A Candle in the Dark
Author: authorartist94
Rating: PG-13 (Violence, sexual themes)
Disclaimer: I own all of the characters. Oh wow, that feels good to say.
Notes: BEWARE. This is a HOLOCAUST story. If that for some reason bothers or upsets you in any way, DO NOT READ IT.
AS I SAID: THIS IS A HOLOCAUST STORY. It contains violence. Not horrible blood and gore or even descriptions, but death, and the use of weapons. If that offends you in any way, click the back button. Now. You have been warned.
So, this was an assignment for school. Write a short story, between 2-8 pages long. That's the part I had trouble with, but I managed. *sheepish grin*
It is a Holocaust story, but it's also a love story. Based loosely on West Side Story and Romeo and Juliet. I am a hopeless romantic at heart. Enough from me. Onto the story!
Enjoy!
A Candle in the Dark
I live in a world of horror, of filth, of despair; a world in which death is constant, and fear is never ending. Hate emanates from every pore, and compassion, love, and happiness are faint outlines of shadows on the foggy horizon.
It must have been nearly three o’clock the morning, and yet there I lay, unable to sleep. I stared at the ceiling, my mind bubbling like boiling water. The thoughts came, one after the other, unyielding in their attempts to keep me from closing my eyes.
Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this?
The feeling of relaxation I had felt a moment ago dissipated, only to be replaced by red-hot anger. It infected my entire being without any warning and I shoved my hand into my mouth and bit down to keep from screaming. I felt moisture on my cheeks and was horrified to find that I was crying. I believed that my tear ducts had dried up, I had cried so much lately. There were no more tears in the world; they had all been used up.
A small voice floated up from the bunk underneath mine. “Lea?” it said tentatively, quietly; a whisper even in the silence of the black night.
“Mm?” I mumbled, pulling my throbbing hand out of my mouth and wiping the tears away.
“I’m scared,” Aiya said softly.
I leaned over the edge of the bed, tilting my head upside down so I could see my little sister.
Her ten-year-old body was curled up into a ball, the blue scrap of cloth that had once been part of her favorite blanket clutched tightly to her chest.
I twisted my body and leapt off of the bed, landing soundlessly on the rigid mattress below. I knelt beside my sister, whose body shook with soundless sobs, and pulled her into my embrace. The blonde-streaked, light brown hair that we shared tangled together as we lay on the bed, giving as much comfort to the other as we could possibly bear.
“It’ll be okay,” I murmured, tears balanced precariously on the edge of my own blue eyes. “It’ll be okay,”
I hated myself for lying to her.
I think back to when I had first arrived.
We stood in a line, in more pain and more petrified than any of us could ever have conceived of being. And the real hell hadn’t even begun yet.
The man grinned, a sick, maniacal grin, and said in a rough voice, “Welcome to Auschwitz.”
I think back to the first time I had felt true, real, heartbreaking sorrow.
Everyone knew what the two directions meant. Sent to the left; the work camps. Sent to the right; the gas chambers.
The males and females stood in two separate lines. Aiya stood behind me, her small hand clasped in my own. I glanced at the line beside ours, where my two brothers stood. Aaron, my lanky, older brother, stood straight and tall, nearly six feet at his age of nineteen. I saw a small flicker of fear in his dark eyes, and it terrified me. I had rarely seen him truly scared before in my life.
Aaron stood in front of my younger brother, Elijah, Aiya’s twin. He trembled, either from the chilling wind or from dread; I didn’t know. The mixed look of panic and sadness on the twin’s faces matched.
A name that I knew better than my own was called out and it seemed that time slowed down.
Joseph Libermann.
My father.
My siblings and I froze, and in that instant, we all knew the outcome. We were just too cowardly to admit it to ourselves. My face whitened in apprehension and Aiya squeezed my hand until it was numb.
The soldier pointed to the right.
My heart shattered.
I heard a cry break out from somewhere in the line ahead of me, and recognized the voice as my mother’s. Her weeping echoed in my ears, large, gasping sobs ripping from her chest as she lost the man with whom she had spent the last fifty years of her life with.
Not a minute later, another familiar name was called.
Abigail Libermann.
My mother wiped away her tears and stalked up to the soldiers to meet her fate.
A single finger pointed right, and I felt my already broken heart crack yet again.
