The Gravedigger

The shovel makes a crisp noise as it slides into the earth. It is brisk, no kindness, cut off as soon as the blade halts, no lingering or wistfulness. Of all implements, this is one knows it’s function and doesn’t weep for something nicer, or more romantic. It is a businesslike end. No more.

The corpses stand to one side, watching with varying degrees of fear and resignation. Life has become increasingly tough in recent years, and it is interesting to separate those who look dully, bordering on relief that are least it will soon end, from those whose eyes are still alert, darting from tree to tree in search of an escape.
Of course, that does not preclude courage. Most will still go where they are told, obediently if not willing. That’s the trouble with the religious. They’re always waiting for God to save them.

Ruth’s Death

15 January 2012

Ruth’s breathing becomes increasingly torturous and rattling. David clasps her hand tightly, looking anywhere but the white face, the half-closed vacant eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to grow up, get married, have children. She was supposed to die old, at home, surrounded by family. Instead she was wasting away in a freezing forest with just him. Him and a load of half starved half humans.

He suddenly felt her hand start to slip away from his.

‘Ruth? Ruth!’

Of course she didn’t respond. David stood up quickly and stumbled away. A couple of the women were standing nearby but they didn’t approach him.

‘Just as well really,’ he heard someone say. He turned slowly.

‘What?’

The man, a gruff, large man, looked abashed but held his ground. ‘You must be relieved. Sad, I know, but relieved.’

David couldn’t speak.

‘This isn’t a sustainable life for someone as weak as her.’

‘It’s not a sustainable life for any of us.’

‘You know what I mean. We can’t afford any dependants. This is survival.’

David found his voice. ‘That’s a fucking Nazi policy.’

‘I’m not saying kill the weak.’ The man was growing angry. ‘I’m not saying that at all. Another life, take care of her all you like. I don’t want the world to be this way. But it is.’

David felt his stomach churn into his throat. He wanted to scream in his face. He wanted to hit him. Instead he strode away into the forest as far and as fast as he could. The silence closed around him and he knew that the man was right. He was relieved.

The Outsider

Thousands of adoring faces, all turned towards the man on the rostrum. A communal ecstasy ripples through the crowd. The object of adulation stares fixedly ahead, as though he cannot see those who fawn below him.

One man stands immune in the throng. He looks from side to side, eyes flickering ever more frantically, searching for just one person thinking as he does. Someone to roll his eyes at, to make a joke of the situation. But there is no-one, and as he comes to realise he stands alone, the fear forces its way out of his throat and a wordless shriek breaks forth.

Fortunately he fits right in. No-one even turns a hair.

Homecoming

It’s been months, maybe years. You’ve lost track to be honest. You stand on the platform waiting for the train. There was a time when journeys really excited you. The thought of somewhere new, somewhere else. Not any more

The train arrives. You get on. They managed to find you some new clothes, but they might as well have not bothered. It’s obvious where you’ve been, who you are.  Everyone is staring, some with pity, others downright hostile. You know they’re all hoping you won’t sit next to them, so you walk right along to the other end of the carriage until you find an empty section. Even that exhausts you.

The seats are red and green, cushioned and soft. This you can feel. It’s so different from the solid frozen ground and hard wooden slats that you can’t help but feel it. The sensation absorbs you until you can barely think anymore. It’s not the worst thing in the world. If you didn’t have that, you’d have to think about going home. The unbearable hope that everyone else is still there and the certainty that they won’t be, not all of them. One of the soldiers wired ahead for you, so someone may be expecting you. Or they may not. If not, what will you do? Will your house still be standing? Will it still be yours?

A cruel little part of you hopes no-one is waiting. The worst thing about liberation is the look of incomprehension on everyone’s faces. You almost felt sorry for those soldiers, those young men, not older than your own son. They clearly had no idea what to expect and no idea how to react. Some people lost control and threw themselves towards the liberators, sobbing and repeating their thanks over and over and over. The soldiers were frightened, alarmed. They tried to conceal it, but how could you? It is this that makes your breath catch and your body shiver uncontrollably. What if your family cannot understand. It is not that you want them to have the knowledge you have exactly, but you don’t want to be the only one that knows. You don’t want the lack of understanding to grow up between you where before everything was common experience. You cannot imagine normality, despite how desperately you crave it, and you don’t know how to communicate this.

