; 1133
RP with sunnotshadows