As my sister wrapped her thin arms around my waist and sobbed into the back of my shirt, I glanced over at my brothers. Elijah was shaking violently, water pouring down his face. And Aaron; steadfast, valiant, fearless Aaron; my stone cold eldest brother; was reduced to tears.
Unable to hold back any longer, my eyes glazed over and the tears finally fell.
I think back to the first time we met.
After weeks of working until our hands were hard with blisters and our feet bled through the rags we wrapped around them; after weeks of being abused both verbally and physically by soldiers; after weeks of watching our family and friends be murdered in front of us; I believed that kindness, humanity and love were nonexistent. They couldn’t possibly exist in a place such as this.
I was proven wrong the moment I looked into his eyes.
I think back to the first time I heard his name.
We were in a line, headed back to our living quarters, when I saw him, standing nearby, staring at me with a look in his eyes that I couldn’t identify. Another soldier ran over to him, and yelled, “Anton!”
The name rang through my head, beautiful, and wonderful, and magnificent, and perfect.
Anton stared at me still, not even looking at his friend while he talked to him. My eyes didn’t leave his until he was out of my sight.
I think back to the first time he watched me sleep.
I was exhausted; I felt as if I had aged fifty years in the past month. I felt much too tired and much more mature than my sixteen years should have allowed. I had collapsed onto the bed and fallen asleep instantaneously. I woke up what seemed like thirty seconds later to find tears falling in waves from my eyes. Still half-asleep, I glanced around the room frantically. I could only see fuzzy outlines. I sensed a presence nearby and turned. I saw a soldier standing not three feet away, staring at me.
I’m dreaming, I thought, preparing myself for the crushing pain and fear that came every time I saw a German soldier in uniform. I’m still dreaming.
Miraculously, it never came. Rather, a soothing effect took over my body and I felt calm, like a cool breeze had wafted over me. As I slipped into unconsciousness, the image of the soldier burned into the back of my eyelids, I could only think of one word to describe the feeling.
Safe.
He returned every night after that, just to watch me sleep.
I think back to the first time he held me.
He had climbed onto the bed without a sound, and sat on the edge, stroking my hair, looking at me with the same expression he had in his eyes the day I had learned his name. I could now identify it as love.
He motioned for me to move over, and he lay beside me, encircling me with his lean, strong arms, my face pressed into his chest. I held onto him tightly, afraid that if I let go he’d evaporate into thin air, and I would be alone. He whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
I slept soundly for the first time in months.
I think back to the first time he kissed me.
It was nighttime again, and I waited restlessly on my bed, eyes and ears open wide. I heard the door creaking and jolted up in bed to see him, only him. His dark, curly hair bounced slightly as he walked towards me, and held out his hand to help me down. He handed me a jacket and boots to pull on over the rags I wore, so I would not be recognized. He took my hand, and we tip-toed outside. We ran through the moonlight, bathed in silver, until we reached an alley out of the view of anyone who should pass by. He smiled, the flecks of gold in his green eyes sparkling. My heart sped up as he placed his hands on my cheeks and bent down to gently place his lips on mine.
I think back to the first time he made love to me.
He came to get me earlier than usual, and we walked slowly, hand in hand, across the grounds. I looked up, expecting to see the moon, but it wasn’t in its usual place in the night sky. Anton looked up and told me that it was a new moon; the beginning of a new cycle in the phases of the silvery orb that hung in the sky every night. When we reached his cabin he stood before the door, and told me that if I wasn’t comfortable with this, then it wouldn’t happen. I smiled shyly at him and pushed my hair out of my face, muttering that I had never wanted anything more than this before in my life. He grinned coyly and pushed the door open. We entered and he locked the door behind him. My heart fluttered in excitement and anxiety. He treaded softly over to me, and kissed me, softly at first, but then deeply and passionately. I lost control of my body, and I surrendered to the new, mysterious, miraculous feelings.
We made love in his bed, beside the window, in the darkness of the new moon.
I think back to the first time he betrayed me.
A revolution had been brewing. The men had been planning something, something big ever since our arrival. And it was on this particular evening that it broke out; and all hell broke loose.
It was sunset. We had just finished work for the day and were headed to roll call when bang sounded. The prisoners pulled rocks and small daggers out f their clothing and ran towards the soldiers. I grabbed Aiya and Elijah by the hand and sprinted into the nearest alley, where we took cover.