The train pulls in at a station. You don’t recognise it. It isn’t home, yet the urge to get to your feet, leave the train and keep walking is overwhelming. Just keep walking until you can’t walk anymore and then lay down and stop thinking.

You don’t though. The train pulls out and continues on the journey home.

Exodus

The smoke had been drifting in from other areas of the city for some time now. It smelled of wood mostly, but gradually the smell of flesh permeated more and more. It twisted his stomach, and he pulled the window closed and turned away. He didn’t think that would help for long.

The street was silent, but David could sense the frantic activity going on behind each and every door. It scratched at his skin and made him feel like he should be doing something more. But everything was done. He’d been preparing for a while, ever since his father had gone and the rumours had started about German advances, when the talks about what to do in the event of an invasion had become more and more urgent. The old had urged them to leave, head for the East. They’d seen this sort of thing before, but this, they felt, was different. An apocalypse, the pogrom to end all pogroms. They were pushing their young out of the door, determined not to hold them back. David had known from the start that wouldn’t be an option for him. He had Ruth to think about. Her hacking cough haunted all his thoughts on the subject, and he was certain she wouldn’t survive the journey. While he felt the danger of remaining like a cold breath on the back of his neck, there was a slight chance she’d survive if they stayed. He had to take slight over none.

David kept his plans quiet. He knew some people would be leaving their young and sickly behind and he didn’t want to bear those burdens too. If it didn’t work, he could in theory escape with one small child, but that was the limit. He was banking on the flight of the others to save them. He hoped when they came, with everywhere else so deserted, they’d come just to raid and not to search. The cellar was ready. He’d fought the urge to take everything important down; he didn’t want the apartment to look suspicious next to the other abandoned homes. Ruth didn’t understood why she couldn’t save all her favourite things. Really he didn’t want her to. She would have to grow up a lot soon, and he was almost glad to allow her one final childish sulk.

A great heaviness sat in the pit of David’s stomach. He looked properly around the room, perhaps for the last time. It seemed ridiculous to be contemplating such change when everything looked the same as it always had. All the ornaments, all the furniture was unchanged. The same paintings were on the wall and the same books on the shelves. It made him feel like a child, playing at war. How could be sure that his decisions were the right ones? What if he was taking the wrong path. It would take minutes to reverse the plans of months, to run down to the cellar and grab the bags and call to Ruth that they were leaving. Was that little voice right that said she could make it and he was just staying because something in him balked at running away like a victim? He laughed aloud at that. He knew he was a victim no matter what he did. Hiding in Kaunas, fleeing to Russia, it was all one and the same when you really thought about it.

He turned back to the window. People were starting to emerge now, laden with bundles. A soft weeping drifted up even through the closed window. Once the building was empty, they’d go down. He intended to conceal the entrance under a piece of cheap carpet – cheap and filthy. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if someone took a shine to it and found the entrance in the process.

The movement on the street had changed. From a slow, dragging procession it had become jerkier, more nervous. The pace was quickening and heads were flicking back and forth. From behind the houses David could hear shots and shouting. There was frantic babble, and then a deathly hush. People had appeared at either end of the street with clubs and guns. The refugees, his neighbours, looked for escape but they were flanked by their homes on both sides. There was nowhere to go but through them. For a moment, the scene froze and hung in the air. All was quiet. Then everyone seemed to move at once and there was nothing but screaming and thudding and sobs.

David ran into the bedroom and grabbed Ruth. Ignoring her protests, he hurried down the stairs and pulled up the trapdoor in the hallway. He pushed Ruth into the cellar and started to lower the door slowly, shuffling the carpet into place over the top. Every instinct was screaming at him to hurry, but he knew he couldn’t afford to rush. Finally he was done. He fastened the padlock and found Ruth in the darkness. She was crying quietly. He held her against his chest and tried to position her so she wouldn’t be able to hear the noises from outside. All too soon there was a crashing in the hallway above them, and heavy footfalls across the boards. A light shower of dust and grit trickled onto them. David held his breath and prayed.