We watched in silence as the horror unfolded before us. The German soldiers were greatly outnumbered, but they had more advanced weapons. Jews were dropping like flies.
I watched as Aaron ran over to a soldier, brandishing a silver dagger that glinted in the evening sun. I heard a gunshot, and watched in shock as Aaron fell to the ground, motionless. I twisted my head to find my brother’s murderer, hatred in my eyes.
No, I thought, as I looked upon the killer. Not him. Anyone but him.
And despite how much I wanted to, I couldn’t hate the soldier who had killed my brother.
I loved him too much.
I think back to the first time he broke my heart.
That night, when he came, I was curled up on my bed, eyes wet and heart throbbing. He looked at me with a pained expression, a mix between pity and worry, and lifted me off of the bed. He cradled me in his arms as he carried me all the way back to his cabin. When I showed signs of worry, he assured me that no one was there; they were all out playing cards and drinking. He lay me down on his bed, wrapped me in a blanket and promised me he would return soon. He planted a kiss on my forehead before he left. I lay there, feeling numb. I didn’t know how long I was there for, but when he returned a burst of anger exploded in my chest and I jumped up, peppering him with punches.
“You killed him! You killed my brother! You killed him!” I yelled, hitting him as hard as I could. I became frustrated when he looked down at me with the same pained expression and he grabbed my hands, easily restraining me. I continued to sob as he tenderly pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again and again. “I’m so sorry,”
My heart broke a little bit more every time he said it.
I think back to the first time he protected me.
They had come for me in the middle of the night, when everyone was asleep. It was a full moon, and I reminisced about the times we spent in the moonlight, together. I tried to keep the bad thoughts at bay, but I wasn’t able to. They came streaming into my mind like a snake through water.
They had found out. They had found out about us. And now they were going to kill me.
The General led us, along with a group of five soldiers into a dark, dank alley. The soldiers blocked the entrance of the alley, giving us no way to escape. Anton held my hand tightly,
giving me silent consolations.
“Either you kill her,” the General said, holding a gun in his hand. “Or I kill you both. It’s up to you.”
Anton stared at the General in absolute revulsion. He shook his head slightly and moved in front of me, blocking my body from harm.
The General shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said, and cocked the pistol.
Anton looked down at me, absolute devotion and adoration in his eyes. And I knew right then that he would die for me, and I for him.
And that’s why I did what I did.
In a moment of passion, I shoved Anton with all of my strength, and he stumbled away. There was no longer a barrier between the weapon and I. The gun was aimed directly at me.
I live in a world of horror, of filth, of despair; a world in which death is constant, and fear is never ending. Hate emanates from every pore, and compassion, love, and happiness are faint
outlines of shadows on the foggy horizon.
That’s what I had believed; before I met him. And then my entire world; everything I had known, everything I believed in; was thrown into the dark depths of the universe, spinning and twirling through the never ending night. I was changed. The world as I knew it imploded. And the feelings I had believed to be frozen, absent from the lives we led in the concentration camp, resurfaced. I could laugh again, I could feel again. I could love again. And I did.
As I stare into the barrel of the gun that will kill me, I remember. I reflect.
We had only had firsts; little did we know that they had been both our firsts and our lasts.
But I don’t have any regrets. I lived. I loved. And I am content.
And yet, I am terrified, more terrified than I’ve ever been. Because I don’t know what comes next. I am familiar with this world, I know what will happen, I know what each day brings. Life is constant, life is unchanging. It is safe here. Going into the unknown is both petrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
The shot rings out.
“NO!” Anton’s voice, layered in horror and pain, cries out, sweet and pure to my ears.
Hot, pain, burning, red, and all of a sudden I can’t see, I’m panicking, Anton, where is Anton, I can’t see, it’s dark, and the pain, it burns, it burns, I can’t see, where is Anton…
I feel cool hands cradling me, holding me. And I relax. My mind clears.
A whisper in my ear, laden with tears, “It’s okay, Lea,” it says, “Relax, love. It’s okay.
It’ll be…” A sob. “Okay. We’ll be together soon. I love you.”
As I slip into the blackness, I hear another shot. And then…nothing.
Fin.